Alien Murmuration - Chapter 18 - Autumn 1991

“Well fuck you lot then!! If you don’t want to play proper fucking music, I am fucking gone! You can play you fucking hippy-dippy, Townie baggy shite, I am fucking done.”

The door slams and Whitey leaves the band.

Then it opens again.

“You lot better keep out of my fucking way . . .  You’ve all changed” He stared at us . . . Manny more than anyone else.

We all freeze, fully expecting violence.

“You. especially you.” His eyes are blazing as he pokes his finger towards Manny. “Since you hooked up with that . . .”

he gestures at me, without really looking in my direction . “Stared getting stoned and taking es. You’ve gone fucking soft”.

The door slammed again.

This time Whitey really left the band.

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“Personally, I like the Hippy Dippy, Townie Baggy Shite” Dutch Rod smirks in an attempt to cut through the rather unpleasant atmosphere. I sort of smile but am still  wondering (much like the others) if I will survive my next encounter with Whitey. Maybe he will calm down by then and we’ll make it to 18.

I picked up my guitar.

Manny picked up his Rizzlas

Rod continued to plough on with band business.

“So, we are back to needing a singer?” he enquires loudly as if not to take any shit on this subject.

Without hesitation, Manny looks up at me as he sprinkles some of his soap bar into his rizzlas and says matter of factly . . .  “Alien needs to do it.”

I stop dead! Guitar in my hand. Looking at Manny directly in the eye, well sort of near his eyes anyway . . .  I drew breath to speak.

“You are a brilliant singer!”  Manny says gently as a smile spreads across his face. He doubles down as he realises how brilliant he thinks his idea is.

“And you write most of the songs” Rod chimes in. I can’t help but wonder if they have discussed with without me. “You know what they are supposed to sound like. It makes sense if you think about it.”

I suddenly felt like a turkey catching the farmer’s eye just before Christmas.

“Sing your fucking songs man” Manny says bluntly as if nothing has ever made more sense.

I took a step backwards and steady myself. “It does sort of make sense, I suppose but . . . “ This but was not just some idle, simple or plain ‘but’. This ‘but’ was a gaping chasm of fear that stood where a stage might be. Just the thought of singing my songs in front of other people swallowed me whole and spat me out the other end.

On the other hand, I really did not have a logical argument.

I stand there with my mouth open.

“Look man, you’ve been writing songs with that Wills guy right?” Manny continues.

I nod and wonder where he is going with this. I’ve met with him a few times and we’ve written some good songs. The guy is a fucking genius when it comes to linking my words and music and taking them from ideas to actual songs.

“He’s a decent fella too isn’t he?” Rod asks “So get him down here and let’s see if it all fits.”

“Of course, it will fucking fit’ Manny says excitedly as he bounces from foot to foot.

“He can take over some of the guitar parts to leave you free to get your head around the vocals” Rod continues.

I have to admit that it does all kind of make sense.