#kusha deep

I carried on dragging kit through, and on to the stage, no roadies here. Those guys earned their money, like steel pillars of the live music industry, they set up and broke down sets and stages without a single piece of glory, well maybe the odd lost groupie, but nothing on the level that a successful musician would get. Still the kit kept coming through the doors, while other acts on the bill did the same, we tried to be pleasant but you felt the undercurrent of the unsaid, why don't you just turn around and die somewhere else, was the rough translation. Musicians hate competition, and that hatred is thick the further you slip down the food chain, it comes in many psychological forms. You could say on a primitive level that it was fear, fear that you might take their crowd away, which translates into you being better than them and in the end taking food off their plates. No one wants to be out classed, unless you have no pride in what you are doing, and if that was the case you'd be better off staying at home and jamming in front of You Tube for the rest of your life. Out here there were no stars, just a million people wanting to be and willing to kill to get that moment of glory. I had heard the story that Janis Joplin had said in her leaving statement to the band that gave her the chance to hit the big time, that she would kill anyone that stood in the way of her and fame. That statement was no different today for anyone working their way up the bill. The road to stardom had been by passed by reality TV. The hard yards that bands had had to tread to get themselves heard was being left behind by their vocalists for the quick hit and run. The one thing that was keeping me going on this unforgiving trail was the idea of moving people with a song. It was somehow buried deep in my DNA that music was still important, and songs from the republic of the soul meant something, it was a madness that was keeping this bus moving forward. Out soon!