Robyn Hoodie, The Virgin Diary - Chapter 12: Premiere
Created | Updated 5 Weeks Ago
Chapter 12 - Premiere
Today is the big day. Robyn managed to get us a gig at the local bar. Oxamor, our band, would be unleashed to the world (or part thereof). To be on the safe side, we put up one of our two flyers (hand drawn by Allana) at the local police station, reasoning that if the officers were already present as spectators, they might be more kindly disposed to us compared to when the neighbours would call them on us for reasons of Health and Safety regulations.
The landlord/caretaker told Robyn that we would have half an hour to set up our stuff, because he didn't want to sacrifice his daytime beauty sleep to open the door for us any earlier.
After dinner at our place with all members of Oxamor, we loaded Mom's cargo bike with the electric harp, the protective harness, the industrial-grade power electronics, shovels, and toolboxes required for setting up the installation. I had to carry my hornhelmpipe all by myself.
Right on time, we arrived at the bar, to find the door very much closed. To avoid wasting time, Joan and Mary scanned the pavement with their induction sensors to find a suitable power cable. Once satisfied with their measurements, they put down some orange cones and started digging up the pavement while I was on lookout duty.
Fifteen minutes after our arrival, the caretaker finally oozed out of the neigbouring dwelling. The decrepit house accurately mirrored the dishevelled state of the man. An oversized greasy T-shirt that might have seen whiter days failed to compensate for the stained and torn jeans that urgently needed to be pulled up but were currently residing some way below the lower boundary of decency. This instantly inspired me to go write a song about the darker aspects of the full moon.
After some snail pace searching for the key, we were let into the venue that would mark the birth of our future successes. Yay!
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With the help of the Twins, I managed to pull the thick cables inside through a sash window that needed serious persuasion and brute force to open up only a little bit, probably for the first time in decades. Chris used a massive amount of gaffer tape in an attempt to fix the cables to the littered floor. I guess the eventual removal of that tape will leave the floor significantly cleaner.
Robyn's electric harp was set up on the tiny stage at the far end, the humming of its charging supercapacitors accentuated by the squeaking sound produced by the landlord as he was attempting to polish some glasses with an ancient towel, effectively just rubbing patterns into the grime. I borrowed the barstool which looked the least likely to collapse to put on the stage for my hornhelmpipe. Looking around, with our whole crew inside, I concluded that there wasn't that much room for the potentially huge crowds left. Meanwhile, Allana managed to persuade the landlord to turn off the fluorescent lights in order to check the effect of our stage lighting. By the time she was satisfied, the first customers started to trickle in, probably more out of habit than to come and look at our performance specifically. We hadn't even managed to perform our sound check!
As Joan was performing the microphone checks (one, two, one two, three, pi, Ee is eMCee squared, all sort of imaginary numbers!, five!, budumbudumbudum), a guy in sunglasses sidled in and took a seat at the far end of the bar. He looked out of place when compared to the three regular denizens. The local police officer was the last to hurry in, leaving the rest of the community to fend for itself, which was probably fine, because he was greeted by his younger brother, the only known criminal in the neighbourhood.
As the spectators got settled in, drink in hand, we started off with a mash-up of the various audition versions of 'COVID-time'. Once the reverberations of Robyn's electrical harp had died down and the dust had settled, we got a mild applause from our stricken audience. The next piece started with an excessively long solo part I created for my hornhelmpipe, which was meant to acclimatise and tune the instrument for the onslaught that would follow. To put the audience at ease, I improvised a little dance routine in front of the stage, nearly knocking the drinks out of their hands with the protrusions of my instrument. I saw that the guy in sunglasses was making frantic notes and calculations with big numbers on a sleek black tablet. When I finally played my highest note, several confused bats dropped out of their hiding places in the ceiling. One chose to land in the half-filled/empty glass (choose your own side!) of beer held by the Police officer, who gently fished it out and put it on the bar to dry before draining his glass in one go. (Team empty has won, for now)
I got drowned out by my sister as she apparently decided I had had my share of attention. Several bottles dropped off the upper shelves behind the bar, leading to stern looks and hand signals from the barman, indicating that it would be at our expense. To give the audience some respite, we then switched to the polyphonic a cappella composition they had come up with. This got an applause as massive as available from six spectators. I noticed Robyn's hair was standing out like a dandelion; this was instantly remedied as she reached for a glass of water, creating a massive spark. I guess we need a longer earth rod next time. During the intermission to recharge the harp, the guy in sunglasses passed a business card to Star, before leaving the premises, significantly reducing the size of our audience.
