ooc: A lickle rp :)
Charlie sat behind the small stage, the dark crimson curtains were drawn. The seats were filling up with mainly young teenagers, but the odd middle aged person sat down. He looked through a small gap in the curtains, sighting one boy that stuck out like a sore thumb. His hair all spiked up, acne ravaged his cheeks and a Carbrini jacket on. Not really the sort of person who usually went to his gigs. But hey, if he liked what he did then power to him.
Tonight he’d just be playing covers, a pretty safe bet. The other night he’d only played three of his songs – mainly because none of his were really ever finished. He’d start them off and spend about a day on it but then come back the next day and hate it and do another one. Even the ones he had down at the moment weren’t really that good.
But, the band was here tonight, which was good. Last time they hadn’t been, and it was a complete pain in the ass. They’re a good bunch of lads and he’d been touring with them for about three months now. People came and people went on the Charlie bandwagon but no one really stayed for longer than 6 months. Probably because they couldn’t cope with his arrogant humour and bluntness, but maybe also because they couldn’t stand the smell of the back of The Mothership – Charlie’s purple and blue VW ‘hippi’ van, decorated with adequate peace and love signs. It was nearly time to go on, he wasn’t nervous, a little shakey maybe but definitely not nervous. There were the usual butteflies in his belly but nothing that would affect his performance, and any emotions that leaked through were only good ones. He loved them and treasured them, the emotions, the feelings. They were always great, never let him down. There was fear, but a pleasant fear. A fear that made you feel alive. Even if it was a dingy club in a small down in the south east of England, there were people in front of you and they were listening to you and whether or not they liked you they were feeling something to.
He stood up and walked to where the band were sitting, about 5 metres away from him tuning up their guitars and playing around.
“Come on, lads. It’s time to go.” Charlie said, grabbing his acoustic guitar. The lads nodded and grinned cheekily. All five of them walked onto the stage, Charlie lifting his guitar into the air and the crowd all clapped quite relaxed. By the end they better be jumping, he said to the bass guitarist called Joe, who just laughed in reply. Charlie sat down on his chair and spoke down the mic.
“Hey, this song’s called Lamplight. I’d like to say it’s by me, but it isn’t, but it’s a good song, so I’ll play it anyway.” The crowd all clapped once again politely, and the low bass began strumming into the start of the song. Then soon after the lead joined in, playing the twangy riff.
‘You mirror gaze whilst I decide,
The moment you were deified,
You turn as if your mind replies
If your devout is unsurmountable
These scattered flashes of delight
They can't help but sway your mind’
The crowd roared and began clapping, a few standing on their feet. He could feel the breath of the front row upon him.
‘Never really put me right,
The words we said by dim lamplight,
Bodies cold and intertwined,
I feel the spirit’
Charlie now stood up, advising the crowd to follow suit, and the obliged greatfully. The stumpy security man had no chance of getting them down. Walking over to the old broken piano nearby him, he prepared for the next song – Dark Blue – which they jumped straight into.
