The Last Great Band (Part 2 Vulgar)

Part 1 posted yesterday… Might want to read that first… I love the rebel in you…

Slowly the light begins to cut through the darkness and immerse the crowd in its glow. The light rises high above the back of the stage before flickering for a moment. The light goes completely out once again as the prerecorded music begins to play. In the absences of light the fans begin to chant, “Suicide, suicide, it’s time to die.” The chant becomes hypnotic repeated over and over again. Lost in a daze of the darkness and the sound time became slower. Out of nowhere, the light behind the stage comes back at full capacity to reveal itself as a giant LED inverted cross. In the darkness, the crew had raised a thin curtain in front of the stage. The band’s shadows appear on the curtain bathed in red. The fans stop chanting and begin cheering. Clive rips into the opening riff for “God’s on a Holiday.” His shadow dancing across the curtain and the black hole begins to circle the concert floor. The black hole only grows as the song continues on. I don’t know if everyone or anyone will make it out alive, and it is at this moment that I begin to question if anyone is supposed to. As the first of many breakdowns begins the curtain drops revealing the band to the crowd. All the members have joined in at this point creating a symphony of sound and carnage. From the side of the stage, I can see the band quite clearly. The band is out for blood and the fans are more than willing to give them every last drop within them. I have never seen a band like this and I wonder if I ever will again. The moments of that night flashback and forth in my mind like an LSD trip. Some days I wonder if I am there at this moment or here in the now.  The energy of the show that night took a hold of me and everyone in that building and none of it was lost as the band went into their next song, “The Soul Needs It.” Despite it not being a hit song the song gets more energy from the crowd and the pit than the last one. Clive changed the solo to this song to a more complicated one than the one recorded on tape years ago. At the time though I didn’t know that. At that moment it was all so new to me. Mike wasn’t kidding when he said they play heavier live. Though to be honest I don’t know if even modern recording could capture the energy the band puts out live. Mike’s drums rumble with the power and rage of thunder. As he strikes each hit after hit across his kit it is as though the earth around you is coming apart. Clive and Beatrix’s guitars crash like lightning directly into your body cementing you in place. But it is Korbin with his words that truly take you somewhere else.  He sings as though he is God himself delivering a message. Everything works so beautifully that one’s mind gets lost in it all and yet you understand everything that is happening around you. I remember the crowd as they tore each other apart. Bloody knuckle after bloody knuckle smashing into each other’s faces. The cries and screams of the crowd begging for the pain to stop yet they continued as though nothing was wrong. I remember the faces of the women who stripped as they walked to the center of the black hole. The only calm place on the floor that night. I watched and I understood as they laid on the floor covering themselves head to toe in blood. Men emerged from the crowd and the women maybe five or six of them began stripping the men before getting down on all fours to face the band. Their faces dripping with blood and sin as the men fucked them from behind. Even through all the noise that night I swear that I could hear their laughter and their cries of pleasure. Transfixed I barely noticed that the music had stopped. Korbin’s voice sounds like an angel with bent wings as he greets the crowd, “Thank you all for coming out tonight. Many people fear this day, but as I stand here to bare witness there is no reason to fear the devil. Who’s ready to bleed for their maker?” The crowd erupts as the heaviest version of “Don’t Fear the Devil” begins to play. The lyrics are fit for a day that only comes once every thousand years. A song about the evils of the world, a song about the truth, and a reason we should all rejoice on this day.

The men and women in the center of the black hole switch out with other men and women from the crowd. Their naked bloody bodies gleaming in the red glow from the cross. The band plays on with the songs “Bone Collectors of West Memphis” and “Cruel Intentions and a Kind Soul” before thrashing into their number one single, “As We Vanish.” Through the red hue of the lights, I see what could only be described as the figure from early in the evening. Only now there are more of them beginning to surround the band. They stand in a wall like formation and watch on as Clive switches guitars during the extended drum and bass solo. I hear Korbin lead into the second chorus of the song as Clive begins the riff I stare off into the crowd. The amount of bloody naked bodies has tripled and more couples have made it to the center of the black hole. Korbin’s voice echoes as he sings, “I will die mother fucker, I will die and vanish in time.” As I turn my head back to the band I see them all drop to the ground. What seems to be very fake suddenly becomes very real when Mike falls off the drum risers hitting the ground with such force I can hear it through the feedback of Clive’s guitar.  Beatrix’s body lies on top of her bass convulsing as blood and foam comes out of her mouth. Korbin lays flat on his back shaking as the foam is spewing out of his mouth and on to the floor around him. His mic has rolled across the stage and stopped next to Clive who is lying on his side hunched over his guitar not moving. The once loud crowd becomes silent as the house lights come one. The figures that once surrounded the band have disappeared in the light. The crowd begins to scream, to cry, and to lose their minds. Those covered in blood on their naked bodies scream the loudest. Those clothed and not chosen try to help the others in the chaos. Everyone in the room becomes confused for one reason or another. Those on the floor begin to cry as everything comes crashing down. They finally see the band and the medical staff surrounding them. Many of the fans begin to fall to the floor filled with emotions. I watched as one of the naked women from the center go into the fetal position and begin to rock back and forth. A strange image that is suddenly broken when the crowd’s confusion turns to anger. Those still left standing rush the stage as those stationed in front of the stage fight for their lives extra protection moves in. Security holds back grown men and teenaged kids alike as no one still knows what is truly happening or why. The back of the stage is just as hectic as the crowd. Friends and family running around trying to find out anything they can about their loved ones, but no one knows what is going on back here either. Hidden behind all this panic and chaos though is this underwhelming feeling that nothing matters anymore. Nothing means anything anymore. I watched for what seemed like hours before finally just turning around and leaving. I don’t remember getting home, but I remember the blood. I don’t remember what I have been doing the last few months, but I remember the pain.

