August 29th, 1986. Show venue in Venice. 8:23 P.M.
Curt paced back and forth in the dressing room, "Where the hell is he?" he spat furiously. We've been waiting for Roland to return for hours now, the band was about to go on and he was still missing, "We can't go on without a lead singer." Ian shakes his head.
"Fuck." Curt sits on the edge of the couch, running a harsh hand through his hair, desperately trying to come up with a solution. I just sat next to him, bouncing my leg up and down, he throws a hand on my knee to make me stop.
His face brightens up with an idea, as he turns to me. Ian and Manny do the same, "What?" I asked. Finally, I realised what they wanted, "No. No I can't." I refused, shaking my hands.
"Come on!" they begged, "You'll be great, I'll be there right beside you the entire time. You're the only one who knows can do it. Please?" Curt pleaded with doughy eyes. I gave in, "Fine!" knowing I owed him so much.
My shoes click against the floor, as I eased onto the stage with those confident steps. The crowd was so loud, I could barely think straight at the ear piercing screams. I look like a mess, dressed in a t-shirt, jeans and oversized jacket.
I levelled the microphone to my mouth, and looked to Curt who nodded in encouragement, "Roland, our lead singer couldn't make it tonight." I say, it was weird to hear myself. The crowd yelled again, "I'll be taking over. I'm Curt's wife."
I nod to the band to start playing the first song, I look up at the stage lights hanging above, letting them gleam against my eyes.
A harsh drum sound begins to play in the background, followed by bass, piano and Gary Kemp from Spandau Ballet filling in on the guitar. My lips graze the microphone as the first words escaped mine and Curt's mouths,
"Is it an horrific dream
Am I sinking fast
Could a person be so mean
As to laugh and laugh
On my own
Could you ease my load
Could you see my Pain
Could you please explain
The Hurting."
I paused, letting the band continue the melody of sound and watched out at the audience who eagerly wanted more. I swayed my hips to the beat, getting into it like everyone else. I removed the microphone from the stand and clutched it in my hand as I moved over to Curt.
"Could you understand a child
When he cries in Pain
Could you give him all he needs
Or do you feel the same
All along
You've been told you're wrong
When you felt it right
And you're left to fight
The hurting."
The crowd went wild.
YOU ARE READING
Damn, He Can't Compare
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