DARK LIGHT:
A WORLD WITHOUT HEROES II
By Dale Sherman
Bruce sat alone in the dressing room, tuning-up the guitar in his lap. He was already dressed in his stage outfit, which was really nothing more than a pair of slacks, a T-shirt that had the "British Knights" BK logo on the front and a jacket. It was an outfit that was criticized by some in management as not being "flashy" enough, but Bruce felt comfortable in it and -- as he argued at the time -- it was not like he was the center of attention on stage anyway. As to his guitars, that was a more personal matter and they let him have his way without question on that issue.
If it had been a few years earlier, he would have spent his time before the show roaming around the backstage area. That was before the incident last tour when someone had snuck into the dressing room and taken all the strings off of his guitar. The real funny part was that he had picked up the guitar and had not even noticed the missing strings until they were already on stage and ready to take their positions for the show to start. It necessitated holding the show off for 5 minutes as he located another guitar to throw on.
Yeah, Bruce reflected, that was real funny. At least Singer got a laugh out of it. Which only lead Bruce to suspect whom had pulled the stunt in the first place, but he never was absolutely sure.
So he sat in the dressing room, finding something to do, even if it meant tuning the guitar for the umpteenth time. He was just about finished when he heard the door to the room slam open and a man with long, wavy, blond hair walk quickly into the room. The man wore a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt, which Bruce wondered to himself why there were never any comments made about when everyone critique his own choice of stage clothes. The door slammed shut behind the man as he came towards Bruce, clutching a CD of the new album in his right hand.
"Hi, Eric," Bruce replied, looking back down at the guitar.
Eric Singer stepped impatiently towards Bruce, annoyance on his face. He held the CD up to Bruce to see, and when Bruce did not respond, he tapped the table with it and then held it up once again.
Bruce looked up at the album, then at Eric. Before he could ask what was wrong, Eric began.
"You know, I don't mind playing second-fiddle in the band. I don't mind if people don't always know my name. I don't mind if people come up and ask me if I'm 'in the band'" Eric spat the words out in obvious disgust. "I know that's part of the game of playing with someone that's famous. But this is the last time I'm going to be messenger-boy for autographs."
Bruce was about to say something when Eric continued.
"I go out there to talk to some of the fans to see how they are doing. To get in touch with people on a one-to-one level. And what do I get? 'Oh, please, Mr. Drummer, can you get this signed for me?'" Eric spoke in a high-pitched and sugarcoated voice. He held the CD gingerly, using only his fingertips to hold the case exactly in the same manner as how the pimply-faced man backstage had done to him just mere moments before. Eric then grabbed the CD with both hands and tossed it on the table, causing the lid on the jewellcase to pop open and crack. "The guy didn't even know my name."
Bruce reached over and flipped the lid of the jewellcase close. "I thought it didn't make a difference if people didn't know your name."
"It doesn't," Eric immediately responded. "It just that . . . well, it does matter . . . but only when . . . aagh . . .."
Eric slumped down in a chair, defeated. He felt his anger dissipate as he realized he had confused his own argument to Bruce. "I don't know. It just bugs me."
Bruce leaned over and picked up the CD. He inspected it for a moment before turning back to Eric, who was across the table from him.
"Look, Eric. When did you join the lineup? The band?"
"1991," Eric said, staring off into the distance.
"And it's what? 1995?"
"What? Am I a clock now too?" Eric meant it as a joke, but he said it with enough force that he immediately realized that it probably came across as another negative comment. "Yeah, it's been four years."
If Bruce had noticed the change of tone in Eric's voice, he did not let it be known. "So you've been in the band for four years. You would think that you would be used to this type of thing by now. After all, we're not the ones that started the group. It's not our names on the marquee outside." He held up the CD to Eric. "It's not our names on the front of the CD."
Eric ran his fingers through his hair in a scrubbing motion as he thought about Bruce's comment, and then looked at Bruce. "Ah, man, I know. I've always said the same thing, and you know it. You've heard me say it. When you join a band like this, you really become part of the legend instead of just being in a band. It's just that I get tired of it sometimes."
Bruce put the CD back down on the table and leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, I feel the same way every so often. But that's the ride you get sometimes in music. When my brother suggested me for this job back in the mid-80s, I didn't know what to think. I mean, I was in bands that had put out albums just like you had before joining. I thought I could be throwing my own career away because no one would ever know me if I joined, they would only see 'the band.' But, y'know? It's been fun, and I've been able to create some good music during my time here. I can't complain." Eric agreed with Bruce with a shake of his head. "I know I'm lucky to be playing with someone like this too. I just wished it got a bit better with the fans. I also wish we would play more current stuff instead of all the old hits."
"Well, it's hard to avoid playing 'Welcome to My Nightmare' or 'Cold Ethyl.' People expect to hear the hits and they probably would be disappointed if we didn't do them."
There was a knock on the door and a thin, medium-tall man with blond, spiked hair and a goatee leaned into the room.
"We're on in five," the man said, and just as quickly he was gone, closing the door behind him. With the announcement, Bruce and Eric got up from their chairs and headed towards the door.
"It does get better, Eric. When I first joined Alice Cooper during his CONSTRICTOR tour, I couldn't get the time of day from the fans, because they didn't associate me with Alice. But that was 1985 . . . 86? Anyway, people know me now and it's cool. Besides, after Blackjack broke up, I was really left swaying in the breeze there for a while until I hooked up with Alice. I realize how lucky I was to get this job, and I'm sure you felt the same way after you left Badland. The problem you're having is that you've only got to tour once with Alice before he took a couple of years off to work on other projects. People just really haven't had a chance to associate you with Alice yet. Just give it some time. That's all."
Eric grabbed a pair of drumsticks that were on a crate by the table before heading out the door. He blew out a puff of air. "Yeah, you're right. You're right. Either way, I can't complain about playing with Alice. It may be a pain with the fans once in awhile, but this really is the biggest moment of my career so far."
"So, you gonna get that CD autographed for the guy," Bruce asked, a slight smile on his face.
Eric's tension immediately returned. "Gggrrrrrrr." He walked back to the table and grabbed the CD off the table with a swipe of his hand. He looked at it as he headed back the door where Bruce was watching and waiting. Eric pointed the CD at Bruce, shaking it slightly. "Okay, I'll do it. But it's the last time. From now on I'm telling people to get his assistant if they want his autograph."
Bruce patted Eric on the back as they went out the door. As Bruce shut the door, he stopped for a moment. Eric turned around to see what was slowing up Bruce, only to see him staring at the door, his hand still on the doorknob.
"Bruce? Something wrong?"
Bruce released the doorknob and turned to Eric. "Hhhmmm? Oh, uh, nothing. I just had this strange feeling that something wasn't quite right. Like I'm forgetting something."
Bruce strode over to Eric and they moved towards the stage together. As they went, Bruce shook the feeling of mystery from his head.
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Copyrighted (c) 2000-2001 Dale Sherman / KISS ASYLUM
Artwork by Larry Blake
We kindly ask that you please not reproduce this feature without prior consent!
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