“It’s not very good…but that’s what’s in nowadays.”
General MIDI takes his umpteenth sip of his umpteenth triple espresso with “vegan goat’s milk” and “generous sprinklings of the darkest white chocolate you can find”. Then repeats these words for the umpteenth time that day. This is, in fact, exactly what his publicist has told him to say. General MIDI is “sticking to the script”, now that he is finally having some success, and his ill-fated acting career has finally faded from people’s memories. As has his atrocious acoustic album, Almost Any Army. A.B. Seal, his wise publicist, has warned him against further experiments with visual alliteration and/or real instruments. The journalist cracks an ironic smile and writes it down.
Two streets over in this magnificent city of London, where all this buzz needn’t distract one from life’s many other pleasures (in fact, can be safely and easily ignored if one so chooses), The Rubbish Rebels sit, scattered about a long table, through a long afternoon, in their record label’s swanky offices, engaged in a long debate with their manager and record company team.
“But it just sounds like you’re rubbish!” (Another line heard many times today, by London’s unnoticed corners.)
That Button Records are standing firm on this decision, its obviousness even overpowering the brand loyalty of the name Rubbish Rebels that made them sign the band in the first place. It is no longer readily apparent that people, even fans, know they are “rebelling against everything that’s rubbish”.
The eyes of Rob L. Rebel begin to burn with what he considers brilliance. He wipes his mouth to cover his smile. Leaning back, pressing palms, fingers entwined, against his chest (unconsciously miming the metaphorical cards he’s holding), he offers, “Why don’t we change it to Rubbish Dyspepsia?”
All turn and stare.
“Well, dyspepsia’s rubbish, isn’t it?”
An hour later all seem to have warmed to the idea. A clarifying dictionary has been located and flipped through. Dyspepsia is rubbish. And there’s few things “the kids” relish more than when someone doesn’t know what a word means AND THEY DO. Plus “Dyspepsia’s something the old get!” (Marquee Rebel) “YEAH!” (Jonny, Rich & Yello Rebel) A compromise has been reached while somehow maintaining the “Rubbish”.
Returning to that original brilliance and concealed smile, Rob L. Rebel now throws out, “And we can call the second album, R2D2.” “YES!” the other four chorus. High fives make the rounds and again before the hesitance of the men in the suits is noticed. One of them – black pinstripe double-breasted, electric purple tie – clears his throat. “There’s the first album to consider first.”
It is not many weeks now before Londontown is receiving new temporary tattoos. The posters announce the release of R1D1.
“Dude, you going to the gig tonight?”
Intense Music Fan #1 (without the spaces - his screen name, the fact that #1 was available, his presumed birthright) is on the phone to his not-so-knowledgeable-about-music friend.
“Who’s playing?”
“In Belgium comma Buying Pornography!”
“Do you really pronounce the comma?”
London’s hourhands inhale a sigh down 4-5-6 until the outgoing breath pushes us up towards 7 PM. Intense Music Fan #1 has of course been nearly hyperventilating in the queue since early afternoon, trying to conceal his excitement. In his intense hand he clutches an older copy of Bycusis Press containing the very first print interview with Rod Barrier, IB,BP’s frontman and main songwriter.
The crowd outside the venue has grown rowdy as a news team makes its way along the queue with a camera. The 30-something interviewer, TV’s Ronnie Eis, stops in front of a shy-looking young girl wearing the clean (censored) version of the band’s t-shirt “In Belgium…” (Rod Barrier defended this in a later interview, stating that the punctuation remained true to the spirit of the band). Eis now asks, “Just what is it about this band – “
IMF#1 dives across six people, cutting off the question and any possible answer the girl might have. On unsteady feet he shouts, “It speaks to the youth of today, something your generation will never understand!”
“Aren’t I speaking to you right now?”
