Tuesday, 30 September 2008

Amid the Chaos of the Day

Pacing like a caged animal, left to right, right to left, drinking water habitually, not even thirsty. Can't stop moving, not even for a second, to break this momentum could let the tiredness take over, leave me an exhausted disappointment for everyone in the crowd. The only way to go is forward, so on and on I pace, waiting for the rest of the band to be ready. Finally, silence dawns, and my cue follows.

'We're called Deal With It, and this song is called War Against the Machines.' And with that I brought my fist crashing to the ground. All self control exploded into fragments moments before the song kicked in, and while the first note was struck I was already flinging myself headfirst into the crowd. I was once again running on empty, my energy coming from some deeply sickened deposit of pure survival instinct. Alternating between low singing when I could cope, and bloodcurdling screams when I ran out of juice; the first two lines of one song came out as a garble of nonsensical shouting. I had more important things on my mind, truth be told. I wanted the audience to understand and appreciate fear itself, to feel a great unease, some sort of sick fascination. I didn't care whether they loved or hated us, I just never wanted any of them to forget.

In between songs I'd pour half a bottle of water over myself, in a vain attempt to bring down my boiling blood. I'd fling the rest into the crowd with full force but no deliberation of aim. Time after time I threw myself off stage at anyone stupid/brave enough to stand close by. Grabbing people by the scruffs or collars and flinging them about like rag dolls. I had no idea where this strength was coming from, it was certainly not the sort of power I could muster on a day-to-day basis, instead was something akin to drug intoxication, like my body was riding a high on tension and rage. I throw the mic at people, take pot shots, swing my fists at full force, all the time screaming bloody murder, act after act of psychological warfare, a battle of attrition between me and the rest of the world. Noone in this town will ever fuck with us after tonight, I have neutered the lot of them, laughed in the face of their affectations and puffed chests, shown them what violence really is. I walked amongst them as we played, as though king of their realm, and they bared their bellies with no fight.

I put every last vestige of energy I had into our last set, and in 15 minutes it was all over. I felt cheated in a way, like it should have gone on for so much longer. Battles should last for days and weeks, not have to fit into a slot to let an instantly forgettable act try and fill the void. This should only have finished when I was put to rest, dead on the floor, a sigh of relief breathed out by the world at once. As it was I walked out the venue shirtless and wandered off, steam coming from me like a boiling pan. As I walked away to nowhere in particular I noticed heads turning to watch me go by, either a minor curiosity to them or a momentary distraction from conversation. I deflected their gazes. Even if they thought they knew what had just transpired inside, they had no idea whatsoever. I hated them for their ignorance, but by the same merit I paid them no heed. Ahead I could see a bench by a copse of trees, it seemed as good a place to rest as any. On sitting down the force of my surroundings hit me like a one word poem.

On the grass before me were rabbits by the tenfold, calmly feeding and socialising amidst the hubris of human culture all around, amidst the chaos of the day. The sheer contrast of what I'd experienced less than a minute before, and what I looked upon now was deeply profound, though I had no real idea how. Instead I sat and took in as much of the peaceful scene as I could, basking in its innocence and simplicity, yearning for a time in the future when I could do away with the pretensions and complexities that ruled my waking life.

I hadn't time to process this chain of thought before various people from the venue wandered up; talking and kidding around and causing a ruckus, disturbing and dispersing the rabbits with their prescence. It didn't seem right to sit there any longer.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

powerful!

Mob Rules said...

Considerable weirdity.

Anonymous said...

intense show. the rabbits were nice. so were the chickens.

Andy said...

amazing peice of writing! nice one.