Anders - 2. Chapter 2

~~~
You Can Sleep While I Dream
~~~

Anders parked up next to the stage door, and was not at all surprised that there was no-one to meet him. Stevie was a nice guy, but not very organised. Ordinarily this would have been annoying to deal with for Anders, but Stevie also happened to manage his favourite music venue in town. The Wave was not the biggest, but it was definitely the best. He grabbed his mobile and dialled.

“Hey Brid, I’m outside, can someone open the door?”

“Yeah, no worries, Stevie is on his way down.”

Anders hung up and leaned against his van, daydreaming about what else he could have been doing. A minute later the stage door opened and Stevie walked out.

“Anders! It’s so good to see you!” Stevie's smile reminded Anders of a second-hand car salesman

“Oh wow, is it that bad?”

The two men hugged briefly, but this was not a social occasion.

“What? No, no. Just, thank you.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that. So what are they like?”

“Erm… you’ll see.”

Anders rolled his eyes at Stevie, knowing full well that that was not good news. He followed him inside and on to the stage, where the rest of the band were waiting, all heads turning towards the diminutive Swiss and his permanently untidy blonde hair.

“Rick, this is Anders, he can fill in for tonight at least. Anders, this is Rick Danes, and the others are…”

But Stevie didn’t have chance to finish introductions as Rick pushed past him to move closer to Anders, standing directly in front of him. The look of derision was unmistakable.

“Hi” said Anders in slightly wearisome tone, realising what was about to play out and having been through it enough times before.

Rick did not respond and turned back towards Stevie.

“You said you could find me a good drummer.”

“And I have, Anders is…”

“No, what you’ve found is a deaf kid.” Rick quickly scanned the rest of the band, clearly expecting some kind of response only found averted gazes.

“Sure Rick, OK, but you really just need to trust me here, Anders is…”

“He’s wearing fucking hearing aids!”

Stevie looked to Anders apologetically, but not quickly enough to stem the flash of anger that was unmistakable to anyone paying attention.

“OK, Rick.” Anders’ accent was his usual mix of English as a second language as well as sounding slightly thick as is common with people who have hearing impairment. And yet together with his deliberate over-enunciation of Rick’s name, there was no mistaking his feelings.

“Firstly, I’m not a kid, I’m 23. Secondly, they’re not hearing aids, they’re implants. And thirdly, as far as I can tell, you don’t have much choice. I can go home and have a very good day, or I can stay here and help you not have the worst ever opening night of the season.”

Rick, thinking he was still holding the winning hand, did little to attenuate his tone.

“OK kid, let’s hear what you’ve got.”

Rick gestured towards the drum kit set up at the back of the stage. Hearing the familiar, if stifled snort of amusement from Brid, Anders looked briefly around, but was unable to see her in the darkness off the edges of the stage.

“You want an audition? Really? You think we have time for that? OK.”

Anders proceeded to carefully dismantle and move away about half of the very sizeable kit that was already set up.

“What are you doing?” Asked Rick, both amused and bemused.

“Clearing away the crap that I don’t need. We’re playing rock, right? Not a fucking orchestral suite.”

Flipping the drum stool upside down he pulled off the rubber feet before placing it back in position and sitting down.

“Sorry Brid, wherever you are, I’m going to scratch your floor again.”

Anders made some final minor positional adjustments and pulled out a pair of Vaders from his back pocket, placing the sticks that had been there on the floor behind him. He gave the kick and snare a couple of experimental hits, trying to get a feel for the kit before making some minor adjustments to the hi-hat.

Off to the side of the stage, Nico looked on as usual, without saying a word and failing to suppress a smile.

