Why Do You Build Me Up (546 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.63 on 16 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by BillyGoat (View user info) at 2007-11-20 14:59:48 EST
The stage curtain closes and the crowd is still clapping. The sound reverberates through my body, and it momentarily overwhelms me, before it dies down, to be replaced my the sound of my footsteps as I make my way to the dressing room. Today has been a good day, judging by previous standards. About 50 people turned up and for once they seemed genuinely interested. A few of them were actually singing along, something I miss since my days on the X-factor. I feel like a star, be it a very, very small one, but a star nonetheless.
I emerge from the shower to find my tour manager at the desk, scanning the envelope that he received from theatre management. He is a haggard old beast and it pains me when he's slumped on the seat like that, wondering why he's still with me. Back in the day, he was with the in crowd, one of the movers and shakers, managing real acts. And somehow, he lost track and wound up with me in the hope that he would recapture the magic of yesteryear.
He runs his thumb-bony and slightly arthritic- across the envelope and pulls out a cheque. His eyes meet mine and they squint each time he lets out a throaty laugh, brought on by years of cigarette smoking. His face, like a crisp packet, creases and relaxes with every burst. The sorrow is palpable as he struggles to hold back the tears that threaten to escape his eyes. What is 20% of nothing? He seems to be asking, as he throws the envelope to the floor. It's no better than 80% of nothing I reply to myself, crunching the cheque into my over worn slacks.
The laughing stops and he puts on his serious face to remind me that the next performance is on Monday in a tiny pub somewhere in Cornwall. An 'intimate gig,' as he calls it. Just that moment, I want to tell him that I'm sick of travelling to these remote villages. Tired of being made fun off, night after night by people who know nothing about me save from the few snippets they got from the show. What I have become is a novelty act, a clown with no name. They come to see 'that bloke off the telly' or the 'fat one off X factor.' It's not what I signed up for, what I want is London, Birmingham, Manchester, the big cities not some shitty little backwater that can barely hold itself up. Returning to my old job will be seen as failure. But is there any other word that can describe what I have become?
I have to rub my forehead to dissipate the rage that's whirling inside me. Its thoughts like these that drive me mad and make me wanna jack it in. The ride back home is always the most painful when I realise just how unpopular I am. Its hard singing to a near empty theatre, harder still when kids laugh and mock you everywhere you go. Everything is hard but I can't jack it in, because the flat, the bills, promo material, production fees etc won't pay for themselves.
The old man rises to his feet and comes across to where I'm standing. His hand is outstretched revealing a sinewy forearm that protrudes from his cardigan. He looks me straight in the eye and all he says is 'good luck, son' before turning to leave. Persuading him to stay is useless, we both know it's a lost cause and its best if he found some new act to manage or just went back home.
I gather my things and dejectedly leave after him. I'm torn between being happy and sad; one side is happy that the old man has decided to leave after so many months of anguish yet the other side would have wanted for him to stay, at least till the end of the tour, to see how things would have panned out. But I guess he sensed our time was up and there was nothing to be had from our partnership. I leave my emotions to fight it out while I trudge my way to the awaiting car.
I arrive home in time for the Xtra factor, a kind of review of the live show. On the screen is Simon and his pampered chums discussing and bitching about the nights' performances. Out of shot are the contestants undoubtedly nervous because they have to endure another hour of criticism from the judges and the audience. It must be hell sitting there hearing people say negative things about you, snatching at every opportunity to kick you were it hurts. I should know, I was there and week after week I got the most agro because of the way I looked, the way I dressed and the way I talked. You name it, they criticized. My singing ability or lack of, would sometimes receive a fleeting comment.
Before the show wraps up, the presenter asks what the future holds for the recent evictee. Upon which Louis pipes up, in his ever chirpy Irish way and proclaims that "she' s a natural talent and will do very well in the industry, we shall be hearing more from her in the near future."
Are you sure about that, Mr Walsh?
Funny he should say that, coz I seem to recall him saying exactly the same words to me all those moons ago and I acted on that talent didn't I? My first three singles topped the charts and for a fleeting second, I was the darling of the nation destined for great things. 'All that was left was the BRIT award that would complete what had been a fabulous debut'.
