I was a rocker chick. It wasn’t a phase, exactly. For 4 years I lived and breathed rock music. I sang, partied to it, performed numerous times for often rather small and fewer times, very large crowds.
It all started with poetry.
As a teen, I decided that lyrics were kind of like poetry and back then, dark poetry was one of my vices. After fiddling around a little, I came up with my first few punk rock songs, which of course were all about school and random other things in life and how much they all sucked. I was far from the positive Polly you see before you today *insert sparkling grin here*. A few classmates were getting into music as well, making beats, etc and I sang some of my stuff to them and got the – ‘this is really great!’Nope, it wasn’t. Sample? Here’s the chorus from one of those earlier attempts called Nursery Rhyme.
‘Life, is like a nursery rhyme,
A twisted story only worth a dime,
Wake up, as the clock at one chimes,
Muffet, yea you’ll be on time, (time x 3)
Yea you’ll be on time.’
Yes, I remember those earlier songs clearly, in some cases, with great mirth. Anyway, fast forward to my duet days, where it was me, a guy, and a guitar and we both sang. Fast forward again — we added a drummer and, the final fast forward, where the bassist joined. Now, in between we went through tons of bassists and lead guitarists, until we finally vetoed the lead guitar and settled on a bassist. Broken Chain Links was an alternative/metal band and I was their front woman. I shared the vocal duties with the guitarist and as I played no instruments – later I learnt to play some guitar – spent much of my time whether I was singing or not, owning the stages we performed on, head banging like there was no tomorrow and generally losing myself in the hardcore sounds going on behind me. Yes, I had terrifying moments and stage fright (especially in the beginning), and coughing fits before every gig, but those are stories for another time.
We couldn’t last though. It, couldn’t last. Internal problems which I’m sure you’ll read about
in the non-fiction I’m working on later in this series of reveals, made it more or less a definite that the band needed to split. We tried hard, and I’m not saying there weren’t good times, we had many, but, I had to leave eventually for my own sanity, as the bad far outweighed the good. I needed to recapture my sense of self and remember who I was.
So, I hung up my fishnets and returned to more sensible hair colours — both of which used to get me the strangest looks from Bajans back then, but now with Rihanna around, those things are like nothing lol.
I still absolutely adore rock music, but it was the end of an era for me — the rocker chick era.
What I learnt
1) Headbanging after a long time of not doing it, is really painful the next day.
2) How much I love red hair.