“That’s the other thing I was calling you about. Simone is about to call you anyway, I just got off the line with her. We have been offered a co-headline tour. You’ll never guess who with!”
Simone had become our sort of manager. She came on with us a month ago when things started to take off and was happy to work for next to nothing. I guess we’re her lucky break. I’d gone from hanging out with Dee, to hanging out with the guys, to hanging out with Simone. She was the first genuine female friend I’d had in a long time.
I’m not sure who the label has chosen us to tour with and took a wild stab in the dark. “Prince. The Pixies. Powderfinger’s comeback tour. AC/DC. Kings of Leon. Don’t tell me there’s an Oasis reunion.”
“Not quite,” he said, laughing at my half-hearted attempt at a joke. “It’s the fucking Stabs.”
I sat up then. “No way.” I hadn’t listened to them since the awkward eyebrow incident a few months ago.
“Remember when we went to see them that time? What did I say about being better than them? I have dreams about showing them up.”
“What? This whole time?”
“No, just for the last ten minutes.”
“Oh my god.” I paused. This was happening way too fast.
“Zoe, they asked for us. The band asked for us.”
“Why?”
“Because they know something shit hot when they hear it.”
I think about Will Strickland and my stomach churned, the thought crossing my mind that he had something to do with it and I shook my head. In what twisted reality would Will Strickland do over his band’s record label to get us on tour? Someone who’d only spoken one word to me. I tried to forget it. “I better go, Dee. Frank will be here soon for the call in for the radio interview.”
“Say something nice about me.”
Simone called as Dee said she would. The thing about Simone is that she’s the total opposite of me. Blonde, bubbly and talks a mile a minute about nothing and everything all in the same breath. Give her something to organize and she’s happier than a kid in a candy store. Over the last few months, we’ve become friends and I’m glad she’s along for the ride.
“Tour dates are confirmed February through March, nation wide. We’ve just got to get the okay from you and Chris, everyone else has agreed to it. The record company is prepared to foot most of the expenses since the single is doing so well. They’re cutting the same deal they do for The Stabs.”
“Even though it was only released today?”
“They are prepared to take a risk since sales have gone through the roof in the first few hours. The national radio play has helped too, you know.”
I sighed, “Why are we even discussing this? Of course I agree. It’s The Stabs after all. It’ll be good for us.” What I didn’t say is that I could perv on Will Strickland for five weeks straight and watch Dee lose his mind trying to stay between us. Not that Will would go for it. I wasn’t exactly the warmest of people. It was better as a fantasy in my own head than in reality.
“Brilliant! Hey, good luck with the interview this arvo. Dee tells me you’ll be rehearsing tonight so if you don’t mind, I’ll stop by and give you all the details for the tour. Kick off is just over three weeks!” Simone squealed a little and abruptly hung up.
I grimaced at the phone and threw it on the bedside table and rubbed my eyes. My earlier thought echoed around my head like a coin in a tumble dryer. This was going way too fast. I almost felt sick, but I rolled out of bed and dragged myself into the shower. Thank god radio didn’t mean I had to look presentable.
I’d just managed to get dressed when there was a knock on the door. I opened it up, hair still dripping, and found Frank standing outside, looking all handsome and buff in a red flannel shirt and a Devil’s Tattoo shirt he got one of his mates to make up.
“Self advertising, Frankey?” I asked, letting him in.
“I love tooting my own horn,” he declared proudly, then realized what he’d just said. “Oh man.”
Shutting the door behind him, I laughed, pushing him onto the couch. “Make sure you toot that behind closed doors. Some things people don’t need to see.”
Frank opened his mouth to shoot something back, but thought better of it and hid his face behind his hands.
“Drink?”
“Please.”
I got him a glass of water as he pulled out his phone and dialed the number the radio station gave us for the conference call. Butterflies fluttered around my stomach as I sat across from him. I wondered if this would get any easier. He placed his phone on the coffee table and turned it on speaker. As we listened to the hold music, Frank patted me on the knee.
Hugo was the host of the afternoon drive show on the nation wide alternative radio station, Absolute. When he came on the line, they were still playing Walls.
“Hey guys.” He sounded really friendly. Professional.
“Hey,” Frank replied.
“Ready? We’re on in a minute.”
“Give us your best.”
The song came to an end and Hugo took the mic and I’m jealous of his ability to fill the silence with his words.
“You’re listening to Absolute and that track was Walls from a new and exciting band out of Melbourne called The Devil’s Tattoo. Hey. I’m Hugo taking you right through to five. But really, wasn’t that an awesome song? And right now, as promised, I’ve got two of the members from that exact band, The Devil’s Tattoo on the line. Frank and Zoe. How are you guys?”
“Great, thanks,” we both echoed.
“Latest reports are that Walls has gone to the number six spot on the iTunes chart. That is absolutely phenomenal. How are you guys dealing with that?”
Frank took the lead. “We have been blown away by the response to Walls already. It really has been quite amazing and unexpected.”
“You guys only decided to form a band together a few months ago?”
“Yeah,” said Frank. “I was drumming in a punk band at the time and this particular night Dee, Zoe and I were at a Stabs gig at The Corner in Melbourne and Dee decided it was an awesome idea. I don’t think we had a choice.”
