Another rehearsal, we’ve got to get it right. The Record Company Men will be at the next gig. It could be a gift from the gods, but we have to get it right. Doubt encroaches as the rollercoaster flies away at breakneck speed, the dawning of insecurities, are we good enough? We’ve got to prove ourselves; the band is a single organism, the individuals lost within a wall of sound.
Who could have guessed that things would happen so quickly? The winged sandals of myth take the unwary away to undiscovered territories.
It’s just a rehearsal, not the real thing, but already the nerves burn with fire and the adrenaline flows. Where is the vanity of certainty now?
We have got to get it right.
© 1990 & 2006 Andrew M Boylan