Songs for Abrielle

by Mae Temson

  “Sarah, nice to meet you.” I said so formally that I almost laughed at myself, “Please, If you don't mind missing the encore, make yourself at home here.” I ushered her in to the dressing room. “There are drinks in the fridge or a kettle and teas over there, help yourself to anything. I will be right back.” I could hear the band starting a very long intro to the best seller we were currently starting our encore set with. I ran up through the back stage area and out onto the stage not making eye contact with any of them. It wasn't like me to be late to the stage and the curiosity would be killing them all.

  As we sang the encore set of three numbers it suddenly occurred to me that I had left a total stranger alone with all of my personal things. The things I never left on the bus. The things I had to have with me, nearby, every performance. I just hoped I could trust her, who ever she was. I would never forgive myself if I had allowed a total stranger in to steal treasured tokens. What if she was a reporter looking for that elusive story, searching for a chink in my privacy armour? I had let first impressions rule me and the boys would never let me live it down. Some of the things I keep close are irreplaceable. As it was I needn't have worried. When I got back to the dressing room she was just sitting there and she had made us both a herbal tea.

  “I guessed you may prefer one of these? With a little honey? For the voice?”

  “Wow, yes, great.” I blurbed, as eloquent as ever, “Thank you.”

  “You are welcome.” she said and leaned back in the chair so at ease with herself, so relaxed and un-psycho fan like that I had to smile. Crazy as it seemed and as clichéd as it sounds I really did feel in that split second like I had already known her for a long time.

  We talked and talked while I packed up my things. She explained she was a big fan and always had been since our very first album. She often listened to us on long training runs she said. She loved my lyrics she said. She had been thrilled when one of our gigs finally coincided with where she would be. It was her home town and she still knew a lot of people in the area. Hence how she had managed to get back stage.

  “I hope you didn't mind?” she said suddenly “I understand the crazy fan thing.”

  “Not at all” said, my mind running ahead of me, cursing the fact that we were moving on that night. Not too far I grant you but I was convinced that this was going to be the only meeting I ever had with Sarah Duval. “It's a shame we can't meet again we are...”

  “I was rather hoping we could.” She cut in, her smile so disarming I almost dropped the box I was holding. I sat down, unsure if I had heard right and not certain my knees would hold up. She put her mug down and leaned forward, resting on her knees,

  “I have a ticket for the next gig too.” her eyes held mine, “I finish my competition season day after tomorrow and I am travelling up to see you play again. After that I am a free agent for a while. If you would like to meet again we could.” Her eyes were startlingly beautiful in a way I can not explain. They held my gaze so easily and so confidently I felt like she was reading my mind, seeing beyond the Stage Delta and reaching in to the real me. It was unnerving in a very exciting way. I had only just met the woman for Christ’s sake and she had already started chipping away at my armour.

  I said I would arrange a back stage pass for her for the next gig and that she could watch from back stage if she wanted. She accepted the offer of a pass but said she would watch the concert in the venue along with everyone else. She wanted the fan experience again she said. She wanted to drink in the atmosphere and experience the music with others who appreciated me in the way she did, she said.

  She said a lot in the short time we had together did Sarah Duval and all of it played over and over again in my mind in the next few days. I tried really hard not to let my mind run too far ahead of itself. She was exquisitely styled and attractive in a way that tied my stomach in knots. It occurred to me as I thought about her later on the tour bus after our first meeting that her confidence came from having to believe in herself to achieve the goals she had set for her life. Training for that kind of sport, at that kind of level required a strength of character and a discipline I certainly did not possess. She had the aura of someone conditioned to compete and win. She had the aura of someone who knew what she wanted and was going to get it one way or another. I thought I knew what I wanted from the very moment I raised my gaze to head height in that dressing room doorway but that was me letting my libido do the talking I had told myself whilst back on stage in the encore. I knew for sure what I wanted when our eyes met as she leaned in to hug me goodbye and my desire started running around in circles in my head like a terrier waiting for the ball to be thrown. I hoped to God my tongue wasn't hanging out like an excited terrier too. Like I say I had established for sure what I wanted but by the time she said goodbye we had not yet touched on the subject of what she wanted from meeting me again. Extreme confidence can hide the natural nuances of a person. It can often mask a personality.

  I remember at school I had a friend in the swimming team, Lauren, Lauren Walker. She was good, way better than any of us. She ensured the school won cup after cup in all the galas. She was a great swimmer but naturally such a timid, quiet person. Great to be with once you got to know her and we had some incredible fun. When the P.E Teacher started putting her forward for more serious competitions outside of the regular inter-school events she met her match a bit more and started coming second or third. She blamed herself and said she just wasn't good enough. The coach knew she was and pushed her. He could see the potential for her and wasn't going to let her talk herself out of success. He brought in extra outside coaching, sports psychology, I guess they would call it now, and Lauren continued to train. We lost touch a while when we left school as you do when life's pathways take you down different routes. I often saw pictures of her in newspapers when she had done well in this event or that. One time at home on a break between recording and touring I bumped in to her. Physically she had not changed at all but in character and indeed personality she had. She was almost arrogant. The perpetual coaching and being told to put herself first, the being forced to believe in her self or fail had taken away the real Lauren. It seemed sad to me that she had had to push aside her true self in order to achieve.

