Roker biography

Artyom Castle Chapter 8. We lost the guitarist. It turns out he decided to leave because his new passion was against what he was doing. We all understood him, but warned that he could no longer return. He accepted such a situation, we were left without a guitarist. No one thought that it would be next, because we lost one of us. The group is a family that has lost his son.

I remember that we thumped for a certain time. Blaged until fate turned to us face to walk, we somehow with a bassist along the embankment of our town. Not that we walk, we go silently. We did not plan to leave our more precisely my apartment, but we had to take a walk. We were silent, no one talked about anything. It seemed like there was nothing to talk about, although the topics were.

This day was remembered by cloudy weather, the sun was overshadowed by the clouds, preventing him from frying us with their warmth. It seemed as if it could have rained, but it was not. We understood that the group in the crisis, after a couple of days, we have a performance at the country's largest rock festival, and if we do not get there and we will not play, we will no longer be invited.

In the rock world, but rather in the show of business there is a rule, I was not invited again. And we can say the real scum. No one is interested in the fact that there is no guitarist, if you say, play, did not play, well, you won’t play. Our producer is looking for a new guitarist, but so far the searches have not succeeded. We returned to our native town, where we are sitting for the last 2 days.

The bassist drinks beer, while smoking after each sip. I do not drink anything and do not eat in the last 2 days. I have no time for eating. We are in the full ass. We will not perform without a guitarist, but where to find a replacement? All familiar guitarists play in groups and do not want to leave there. We need the one for whom our group will be everyone, as for the past, the same street ones, able to play well.

Suddenly, we noticed a people gathering near something that interested them. We also heard guitar chords and decided to approach this pile of people and find out what was happening. Since they were on the opposite side, we crossed the road and heard what we did not expect to hear. These were the first chords "Song". Having squeezed into a heap, we saw a guitarist, brilliantly performing our song.

It seemed to me that he played much more professional than our last guitarist. Looking at him, he recognized him. It was one of our inveterate fans, always coming to our concerts and always standing in the fan zone, always painted, but now there was no makeup on it. He tried to sing, but the soloist party is not his calling, but the guitarist was driving into the crowd, we crumbled the boy’s amazing game, although he was about 20 years old, however, how did he play the incomparably Satrianny in actions, Stevi Wei in his youth and Ingvi in ​​quality.

The guy played almost all of our repertoire, played excellently. We waited until the guy finished playing, oddly enough, but no one in the crowd noticed us, as if we were not a rock group, but ordinary spectators, like everyone else. The crowd dispersed, the guitarist with a full pocket of the monetary currency in the form of pieces of paper went home.

We went after him. Passing by one of the yards, we called him. His first reaction was like a crowd of schoolgirls, to whom Justin Bieber came to the lesson. Fu, I do not like Bieber not a singer, but shit. It feels like he sings in the voice of a man who was given eggs, or he has no one from birth, but there is such a moronic, filthy voice. However, this is my opinion and whether to agree with it or not to decide.

I, in turn, simply spoke out. As for the guy, otherwise it is not very cool that I translated the topic, he looked at us and seems to receive an orgasm. He looked at us for 2 minutes, we looked at him for 2 minutes. The game "Starelka" was disfigered by the bassist. Tell me, do you want to become our guitarist? The guy thought for a few minutes that surprised me, any other street guitarist without hesitation would say yes, then it looked into his pockets, clogged with far from thousands of bills and said.

It is not necessary to jump, jump and dance, but we will not refuse "thank you". If everything goes smoothly, you are a full member of the group. We said goodbye to him and left. The guitarist skipped home. And you should think about the material for the next album. Are there any ideas about this? I want to note that my inspiration comes to me under a degree, but not always.

We reached the apartment and told everyone about the guitarist. However, this did not interest them. We had a new grief of our old guitarist was hit by a car. As it turned out, he crossed with the girl across the road, when suddenly the car jumped out from somewhere, as far as it was "Mercedes". He shot down a guitarist who managed to push him away and thereby save his girlfriend, but he himself did not manage to jump away.

The car took him a couple of meters, then stopped and drove back. The driver escaped from the place of accidents by car. As the witnesses stated, he was drunk. This was seen by his movements.We all mired in mourning, now I am writing this chapter while intoxicated. I finish the second bottle of whiskey, music plays, the early "The Beatles".

His beloved. His photo stands in a frame on my desk, in my room. The light does not burn and I sit in the dark, the darkness dullly illuminates the light from the light bulb. The whole atmosphere of the room was mired in Gothic, and only early Beatles bring paint to this Gothic. I have tears, I cry on it, I can’t believe that he is not. It seems that he was sitting nearby yesterday and discussing the songs with me.

He loved to talk about them, considering them very good, and I loved to read them to him, since he listened to them in the present, and said that it was good to correct. You can say I lost the muse leading me to creative success. New words made their way in my head, then they formed in the sentence and the new text is ready. The text dedicated to the memory of our friend, brother, particles of the group.

The next morning, the guitarist whom we met on the street came, he knew about the death of his predecessor. Everyone knew about this, we posted the information on the official website. Thousands of letters with condolences came to us. The funeral has already been appointed. We all came. No one could restrain his tears, because no one wanted to restrain it. His girlfriend cried all the funeral, a couple of times she was given a sedative.

That driver was still not found. I hope they are at least looking for him. We lowered the coffin and buried our friend forever underground. Then we were silent for minutes no one wanted to start the conversation first. It began our new guitarist. The keyboard player stood without saying a word. He just looked into the void.