Democrat, Illinois - The ElectroLounge

80 !
“We’re back, aren’t we? We took ‘em somewhere awhile, then we brought ‘em back.
Here we are.”
“Should we not come back?”
“You’re the Artist. I just hit my skins cuz I like loud shite.”
“Bollocks!”
“Don’t turn Brit on me, Torment! I’ve got enough to deal with here.”
“Grey, what are you talking about?”
He smiles. “I know all about this, mate. I had long hair once too.”
“Where, your nose?”
“My band wasn’t called the Motherfuckers at first.”
“A new story?? Twenty-five years in the band & you have a new story.”
“I saved it.”
“What was it called?”
“Pasquale here has the right idea. We called it Soma UK.”
“Soma?”
“Yah. Soma. All that Injun shite. Rig bleeding Veda. We drank the swill & are gods.
That was Barnacle.”
“Who? There was no Barnacle in your band!”
“He left. Split. Gone. Not a word. Not even a decent suicide to give us a myth to
exploit.”
“Soma UK?”
“It was only a few months. We sucked. Eating fungus & playing the moonlight.
Balling drunken hippy chicks looking for our stash.”
“Playing the moonlight? Sounds familiar.”
“We weren’t any good, Gretta-bird. Imagine doing what we do badly. I loved
Barnacle but he didn’t belong in a band.”
“Why Barnacle?”
“He stuck to ya. You knew he was trouble, but he hung on & you got used to him. I
hated when he left. But then I turned my mates onto the Pistols & Clash & Dolls &
Stooges & we found powder & new wave shag & off we went. Never talked about it. Never
looked back.”
“Why tonight?”
He shakes his balding head. “Dunno. I just think we’re going where he wanted to go.
But Soma UK wasn’t any good.”
“You think we’ll get there?”
“They had better get out of our way while we blow through.”
Everyone laughs. It’s OK the music is over for the night. They’ll be back. It never
really stops.
Someone walks up with a pipe & a smile. Another builds up the fire again. The
hours continue.
!"#$%#&'()#$*$+,$*$-.&#$/001!
!