It's kind of a big milestone, and Jeff doesn't even know if he should celebrate it or just push the thought to the back of his mind and ignore it as best he can. He misses Ally-- he misses the others, too, sure, but Ally's the one who was with him from the start. From the first time he was on stage, to the last...
That fucking disaster.
Her absence looms so large, and he knows none of their songs sound quite right without her on the drums (not to mention the lack of bass, of backing vocals, anything outside of his voice and his guitar). But hey, he's a fucking professional. He's a star (sort of, kind of, in his own tiny niche in LA's underground). Jeff swallows back his nerves, and he gets up on stage, and he performs like he was born for it.
(Up here all alone. This is what you always wanted, isn't it? a voice that sounds a little like Ally's spits in his head. Ignore it, ignore it...)
He plays a mix of songs from home (Nervous Tix originals), a couple new pieces he wrote here in Duplicity, and a handful of covers to pad things out (nothing past the early 90s, since, well, he doesn't know any songs from the future). But more than that, he's conversational, playful, totally at ease with the crowd. He tells silly, stupid stories to lead into songs, cracks a few jokes, talks back to the audience here and there. It goes a long way towards making up for the lack of backing musicians. At one point, he pulls a girl up on stage with him, so she can fill in where Ally would normally be singing along. It's messy and chaotic, but totally fun, and people seem to dig it.
Not bad for his first solo outing. The magic he sings into the club certainly helps. Lights bursting, raining, like ephemeral glitter, and just the subtlest sparks of ecstasy to make the crowd giddy (nothing crazy, just a tiny boost!)...
When it's over, he's riding high on adrenaline. Fuck, he feels... normal? Fucking normal, in the best way, like he hasn't spent the past however-many months brain-fried from trauma and drugs and hallucinations.
Next step: get shitfaced, take someone home. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet, hyped, drumming his fingers on the bar. He grins when he sees Dean. ]
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It's kind of a big milestone, and Jeff doesn't even know if he should celebrate it or just push the thought to the back of his mind and ignore it as best he can. He misses Ally-- he misses the others, too, sure, but Ally's the one who was with him from the start. From the first time he was on stage, to the last...
That fucking disaster.
Her absence looms so large, and he knows none of their songs sound quite right without her on the drums (not to mention the lack of bass, of backing vocals, anything outside of his voice and his guitar). But hey, he's a fucking professional. He's a star (sort of, kind of, in his own tiny niche in LA's underground). Jeff swallows back his nerves, and he gets up on stage, and he performs like he was born for it.
(Up here all alone. This is what you always wanted, isn't it? a voice that sounds a little like Ally's spits in his head. Ignore it, ignore it...)
He plays a mix of songs from home (Nervous Tix originals), a couple new pieces he wrote here in Duplicity, and a handful of covers to pad things out (nothing past the early 90s, since, well, he doesn't know any songs from the future). But more than that, he's conversational, playful, totally at ease with the crowd. He tells silly, stupid stories to lead into songs, cracks a few jokes, talks back to the audience here and there. It goes a long way towards making up for the lack of backing musicians. At one point, he pulls a girl up on stage with him, so she can fill in where Ally would normally be singing along. It's messy and chaotic, but totally fun, and people seem to dig it.
Not bad for his first solo outing. The magic he sings into the club certainly helps. Lights bursting, raining, like ephemeral glitter, and just the subtlest sparks of ecstasy to make the crowd giddy (nothing crazy, just a tiny boost!)...
When it's over, he's riding high on adrenaline. Fuck, he feels... normal? Fucking normal, in the best way, like he hasn't spent the past however-many months brain-fried from trauma and drugs and hallucinations.
Next step: get shitfaced, take someone home. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet, hyped, drumming his fingers on the bar. He grins when he sees Dean. ]
Dude! Hey! Didn't know you worked here.