That's when Jim arrived on the scene and offered to be my manager, citing that my big fan base would be enough to hold us afloat for least 3 albums. He and I quickly released an album, still riding on the success of the singles. It did very well allowing me to put a down payment on the flat and buy the unnecessary crap that's strewn all over it.
All was going well, till a new talent came (from the same show no less) and shat on my patch and things have never been the same since. The second album was less successful and barely made it into the charts. Not one single made it into the top 40 and I was forced to go on tour to try and recoup the production costs.
So here I am, after another disappointing performance; managerless, distraught and hurtling towards failure with nothing more to look forward to but heartache.
I can only feel pity as the camera swivels to reveal the contestants, all wide-eyed and doe faced, hungry for that fame. A hunger that a few of them will satisfy, but only for a brief moment.
User Reviews
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2007-11-21 11:30:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by TheGoat (user info) at 2007-11-21 06:13:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Ballare, you gave me an idea
i'll remember that one next time when the dj cranks it up in the club and i will fart because this time there's no cigarette smoke to cover it up.
tee-hee
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I do that all the time anyway! people are usually too drunk to notice
Submitted by TheGoat (user info) at 2007-11-21 07:46:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
i agree, from what i have seen he is very theatrical and can easily hold a crowd and he's good at moulding different genres of music to his style.
Submitted by HurtByTheSun (user info) at 2007-11-21 11:41:56 GMT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by TheGoat (user info) at 2007-11-20 20:46:25 GMT (#)
Ranking: 0
his meant to be the most talented one among the current batch of X factor contestants. he's quite good although his sound is less pop, more opera.
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He really is. I fucking hate that show, but I heard about him and goddamn the guy can sing. Classically trained.
If he doesn't win it's a fucking travesty, and evidence that the show is fucking rigged.
Submitted by DrogoRoch (user info) at 2007-11-21 07:00:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This was good. i cant wait for tv to get bored of inflicting sub-standard singers on us and go for something different.
Submitted by HurtByTheSun (user info) at 2007-11-21 06:41:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by TheGoat (user info) at 2007-11-20 20:46:25 GMT (#)
Ranking: 0
his meant to be the most talented one among the current batch of X factor contestants. he's quite good although his sound is less pop, more opera.
===========
He really is. I fucking hate that show, but I heard about him and goddamn the guy can sing. Classically trained.
If he doesn't win it's a fucking travesty, and evidence that the show is fucking rigged.
Submitted by TheGoat (user info) at 2007-11-21 06:13:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Ballare, you gave me an idea
i'll remember that one next time when the dj cranks it up in the club and i will fart because this time there's no cigarette smoke to cover it up.
tee-hee
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2007-11-21 02:51:17 GMT (#)
Ranking: 2
whenever I sing "Build Me Up Buttercup" I mix up the lyrics half way through the sentence so I always end up singing, 'don't let me fart', or 'don't break my fart'
Submitted by iddqd (user info) at 2007-11-20 22:45:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by iddqd (user info) at 2007-11-20 22:41:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
least you had your shot, you fat whinging pom.
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2007-11-20 21:51:17 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
whenever I sing "Build Me Up Buttercup" I mix up the lyrics half way through the sentence so I always end up singing, 'don't let me fart', or 'don't break my fart'
'don't let me fall/don't break my heart' are terribly easy to confuse, apparently
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2007-11-20 18:17:19 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
well done
Submitted by Yozz (user info) at 2007-11-20 17:20:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Dick
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Submitted by TheDoctor (user info) at 2007-11-20 17:02:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2007-11-20 16:29:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
i miss performing with me old band.
Submitted by ChaosJester (user info) at 2007-11-20 16:00:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Huh...
Submitted by TheGoat (user info) at 2007-11-20 15:46:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
his meant to be the most talented one among the current batch of X factor contestants. he's quite good although his sound is less pop, more opera.
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2007-11-20 15:19:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Well written. Who's the chap in the picture though?
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2007-11-20 15:09:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment