Excerpt: Metal as Life

Bohemian Maggot launched a frontal assault on their opening number, "Kill the Invading Devils", which was a marching, relentless paean to home, loyalty and defending one's rights. The boys were tight tonight, not a string out of place, obviously in sync with one another and performing really well. Dave loved to see them when they were like this. He was proud of them; not that he really felt a right to be proud, but it was a great thing to be associated with such an awe-inspiring animal as this band in full flight.

As they steamrolled from one original number to the next, a few locals approached Dave to quiz him about the band. They were drawn, evidently, by his obvious physical affinity with them - they had to be about the only five blokes not wearing jeans and boots, and certainly the only ones with long hair. But the locals were generally friendly and curious, and although they expressed distaste for the music they didn't seem to mind just standing around watching and listening to it. This was a strange thing for Dave, because there was no way on God's green earth he'd stand around and listen to a country gig if he could in any way help it. The crowd were generally easygoing and could appreciate that Bohemian Maggot were doing a really great show.

The four of them were filling their usual roles. Rabbit, out the front, was the showman of them all, jumping about and using his guitar as a prop as much as an instrument, the rabbit's foot swinging wildly as he lashed left and right with the guitar. His curly black hair hung over the neck of it as he really shredded the solos, and he made great use of the small stage space, leaping from amp to amp and generally drawing all attention. The other three framed him in their own ways. Dan moved around a little, not quite as energetically as Rabbit, but in his own solo parts (graciously written in by Rabbit himself, as the only songwriter in the band) he let loose and pulled a few moves. Dave noted with surprise that Dan was drawing easily as much female attention as Horse. The latter stood unmoving at left stage, his bass guitar slung low on his narrow shoulders, face grim and hands moving precisely, gracefully over his four strings. He looked heroic, beautiful. Behind him was the powerhouse of the whole group, little megawatt Edge, bashing aggressively at his kit. HIs face was a divine comedy of exultant, extreme emotion as he dragged the rhythms from the drums and fed them through the guitars in an orgy of sound that crushed the punters in its force.

This was metal. This was the animal that drew these five unlikely companions together and united them in a single epic cause, and Dave felt his heart swell in his chest to meet the stirring strings and call to arms that raced from the drums. He gazed around the crowd, looking avidly for converts; they were all too few, as at every gig. He couldn't understand, and likely never would, how people could hear those tones and not respond with their heart and soul.