Anticipation. I remembered the moment right before my favorite band entered onto the stage. The lights dimmed, the crowds hunger audible, a faint electric E...maybe a tap of the snare. Damp artificial fog filled the air.
Unsigned talent in its purest form. You can’t help but admire a group of artists that have come from nothing to such heights of popularity without the aid of Jimmy Iovine. I closed my eyes. I’m finally here I thought. ‘Kill Screen! Kill Screen! Kill Screen!’ we crecendoed. It’s getting hot, but easy to ignore when you’re in a moment of pure bliss. I can hardly take it. My cheeks feel flush. She turned and smiled at me. I grabbed her hand. It was perfect. Here we go…
Thirty-nine minutes and twenty four seconds of slurred lyrics. ‘Fuck you’? Distortion and poor timing. My heroes had been had at the hand of too much rye. Rye!? Speechless we turned away and headed for a bright green ‘Exit’. Out forty-seven dollars and fifteen cents. We never saw each other again.