It was that pre-concert time when the black shirted roadies were adjusting the drums, and tuning the guitars. One of them would play a chord and look at the sound engineer, who would give a thumbs up sign. Then another would sit at the drum set and hit each of the drums and cymbals, again to help the sound engineer set the correct levels.
Then the four roadies made sure that all the amps were set up and all the cords were taped down. They didn’t leave the stage, however. Each of them went to an instrument, and with no warning, they counted off the first measure of a song, and began to play.
They sang songs of the people who worked so that the stars could shine on the stage. As they played, the huge crowd began to forget why they had come to the concert in the first place. By the time the roadies had played four songs, all thoughts about the headlining act were completely gone from their collective thoughts.
Backstage, in their dressing rooms, the band members, each bound to a separate chair, watched the concert on closed circuit monitors. They thrashed violently against the rolls of duct tape that the roadies had used to lash them down, gag them, and seal off their nasal passages, but the roadies had years of experience with duct tape. By the time the concert was over, the band members were long gone, and the audience’s cheers brought the roadies back for encore after encore.
And across the globe, the world’s roadies rose up in rebellion against their tyrannical headlining acts. As one they overthrew their masters, and picked up the instruments that they had up to that moment, merely tuned. The crowd roared their approval, and rejoiced at the sound of sweet freedom.
Then the four roadies made sure that all the amps were set up and all the cords were taped down. They didn’t leave the stage, however. Each of them went to an instrument, and with no warning, they counted off the first measure of a song, and began to play.
They sang songs of the people who worked so that the stars could shine on the stage. As they played, the huge crowd began to forget why they had come to the concert in the first place. By the time the roadies had played four songs, all thoughts about the headlining act were completely gone from their collective thoughts.
Backstage, in their dressing rooms, the band members, each bound to a separate chair, watched the concert on closed circuit monitors. They thrashed violently against the rolls of duct tape that the roadies had used to lash them down, gag them, and seal off their nasal passages, but the roadies had years of experience with duct tape. By the time the concert was over, the band members were long gone, and the audience’s cheers brought the roadies back for encore after encore.
And across the globe, the world’s roadies rose up in rebellion against their tyrannical headlining acts. As one they overthrew their masters, and picked up the instruments that they had up to that moment, merely tuned. The crowd roared their approval, and rejoiced at the sound of sweet freedom.
