Sudetenland Tales by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Sudetenland Tales

Page 235

buzz, the dreamers who want to bask in the glow of something freshly minted in fame.

Some are genuinely invested in the music, seeing raw potential in a band poised on the brink of stardom. Others might be chasing the thrill; the chance to say they were “there” before it all blew up. They brought an energy, a mystique, sometimes even the beginnings of a muse like influence. And their presence? It changed things. The band suddenly realized that they have an audience, not just in the clubs but right in their own practice space.

The room was thick with cigarette smoke and tension. Their lead singer, Geoffrey, who had been deemed the group’s spokesperson by someone or someones other than himself, leaned against the piano like a modern day Jerry Lee Lewis, dragging his hands through his slicked back hair. “Now’s the time. We gotta make something bigger, stronger. We can’t just be one hit wonders, my droogies.”

Robert, their current one chord guitarist, fiddled with his gold trimmed lapels and lariat tie. “But if we try too hard, we’ll sound fake. People loved ‘The Ni-hi-hi-hi-higgers Steal Tonight.’ because it wasn’t forced. It was real.”