Read Online The Alternative Hero by Tim Thornton - Free Book Online Page A

Little Chat with my hero. Just like three mates, we’d been, shooting the breeze in a bar before watching a great band. I was one of
them
. Despite the fact he’d essentially told us to fuck off twice in the space of one conversation.
    “Oh, we were just talking about his lyrics, you know …”
    “Which lyrics?”
    “The guy’s so fucking creative, man,” Alan explained. “He was telling us how he wrote the song as one thing, then—”
    “… decided on the spur of the moment he wanted to do something different.”
    “He’s indecisive, you mean.”
    This from Dominic triggered two glares of unbridled outrage.
    “Oh!” I coughed, unable to phrase my indignation.
    “He’s an
artist,”
managed Alan. “It’s
improvisation.”
    “Whatever. Did you ask if he’d do an interview for
Peanuts?”
    “It’s called
Vorsprung Durch Peanut
, Browne,” I spat. “Or the
Peanut
, if you must shorten it. And no, I didn’t. That wasn’t the point.”
    “Like he’d have said yes anyway.”
    “He
does
do fanzine interviews actually. Give us a sip of your Coke, will you.”
    “No. Why don’t you ask Lance Webster for a sip of his snakebite?”
    “Like a Daydream” by Ride came jangling out of the speakers, to increased frugging from the room’s swelling crowd.
    “Ahh,” sighed Dominic. “Now we’re talking about artists. This guy. Lance Webster’s a fucking ironmonger by comparison.”
    “Bunch of wimps, man,” Alan summarised.
    “Mark Gardener’s just a pinup boy,” I elaborated. “He does fuck all. The guitarist’s the main one. And anyway, they’re shit live.”
    Neither of us really meant all this. We’d thoroughly enjoyed seeing Ride at ULU a few months back, but when it came to defending the Magpies we had ears and eyes for no one else.
    Dominic sipped his drink and shook his head sadly.
    “You two. You just won’t stop living in your little dreamworld of Magpies and Atomic Dustmen and bloody Wendy James. [Alan had a particular weakness for Transvision Vamp, something I didn’t completely share.] Aren’t you ever interested in something more mature?”
    “Mature!” Alan barked. “What’s so bloody mature about The Darling Buds?”
    “They’re exquisite. As are Soho, who you’re also unable to appreciate.”
    “Pile of shit, man. And what was that wank you were listening to the other day, the dance stuff?”
    “‘What Time Is Love?,’ KLF,” responded Dominic confidently. “It’s gonna be huge.”
    “Well, I don’t like it, man. And The Shamen. It’s all a load of toss. And that fucking Gary Clail bullshit. If I wanted to listen to dance music I’d hang out with Jamie Eisner.”
    Dominic put his drink down and squared up to Alan.
    “You just hate stuff that doesn’t fit into your neat little boxes, don’t you?”
    “No, I—”
    “It’s okay, Alan, I understand. I realise it takes a while for your brain to allow all this horrible new stuff past your little elitist alternative checkpoint. It was exactly the same when I introduced you to Jesus Jones—”
    “That’s utter bullshit,
I
discovered
them—”
    “Don’t worry, Alan. I don’t mind. But for the moment, if you don’t like what I play in my car, don’t fucking get into it.”
    Thankfully The Heart Throbs took the stage at this point, because I thought it was getting a bit out of hand. Dominic wandered off to another part of the room, as he sometimes did, and after Alan calmed down we pushed forward, as we always did. There’s nothing quite like a slice of blissful, slightly dreamy guitar pop to take the edge off, and soon we were back where we started: watching a top gig, having just passed the time of day with our favourite musician. Only once did a nag of doubt resurface in my mind.
    “You don’t think he’s gonna fuck off without us, do you?”
    “Nah, man,” Alan replied. “I’ve had worse arguments with him before. I stole that bird off him at the See See Rider gig and he still gave me a lift