Anders reached back and unclipped his implants, immediately plunging into the familiar silence. He could turn them off from his phone app, but he didn’t trust technology as much as physically disconnecting them. After closing his eyes for a moments pause, Anders launched in to a relatively soft and simple set, covering most of the basics but really just using it as a physical warm-up exercise. After a couple of minutes, he was feeling relaxed enough to properly play. The pace picked up as the easy introductions migrated towards some classic rock beats and breaks, which was already probably more than enough to see him through the gig. But Anders continued, transforming the rhythm, morphing into doubles and triplets, pushing further, until he was quite self-consciously going all out drum solo, designed purely to show off. A good drum solo is not just about technicality, it’s a whole self-contained song which expresses feeling and style, and Anders was very comfortable in this world, building up to an intense crescendo and finished with the time honoured crash cymbal. Sometimes the only way to deal with arrogance like Rick’s is to do the same. By the time he finished, sweat was covering his body, and he could perceive the silence from the band even before he reconnected his implants.

“So? Can we get on with rehearsing now? Or do you want to waste even more time?”

“I guess you’ll do.” Rick seem unable to say anything overtly positive.

“I’ll do? Fuck that, I can just as easily go home…”

Anders stood, as if to leave.

“OK, OK, you were good.”

“Cool. So, sort out the set list and I’ll get my gear in. Is it just you guys, like, only guitars?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Fine. OK, so we’ll need a line for the Octopad too.”

Anders turned away from Rick, towards the back of the venue.

“Brid? Is anyone around to give me a hand?”

Before she had time to answer, Nico stepped out of the blackness at the side of the stage.

“Hey Anders, sure, I’ll help.”

Less than an hour later, and Anders has replaced the band’s kit with his own, and is ready to begin rehearsals. Nico worked around him to install some additional audio monitors and a video screen.

“What do you need the monitors for if you can’t hear anything?” Rick was clearly always going to be a bit of an ass, but Anders was used to this question.

“It’s so I can feel the music. If I leave my implants connected it’s way too loud and mashes my head, but this way, I can still feel it.”

This explanation was mostly true, but also Anders just preferred it this way.

“And the screen?”

“So I can see you, because, you know, I won't be able to hear you.”

Rick clearly did not understand.

“Whatever. So we’ll run through the whole set, yeah?” Stated Rick.

Anders scanned through the scrawled set list, which seemed very straight forward.

“Sure, we can, but I’d recommend we do beginnings and ends, links, and then anything that deviates from the standard arrangement. If you just want something that sounds like the album or the single recording then just tell me which and we don’t particularly need to spend long on that. I’m sure I’ll get a feel for you guys soon enough.”

“Cocky little fuck aren’t you?” Rick seemed to be smiling, despite his words.

“Just trying to make the most of the time we have.”

“Whatever. So we open with Let It Rock…”

The newly formed band tried it a couple of times, crashing the intro horribly.

"OK, guys, Rick, hang on." Anders interrupted before they could try it again.

"Rick, when you count in, I really need you to look either at me, or to the front, because when you look off stage then I can't tell what is happening. Or you can click or something, or tap your foot, anything I can see. Otherwise this isn't going to work unless I count us in."

"No way, I'll do it. Just pay attention alright?"

Another couple of attempts and they finally made a full run through the first track. Anders was making notes as he went.

“OK, you happy?” Asked Rick

“Sure, so then what happens?” Replied Anders.

“You’ve got the set list in front of you…”

“No, I mean, what’s the link? Do we pause? Do you talk? Do we go straight in to Raise Your Hands?”

“No, I’ll introduce us, say something, and then I’ll bring us in.”

They continued to slowly work through the opening tracks, stopping, repeating sections, until everyone was happy. Almost everyone.

“OK, guys, can I make a suggestion.”

Anders had stopped the rehearsal, again, and could see that the rest of the band were becoming frustrated.

“Look, I know you’re getting pissed off, but this is going OK, we’ll be fine. But the opening, it’s not very strong.”

“Oh really? Now I’m being lectured by a fucking kid? Do you know how long I’ve been doing this?”

Rick turned to face Anders straight on, whilst Anders estimated the answer to be about 30 years and two marriages.

“No. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be improved. I know this shit, you should talk less. You’ve got some strong classics opening the show, but you’re interrupting them with all the talking. Just… shut up a little and play, we can segue straight through the first three, I can fill it if you want to underscore you 16 or 32 between each one to keep the momentum and it will really build the opening energy.”

