Parcel for you - Part 31

 

There was a brief interval while The Hominids of Quasar set up and made a great play of testing the microphones.

 

‘I like Stuart’s bandana,’ Vanessa shouted over to Pat. This wasn’t a truthful statement, the bandana looked absurd and she quickly took a swig of warm beer to obscure her lying face.

 

‘Yes,’ Pat grinned, ‘he made me iron it, can you believe it! He can carry it off can’t he. It’s amazing, he can carry off lots of different looks, you should see his dressing room at home. He’s got one of those mirrors with light bulbs around the edge.’

 

Some members of the audience whooped and clapped as Brian raised the microphone and greeted the crowd. ‘I’ve got some sad news, we’re missing our bassist, Crinkler,’ he said, in an accent which wasn’t quite his normal speaking voice; he’d given himself a slight American lilt. ‘Yes, he’s taken himself on a voyage, sailing solo, ahem, at least that’s what he told us, he may have picked up a wench en route, as is his custom…Currently in the Galapagos, ogling the red-footed boobies with his long lens,’ he laughed and raised a lot of laughter from the audience. 

 

Stu began to gently tinker on his percussive device in the background. He glanced over at Pat who was smiling so hard, her eyes disappeared into her cheeks. Then Brian stopped speaking and the other instruments came in. Annie walked into the empty space just in front of the stage, turning her arms in windmills until she reached a position she was happy with, then she commenced with her mysterious dancing.

 

‘Crikey, Annie’s keen,’ said Pat, ‘look at her go, she’s fantastic. Oh she’s nothing like you, is she Vanessa,’ she laughed, ‘must take after her father.’

 

‘Whoah,’ Spencer said suddenly, ‘can I go and join her?’

 

Vanessa held firmly onto Spencer, ‘Who?’ she said, knowing full well that he was referring to Annie.

 

‘Annie! I want to move my body with Annie, over there, where there’s lots of space to swing my arms.’ Spencer was already jiggling around but he didn’t look quite right. He was bending his legs too much and bobbing up and down in the way that a toddler does when they first discover dancing.

 

‘No Spencer. Sorry, not today. I think you need more practice at home. You could get into trouble, you know.’

 

‘Oh let him go up, Vanessa. I can go too and look after him.’

 

‘No Pat…and to be honest, if you continue to pressure me, we’re going to leave.’ She knocked back the rest of the pint and gave the empty glass to Spencer to hold.

 

‘Alright, alright.’ Pat pulled a serious face, ‘The lyrics in this one are quite dark, I must warn you. Brian co-wrote it with Stuart. They spent all night at the kitchen table dabbling.’

 

Brian was singing now. His voice was very good, Vanessa was actually impressed although puzzled by what she could decipher of the lyrics, 

 

‘Automated spam, we’re eating automated spam

Breakfast, lunch and dinner, 

We’re eating with the dimmer switch on

We don’t need to be bright

The spam penetrates our gizzard

World’s run by shape shifters and lizards

Power outage in the storm

A brief reprieve from the automated spam 

We’re eating automated spam

Cat brain, monkey brain

It’s always the same and it’s never our fault…’

 

Spencer was attempting to sing along, studying Brian very carefully and almost trying to pre-empt the words he was going to sing, occasionally getting it right or just copying him but very slightly behind. Vanessa cuddled up to him and tried to shush him like a child. ‘I love this!’ he said suddenly, very firmly and rather too loud causing people to turn and stare at him.

 

‘For the following song,’ said Brian in his special affected voice, ‘Stu, our resident percussionist is going to take you on a journey, up through the sky, where the air is thin and through the ozone, into interplanetary dimensions and beyond..’

 

The audience gasped as the formation and colours of the stage lighting changed and Stu got to work on his percussive interface, up on his feet, shuffling and tip-toeing as he bashed and tickled on the various components of his instrument, accompanied by a gentle guitar. Annie was in her element now, flouncing around in front of the stage in her floaty top. A couple of men had come to join her but she mostly had her eyes shut and hadn’t really noticed them as they moved around, rather stilted and uneasy but willing to try for the sake of the potential reward which they held in their mind’s eyes.

 

‘This is one of his masterpieces,’ said Pat, ‘the air-conditioning company he used to work for, used on their promotional video.’

 

‘Really?’ said Vanessa.

 

‘Yes, the sounds are based on the natural winds of the desert, it’s called Sirocco. He still gets royalties from it.’

 

Vanessa nodded, ‘Very impressive.’

 

Spencer looked confused. ‘What’s royalties?’

 

‘It’s when you get paid for artistic stuff like music.’

 

‘I could do that,’ Spencer said firmly.

 

‘The wonderful, Stu,’ said Brian as the audience applauded. ‘And now for our final song, most of you know it and if you do, then I invite you to sing along. It’s called, The Antiverse.’ The audience broke into excited cries and claps.

 

‘There hope for us in the antiverse

But we must make haste and find it first

Or they’ll suck it dry with their lethal thirst

They’ve had their turn and they steered us wrong

The tables are a turning as we sing this song

Stand firm my millennial harmonauts

Build a pentagon frame with your bloodless thoughts

The dukes of darkness and goblins of greed

Will block our ascent but we will succeed…’

 

The Hominids of Quasar wound up their performance to rapturous applause. Pat rushed up to the bar to order some more drinks and Annie, who had come out of her mysterious trance, had taken herself off to some tables and chairs to cool off.

 

Stu and Brian had a new energy about them, a buzz as they returned to the audience. ‘The others are just loading the instruments back into the van,’ said Stu, ‘I take it, you both enjoyed it.’

 

‘Yes,’ Vanessa nodded, ‘you’ve got an incredible voice,’ she said to Brian.

 

‘I’ve had to hone my instrument,’ said Brian, ‘I started off as a choir boy.’

 

‘Really.’

 

‘Yes, I was on Songs of Praise once, in Coventry cathedral.’

 

Vanessa remembered those kids on Songs of Praise, how widely they opened their mouths for the camera, it always gave her the creeps but Brian was still creepy, just in a different way.

 

Spencer leant over and put his hand on Stu’s dangly earring. ‘I’d like to develop my style more,’ he said, ‘these Tesco man clothes don’t really fit my character anymore.’

 

‘You’ll have to decide what sort of look you want to go for,’ said Stu, ‘man about town, business man, sporty guy, trend-setter, goth..’

 

‘Nah,’ Brian shook his head, ‘goth is one hell of a commitment, it’s twenty four seven Stu, those other looks, you can switch on and off you have to take goth to the bathroom, the bedroom, the allotment, the swimming pool.’

 

Pat returned with the tray of drinks, ‘Are you sure you won’t have anything, Vanessa. Annie’s got some fruit beer. Some guys are talking to her now.’

 

‘We’ve got to head off soon, Spencer will need to shut down.’

 

I’ve got to stack the dishwasher first,’ Spencer protested.

 

‘What?’ Brian shook his head, ‘You need to man up!’

 

There was an awkward pause while Vanessa tried to think of something clever to say but she felt sort of internally defeated. Their exchange was disrupted by some sort of loud kerfuffle around the seating area. Two men were shouting at each other and then one pushed the other and suddenly there were fisticuffs at The Rolling Gimp Folk Festival.