Judgment Day Pt. 1: Thundersquall and Thrash Metal

The day arrived when Issei could feel alive again. This time, for better or worse, destiny was soon to be made.

At five p.m. Secret Prose met in one of The Montauk’s practice rooms in the basement for rehearsal, and Issei shared his progress on the love song–Light of Day–now with Kanka and Takao’s suggestions.

“Ah, that’s more like it!” Kanka said obnoxiously, raising his sheet music to the sky like a newborn baby. “We can really kick this up at the end.”

Takao frowned and stuck his nose up at Issei’s gift. “As much as a bass player would like, I suppose. I’m writing the next song. That way, I can let loose in my style.”

Issei began tuning his guitar, his thumb plucking the E string. “If we get signed, you can write as many songs you want.”

 He posted like a mad scientist. “Excellent–bass solos in every song!”

Someone knocked on the practice room door, and when Kanka opened, the manager entered.

“Hey, Boss Man!” Kanka said, saluting.

Mr. Matsuda grinned as he rubbed his knuckles. “Secret Prose, good to see you! I came to tell you fellas that you’re headlining tonight with Purple Lotus! The agent called me: he wants both of you to blow him away, so three songs each, yeah?

They whooped and pumped their fists in the air. Issei, beaming, said “You got it, we’ll knock him dead.”

“Well if you do that, you won’t get signed!” Mr. Matsuda burst out laughing. “Glad to hear your enthusiasm. I’ll catch you tonight.”

Once Mr. Matsuda handed Issei Friday’s list and closed the door, Takao leaned back in his chair and groaned. “Not again. We’re doomed.”

“Let’s not be too hasty now.” Issei looked over the list of performing bands. There were thirteen in all. “Mr. Matsuda doesn’t want a repeat of last week, so I’m sure he foresaw this…yep, we’re playing before Purple Lotus this time.”

Takao clapped his hands high in prayer. “THANK. GOD.” he leaned back too far–the chair collapsed to the floor with him on it, then his bass guitar flipped and smacked him on the head.

They performed just one more run-through of their song list, despite Light of Day having yet to be played before. It wasn’t even his fault this time: what was it with his band and headlining with two freshly, new songs?

Takao was superstitious, believing any practice beyond the third round would set them up for failure: someone would inevitably make a mistake, even when the practice sessions were flawless. So once they finished two sessions, Secret Prose unplugged their instruments and collected them before heading back to The Montauk’s waiting room.

It was packed. Because they finished early and tonight’s concert hadn’t started, almost the entire cast for tonight was in one room, bands with three-to-five members crowding the space and hogging the only two couches in the whole venue. Even Sawblade Teeth, a band comprised of six members, was present.

“Sure you don’t want to practice some more?” Kanka asked, pitching his voice over the noise.

Takao went pale. “Absolutely not! You know the rule! Remember what happened last time?”

“That rule you made yourself?”

“Come on, it was one time,” Issei added. “Kanka dropping his drumsticks during the gig was a fluke. Pure bad luck.”

Takao firmly held his hand like a maniac. “And this is the one time we can’t afford bad luck–our future is at stake here!”

They crammed their way to the locker room, placing their equipment inside and trading for Secret Prose’s attire. Takao wore a hooded robe like a monk or druid, while Kanka had a felt tunic made of fake animal hide. He wouldn’t wear his fake cow skull until they went on stage. Issei went with the tried-and-true black leather outfit, his chest bearing a white-bone zipper that crawled up the collar like he was a necromancer. This time, they wore their costumes: if they were headlining a venue with an agent eyeing them, they had to give them the whole package.

Issei, however, kept his guitar while they waited–it calmed his nerves.

There came a static click as the manager called on the intercom. “Acolytes of The Montauk! It’s another week. Tonight we have a special ritual in store: two of our factions will headline to show Morioka what music is all about! So if you don’t want to miss them, worship until the very end! Our first group to sate your appetite is THUNDER! SQUALL!”

The Thrash Metal band roared, and they ran out of the waiting room carrying two guitars, a bass, and drumsticks.

This was what life was all about. Sports anchors always talk about “the air being electric” in their stadiums. No. This was electric: the joint camaraderie between crowd and band as both cheered on and hollered for Thundersquall to take to the stage; the popping and crackling of the speakers whirring to life; the venue itself flailing laser lights and billowing smoke from the stage with the push of a button. It was literally electric. Sports venues had nothing The Montauk had.

