Battle of the bands - constrained writing.

I could hear the distant thumping of the speakers, even here, way back in the dressing rooms. As we wait our turn, sitting here in these plush leather armchairs that look brand new, as if they were brought in especially for us tonight.
Like they could make even the slightest difference in this grimy little hole of a club.

With dark stains on the walls from past groups and a stale smell that seemed to be following you around the building. It would take a lot more than some new furniture to improve the place. Chills ran up and down the length of my arms with the occasion that was in it.

None of this bothers me though. I find that all I can think of right now are the events that brought me here. The series of chances that have me sitting beside my band-mates and best friends. Eoin, Adrian and Kieran, our drummer. All of us here tonight, waiting for our chance at fame and fortune. The final of the battle of the bands, with an actual recording contract at stake. Our best chance at the big time, to be earning the big money, to have it all.

It’s been a long hard road getting here, one that stretches back well over five years. Five years that has had its good times but also its rough patches. I can still remember how it all started way back in the day. We were just kids. Full of life and mischief.

Back then we used to spend our time in Adrian’s garage practicing away, with nothing but time and a dream. To be fair, I think we spend more of our time hitting each other and talking about girls than we ever did playing our instruments. Who would have ever thought that we would make it to this point?

There is a sharp knock at the door, “Right guys, ye are on stage in five minutes. Get yourselves ready.”

Reality came rushing back to me then.

“Lads, I know that ye are probably nervous about going on stage here. Don’t worry about it, this is just one more gig and if we can hit our stride like we do on every other night, we are on our way.” The words sounded brave coming out of my mouth but I knew that inside, I was probably the most nervous out of all of us.

It’s a long walk down the dark gloomy hallway to reach the stage. My sneakers feel like they are filled with sand, dragging me down with every inch I move.

The noise levels increase with every step we take, but nothing, nothing could have prepared us for the wall of noise that hit us as we walked onto the stage. The sound of hundreds of loud screaming fans packed into a small little area. It’s all just a blur of faces as I walk along the front of the stage.

My guitar is already set up center stage, alongside the rest of our equipment. Sitting there waiting for the subtle movements of my hands that will bring it to life, to give it back its voice. I pick it up and settle the strap comfortably over my shoulder, sitting there like an extension of myself.

Glancing round at Kieran, he gives me a little nod, barely visible but I know what it means. All I can do now is my own part and I watch as his drumsticks fall towards the skin of the drum. It all seems to be happening in slow motion now, every second feeling like days, but as I hear that first beat in my ear every ounce of tension drains from my body.
Almost subconsciously, I can feel my fingers picking out these notes that feel so familiar now, hitting each note perfectly, every instrument seamlessly blending in the rest, creating something special.

There was no crowd anymore; no panel of judges sitting to the side of the stage. All that existed at this moment in time was myself, my band and the music we had created... Right here, right now nothing else mattered, not the battle or the contract, just the fact that we were getting it right.

Feeling on top of the world, that sensation you can only get when doing what you were born for. Everything was effortless now. I moved with the music as we sped up the tempo, the crowd responding to our every note like a choir to its conductor.

As our second song came to an end and I strummed out the last few chords, I finally have a chance to look around. Straight away the room rushes back into focus, the roar of the crowd, the judges beside us and the feeling of being in your rightful place in this world.

Looking at my band I can see from their expressions that they felt it too. A chant starts somewhere down the back of the room gaining momentum as more and more people join in.

With sweat and tears of joy running down my face we make our way back to our dressing room, but it all seems so different now. The hallway doesn’t seem as dingy now and the hole of a dressing room now looks more like a luxurious suite.

---

That’s two years ago now and yet I can still remember every single second of that night as if it had just happened.

What went wrong?
What happened to the ideals that we used to have?
How did it change from when the music used to be the most important thing in the world to us?

Of course that was before all the fighting began, back when we were all younger, more innocent, and still best friends. Before the money started rolling in. When we got that contract we thought that we were sorted, we had the potential to become legends but we couldn’t even last two years. Wild parties every night, girls throwing themselves at us.

It would be too much for any young lad to take. Kieran was the first to slip. Turning up late for practices, half drunk and not fit for anything. Then the shows started to come fast and thick. He wasn't able to keep going. The label tried to replace him but we were practically a family. We had been friends since we were six.

The other two boys decided to split then, Adrian and Eoin. They said they wouldn't go down with us. They were better than that. But they weren't, it was the group that was brilliant, not the individuals. The whole was greater than the sum of its parts.

I finish tightening the belt around my upper arm and feel a pinch as the needle slides through my flesh. It is a familiar pinch now, one that I have felt many times in the past, it is almost a comfort these days to have something familiar left in my life.

As I feel that gentle rush coming on, I look around the unfamiliar room I am in with its filthy bed, doubtless home to many other hopeless people like myself over the years. There is a faint thud from the speakers in the club below me. Playing there, at least gets me a bed for the next few nights. I glance up at the wall to see a poster of my old band the tides. Feeling my eyes getting heavy as my body starts to relax, I just can't tear my eyes from that poster on the wall.

It’s the last thing I register as the world slides out of focus around me.