But the best part of the video was when some greasy, big-faced asshole lunged at her. I couldn’t tell if he was climbing on people or what — that part happened out of frame — but he was somehow able to grab Marie-Lise, his sweaty arm extending towards her like a hairy, damp snake, his mouth stretched in a wild, ecstatic grimace. His hand gripped her knee and pulled her slightly off-balance, and then moved up her stockinged thigh. It was disgusting.
But Marie-Lise’s face betrayed no alarm at all. Her eyes flicked down at him, and then she smoothly swung her other knee forward, neatly smashing the leering ape right in his face. A small smile crept over her face as he reeled backwards into the crowd in a spray of saliva and blood. The music was drowned out on the recording as everyone cheered in support of her. That’s where the clip ended.
I wanted to be like that. In command, unstoppable, and ready to deal with bullshit at a minute’s notice. Skimming across the stage as light as air, into the music without looking overwrought and melodramatic. God, she was amazing. And she hadn’t been afraid to smash that guy. How could Edgar be pissed at me for telling off an asshole, when Marie-Lise could knee a guy like that in the face and be adored? No, Edgar was wrong.
Balthazar Seizure had a different vibe than Marie-Lise, a different sort of confidence and presence. But he had the same command of the crowd and prompted the same frantic response. DED was a bigger band than Gurgol and played to giant crowds of what looked like thousands. Browsing through the video clips, I could find everything from performances in dark bars to middle of the day festivals in Europe and South America.
They had giant props onstage: a huge skull that slowly leaked dark red blood from its eye sockets and jagged nasal cavity, a rack that contained fierce-looking medieval weapons. During one song, Balthazar grabbed a big battle-axe from the rack and swung it around, cleaving into a guitar amp, hacking into it several times before finally slicing its blade into the stage floor as the crowd reached a frenzy. He exuded a dark gloom mixed with a psychotic air, grinning evilly at the audience, letting out frightening roars from behind his curtain of long black hair. The other guys in his band headbanged and bounded around the stage, but Balthazar mostly stood in one place, and his stillness and imposing height were just as effective in making the crowd go insane as any movement could have been. The fact that his face was slim and handsome made him even more appealing.
I studied the video clips closely, and even though Colostomy Hag didn’t have another show booked, I knew I would be more prepared next time. I kicked myself for having been so weak at our first show. The next one, whenever it was, was going to be completely different.
xXx
We all stayed busy. We kept rehearsing once a week, and I focused on writing lyrics and doing more designs, just ideas for posters or whatever else we needed. Socks suggested that we try to record a full album at some point, and so I started designing rough ideas for album art. School continued, life at home continued, but I had sort of stopped paying attention to those things. I was completely immersed in my little world, of being with the band and spending my free time doing creative things in my room and studying videos. I maintained my grades and was agreeable with my family. It was all just an exercise in getting through the parts of my day that were standing between me and the things I actually wanted to do. I became very good at feigning interest in Melissa’s grades, my father’s stories about his class, and the boring assignments and projects I was given in school. I don’t understand why some people argue with their parents or give attitude to teachers. It is so much easier to just smile, nod, and say the expected responses. You don’t have to actually care, and no one will flag you as any sort of concern.
Fern called me one night freaking out. “Gurgol is coming.”
“Oh my god,” I said. “When?”
“St. Charles in two weeks. Do you want to go?”
“Oh, totally,” I said. “You know, we should try to meet Marie-Lise.”