The New Revolution

50,000 voices rising every time he’d sing,

And every word he ever wrote reflecting back to him,

Still believing that old lie, the one that your own face betrays

Rockstars don’t ever die; they only fade away -Sting, “50,000” from 57th and 9th. 

Those were the scenes Dara imagined every time he practiced on his great-grandfather’s Les Paul Epiphone Special. The chorus of thousands that sang along to the greatest songs ever. The arenas that waved, jumped, and danced to solos. The cheering and applauding noises that rang at the conclusion of a show. 

Dara grew up in the 2050’s and 2060’s when the musical legends and giants really had passed away over the previous fifty years and their golden era of rock was all but a glinting ember in the cacophony called music in his age. He was eight or nine when he realized his disinterest in much of the breakneck-speeding, electro-techno-fied ramblings that characterized popular music but he didn’t realize he was missing much until he became curious about the vinyl records and CDs his family had kept, funny antiques among his peers who consumed all their entertainment from one or two devices connected to cloud storage and databases. 

Dara’s amazement at how limited music ownership seemed in generations before was one thing but he felt complete by what music his family owned: albums by Queen, Aerosmith, Kiss, The Rolling Stones, and Led Zepplin to name a few. They were an antitheses to the late millennium’s standards and production but the most beautiful things he ever heard! He started to feel like he was born in the wrong time, envying the generations of his grandparents and great-grandparents who lived through the rise of these amazing artists! 

The spark of classic music was at least maintained in his own family as three generations held on to that music and became rock-inspired musicians also played the guitar he now possessed. From that time it was bequeathed to him, he practiced every day of ten years with the intent of bringing back that now near century-old kind of music! His parents and grandparents taught him the basics, but before long, Dara’s keen ear became his guide to emulating the more intricate structures and techniques he listened to, like Jimmy Page’s bends and dives, Joe Perry’s riffs, and Mick Taylor’s melodies.  

Of course his passion turned him into a ridiculed minority growing up... 

“That music is so boring!” They said. “You like screechy voices and noisy instruments?!” 

“They’re so fake with all their make-up and costumes!”

“Weren’t they foreign gay druggies or something?”

Despite all the mocking, Dara never abandoned his dreams. He did get lonely sometimes but his peers treated anyone like that who was outspoken about liking such old music. With that, he soon found friends in those they labeled misfits and outcasts. His best friend became Endellion after Dara recovered a vintage Kiss lunchbox from some bullies who stole it in middle school. With his dad owning an expansive collection of original Kiss music and merchandise, Endellion would have been in deep trouble if something were to happen to the lunchbox. Later on, Dara and Endellion ran into Alessio who was alone in the band room playing music from the older band called The Beatles. Alessio ran with a cooler clique so felt he could only enjoy his favorite music on his own as they found him. The three started hanging out at each other’s houses, all together enjoying the music interests they had in common. Upon learning they had a lot of musical talent between each other, they decided to start a band to drive forward their ambitions of making classic rock popular again. Dana on guitar of course, Endellion on drums, and Alessio on keys and they all could sing. 

“What should we call our band?” Alessio asked one afternoon when they were practicing. 

“How about Black Adder?” Endellion suggested, feeling like he had a clever name. “Like the opposite of Whitesnake?”

“No!” The other two moaned, sensing the cheesiness. 

“Dark Blue? Like Deep Purple?” He tried again.

“Huh-uh,” they disagreed. 

“There were The Byrds; there were The Eagles,” Alessio thought. “How about Falcon?”

“That’s been done,” Dara sighed. They were all lost in thought while he strummed out part of “We Don’t Get Fooled Again” by The Who. “How about The New Revolution? That’s what we want to be after all.” 

“Take a bow for The New Revolution…” Alessio reiterated the lyrics, imagining they were potential foreshadowing of their future. “I like it!” 

“Me too!” Endellion smiled. 

