Read Online Dreams of Sex and Stage Diving by Martin Millar - Free Book Online
Authors: Martin Millar
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even further from the shore and closer to the edge of the world.
Aran chuckled as he finished programing in the tidal wave. He wondered what new disasters he could send against the hapless mariners. An inescapable whirlpool, perhaps? Or a giant school of killer whales?
A woman with long red hair, tumbling by in the violent ocean, grabbed on to the side of the raft and held on grimly with one hand. Ben Jonson and Cleopatra rushed to her aid while Botticelli and Mick Ronson tried to repair the shattered mast and sail.
The woman was helped on board, bedraggled, gasping for breath but still clasping a mighty sword in one hand. Once on board, she glared suspiciously round her for a few seconds before collapsing in a heap. Cleopatra took off one of her regal cloaks and wrapped it round the stranger for she was wearing only a chainmail bikini, no real protection against the storm. Later, when she awoke and felt stronger, the newcomer introduced herself as Red Sonja, a female barbarian and onetime star of her own comic book.
âBut it was only a matter of time before I was cancelled,â she related, with a hint of sadness. âEven the film I starred in was not as well reviewed as Conan the Barbarian. â
So Red Sonja joined them on the raft. Her dreams of success fluttered way above her, far out of reach, and the giant waterfall at the edge of the world crept ever closer.
twenty-two
ELFISH WAS NOT a fan of Elvis Presley but she had a lingering affection for âBlue Moon of Kentucky,â possibly because of her moon locket. She could play it after a fashion.
Blue moon of Kentucky keep on shining
Shine on the one whoâs gone away
Blue moon of Kentucky keep on shining
Shine on the one whoâs gone away.
These were all the words she knew, which had not in the past prevented her from playing it onstage in a fast and aggressive-sounding metallic stampede. All of Elfishâs music for public consumption was fast, aggressive and metallic. The increasingly popular dance and rave culture had almost entirely passed her by. Elfish had occasionally ended an evening of drinking by hanging around in clubs where dance music played all night, and had even found herself unwillingly trapped beneath an outstretched parachute on which psychedelic lights flickered while ambient music floated all around, but she was not impressed. While the people around her gazed in drug-induced wonder at the colours swirling overhead on the parachute
silk, Elfish merely fretted, and wished that the DJ would play a proper record with guitars on it. The thought of making music with machines instead of guitars filled her with loathing and contempt.
Elfish was sitting on her bed, guitar in hand, musing on the prospects for her band. Her ambitions were powerful but she realised they were rather uninformed. Although she knew how to put on a small gig in South London, her knowledge of what might come next was very limited. She was largely ignorant of all the further stages of the music business. She did not know how successful bands became successful. She did not even know how to get a gig in a pub in another part of London. As for reaching the next stage up from this, the independent circuit of small venues, she had only the vaguest idea of what was necessary. She presumed that she would need a demo-tape of some sort but was not sure who to send it to. As for any further progress, to the world of small concert halls, managers, booking agencies, press agencies, one-off deals with small record labels and suchlike, it was all a mystery to Elfish.
This did not trouble her. She knew that she would be able to learn whatever was required when the time came.
As well as the Elvis cover version she had her own song about the moon. The chord structure ran A minor A minor A minor A minor A minor A minor A minor A minor E minor E minor E minor E minor E minor E minor E minor E minor, then back to A minor and so on. The verse ran, âWeâre
Aran chuckled as he finished programing in the tidal wave. He wondered what new disasters he could send against the hapless mariners. An inescapable whirlpool, perhaps? Or a giant school of killer whales?
A woman with long red hair, tumbling by in the violent ocean, grabbed on to the side of the raft and held on grimly with one hand. Ben Jonson and Cleopatra rushed to her aid while Botticelli and Mick Ronson tried to repair the shattered mast and sail.
The woman was helped on board, bedraggled, gasping for breath but still clasping a mighty sword in one hand. Once on board, she glared suspiciously round her for a few seconds before collapsing in a heap. Cleopatra took off one of her regal cloaks and wrapped it round the stranger for she was wearing only a chainmail bikini, no real protection against the storm. Later, when she awoke and felt stronger, the newcomer introduced herself as Red Sonja, a female barbarian and onetime star of her own comic book.
âBut it was only a matter of time before I was cancelled,â she related, with a hint of sadness. âEven the film I starred in was not as well reviewed as Conan the Barbarian. â
So Red Sonja joined them on the raft. Her dreams of success fluttered way above her, far out of reach, and the giant waterfall at the edge of the world crept ever closer.
twenty-two
ELFISH WAS NOT a fan of Elvis Presley but she had a lingering affection for âBlue Moon of Kentucky,â possibly because of her moon locket. She could play it after a fashion.
Blue moon of Kentucky keep on shining
Shine on the one whoâs gone away
Blue moon of Kentucky keep on shining
Shine on the one whoâs gone away.
These were all the words she knew, which had not in the past prevented her from playing it onstage in a fast and aggressive-sounding metallic stampede. All of Elfishâs music for public consumption was fast, aggressive and metallic. The increasingly popular dance and rave culture had almost entirely passed her by. Elfish had occasionally ended an evening of drinking by hanging around in clubs where dance music played all night, and had even found herself unwillingly trapped beneath an outstretched parachute on which psychedelic lights flickered while ambient music floated all around, but she was not impressed. While the people around her gazed in drug-induced wonder at the colours swirling overhead on the parachute
silk, Elfish merely fretted, and wished that the DJ would play a proper record with guitars on it. The thought of making music with machines instead of guitars filled her with loathing and contempt.
Elfish was sitting on her bed, guitar in hand, musing on the prospects for her band. Her ambitions were powerful but she realised they were rather uninformed. Although she knew how to put on a small gig in South London, her knowledge of what might come next was very limited. She was largely ignorant of all the further stages of the music business. She did not know how successful bands became successful. She did not even know how to get a gig in a pub in another part of London. As for reaching the next stage up from this, the independent circuit of small venues, she had only the vaguest idea of what was necessary. She presumed that she would need a demo-tape of some sort but was not sure who to send it to. As for any further progress, to the world of small concert halls, managers, booking agencies, press agencies, one-off deals with small record labels and suchlike, it was all a mystery to Elfish.
This did not trouble her. She knew that she would be able to learn whatever was required when the time came.
As well as the Elvis cover version she had her own song about the moon. The chord structure ran A minor A minor A minor A minor A minor A minor A minor A minor E minor E minor E minor E minor E minor E minor E minor E minor, then back to A minor and so on. The verse ran, âWeâre
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