Beni Bands

Beni Bands - Chapter Five

From that point onwards everything was a surreal blur. The mad sounds of screaming fans faded, drowned out by the thump of my accelerating heart-beat; the lights bled into one another, purple from the left and red from the right and the two blazing letters, AM, coming from behind the band as if they were heavenly beings lit up by an angelic glow. Hands from behind the security barrier grabbed me beneath the arms, lifting me up and over and onto the stage.

The stage.

There’s something about the stage, some power, that fills you with electricity the moment you set foot upon it. Beneath my trembling feet there were lights in the floor, illuminating my every step. In fact, there were lights just about everywhere, tangled up in mess of snaking wires that ensnared not only the bulbs but the towering amps before trailing offstage to some unseen power source that sent a rumbling through the ground. It was certified mind blowing stuff.

Nick, still sporting his Humbug hair, fiddled around on the bass while waiting for something to happen. Alex, Humbug hair tragically long gone, took me by the hand and led me to the microphone. He then manoeuvred me a few steps to the left, raised my arm for me, and inserted into those shaking fingers a comb oozing with hair gel and grease. Had I been there long enough, I suspect the gel would have run down my arm, past the Beni Band that had gained me such a position, and stuck my arm in position. It certainly felt that way; though I knew it would hurt later, holing my hand aloft for over an hour didn’t faze me one bit. Every now and then I would feel the strain, and then one look from Alex’s eyes as he deposited that comb once more sent the feeling racing back up to my brain that I could do anything. I was euphoric.

Song after song after song, they reeled off classics and newer tracks. From my vantage point, the writhing crowd looked berserk as fuck, arms held high and interlocking like one great snake pit. And, as much as I longed to be down there and a part of that mass of fans singing at the tops of their voices, I felt at home amongst my idols. Almost like a private concert, Alex would croon next to my ear, Jamie would strut up close, hammering away on his guitar (though never playing a solo, the lazy bastard), and Helders would bash the drums and symbols that, so close to my ears, made my head ring incessantly.

And then, as quickly as they had started, they finished. The four men strolled off stage, arms held high in acknowledgement, and left me standing there alone. Should I follow them? Stay put? Return to the crowd?

Naturally, Alex realised I still had his beloved comb in an instant. “Oi, lass with the Beni Bands!” he shouted, panic in his deep Yorkshire drawl. “Give me my precious back.”

So I took my cue, scurrying into the wings where he stood waiting for his fix. Snatching it from my grasp, he scraped back his quiff for the thousandth time with a relieved sigh.

“Not quick enough, Beni Band girl. Next time can I have it quicker?”

I nodded, registering that, although Humbug was widely considered to be the most drug influenced of the albums, it may in fact have been AM. Alex combed his hair again and grinned.

“Better get back to ‘em,” Helders remarked, still twirling his drumsticks.

We made our way back, the screaming hurting my ears. As a matter of fact, everything was hurting. My eyes ached in the harsh lighting, my legs ached from standing still so long, my head ached... And despite it all I would have elongated the encore indefinitely and stopped the world. But I couldn’t. First one song slipped by, and then another, and then that was that, the final song, my world coming down with the confetti that gathered on the floor and in my hair. Though I knew I shouldn’t, this close to the mic, I burst out into song. So it was that the final few notes of the gig were mine, horribly flat and slurred cracking. It was probably just me, but the crowd left more quickly than usual after that.

I was just about to follow, clambering back over the barriers to where Justin stood waiting all by himself, when that familiar voice called out to me.

“Beni Band girl! Where do you think you’re going?”

My heart stopped along with my body. Justin grinned up at me.

“Can I bring my mate?” I shouted back.

There was a pause. We both crossed our fingers and waited, until...

“The more the merrier! Now bring me my fucking comb. I’m dying up here.”