With a band name chosen and a repertoire built up, they felt ready to start performing! With their first gigs being a part of talent nights at a few local nursing homes. The entertainment “booked” for those events were often volunteers, so those were the easiest gigs they could get still as kids and pre-teens. Their set often had to be acoustic but their crowd was as receptive as long-term care residents could be. A majority of them at least recognized many of the songs they played, having grown up on them themselves. The young artists played for the love of the music with an additional gratification in how the older audience loved the nostalgia. They would become staple talent at the assisted living community nights. 

The New Revolution as a band expanded as they got older and into high school. They found a lot of fun in making their own music videos and social media clips, trying to reference or attempt recreating some of the old music videos they knew, but their work got buried in the mix of other wannabe sensations. Conversely,  they met their bass player, Vale, while working on one of their recordings. He saw them play while visiting a great-uncle in assisted living. From thirteen years old on, they could finally participate in other music events,like summer carnivals, county fairs, and open mic nights at family-friendly restaurants and coffee shops. At best donations were their payment and their crowds were barely hundreds of either the older generation, closet fans, or the rare few just like them, but all along, they imagined every chance as one step closer to their goals. 

One time, they felt brave enough to enlist in a high school talent show where most of the acts involved unharmonic soundbites or mumbled repetition that everyone else somehow liked. Scheduled as one of the last acts of the show, they encouraged themselves by imagining they were actually the headliners of some major event when they overheard a student council member and organizer tell a girl named Nia that her act had to be cut. Something about time constraints was the reason she was given, though they also imagined an unspoken musical prejudice as well.

Nia wasn’t anyone the guys knew well but had heard she planned on singing covers of Joan Jett and Stevie Nicks. After her conversation with the organizer, Dara right away invited her to sing with them, adding her songs to their set list and ultimately her presence to the band. Nia loved it and fit right in. 

Of course, the mainstream talents preceding them earned the top spots in the competition. That especially seemed decided by the time The New Revolution started playing, given how most of the student body audience that remained were either more polite than interested if they weren’t braver fans unafraid of being social pariahs if they weren’t already. But still they chose to focus instead on what was next, both as a band and as individuals. 

They recognized their big break and once-in-a-lifetime opportunity when they came across a nationwide contest that would give thirty aspiring young artists and music groups the chance to play at a festival concert commemorating the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame that would be held in the following late summer of 2070. The weeks following the end of school for the summer offered them some valuable time to plan and prepare their video audition. 

“We need to showcase our best in three to four minutes,” Dara declared when they started their discussions. “How are we going to organize our highlights?” 

“We’ve really come along with performing ‘London Calling’,” Vale suggested.

“We’re better at ‘Rock and Roll All Nite’ though,” Dara added.

“We’ve played that song at every gig since we were twelve!” Endellion pointed out. “Are you not worn out on it?” 

“Its a fan favorite,” Dara quipped back. 

“Not as much as ‘Rebel Rebel’,” Alessio interjected. “and that’s not quite as worn as ‘Rock and Roll’. Maybe Vale and Nia will add some freshness to it too.” 

“’Too fresh’ will risk our chances of being considered at all.” Dara did finger quotations. “This contest is all about our idols who perpetuated a now-dying art!” 

“And we’re all behind that,” Nia reasoned, “So we need to come together on something that plays to all of our strengths.” That seemed to squelch everybody’s egos and opinions long enough to agree on a song they’d play. Further preparations became efficient as one major decision or practice session a day between everybody’s shortening nerves and other obligations taking precedence. 

“That sounded great, everybody!” Dara spoke positively for the first time in a few weeks on a day when flared tensions were relatively few at the time, “Think we can start filming this weekend?” His bandmates disagreed and his mood quickly sunk. Nia and Vale admitted to having work over the weekend. Endellion had a volunteer project and Alessio a college tour. 

“But we’re this close to our big break!” He cried at their excuses. 

“But this could also be the last-ditch attempt!” Endellion shouted back, “This New Revolution thing has been fun growing up, but it’s not taken off enough to be the rest of our lives!” 

“But I had your back since that one day in middle school!” Dara became dejected, “Now you’re going to just leave me?”  

