Sudetenland Tales by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Sudetenland Tales
Page 236
Their drummer, Mickey, scoffed from the corner. “Yeah, well, real or not, they expect something better now. We’re not some niche revival act anymore. We’re a phenomenon.”
Their manager and producer, Malcolm McClaren walked in uninvited, tapped his cigar into an ashtray, and said; “You boys need to decide. Do you double down on what worked, reinvent yourselves, or quit?”
That was the question tormenting all of them. The fans adored the rockabilly twang, the rebellious swagger, the energy. But repeating the same style might make them seem predictable. And worse; if the follow-up single flopped, they’d be labeled as fleeting nostalgia, not serious artists.
Geoffrey sat at the keyboard and played a few chords. “I’ve been working on something…” He tentatively sang the first lines of a song that had been floating in his head. It was still rock ’n’ roll, but darker. Moodier. Less of a party, more of a statement.
Lucas immediately picked up his new guitar. “That’s got something.”
Roger sat at his drum kit and exhaled smoke. “It’s different. Not a repeat. But will it sell?”
Silence stretched in Robert’s garage.