“Ok, from the top…”
Here comes the candle, to light you to bed,
Dark Nosferatu chops off your head.
Lone voice and then the piercing scream.
Thunder, the drums explode in frenzy. Furious rhythms burst across the room.
The wail of guitar rises through the percussive storm and manages to calm Thor’s wrath to a steady beat.
Wait four bars, in burst the other instruments, advancing like armed forces following a well rehearsed tactical battle plan. The bass and guitar now become rhythmic lovers, flesh to the bones of the drumbeat. The keyboard sings in a sinister voice, a melody of atmosphere. The violin soars above, a bird of prey upon the wing.
In the dark of night, for too many years,
The Hunter rises still.
Beneath pale moon, stalks your darkest fears,
Searching for the kill.
The singer weaves in a tapestry of dance; mimed expression bestows a power to the words he sings.
This is the final rehearsal, the last check before the maelstrom is unleashed. The energy builds to fever pitch, spiralling upwards. A select audience, friends and hangers on, find themselves carried away by the front man’s presence and power, carried far to a dark landscape.
Hunter of the dark,
Gonna make his mark,
To feed his evil hunger,
He’ll tear your soul asunder.
See you at the Raven, Friday night.
© 1990 & 2006 Andrew M Boylan