It has been almost a year since that night. I’ve had a year to process the twenty thousand stories of that evening. Mine included and yet I still don’t understand. No one really does, but those there and those not there. Those that were fans of the band feel the emptiness every day. We listen to the records but somehow it is not the same. If only I had seen them more when they were here. If only I could have seen them again. An investigation into what happened that night yield nothing, but journals detailing ramblings about the devil and the second coming. Many fans of the band didn’t wait for the reports and began making decisions that seem ill-fitting at the time. The initial suicides spurred a wave of suicides throughout the country and the world. Presser was put on the F.B.I to look further into the case. But as the days grew on the F.B.I. couldn’t find any conclusion then they killed themselves to become more famous. A second wave grew out of this conclusion. A wave with one question on their lips, why? Eventually excerpts from their journals found on the tour bus and their shared home in Pittsburgh began to explain some of the question. Beatrix’s journal revealed the reason they chose Los Angles, “A town of fake people pretending they’re alive, but really they are as dead as the rest of us. Los Angeles will be the perfect place to make it permanent.” Stranger things lie ahead though as time went on. Many of the women in the black hole that night became pregnant. Nearly every one of the “Virgin Babies,” as they became to be known, were carried to term. In all of those women that participated that evening six of them produced a child. This in itself is not strange as the world is built on this idea, but what is mysterious is the way that each of their mothers died shortly after. None of whom died to complication of pregnancy, but by their own hand joining those before them that had done much of the same. Not a single one of them left the world with a note or a reason. By all accounts despite the way their children came into this world most were overjoyed. A dark sisterhood they each were having one of the “Virgin Babies,” and yet they each killed themselves. Their offspring were however spared in a sense as their whereabouts are unknown at this time. Only time will tell what will happen to the “Virgin Babies,” or even how much of their own story they will know. As each wave of suicide grew larger so did the mystic of joining those that had committed to the act already. Whole families torn apart by a selfless act. The government began to fear the worst. Feared what they could not understand. What none of us could understand. They asked the media to refrain from any mentioning of the band or suicide in hopes that the, “less we know the better.” Some of the media fought it at first, but in the end most complied in fear of being to blame for the continued deaths.

Many questions were still left unanswered even after a year. No one still knows why this happened even if it was for nothing more than fame they already had it. Most of the information was spread across the four member’s journals, but no one was able to paint a full picture out of any of it. The little that is known, the speculations have only made their legend grow into the biggest mystery in modern time like the assassination of JFK or the collapsing of the twin towers no one will ever really understand what truly took place the night the Virgin Suicides died.

That night opened up my eyes, my soul even. Something changed in me that night. I don’t know if it was the sight of the black figures or the spectacle that was that night or the aftermath that followed. I no longer see this world as a wonderful place full of beauty and wonder. Something about those four losing their lives right before my eyes for no explainable reason. It leaves me feeling not only cheated but also empty and longing for something I can not explain. That night showed me how dirty and filthy this world truly is. We are all filled with rage and hatred and guilt not just for life, but each other. I can’t take any more of this wicked place. My head can’t take any more speculation or questions. Why did they collect the blood? Why did they surround them just before?  Why, why, why? What happens from now until the end of the earth doesn’t matter. Nothing anyone ever does will truly matter. Don’t judge me. Judge yourself. This planet is nothing more than a dumping ground for shit and decay. The world is ugly and you are not alone in thinking that it is. I tried I really did but I can still see them.

Jonathan Murdock

 

 

The end of the Last Great Band… I actually cut a lot of the story to make it fit into a two-day format… Wasn’t sure anybody would want to read a three-day story or close to three thousand words in one go for two straight days… Well on the internet… I would hope someone would want to read the whole story… In a book form… So I did trim the fat so to speak… 

Thank you for reading

6 thoughts on “The Last Great Band (Part 2 Vulgar)”

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