Gathering Post - Singles' Night (These Are The Times)

[prodigalflame]

The Tavern, as it was called, brought to mind images of faded Tudor quaintness: of whitewashed exterior, black beams, windows barred with cast iron, mulled mead and a fireplace in every room.

In truth, the pub was anything but. Located in one of the gentrifying suburbs, it was a modern bulwark of concrete, iron and glass. The first two stories were the pub proper, and the next ten were apartments. The owners had called it 'The Tavern' in a display of hipster pride, as if it was the only pub that mattered. Snaking through the two levels were a series of pipes, as small-scale brewing took place on site.

It was usually a lively sort of pub, populated mostly by the fussy, the well-off, the well-educated and those that aspired to be, although situated near a tube station meant it also got a lot of randoms peering in to grab a pint. The alcohol menu was diverse, the food menu was dominated by various pulled meats and a cheese board (if anyone cared) and there were probably far too many male graduate students with neckbeards who nodded enthusiastically at each other as they discussed Kant.

Still, on Saturday night it was even more bustling than usual. People stood on the stairs, beers in hand, and chatted. Every seat was taken. The wait staff had their hands full (literally), and moved with ease and grace through the throng to deliver food to tables, and collect numbers and plates.

Tonight there would be music. Tonight there would be bands. Tonight was Singles' Night, a guarantee of no sappy love songs, no heart break, no angst. Two local bands were playing: first there would be a set from The Flamethrowers, with a mix of classic rock and pop standards, and then after a break, there would be an electro-synth duo to allow for dancing well past midnight.

So at about 9pm, patrons were treated to the sight of the first band tuning up. There wasn't really a performance space, so much as a corner on the ground floor of the pub that was currently unoccupied by tables. It was a four-piece band: some shaggy-haired cross between hobo and hipster on rhythm guitar and vocals, a slightly older british caribbean guy in glasses with goatee on double bass, a short-haired woman in her mid-20s on percussion and vocals and a tendency to beat the ever-living fuck out of the drum set, and another woman, more long-haired and willowy, on keyboards and vocals. Mr Hobo-Hipster of the shaggy hair and blond tips sang lead most of the time, but he gave it up for each of the women through their eleven song set, and there were duets. The keyboard was set to produce a more honky-tonk piano sound, and combined with the double bass, most of the covers had a dirty feel to them, all loose chords and guitar slaps. Clearly they'd played together for long enough to have a good feel for each other, which just added to the looseness, the occasional digression or ad hoc solo.

And Mr Hobo-Hipster didn't so much as introduce the band members as say "Hey. We're the Flamethrowers" and then let his guitar speak for itself as they launched into a funked-up version of Money. His voice was a little rough, almost a growl, and his stage presence was contained but not muted. Even without posturing, John made it very clear that he was the driving force behind the band: he didn't preen or strut, he didn't need to, and only the hint of a smirk could be seen around his eyes. There was no grinning, not now: now he was controlled and contained and came off a little bit contemptuous of having to perform. He sang, sure, and he played, and played pretty well, but his focus were the frets of his guitar, the lyrics of the songs. That night, he was sleek and dangerous and full of pride. That night, he had no reasons to smile or grin or show how happy he was: he'd lost those along the way. He was pared back to his disdainful core. Overall, the band was good but not great, and with John being Intense, the performance probably came off somewhere between 'bluesy rock band' and 'satanic death cult'.

Grooving through the set-list for roughly 45 minutes, the Flamethrowers played a series of stripped-back, funked-up covers. Rock the Casbah. a slowed-down take on Time after Time. Versions of Dangerous and Sweet Dreams (are made of this) that were dominated by the keyboards and a sparse double bass. Everybody Wants to Rule the World. John's wry grin came out for a guitar driven, lazy run on Carole King's "It's Too Late", before he paused to finally introduce the band, have some water, and explain that the point was to avoid the melancholic and romantic: to not make anyone feel bad for being single.

Four more songs, and they then closed with Mama Told Me Not To Come, having meandered their way past some INXS, Living End and Lynyrd Skynyrd.

In the end, John thanked the band (again), thanked everyone for showing up, and hoped they passed the audition. As a nicety, he promised there would now be some 'music you can dance to' after a little break, and then disappeared to pack up his guitar and amp and find himself a drink and a quiet corner.

The night went on without him, and that was just fine.

[OOC: Saturday night at an upmarket pub and destination of note. Feel free to show up before, during or after the band. Complain about the noise, the locally brewed artisan beer, the hipster food, the even more hipster band, or just dance the night away.]

Comments

OTA

[leloupnoir]

This was not Akeem's usual sort of pub; he preferred smaller, quieter places. He was here because one of his most challenging students, the drummer of the first band, had insisted he attend. He had settled on a bar stool after greeting the other students he had spotted in the crowd, not wanting to cramp their style by staying with them. He had nursed a pint while the Flamethrowers played, and found himself totally unsurprised by the vigorous style of drumming on display. It certainly fit her.

Once their set was over, she made a beeline for him, which Akeem supposed was partly because of the proximity to the bartenders. They chatted while she ordered a drink, and insisted on paying him one. "Just a glass," he relented, but she got him a pint anyway, telling him glasses were not how you were supposed to drink beer.

It wasn't long before her attention was claimed by friends of hers, however, and Akeem wandered outside with his pint, setting it on an empty table as he pulled out his pack of cigarettes to light up.

