How I Left the National Grid Read Online Free Page A

disco, every remote railway station, every motorway café, and scooped up all the lost souls. Then put them all outside Newcastle City Hall. For us.
    Every aspect of my life had become chaos since we’d been on TV. For months we’d had plans to have shots of city life blasted onto us while we played onstage, but could never afford it before. Whenever we tried the screen fell on Jack the minute he started drumming. Suddenly we could do whatever we wanted. Every waking hour all I could see was roadies, technicians, promoters. Coming to me for answers. Knowing the blueprint only existed in my head.
    Every one of the band had begun honing their role. Theo was spending every second of his life with his bass. He’d snort speed just before we went on stage, said it helped him focus his playing. He didn’t play bass like anyone else, but had this totally unique take. He’d caress the strings to make them vibrate. Backstage Jack would drum furiously onto his knees, wanting to build his strength so that his opening salvo shook the audience. Simon would stand with his head back, looking up at the ceiling.
    Top Of The Pops
was just a puppet show. It was the next gig that made me think we could truly change people. Some left their jobs without taking leave to travel to see us. Zipping each other up, then walking out into a stinging circle of orange light. The throbbing background track grinding in my ear, the crowd giving out this hungry roar.
    I’d watched how crowds danced at gigs. The same, mechanical movements they fell into. Allowing themselves a tiny bit of self-expression for a few moments. But I was going to shake them out of their suburban stupor.
    Onstage, the three others looked over at me for the signal to start. I’dget a taste in my mouth and nod to Jack, who’d start pounding out this tribal drum tattoo. Theo twisting himself into shapes, trying to work a bass line around it. Simon, bent over his pedals, ready to unleash weird science.
    As a singer there’s always this second when you go to the mike and you have no idea what’s going to come out. I was shaking then, wondering if I’d be found out. The crowd looking up at me, needing something. On a good night you get caught in the flow, all the worries vanish. This dark poison wells up in you and you just have to ease it out through your mouth.
    That was what happened that night, for the first time.
    It hit hard.
    The band kicked in and I was seized by this neurotic energy. It was so powerful. As my voice filled the room it vibrated my body, the deep tone coming out of my mouth scaring even me. All the bodies started moving, pogo-ing. Trying to adjust, find a way through the chaos. They were all hemmed in for the next hour, forced into this small coup. They had to make sense of it, one by one.
    Gradually I knew they’d start to think. And realize, this is something real.
    There’s this elation when hundreds of slender women sing your words back at you. Their bodies trying to adjust to something you’ve made.
    That night I felt such devotion to my band. I couldn’t believe we’d got to this point so quickly, where we could floor audiences. Just flatten them.
    I would have done anything for my band then. Simon unleashing these rolling fields of sound. Theo creating this constant pulse under it all. Jack driving us forward. A team.
    We built and built and built. We took the audience to new planes, into weird annexes they didn’t know their minds possessed. Brutally confronted them with themselves.
    As the last song crashed to its knees the lights gradually dimmed, until all that was left was a final note in the darkness. A huge full stop.The audience standing stunned. Trying to process what’d just happened.
    When the lights came back on the stage was empty, the four of us stood in the wings. The crowd gave out this roar that shook the ceiling, and we looked at each other, our eyes wide with fear and pleasure and expectation. Our hearts thundering.
    During the