Sex and Drugs And…

The crowd had gone and the house lights were up. On stage, instruments were being packed into flight cases and the lighting rig lowered. Backstage the party was in full swing. Matrix’s rider had been huge, naturally. There was alcohol to intoxicate half of London and enough frivolous items to test the patience of the venue management and amuse his band. Drugs were kept off the list; available, of course, but with a little more discretion after the ‘incident’ in Berlin. And of course there were girls, most young enough to be his daughter and some of them who could be. There had been many tours and too much time to kill before and after each show. Each new city brought a new set of attractions and distractions, both sexual and chemical. It was just so difficult to remember any of it.

So he had sought out new thrills, ones his band and audience would not understand. Something he could indulge in whilst that night’s girl slept it off and he came down from the high of the evening’s show before the tedious journey on to the next gig. Matrix finished the bottle, looked around the room and beckoned the young blonde over. She looked eager, pretty enough and not too clever. She’d do. He was eager to get on. He signalled for the limo.

In another part of London, the printing presses were starting up.  There’s always someone who knows a secret and a price to pay for fame.

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AROS – Small Stones 16

The familiar chords ring out across the room, anthem to a long forgotten youth but still holding hope for the future.  Lyrics, unheard for a decade, take on a new meaning with experience.

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