“He conned us into it,” I said.
“So Zoe, is it true that this is the first band you’ve been in?”
“Yeah. I’ve known Dee since we were twelve, so even though I had never sung in front of anyone, he knew I could, even if I didn’t. I picked up guitar almost three years ago now for something to do, but I never thought about being in a band before. I guess I was content in watching others and enjoying their music to contribute myself.”
“That’s crazy! Three years? We’ve had comments coming through on the text line saying that you play like Jack White. Another says that you put Jimmy Page to shame.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said. “When I first started it was like a puzzle. I had the time to nut it out.”
“So, it’s like maths equation?” Frank asked.
“I wasn’t that great at maths in school.”
“But you could look at it that way.”
“I guess. Music can be very mathematical. It probably depends on how you approach it.”
“Enough talk about maths,” Hugo laughed. “What I’m dying to know is who your influences are? What went into deciding on how your sound played out?”
“I came from a punk background,” Frank started. “So, I was listening to stuff like The Clash, The Adicts, GBH and newer stuff like Rancid and NoFx. The band I was in was playing a lot of reggae and loud shouty punk. I don’t think we had a song that lasted more than two and a half minutes.”
“I’d never thought about writing before,” I said. “I was just playing for kicks, but I was listening to a lot of stuff from bands like Alberta Cross, Band of Skulls, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, The Dead Weather… You know, gritty rock and some mellower stuff as well. We all have our influences and they all meld together. It’s a very collaborative effort.”
“How would you describe your sound? We’ve h
eard everything from dark and dirty to face melting rock ‘n’ roll. How would you guys describe it?”
“Waking up after an amazing night on the booze with a sexy woman and not knowing how the fuck you got there.” Frank. Always so astute.
“Wow,” I drawled.
“Wow, indeed. What about you Zoe?”
“Dark, dirty, face melting, wet dream, sweaty rock ‘n’ roll.”
“I think we like you guys.”
“Like?” Frank exclaimed.
“Okay, okay. We bloody love you guys. We’ve gotta get you in the studio next time. I know Robbo would love you guys on the breakfast show for Cover Wars.”
My ears pricked up at the mention of this. Cover Wars was a weekly segment where bands get to play one of their songs and a cover version live on air. I’d love to do it.
“For sure,” Frank said, excited. “We’ve got some things up our sleeve. Hook us up.”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll make it happen sooner rather than later, but the next thing everybody is dying to know is when’s the album out? And when are we gunna see some more live shows?”
“We’ve had the album recorded for some time. It’s going to be out in two weeks, to coincide with a little tour we have planned, but you’ll have to wait for that to be announced properly,” Frank said deviously.
“Hey, Frank. Are we even allowed to tell ’em about this yet?”
“Too late!”
Everyone laughed. This interview business wasn’t half as bad as I though it was going to be.
“So much exciting news from the camp! So, what’s the album called?”
“Do Me A Favor.”
“What’s the story behind that?”
“It’s what Zoe says to Dee all the time. Do me a favor and shut the hell up.”
“He’s really annoying.”
“Especially when he tunes his guitar.”
“He takes forever.”
“Oh man. You guys sound like a lot of fun to hang around.”
“We’re like a family,” Frank agreed.
“It’s been great having you on this arvo. Shame its been so short.”
“Thanks for having us,” I said.
“Not a problem. Any time. Right now, we’ve got a song that you guys have picked out for us. Tell us what it is and why you chose that particular song.”
“This is Future Starts Slow by the Kills,” I said. “We chose it because it’s great and if there was one tune out there that explained us as a whole and what we’re about, it’s this one.”
“I agree and I think Australia would as well. This is a killer track. Cheers, guys. Thanks again for stopping by.”
As the song came on and we went off air, Hugo thanked us for hanging out with him again and the call ended.
A text came through on my phone, vibrating in my pocket. I laughed when I saw who it was from and what it said.
Dee: I thought I told you to say nice things about me? xxx
I text him back: But you do take forever to tune your guitar.
“Do you wanna come over now?” Frank asked. “I know we’ve got two hours or so until rehearsal, but I can give you a lift.”
“Sure,” I said. “Just let me get my stuff.”
I was on a high after that interview and was dying to know what the details were for the tour. Where we were going, how many shows, how we were getting around. I’d never really thought about how bands toured and now that we were about to do it, I was more than a little excited. It was going to be great to get out of town for a while and to do it with another band would be even better. I had so much to learn about everything and I was keen to see how things worked in bigger venues. Even if it wasn’t The Stabs, I’d still feel the same way.
At the thought of touring with them for five weeks side by side, my stomach fluttered and I knew that this crush I’d developed on Will Strickland was going to be trouble. All caps, bold, underline, strikethrough.
Chapter Six
Zoe
The Hi-Fi Bar was probably one of my favorite venues in Melbourne. It has an upstairs area with a bar, where people could view the stage from above and down below there is a section set down into the mosh pit with four or five steps leading outwards, so there’s a better view of the stage from most angles. I’ve seen so many shows here and it’s a dark, but airy place with great acoustics.
