What's next in store, Tushmore? ;p #SampleSunday
Crucifox #1 will be released in March 2013, which is also my birthday month :)
I can confirm the boys are champing at the bit to get out, and to keep them quiet, there will be a new Crucifox short story released on Valentines day in February.
(Don't expect too much romance tho, they are a bunch of goths after all!)
As if I haven't had enough of rockers, I'm also writing a spin-off band from the Crucifox tours... as well as random paranormal and fantasy WIPs that will hopefully see some light in 2013!
Roll on next year.
For now, here's a snippet from Crucifox #1...
* * *
Our first gig wasn't exactly the blaze of glory I'd pictured in my mind. The venue was rubbish; a long, thin pub, which basically meant the stage was also very deep and thin. There was no way to arrange our equipment on the stage unless we put my guitar cab and Ritchie's bass amp in front of Jamie's drum kit.
As we set up for sound-check in the quiet, empty venue, Jamie shook his head at the ensemble; he and his drum kit would be completely hidden from view. “This is just...I mean, this is really unfair,” he said.
“Never mind!” Spider chortled. “No one wants to see your ugly mug anyway.”
Jamie looked upset. Ritchie pressed his lips together, clearly attempting not to laugh. Brandon, subtle as a sledgehammer, guffawed loudly.
He wasn't laughing later, however. After getting all dolled up, high heels, PVC trousers, lipstick and all, we got onstage – Jamie concealed by the amps – and played to an audience of precisely seven people. Four of which were the headline band, two were the bar staff, and the final body was Spider, who'd pulled his bar stool into the centre of the floor to watch us, laughing his head off.
It would have been the most depressing gig I'd ever played – and that included playing shitty little cider fares with my parents in the pissing rain – but so many things were just plain hysterical, that I had to laugh. It was either that or cry.
“Treat it as a practise,” I said to lads between songs.
“Huh?” Jamie tried to peep over the amps. “What'd you say?”
“Nothing!” I called
Despite having no audience and forgetting half his lyrics, Brandon did get into the swing of things. I knew he'd be great onstage. Not great, fantastic. He had the right attitude and all the right poses that came with being a self assured, pompous git. Shame we didn't have a decent stage for him. This one was so small we kept treading on each other's toes.
After we'd finished the set, and Spider had given us a standing ovation, we packed down our equipment then settled at the bar for a much needed drink. The headline band set up, and people started filing through the doors to watch the show.
“Typical,” Ritchie muttered.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“This band won't be as good as us!” Brandon declared, leaning against the bar.
We watched the band. Brandon was right; they weren't as good as us. Their singer was too shy; a wallflower in comparison. I took a sidelong glance at Brandon, who was in the process of chatting up two girls on the other end of the bar. No wallflower there, I thought. We definitely needed a bigger stage.
* * *