Give Me a Mic and a Stage

Music is life, and it always will be. Nothing can change that.

“When I say Hate, you say Driven!  Hate!  Driven!  Hate!  Driven! Lets go!”

I take it all in: the sounds, the smells, the atmosphere.  Everything around me means something.  As I bring the mic to my mouth, I can’t help but think that I wouldn’t have it any other way ‘cause up here I mean something.  I am someone.
    Go back in time three years: it was the first time I picked up a mic, and I couldn’t put it down.  The previous year I had seen some stuff no one in their right mind should see espeically that young or ever for that matter.  I ahd to deal with losing a friend, not just going to the funeral and carrying his casket but watching him die in front of my eyes.  It shut me down, I couldn’t function in everyday life.  I started keeping to myself more, not letting anyone inside of my head, pushing everyone close to me away.  I would get angry easier and at smaller things, I just walked around with a glazed look in my eyes.  I was just going through the motions of life.  Hockey used to be my outlet for my surpressed rage, but it just wasn’t doing it anymore for me.  One of my best friends, Trav, was a drummer and we always enjoyed the same kind of music, which was metal.  He had been in a few bands himself and while we were talking one day he said I should try singing. Now, I couldn’t sing to save my f*****g life but what I could do was scream and growl with the best of them.  I told him this and he told me to stop by his house around three.  That was the day where so many things changed for me. 
    When I walked into his house, I guess I looked like I didn’t know what to do ‘cause he asked me what I knew as in terms of bands, songs and genres of music.  I said I could do some Lamb of God and God Forbid, stuff like that.  He nodded and started playing “Laid to Rest” by Lamb of God.  I knew this song by heart so I didn’t know why the hell was I so bloody nervous?  As the verse started to approach, my adrenaline started to kick in and I nailed the opening scream and followed it up with the verse.  I couldn’t do all of the song because I wasn’t strong enough vocally, but I loved this new experience.  I wanted to do more, I wanted to scream my heart out.
    Fast forward two years: I am seventeen years old, in my first band and we are recording our first song.  We get a call from the manager of a venue that we got a slot in an upcoming show, our first big show that isn’t in a damn American Legion.  Looking back since I started this whole band thing, I had to chuckle to myself cause I had come a long way.  I could do a full set of 5-10 songs and my range and timing had become a lot better.  I put in my blood, sweat and tears into this band and I’m just glad to see it go somewhere.
 I look down at my notebook full of lyrics and think about which songs we are going to play.  As the sole lyricist in the band these are my lyrics, these are my memories on paper: my feelings of pain, depression, happiness.  My travesties.  I want to play every single song we have beacause I want the crowd to hear what the f**k I have to say.  I have never bullshitted anything I said, never sugar-coated my memories.  I tell it like it is, I tell it like it should be told because that is the great thing about music, I can say whatever I want without being told to sit down and shut up.  This is how I tell my story, this is how I vent, this is how I keep myself sane, this is how I keep myself from walking away from it all.  I had found my outlet for my rage, finally.
It is finally the night of the show.  My band and I pull our van behind the club we are playing, I can’t help but feeling nervous.  But it is a good kind of nervous, the kind of nervous when you are doing something you love.  It doesn’t take long for us to set up since we are the first act, get a sound check, make sure everything is set and we are good to go.  My band takes the stage and I look out at the crowd, I wonder how many of these kids, know what I’ve been through or if any of them even give two s***s about me ‘cause they just want to mosh. 
“What’s up everyone?  Having a goodtime tonight? We’ll try to keep that energy up! We are called HateDriven and this song is called Lost Hope.”
  As the drums kick into to our opening track, I think, who cares if they don’t like us, who gives a s**t if no one can relate to what I am trying to convey ‘cause I know that I love doing this and would go crazy without it.  Right on cue I start the song with the opening line of “As I lay bleeding and dead on this floor” . The rest of the night becomes a blur. 
After we finish our six song set, we clear the stage to make room for the next act.  It has to be quick as we are on a tight time schedule.  We don’t even have time to hear the crowds response.  I go outside and light up a butt and I hear someone say,
“Holy s**t guy, you guys were f*****g awesome!  That third song you played was on of the most brutal songs I have heard in awhile!”
  I thank him and chuckle as he walks away.  Well at least someone likes this stuff we play.  Thinking back, we didn’t always play a good show.  We’ve played a few shows were we bombed, but that’s going to happen sometimes, it’s all if you curl up and die or if you keep going.  I always hated having a bad night, where the crowd eats you alive and you have no where to run to, it ain’t a pretty scene to be in.  But what can you do, I always had to keep my head about me and finish the show.  But all in all it was a great night and we hope to do it again soon.
Now fast forward one year: this is my last show before I go off to college.  I tell myself, no I know, that I am going to miss this s**t.  My shirt is drenched with sweat, I’m panting and gasping for air and I can barely see with the sweat in my eyes.  This is the last song for awhile, the last time I look out at over two hundred faces, the last time I scream into a mic.  At least for now.  A smile comes to my face through all of these thoughts going through my head.  Seeing these kids running arund, moshing and having a good time, it’s priceless.  I snap back to reality and realize there’s a show to finish, you can’t lose your head out there. We finish our set with no problems and I tell everyone I’ll see them next year and to either hang tough or hang ‘em high.  We finish packing everything up in the van and we head on home.  It’s been a long night.  As we are driving back from our show, I start thinking while I light up a butt.  Music  has always there for me: it never mistreated me, never judged me, never hurt me, never left me when I needed it.  It is an escape ‘cause when I am on stage there is no pain or no anger.  There’s only me letting everything out.  When I scream my heart out on stage, these words are for anyone who wants to listen to them ‘cause if you listen carefully you can hear different parts of me.
 I take a long drag on my butt and exhale the smoke.  Life is damn short so why not do something I love?  I look down the road and stare into the darkness thinking that I can’t wait to do this again.