Monday, 23 August 2010


gig talkies

11:30 pm. Saturday. Hermann Goebells gig. Lana’s back. And how? Never put this girl down. She’s back on the drums. Drummer girl pounds away her demons. She turned away a lot of invites and we even politely asked her to join one of the other bands that were chasing her. I guess their music is not toxic enough and poisonous enough to have an effect on her. All she needs is poison. Her drumming is a cross between skin torture but she was trained in jazz so the sticks just bounced on the skins. At the end of the set the audience was left befuddled, mesmerized and bothered. Who’s the drummer girl? Why didn’t she join other bands? She could’ve been famous by now. Drummer Girl. Pa rum-pa rum- pum. (Yes, the Christmas song.) Acid on her veins. Keeps her going.

“Yo, Lana wait up!” Deckard half running to catch up.
“Hey.” “Thought you’re playing.” Waiting for him to catch up
“Supposed to. We don’t have a drummer.”
“You never had a drummer. Just a bass player, What’s her name?” She met her several times but couldn’t remember the name.
“ Paige.”
“Nice name.”
“Nice set.”
“ I guess so.” In her adorable half smile.
“ Paige’s in El – Lay now. She’ll be back next week.”
“ Why do you have girls in your band?” She never sounded playful and bubbly before. This is the first time.
“ They came to me.” “Got three other guys on board too.”
“House and noise?”
“House and noise.”
“I have your CD, I think.” She reminded him.
“I was about to give you one.” “You didn’t wait for the giveaway?”
“Bought one.”
“You did?” “I should get rid of this then.” “It has two extra tracks and a remix.”
“Wait, let me have it.” “Grabbing it from him.
“Makes me sleep.” “Really.” “Must be the layers.” “Yeah.” “It’s cerebral.” “It’s loud but doesn’t pierce the eardrums but rather bores through the skulls.” Her trying to give a review of the CD. Which actually are the underground reviews.
“Any chance you’d play with us.” Him trying to invite her.
“I don’t think so.” “You guys are better off with Industrial.” “Like Throbbing Gristle.”
“Throbbing Fucking Gristle.” He smiled. He hates comparisons with other bands.
“Name dropping” “I know you hated name dropping.” “Just pissing you off.” ”Yeah, and it makes me sound that I knew those bands.” She added.
“You’d be at home with Coltrane’s band.”
”Fucking Coltrane.” “Let the name dropping commence.”

This is the part where they’re supposed to argue about bands. Just like before. But this ain’t before. This is now. This is fucking different.

“How’s it going, Decks?” She beat him to the question. She somehow had the feeling that he’s going to ask a seemingly uncomfortable question. About the past perhaps? She hated the past. And she knows what the future’s going to be. And NOW is just too fucked up.
“Fine. Bands fine. I’m fine.” Somehow that was a lame attempt to be defensive.
“I’m fine too, Decks. I knew you’re going to ask that question.” “Yes, I tried to and fuck, let’s leave it at that.”

“Lan, we’re just trying to help….”
” I don’t need your sympathies right now. Save it.”
“I’m not trying to.” “The needle’s going to win eventually.” Him looking away.
“Sorry.” “It’s just…” Somehow agreeing with him. Yup, she’s agreeing with him these days.
“I get it.” “I know when to back off.” “Just do whatever you’re going to be doing.” He wants to say something but decided not to.
“You’re no Dr. Phill, man.” “You’d suck as a shrink.” Smiling again.
“I’ll be going around to find myself.” “I’ll be gigging a bit here and there.” Shibuya on the fifteenth. “Small art space.” She continued.
“Nice.” “Have it on video.” Somehow the mood has lightened a little.
“Saw a shrink recently.” “Fucking shrink.” She stares blankly.
“The Tony Leung guy? One of his offhand jokes again.
“Fuck you.”
“You dated him right?”
“Fuck.” “You.”
“”I’m just playing.” “Sorry”
“And he doesn’t look like Tony Leung.” “You guys are the worst gossip.”
”Fucking hilarious” “Catch up sometime?”
“Sure.” “You’re buying.” She said…

Her half smiles again.