“What? No, that’s not how we do it…”

“Can we at least try it? Look, I know you might not like me, but this is my reputation just as much as yours.”

“What reputation? You’re just a kid.”

“Yeah whatever. But I’m a kid with a very full diary and plenty of studios with my number on speed-dial. I promise if you totally hate it, I’ll shut up and just do whatever you want. No matter what it sounds like.”

Anders looked to the other guys, who seemed to be at least open to the idea. In fact, in a boost to Anders not inconsiderable ego, they seemed to be enjoying the changes, or at least someone standing up to Rick.

“OK, we’ll try it. Once.”

Fifteen minutes later, and the changes were confirmed before they all moved on through the set. Time was going to be a little tight, but they would finish with an hour at least to spare before they opened.

~~~
Let It Rock

~~~ 

“No Mum, I’m not staying in all night, we’re supposed to be on holiday.”

She staggered slightly, having retrieved another bottle from the kitchen counter.

“Take Tyler with you then. I don’t want him complaining around me all night.”

“Again? Can’t I have one fucking night out on my own?”

As usual, when the arguing got too much for her, she retreated into silence.

“Fine. He’s better off away from you anyway.”

Tommy walked in to his bedroom, banging on his brother's door as he went. He sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands as he tried to calm down. Tyler emerged a few seconds later.

“What?”

Tyler’s eyes were red, but he persisted in trying not to cry as he stood in Tommy’s doorway.

“Fucking hell Ty, what’s up now? We’re going out, so go get ready yeah?”

“Where?”

“I don’t know, just out.” Tommy’s words were clipped.

“It’s OK, I know you don’t want to take me. You never do.”

Tommy looked up at his brother, reminding himself that he’s a lot younger and maybe can’t deal with stuff as well.

“Come here Ty.” Tommy stood and hugged his little brother. “It’s not that I don’t want you with me, I just wanted a night on my own.” He kissed his brothers head as he left to finish getting dressed.

The two boys walked along the seafront, seeing what had changed since they were here the year before. Tommy even allowed candy floss and doughnuts, which were mostly eaten by Tyler. As they approached The Wave Tommy eyed the various posters and displays advertising the shows they had over the summer season.

“Hey munchkin, you want to go see a band?”

“Oh god, like a real band? Or your weird old music kind of band?”

“Come on, you might even like it.”

“I’ve heard your music, it’s weird and just… weird. And old.”

“It’ll be like a concert, and you’ve never been to a concert so come on, you can try it.”

“Can I have beer?”

“No, you can have Coke.”

“Fine, but I’m choosing what we do all next week.”

They queued for tickets, with Tommy paying out of his own money for the two of them, before buying a beer and a Coke and heading in to the venue. It wasn’t anywhere near to sold out, but busy enough to not feel empty. Tommy found space for them nearer the front.

“There aren’t any seats here?” Tyler asked.

“No, it’s not a sitting down type of thing.”

The unexpected waiting due to the delayed start time did nothing to reduce Tyler’s complaining, but it was at least getting busier and even a whiny twelve year old could feel the anticipation rising in the crowd. Finally, the lights dimmed, and the crowd started to cheer.

“It’s going to be loud Ty!”

Tyler said something in response, but was drowned out by the guitar intro blasting through the darkness. As the music built, the lights followed, illuminating the band from behind. It seemed that everyone knew the song, except Tyler, so the very brief pause just added to the tension before… the drums, the lights, the screams from the crowd, it was like the venue exploded into life. Tommy felt the warmth of familiarity, it might not be trendy for people his age now, but rock music felt like it belonged in his soul. Meanwhile, Tyler stared open mouthed at the spectacle, his senses on the edge of overload.

Tommy’s initial surge of adrenaline was quickly replaced by something altogether different. He’d looked at other guys before, of course, but this, him, who the fuck is that? His short blonde hair seemed to Tommy to be shining, glittering almost in the lights. The ripped sleeves of his t-shirt barely containing his well-defined arms, and just… the energy, the passion. Tommy laughed at himself, such a cliché, but he kept finding his gaze drawn time and time again back to the drummer. There’s no harm in looking, right?