“As your best friends, we think you’re putting too much weight into this contest for your self!” Allesio cut in. “We’ll have your back in this band thing when you have ours! And maybe even your own!” The rest of the band departed as silence fell between them. They didn’t meet that weekend and the heated hiatus stretched into a couple more long weeks. Especially for Dara. His guitar collected dust for the first time he owned it as he mulled on his friends’ parting words. He was envious of his friends who seemed better prepared for their future prospects. He almost hated how music was so much of his life but hoped in putting it to better use in getting into a music school or job of some kind.

Dara decided to focus on being a radio broadcaster at the local station and was quickly snatched up into an internship for one of the newest channels. A big part of his time on the job was spent doing some kind of promotion for it: making and posting fliers, accompanying the show hosts to publicity events, ordering cheap swag with the channel logo for giveaways, and responding to phone call or message inquiries. A few times the Rock Hall contest crossed his path while he worked or listened. At it, he would pause a minute, sighing with longing, but then he’d remember to refocus on his new broadcasting ambitions before he dwelt too long on the years of The New Revolution with his old friends.   

He finally ran into one of them again in the middle of summer. Endellion was in town while Dara was hocking fliers one day. The exchange was polite and catching up was their small talk. His old friends chatted with each other on occasion (but they hadn’t with him at all since the blow-up). They were all either committed or considering secondary education to which Dara expressed his best wishes. None of them knew he was a radio intern now. Endellion thought that was cool, but Dara kept to himself he would’ve begged to differ.  

“Do you miss it?” Dara finally asked when the conversation started to lull. 

“...yeah.” Endellion admitted. “I know the others still think about it too.”

“I’m sorry I was such a jerk,” Dara confessed.

Endellion accepted and their conversation quickly picked back up to returning to the project. Dara invited everybody over to start smoothing things over and potentially finish what they started. The two of them got back in touch and Endellion passed word onto the others and they arranged a time to meet. Dara again apologized to everyone and offered to be more open to their input. They managed to get in a couple days of practice over the following week, finding they were still as good as they had been. They made arrangements in their schedules and with a place that allowed them to play for their recording and got their submission out before the summer ended. 

Life was a little lighter after that point. The friends resolved their differences and were all talking regularly again. They just played their own jam sessions when everybody had the time, and still occasionally entertained at the elderly homes. More so, they held a collective bated breath when the Rock Hall announced their contest winners at the start of 2070. Only to find out they were number thirty-one, or the top honorable mention pick. At least The New Revolution would end on such a good note if it had to end here, they all thought. It seemed, once and for all, the future would be whatever degrees his friends earned in college and Dara in broadcasting.  Until a phone call in early spring explained one of the original top thirty from the contest had to bow out, giving them a spot in the festival!  

Up to the late July day of their performance in Cleveland, they were all a mix of excited and nervous for the event; practicing alone and together as often as they could manage and either worrying about their experience there or hoping and imagining all it could be. When they got there, right away they were made comfortable by how they were not ridiculed social pariahs, but among fellow rock-and-roll legacy lovers who helped keep it alive as well. All the festival acts performed music by hall-of-famers. Some even dressed like them, wearing gaudy jean ensembles, neon, and long hair on stage. Some even had Kiss face paint and Elvis impersonation costumes.

Dara learned around twenty to thirty-thousand people attended the festival.  A far cry from Sting’s fifty-thousand, he mused, but it was still as much as he ever imagined: beaming lights across the venue, the singing crowds, the humming amps, a huge stage to play with his friends, and ultimately, many dreams to the homage of their music being realized. 

The New Revolution never really lost steam after the Rock Hall festival. The radio station Dara interned with became interested in the “hometown celebrities” after they got home, offering them a chance to perform live on their burgeoning show and to get a foot in to bigger local concert events. Dara was even promoted to being a (paid) radio host of his own show featuring the music he loved. His friends occasionally guest-starred too, and they all graduated college, found work with their degrees, started their own adult lives, but still always made time for The New Revolution.