Blues and the Royals

The night has just begun, we’re drinking goon. Cheapest and bulkiest wine selection in Byron. 2L of awful goodness. There’s a handful of us sitting around a slab of a table when one of the backpackers pipes up with, “Hey the busking comp is on tonight at the Brewery, for Blues Fest. 20 bands playing tonight for a chance to play at the festival,” slaps the bag and takes down a mouth full of red goon. We chirp around the idea and finally decides to make moves. The Brewery is perched across the Arts Factory parking lot, I entertain a quick chat with the bouncer, I’d seen him at another venue and I thoroughly enjoy being friends with the bouncers. “Have a good night babe,” flick a quick smile then stroll up the stairs taking a quick glance at the gigantic fig free grounded firmly amongst the man-made environment.
Hazy lights vibe the place well. My friends are grabbing a drink, I’ve got $50 bucks in my bank account.. so I grab a can for 5 bucks. A lager. We all have to make sacrifices with the funds are low. Strolling through the large open doors a light crowd fills space, leaving smallish gaps between clumps of music lovers to maneuver through.
I scope the crowd. My eyes find a tall man with velvet fire truck red flare pants. I’m intrigued immediately. I watch him as he swaggers around, pleasantly greeted by everyone that sees him.
My third can is going down nicely, with each band I twirl my body around feeling the music from my feet to the top of my head. Blues, funk, rock n’ roll! Talent is oozing out of this place, along with inspiration. I can’t help but picturing myself up there putting on a show for everyone, pouring out my heart. For now I float in bass and slide guitar.
And look who it is, young Jagger look alike walks up on stage with a handful of other charged musicians. Flare pants walks up to the front, checking the sound he turns around and sticks his harmonica in the back of his pants, I flick a pic. An air about the band screams, ‘I may just do something naughty.’ Observing them patiently waiting for their sound release.
I find my way to the very front of the crowd. The only spot I reside in. “Hello beautiful people, what a pleasure to be back in Byron Bay, we’re Port Royal and we’re here to give you love, passion and satisfaction” The crowd is reticent.
A long drawn slide whams out of the speakers and the show beings.
The crowd roars.
AC/DC and The Beatles have made a LOVE child. Whisking you back to an era of free love, expression and most importantly Rock n’ Roll.
As the set goes on Jagger’s jumps are getting higher, flares in the air send the crowd convulsing with life.
The bassist’s smile couldn’t be removed if you punched him across the head. They all watch and listen to the moves of one another. The guitarist to the left of Jagger sticks out his tongue and with a head bang sweeps into a solo, the trusty drummer keeping everything poised and together. And a touch of saxophone renders ripples all over. The melody continues. And so does the rocking of our bodies.
As AC/DC says, “every night there’s a rock n roll queen gunna quiver and quake gunna shake her thing,” their final song blares through the room, I dip my hips nice n low, my purple corduroys don’t agree with my movements and decide to let it all go, ripping from my crotch to the top of my ass. I stand up quickly, unsure of what to do.. my friend wraps her cardigan around my waist. The hole is fucking ridiculous. It’s all about confidence baby. I rock the rip with pride. Can’t hold this booty back. I keep dancing.
Jagger grabs the mic, “Thank you Byron, you’ve been absolutely delicious. We love you all, have an amazing night and long live Rock n’ Roll” With a bow and an applause it seems the night has been charged into full rowdiness.
Everyone is shuffling around, raring to exit. I walk up to Jagger, patiently waiting for his attention with a big ole smile slapped across my face. “Hi, I just wanted to say I dig your music… and” I turn around my head turned back, “I danced so hard I ripped my pants!” He throws his head back and laughs then smacks my booty like a bongo drum, “You’re a legend, aren’t you.” I giggle a little, “I’ll see you next time,” then stroll away, strung out within the music.

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