Today is the first show of the Walls on Fire tour. The label came up with the idea to merge the names of both our current singles. Our song, Walls, and The Stabs’ song, Fire. To date we hadn’t had the chance to meet any of the members of the band we’d be spending the next five or so weeks with. It kind of annoyed us a little, since we were going to be with them for so long, but Simone said they’d been in New Zealand doing a few gigs. Pete, their singer and guitarist had sent us an email saying how excited they were, so that was nice enough.
There was a support band as well as us and The Stabs and it was our turn to sound check. I didn’t have a clue what I was meant to do, so I enlisted the help of one of the tech guys from the venue to help me out. A few more times and I think I’d have this which cord in what plug scenario down pat.
So, I’m standing on stage all rock’n’roll like with my beloved black sexy as hell Epiphone slung over my shoulder playing the opening bars of Walls, Frank singing ‘Why are we waiting, slowly dehydrating’, Chris banging his head against his microphone, waiting for Dee to hurry the hell up and tune his new Gibson when the side door opened, letting the harsh daylight into the dark and dirty room. Of course we all look up at that moment, because who wouldn’t, and see two of the four members of The Stabs walk in like they owned the joint. I saw a shock of curly hair and for whatever reason, I rolled my eyes. Chris winked at me and I flipped him off.
“When you’re ready, pansy boy!” Frank yelled at Dee, who was oblivious as usual.
When he was finally good to go, we get on with sound check and for whatever reason I’m nervous. I didn’t open my eyes the whole time, the chords so familiar my fingers just flew over the strings and the words came out of my mouth. I was on autopilot and when the song ended, I could scarcely remember playing it at all.
“Zo Zo,” Frank called out to me, snapping me out of my haze. “Get up here, sweetness,” he patted the top of the bass drum. “Gotta make sure it doesn’t fall over.”
I jumped up on the step and stood on top of the drum and gave it a little wobble. “Steady as she goes.” It had been Dee’s idea to amp our show up a little for this tour. Up until a few gigs ago, I’d pretty much just stood on stage and played, hardly moving a meter away from the mic. We closed our set with a fast and dirty rock ‘n’ roll song and there was the perfect lull, right before it ended, that he said would look pretty sweet if I jumped up onto the kit and played the last few bars up there. And he’d been right, of course. A photo had been published online and to my surprise, I kinda looked good.
One of the tech guys came along as I wiggled the bass drum around and Dee eyeballed him. “Move this kit and you’re dead. She falls off and breaks somethin’, you’re mine.”
“Take a chill pill, Dee.” I smiled apologetically at the guy and he shrugged. I handed him my guitar and jumped back down onto the stage.
We unplugged all our effects pedals and guitars as the drum kit was rolled off stage on it’s little platform so The Stabs could do their thing, but they didn’t seem to be in any hurry as they loitered in front of the stage. Two had become the complete set of four. I could feel them watching us and I did my best to ignore them for now and concentrate on what I was doing. I kind of felt intimidated by them. They’re on album number three, so they’ve been around for a long time already and we’ve just started.
When we wandered off stage, they came up to us and introduced themselves and thankfully for now, Will Strickland was absent. They all seemed very nice and welcoming and offered to give us some pointers if we needed anything. Pete was their guitarist and vocalist. He was tall and wiry, and his dirty blond hair
hung in his eyes, pushed forward by a black hoodie that seemed to be perpetually over his head. Sticks was their drummer and he reminded me a lot of Frank. He was just as muscled and rough around the edges, but he smiled and was nice to talk with. And Louie was their other guitarist. He had a slick haircut that was combed back into a quiff, so he and Dee had a lot to talk about and there were various tattoos on his arm and one that peeked out of his V-neck T-shirt on his chest. Where mine were Japanese style dragons and flowers, his were traditional roses, pinup girls and what looked to be an eagle on his front.
We made ourselves scarce from the backstage area while they set up and sat together on the stairs toward the back of the room. As they sound checked, I leaned my chin against my hand, letting my fringe fall into my eyes. As a complete set of four, they looked quite good together. I watched them run through a few songs, just like we had earlier, my eyes not missing a beat. As they adjusted their equipment on stage and tested mics, I took everything in.
Dee elbowed me. “They’re quite efficient, that lot,” he said as they finished up.
“They’ve been doing it for a while.”
“Do you still have a crush on him?”
I almost choked on my own spit.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“I never said I did,” I hissed.
“Well you better figure it out, Zo Zo.”
“Why?”
“Cos he’s coming this way.”
Before I could do anything, Dee jumped to his feet and walked away as fast as he could, leaving me in the lurch. I swallowed hard and looked back toward the stage and Will was walking toward me and I mean it’s just me. Everyone else has bailed and I wondered if I was that obvious.
I stood as he approached, determined to get through this with my dignity intact, but he’s just too good looking and the way his hair was falling into his eyes…
“You’re…”
“Zoe,” I said abruptly, snapping out of it and almost falling down the stairs. My back is to the stage now, and I hoped the light is hiding the massive blush that’s crept onto my face.
What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 3) Page 84