General MIDI takes his umpteenth sip of his umpteenth triple espresso with “vegan goat’s milk” and “generous sprinklings of the darkest white chocolate you can find”. Then repeats these words for the umpteenth time that day. This is, in fact, exactly what his publicist has told him to say. General MIDI is “sticking to the script”, now that he is finally having some success, and his ill-fated acting career has finally faded from people’s memories. As has his atrocious acoustic album, Almost Any Army. A.B. Seal, his wise publicist, has warned him against further experiments with visual alliteration and/or real instruments. The journalist cracks an ironic smile and writes it down.
Two streets over in this magnificent city of London, where all this buzz needn’t distract one from life’s many other pleasures (in fact, can be safely and easily ignored if one so chooses), The Rubbish Rebels sit, scattered about a long table, through a long afternoon, in their record label’s swanky offices, engaged in a long debate with their manager and record company team.
“But it just sounds like you’re rubbish!” (Another line heard many times today, by London’s unnoticed corners.)
That Button Records are standing firm on this decision, its obviousness even overpowering the brand loyalty of the name Rubbish Rebels that made them sign the band in the first place. It is no longer readily apparent that people, even fans, know they are “rebelling against everything that’s rubbish”.
The eyes of Rob L. Rebel begin to burn with what he considers brilliance. He wipes his mouth to cover his smile. Leaning back, pressing palms, fingers entwined, against his chest (unconsciously miming the metaphorical cards he’s holding), he offers, “Why don’t we change it to Rubbish Dyspepsia?”
All turn and stare.
“Well, dyspepsia’s rubbish, isn’t it?”
An hour later all seem to have warmed to the idea. A clarifying dictionary has been located and flipped through. Dyspepsia is rubbish. And there’s few things “the kids” relish more than when someone doesn’t know what a word means AND THEY DO. Plus “Dyspepsia’s something the old get!” (Marquee Rebel) “YEAH!” (Jonny, Rich & Yello Rebel) A compromise has been reached while somehow maintaining the “Rubbish”.
Returning to that original brilliance and concealed smile, Rob L. Rebel now throws out, “And we can call the second album, R2D2.” “YES!” the other four chorus. High fives make the rounds and again before the hesitance of the men in the suits is noticed. One of them – black pinstripe double-breasted, electric purple tie – clears his throat. “There’s the first album to consider first.”
It is not many weeks now before Londontown is receiving new temporary tattoos. The posters announce the release of R1D1.
“Dude, you going to the gig tonight?”
Intense Music Fan #1 (without the spaces - his screen name, the fact that #1 was available, his presumed birthright) is on the phone to his not-so-knowledgeable-about-music friend.
“Who’s playing?”
“In Belgium comma Buying Pornography!”
“Do you really pronounce the comma?”
London’s hourhands inhale a sigh down 4-5-6 until the outgoing breath pushes us up towards 7 PM. Intense Music Fan #1 has of course been nearly hyperventilating in the queue since early afternoon, trying to conceal his excitement. In his intense hand he clutches an older copy of Bycusis Press containing the very first print interview with Rod Barrier, IB,BP’s frontman and main songwriter.
Well, I was in Belgium, just wandering the streets, and IThe magazine is just for show, IMF#1’s already had it signed twice and would’ve risked a third had not Barrier raised an eyebrow as he flipped past a page already bearing his signature.
thought I’d quite like to buy some porn, you know, but then
I realized I didn’t have any money…but then I realized
that that’s what rock n’ roll is all about, being young and dreaming.
The crowd outside the venue has grown rowdy as a news team makes its way along the queue with a camera. The 30-something interviewer, TV’s Ronnie Eis, stops in front of a shy-looking young girl wearing the clean (censored) version of the band’s t-shirt “In Belgium…” (Rod Barrier defended this in a later interview, stating that the punctuation remained true to the spirit of the band). Eis now asks, “Just what is it about this band – “
IMF#1 dives across six people, cutting off the question and any possible answer the girl might have. On unsteady feet he shouts, “It speaks to the youth of today, something your generation will never understand!”
“Aren’t I speaking to you right now?”
No comments:
Post a Comment