  Where was I? Oh yes Sarah Duval. I made it to the next venue in a pool of mixed emotions. I had not heard from her since our first meeting and by now I was beginning to convince myself she had thought better of it and that I would never see her again. Dave, of course had wanted to know who she was having seen her at my dressing room door and I had told him. He was a band member and certainly one of the lads but more than that he was a friend and I knew that if I told him something in confidence he would he keep it to himself. He was the closest to a brother I had while out on tour. He said that if it was meant to be, in any way shape or form, then she would be there after the next show and we would meet again. If she didn't show, according to him, then a new horizon would reveal itself very soon after. He was always so very calm about these things and philosophical in a way that was never relayed when you saw him bashing the hell out if his drum kit. I love him more than I will ever let on to him.

  I thought she may use her pass to come and see me at the sound check before the concert or something but she didn't and so by show time I was convinced I would never see her again. I paid particular attention to the eager crowd squashed at the front of the stage as we played. Arms outstretched and singing every lyric. It never ceases to amaze me how many faces I see there time and time again. Familiar faces hoping for acknowledgement, arms outstretched praying for the slightest of touches. I do my best to recognise the devotion of these fans because I know what it feels like. I have spent too many hours to mention queued at venues way too early in order to be at the front of the stage for a hero or heroines concert. I know what it feels like to be devoted to someone beyond your reach, to someone who it feels like to you lives in another world entirely. I know what it feels like to have spent money you can i
ll afford in order to travel to somewhere in the back of beyond just to see them live.

  I looked for her amongst the throng but I didn't see her and so I was more than pleasantly surprised to see her waiting at the dressing room door when I came off stage for the last time.

  “I didn't want to presume and go in.” she said, gesturing at the closed door, “It's a private space I imagine.”

  It is.” I replied, trying to keep the lid on my joy at seeing her there, “but you would have been more than welcome to go in.” I opened the door and swept an arm inside, “After you.” I cringed at my own stupidity, and at having just made such a lame gesture. I knew I was capable of such a higher level of repartee but something about her just took away all my usual flare. In her presence so far I had been reduced to cheesy mush. She said that the concert had been wonderful, somehow even more powerful than the gig she had seen previously. I made us tea and again we talked while I packed up to leave yet another venue.

  “Doesn't It get tiresome moving on all the time.?” She asked, “I mean, I have to travel a lot in the competition season but it is nothing in comparison to what you have to do.”

  “I have got more than used to it now. It's tiring at times and by the end of a long tour all you want is a spell at home and a different routine but on the whole I love it. I wouldn't do it if I didn't love it.”

  “Hotel rooms and sports villages are one thing but I can't imagine living in such a small space as a tour bus.”

  I remember I asked her if she would like to see inside the bus. We were due to stay in a hotel that night and so the boys would not be around to give me, and indeed her, any grief. Danny the driver had long since given me a key to the bus in case I needed peace and quiet away from male company. I remember finding Dave to say I was giving Sarah the guided tour and not to mention it to the boys. He just gave me that I told you she would turn up look and promised that he would keep the boys busy at the hotel. They already had everything they needed with them for their overnighter and taxis had been arranged to take them there.

  The bus was parked at the back of the venue and by agreement with the owners it was staying there overnight. As usual a few die hard fans were still waiting at the stage door and after a few signatures (no selfies back then) and fending off those wanting to touch me too much, I took Sarah's hand and we ran for the bus. A local security guard was able to hold the last few fans off and suddenly we found ourselves in the calm and silence of the bus.

  “Wow! Is it always that crazy?” she said catching her breath “That was mad.”

  “That really wasn't as bad as it can get.” I said, suddenly full of bravado “So, the tour?”

  I showed her the kitchen/chill area at the front of the bus and then along to the boys bunks, kicking aside abandoned male underwear as we went.

  “Are they always this messy?”

  “It's like living with lovable adolescents most of the time.”

  I think she was amazed at first at how everything we needed was able to be stored in such a compact space. I explained that by comparison to a lot of other bands we really did travel light. Other bands have whole wagons loaded with clothes and accoutrements but for us the music was and always had been way more important.

  “But you have such a definite image.” She said, “There must be heaps of clothes you need to maintain that.”

  “I like what I like.” I said, opening the door to my private section at the back of the bus.

  “and does that include me?” She said stepping in and surveying my private domain. I shut the door behind me telling her that it most certainly did and as I remember it she hardly left that space again for the next three months. I mean she did, in reality, but when I look back it seems like we were inseparable for a while there. In between gigs we spent hours of our lives in bed. She was an athlete. What can I say? She was lithe and beautiful. So strong and delicate at the same time. Wiry, flexible, lean and almost insatiable. It wasn't just our bodies and our heroic sex drive that linked us though. She was an intelligent woman and well read. She introduced me to authors I had never heard of, she held strong political views and she seemed to have an opinion on everything. We didn't always agree on everything and our passionate, heated, but never angry debates are something I still miss about her. She was my smile for quite a while.

