Playlist so far:
1- While My Guitar Gently Weeps by The Beatles
2- Come Together by The Beatles
(I promise this will not be only Beatles songs)
While reading, you may wonder why the track/chapter title is Come Together, but I included words from Under Pressure. Well, it's not so much about the lyrics I put in the chapter. It's about the tone I want to create. I wanted something that fits the idea of a bunch of out-of-place people meeting up, and Come Together reminds me of that.
The reason I used Under Pressure for Antonio's audition is purely because it has a good bassline.
They were a sorry bunch.
Arthur was being introduced to the bassist and drummer at Alfred's house; the American's family condoned the noise, and actually had the room to accommodate four musicians.
They already had a singer, and technically two guitarist; Arthur would sing, and both he and Alfred would play guitar. Though they already had enough for an act, they figured having a full band was better.
And well... Alfred had found the rest of the band.
Antonio Carriedo (called Toni) would serve as their bassist. He seemed almost too cheery for a rock band; his smile was essentially plastered to his face, and his eyes shone with excitement. At least his hair looked the part; the dark brown locks were disheveled and displaced.
Gilbert Beilschmidt, on the other hand, looked like a drummer. He clearly had albinism, as his snow white skin, silver hair, and red eyes clearly showed. Eyeliner made his eyes look even more haunting. He smiled all the time like Toni, but it was more of a smirk. And his personality...
"Kesesese!" The German (or Prussian, as he claimed to be) laughed. "You sure are lucky Alfred found me! Your band would fail without zhe awesome me!"
"Will you just shut the fuck up?" Arthur growled in annoyance. "You don't even bloody know you're in the band."
"Oh, ja? How many other drummers do you know?"
"Well... Oh, shut it!" He glared at Gilbert. "If you want in, prove your fucking worth."
"Fine!" Gilbert went back to assembling his drum kit. "Just give me a minute!"
Cynical twat, Arthur thought.
"Alright... Carriedo, you show us what you've got, then." He had to throw his guitar pick at the Spaniard to draw his attention away from his and Alfred's conversation.
"Huh? You mean me, amigo?" Toni asked.
"No, I meant the Spaniard next to you," came the sarcastic reply. "Get your arse over here and plug in!"
"Si..." Toni said, then turning to Alfred. "He's a real dick, my friend."
"Don't worry about it," Al said, brushing the comment aside. "He's always like this with people he doesn't know. Part of his whole punkie thing."
The Brit rolled his eyes at Alfred's comment as Antonio plugged his bass into the amp. "What do you want me to play?"
"Anything, so long as it's good."
Antonio nodded as he thought, then began to pluck out a bassline: Under Pressure by Queen. Arthur couldn't help humming along to the tune.
It's the terror of knowing
What this world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming, "Let me out!"
Tomorrow gets me higher
Pressure on people - people on streets
He glanced at Alfred, who was grinning at him. "Not bad, huh?"
Arthur nodded. "He's good. Definitely a keeper." Toni grinned.
"What about me?!" Gilbert whined.
"It depends on if you can play or not," Alfred said, cutting off the string of curses that would have inevitably come from Arthur's mouth. He picked up his guitar and played, giving Gil something to work with. "Give me a beat."
Arthur groaned as he noted the song; American Idiot by Green Day. How appropriate. Still, he didn't let Alfred's song choice get in the way of his judgement of Gil's playing, and he couldn't deny the drummer's skill; he kept near perfect time, and the rhythm fit well.
Smirking, Gilbert stopped playing. "I already know your answer; the awesome me accepts your offer."
Arthur rolled his eyes at the egocentric. "Yeah, what-bloody-ever. Anyroad, it's official. We have a band now."
Alfred cheered, and the two new members smiled. "Dude! I have so many great name ideas! Like 'Little Green Men', or 'Supernova', or-!"
"Let me cut you off there," Arthur said. "This is a rock band, not outer-space techno. It has to fit the genre."
"I agree..." Toni said, thinking. "Black Roses? ... Wait, that's too gothic."
"Anti-clockwise? Tarnished Honor?" Arthur suggested.
"Dude," Alfred snorted. "Who names a band after something a clock does?"
"Fuck you!" Arthur grimaced, punching Al's arm.
"Anarchist?"
They all looked over to Gilbert. "What did you say?"
"Anarchist. Pretty awesome, ja?" The Prussian grinned.
"That's not bad... Anarchist!" Alfred said with a smile.
Arthur asked, "All in favor?" They all raised their hands. "Good."
They sat down to figure out the details over crisps a two-liter bottle of coke. They would practice thrice a week at Gilbert's house (as drums are hard to move around), and would put up fliers when they felt they were good enough. Antonio was in charge of making tee shirts, and Alfred would make fliers when the time came.
For the first time in years, Arthur felt at ease. Music was his life and passion, and now he could share it with the world. Or at least three other people. Finally, he could let out all his pain, anger, and sorrow in a way that wouldn't raise suspicion.
Through song. No one ever questioned the lyrics of a song. And if they did, they often brushed aside the thought, thinking it's just a song.
To him, it was so much more, but the world wouldn't ever have to know.
He felt he was complete with the band.
Or so he thought.
The sound of a car horn pulled them all from their thoughts. "Ah, there's our ride!" Antonio said. "Gil, start packing your stuff up!" The two of them began to disassemble the drum kit, and they all went outside to put the kit in the car.
Arthur thought that everything had come together in the past couple of hours.
And then, he made eye contact with a brilliant pair of violet-blue eyes.
And they shattered his world.