“Hello Boys!”

Issei stopped watching from the glass partition and spun around–faster than needed. Murasaki came through the door, alongside the guitarist and drummer of Purple Lotus. Takao and Kanka turned their heads and said “what’s up?” like how normal people would greet. Kanka immediately approached Purple Lotus’s drummer and they shook hands in the same manly fashion. “Drummer! I don’t think we said our names. I’m Kanka.”

He replied in kind. “Drummer! I’m Hamada.”

Ichiriki, Purple Lotus’s guitarist, nodded subtly, and Murasaki waved with a smile. Part of Issei hoped that wave was mostly for him, though for some reason, she had trouble meeting his gaze.

Trying to think of a way to start a conversation, Issei said “Much earlier this time, Purple Lotus! Good to see you at the start of the show.”

“But of course,” Ichiriki said. “Today’s a special day for the both of us, isn’t it?”

Purple Lotus came prepared. All three, including Murasaki, were already in costume with their instruments in hand.

“I told them to get here early,” Murasaki said, looking pumped. “I wanted to listen to every band here before we perform! Think of all the inspiration the other bands bring, and any that we might glean from them!”

“That’s the spirit,” Issei said, grinning. Murasaki nodded, then put herself front-and-center of the glass partition, to the ire of those watching from the couch. She kept leaning left and right while the couch sitters did the same. Veins were popping in their heads. “Wow, look at them!” She turned to his guitarist. “We ought to get a costume set too!”

“Sure thing,” Ichiriki said, “want the two of us to wear corsets and flowers too?” Murasaki must have imagined the sight, because she sputtered in laughter.

“You think they’re gonna cause another injury like last month?” Kanka asked.

She recoiled. “I-Injuries?”

“Nothing serious,” he continued, “but with Thrash Metal, sometimes the crowd gets real crazy.”

“What’s Thrash Metal?”

Takao spit out his beer. “What’s Thrash Metal!?”

“Ignore him,” Issei said, “though you gotta admit, it is odd you haven’t even heard of the genre before.”

Ichiriki gave a sideways glance as she rubbed the side of her face. “I wasn’t really brought up on Metal, or even Rock music at home.” She then held up a fist with her index and little fingers pointing up. “I didn’t even know what the Devil Horns were until high school.”

Yep, there’s that home issue again. Murasaki’s parents must have been super traditional. That would explain a lot.

“Well, perfect time to hear Thrash Metal now.” Issei nodded towards the glass partition and Murasaki spun around.

Thundersquall’s drums hammered. It felt as if the band could resuscitate anyone who dropped dead; even from the lobby, a second heart vibrated in their stomachs. Then the two guitars joined in with the rhythm, a fast, succinct clap with the energy and drive of a galloping steed. The second guitar–rhythm–continued while the bass and lead guitar jumped ahead with syncopated riffs. The crowd dropped their heads to every beat.

At the peak of Thundersquall’s clever and diabolic tempo switch, Murasaki held her arm in front of her and watched her hair stand on end. Her eyes bulged in shock.

“Woah!”

“This right here. This is the sound of life. The draw with Thrash Metal is the adrenaline-pumping, blood-rushing beats. It makes you feel like you can take on anything.”

“Oi lady! You’re blocking the view!”

She giggled as Ichiriki pulled her to the side next to Issei. “It’s crowded when it’s early,” she said, bobbing her head everywhere as though she just now saw the mass of band members.

“I know–isn’t it great?” Issei said.

“Do you like crowds?” She asked.

“Not really, but concerts get a free pass. The crowd and the bands both cheering on the acts, where else can that happen?”

Murasaki glanced away, a smile starting to form. “I might believe you at this rate–your smile is contagious, you know that?”

Issei reached up to his face and realized he was grinning from ear to ear. But it wasn’t because she was smiling–it genuinely was because of how much fun he was having.

Then Ichiriki called out. “Hey Issei, I’m gonna get a beer, wanna come with?”

“Oh–sure.” Issei was taken aback. Usually Murasaki’s band mates did little more than acknowledge their presence. Well, aside from Kanka. Nevertheless he accepted. Ichiriki always looked serious, but this time his eyebrows furrowed below his long bangs, and when he got close to him, Ichiriki leaned in his ear.

“Good–let’s go somewhere quiet. There's a lot to talk about."