  From the Album Album “Ire Desire”

  Track nine

  Got this

  Flashback to mellow scenes

  laying in arms so tender.

  Flashback to younger dreams,

  her eyes, her smile, a reminder.

  Darling have we got this?

  Show me your answer in song.

  Darling have we got this?

  Darling I need to be wrong.

  Crawling back to newer days.

  Questions make me ache.

  Sing to me your answers Love,

  am I still real, or fake.

  Darling have we got this?

  Show me your answer in song.

  Darling have we got this?

  Darling I need to be wrong.

  Sing to me your answers Love,

  Mellow dreams or madness?

  Did I just wake up screaming Love?

  Tell me have we got this?

  Darling have we got this?

  Show me your answer in song.

  Darling have we got this?

  Darling I need to be wrong.

  © Delta Di-Noia

  8

  Thinking about Sarah and Marie brought to mind another period in my life. Like I say I haven’t been a saint. Abrielle was always there, in my minds shadows but while I believed my time with her to be incomparable I also believed her to be out of reach. Gone. I was never going to be celibate was I? Hope is one thing, opportunity quite another.

  We were getting ready to work on and finally record our third album, “Viper Moon”. I wanted a live feel but I didn't just want to record a concert. We hadn't settled on studio and I had lyrics but but not all the sounds or the feel I wanted. I wasn't at the panic stage yet but I had a definite sense of time running out. The record label were getting impatient

  We were messing around with one of the tracks when Dave took a call from an old contact. It turned out that someone somewhere had bailed out of a deal last minute and he was offering us a three month slot in Dolbeg Studios, Ireland. The call could not have come at a better time and it seemed provident. The boys were all up for it and out we shipped.

  We went by ferry with all of our gear. We sailed in to Dublin and drove down to the studios which were just a trot from Blessington Lakes. I was exhausted from a recent tour run and I think I slept for most of the travelling wedged somewhere between Dave and Sid, the bass guitarist. I certainly have little recollection of the journey and when I woke the next day I would not have argued if someone told me I had been tele-ported there.

  The studios were small, perfect for the feel I was after. I wanted live but intimate. I wanted it to feel almost spontaneous, like we had all just met at somebodies house and had a jam session. I wanted this album to be different from the first two. I wanted it to feel less polished, more raw, honest, natural.

  I didn't know how the record company would feel about it. I guessed that they would be reluctant to change a proven, successful formula but I felt I wanted to challenge our audience, to see if a new direction would keep the loyal fans and maybe appeal to new ones. I wanted at least three or four songs on the album to have a new feel. Being somewhere so beautiful, I mean southern Ireland for gods sake, where is more amazing? You couldn't help but feel inspired and influenced by the surroundings. I took to having early morning walks. There seemed to be so much sky, horizons were distant. Standing on one of the bridges over a lake could make you feel like the sky was actually below you, such was the beauty of the huge clouds reflected in the still water. The light was incredible. I didn't want an Irish or Celtic feel to the album any traditional sense but I did feel, somehow, that fate had dropped us
here, in this stunning place, for a reason. I wanted to be able to encapsulate the serenity and the beauty of our surroundings. The walking gave me a chance to think. Not always a positive thing for me but this place was sincerely inspiring and I took a lot from it.

  We spent a few days experimenting, trying out various arrangements. Adding in and removing sections of music or specific instruments or passages. Nothing was sitting right with me. The studio manager, Dermot, was around a lot and listened to a great deal of the initial musical ramblings. After one particularly good walk I was talking to Dave, trying to explain how I felt, what I wanted. That I wanted to capture the feel of the place but not go down the folk line. That wasn't our sound at all. It would be too far removed from our usual style. Yes I wanted change but I wanted it to be recognisably us. It was proving difficult to have it all ways. Dermot was in early that day and he overheard our conversation as he was preparing the area for us to work,

  “I know a brilliant local musician.” He said “if you're open to suggestions? She plays a lot of the traditional instruments plus the guitar and the piano of course. She plays the Bodhran, the flute, the penny whistle and the harp.”

  He threw the harp in last thing like that was an everyday occurrence. As though everyone would know a harpist. I wasn't sure. I didn't want to be rushed in to any decision but at the same time I was more than intrigued to meet such a talented musician. I couldn't say what the boys would think or how they would react to adding in another musician. Ego's are easily bruised.

  Dave was immediately keen. He felt, rightly so, that we had nothing to lose by at least meeting her. As it turned out the boys had been totally immersing themselves in local culture and had been at some sessions in the local pub. They loved the vibe that the freestyle approach had. They had already been talking to a lot of the local musicians and had no problem with inviting someone to join us.