Re: OTA

[prince_of_nymphs]

Needing a break from the music and crowd, Fin had wandered outside for a smoke, his cane tapping against the ground, then slowing as he stopped near the table. His hand reached out, touching the back of an empty chair, and he hesitated before speaking.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked, his magic punishing him for abandoning the delicious music and people by dampening his already extremely limited ability to see using it.

[leloupnoir]

"Oh, no, it's quite free," Akeem assured him, having been about to when the blind man had spoken. It took him a few seconds to recognise him as the young man he had spoken too at the jazz club, especially since he had noticed his scent, this time, despite the cigarette he was smoking. "The table is, actually. Nothing but my glass on it, while I'm having a cigarette." He waited until the now blind not-a-man was seated before adding, "Fin, was it? We've met, if only briefly. The jazz concert at the tea house? I'm Akeem."

[prince_of_nymphs]

It took Fin a beat, but he smiled as his brain connected the name and place to a face.

"Right, of course, I remember," he said as he sat down, folding his cane away and pulling out his cigarettes. "You must have very varied tastes in music," he noted, nodding towards the venue.

[leloupnoir]

"I might say the same to you," Akeem pointed out with a smile, still standing beside the table. "But I'm only here because one of the band members insisted."

[prince_of_nymphs]

"I'm a friend of one of the owners," Fin confessed, smiling a bit sheepishly. "It's not really my personal taste, though I very much enjoyed it anyway."

[leloupnoir]

"I feel the same," Akeem confirmed with a smile, and took a drag on his cigarette. He glanced around as if to check whether anyone was heading for the table, then looked back at Fin. "Would you like some company?" It seemed rather odd for their paths to have crossed again, and at a concert at that. If fate was trying to tell them something, Akeem did not know what it was, but he was curious.

[prince_of_nymphs]

"I would love some," Fin smiled, taking a long drag, then removing his sunglasses to reveal slightly milky looking eyes.

[leloupnoir]

Akeem didn't react to the sight one way or the other, since the cane had rather prepared him for it, and grabbed the chair across from Fin. "Did your owner friend insist you ought to hear this band, then?"

[prince_of_nymphs]

"No, he seemed more interested in hooking me up with his friend," Fin admitted with a soft laugh, leaving it at that, since that clearly hadn't worked out the way his friend had hoped.

[leloupnoir]

"I take it from our current circumstances that that did not go over well?" Akeem checked. "I'm sorry."

[prince_of_nymphs]

"Don't be, I'm not," Fin smiled. "We didn't exactly click."

[leloupnoir]

"It still feels as though I should express sympathy," Akeem admitted, "but I think my own experience of contrived blind dates is getting in my way." He winced immediately. "Ah, sorry."

[prince_of_nymphs]

Fin only smiled, then shrugged. "Don't be," he assured him. "The word doesn't bother me."

[leloupnoir]

"All right," Akeem agreed without hesitation. It was definitely up to Fin to set his own comfort levels. "Either way, I'm glad if it wasn't torture."

[prince_of_nymphs]

Fin chuckled at that, nodding a little. "I could have lived without him playing guide dog the whole time, but it could have been worse. He meant well."

[leloupnoir]

"Ah, a variation on the good old 'trying so hard to make someone comfortable you make them uncomfortable'?" Akeem ventured a guess. "I can't say that I've never been guilty of that, so your date might be the one I should keep my sympathy for."

[prince_of_nymphs]

Fin laughed, a bright and cheerful sound. "Maybe," he agreed. "I know I should learn to just roll with it, but- I'm not good at letting people help, to be honest. I have this burning need to be independent."

[leloupnoir]

"I'm not sure there's a 'should', after something like this," Akeem answered, sounding somewhat hesitant. He did not know what had happened, exactly, only that Fin had lost his sight, and it was obviously not something he had ever gone through. Who was he to speak of it? "Not unless it's that you should work through it however you need to."

[prince_of_nymphs]

"Maybe not," Fin allowed, shrugging one shoulder. "I suppose this sort of thing doesn't have any set rules."

[leloupnoir]

"I don't know what you're going through anymore than your unfortunate date does," Akeem replied apologetically, in case he'd overstepped. Politeness - to a fault - was his default setting.

[prince_of_nymphs]

"I don't expect you or him to," Fin assured him with a shrug. "But I don't take well to being treated like an injured bird, that's all."

[leloupnoir]

"I don't think that I would, either," Akeem sympathised, but again, what did he know? The process of learning to live with the wolf had been too different; it wasn't anything lost, but something added, technically. He put his cigarette out and added, "I'm woefully unprepared for this conversation, or so it feels."

[prince_of_nymphs]

"Then by all means, we should talk about something else," Fin said cheerfully, crossing his legs and gesturing with his cigarette as he spoke.

"Tell me all about yourself, I'm desperately curious and endlessly nosy," he said, his magic backing up that statement by reaching out a little, trying to get a feel for the other man. ...Was he a man? He didn't feel completely human, though Fin didn't know enough to make much of it.

[leloupnoir]

The wolf narrowed his eyes inside Akeem, for no reason that either of them could figure out, and he only just managed not to do the same. "There's nothing much to say about me, I'm afraid. I own a bookshop? And teach some creative writing classes."