In the past, I hired nannies to keep her happy, safe and, more importantly, out of the media. We never arrived or left with each other, but behind closed doors, the nannies would go back to their rooms, and it’d be just the two of us. I try to be a hands-on dad as much as I possibly can.
I knew this tour would be hard, but seeing her joy for her class and all she’s learning reminds me that we made the best decision. I couldn’t do it without Linda though. Yet again, she’s come through for me in more ways than one.
“We’d better get out there. Things are wilder than normal,” Jack, our bassist, says as he slaps my shoulder.
I nod with a shit-eating grin covering my face.
Max runs by us, screaming like a madman. He always acts a fool before we go onstage. People working the venue freak out every time, but Jack and I don’t even notice.
I turn to see if Noah, our drummer, is coming—and I mean, in the physical sense, not the sexual. The man will stick his dick in any woman who has a pulse and is an exhibitionist, so it’s not uncommon to find him fucking some chick before and after the show.
When he turns the corner with a female draped over his arm, looking a mess, I know he’s had his fix. Every one of us has something that keeps us going. Noah’s is sex, and Max and Jack love the alcohol and drug options while the music is the only fix I need.
Nothing can feed my soul or fill my veins like the strum of an electric guitar or the thump of the bass drum.
Once we’re all backstage, we pause, in a circle. No words are ever said, but it’s become a ritual we all need. Each one of us breathes deeply, readying ourselves for the next few hours where we push our bodies to our limit.
Our shows have been reviewed using words likeanarchy,pandemonium, and—my favorite—lawlessness. Our antics are a little over the top and really have ananything goesmentality. One thing is for sure though—we put on one hell of a party.
I’d like to say no one gets hurt, but mosh pits are known for injuries. I’ve stopped the show a few times, making sure the crowd is okay and everyone is taking care of one another. You can slam into your fellow concertgoers all you want, but if they fall down, the number one rule is you have to pick them back up.
The walls start to shake as the noise gets louder. I see the eyes of the venue staff widen, but I brush it off. This isn’t our first go-around.
At the start of every show, we cut all the lights. We always know the second it happens due to the screams that follow.
We wait, and nothing happens. I turn to the head of our security who isn’t there. Questions swarm my mind before people come running backstage.
“We have to get you out of here. A riot has broken out. It’s not safe out there.”
Arms wrap around me, trying to move me back to my dressing room, but I stand firm. “Fuck that. They’re rioting because we aren’t out there yet. Let me by.”
“Adam”—Nick, the head of security, comes around the corner—“not today, bro. Shit’s out of control. We’re calling the police in.”
I eye each one of my bandmates, making sure they’re on board before I step up to the man I hired to protect me against all odds. He’s as tall as I am, but he must have one hundred pounds on me. I’m lean and mean, whereas he’s just straight mean. I know he has my best interest in heart, but when it comes to my shows, no one fucks with me and my fans.
“No police. We got this. Let us by.” I puff my chest, making sure he knows I’m the one who writes his paychecks.
“Fuck, Adam, you go out there, and I might not be able to protect your ass.”
“If we don’t go out there, we might not be able to protect the fans who just came for a show. If it doesn’t work, then you can call for backup. Now. Let. Me. By.”
Nick moves to the side, and we all run out onstage. The stadium lights are on, and it’s pure chaos. People are climbing the rafters, trying to get away from the mob of people throwing punches at each other.
The noise is deafening, and there’s no rhyme or reason to the screams coming from all around us.
We normally close the show with our songRiot, but the irony is too much to not take full advantage. The song starts with one of the best guitar riffs that Max, our lead guitarist, has ever come up with.
I turn to the guys. “Grab your guitars and follow me.”
We head up to the drum stage that sits high above the floor. Noah likes to be ten feet up in the air like the badass he is. It’s pretty tight, having flames shoot off below him during his drum solo, but I’ve never been happier for its height than I am right now.
Once we’re all in place, I nod to Max. “StartRiotoff but continue to play the riff until we join in.”
He sets the guitar low on his hip and begins to play, picking each individual chord over and over again. I keep my eye on the crowd, encouraging him to continue to play while I motion to our sound guy to turn it up some more.
Slowly, the crowd turns their attention toward us instead of at each other. Once I feel things are getting under control, I nod to my guy, telling him to cut the lights.
Once he does, flames shoot up around the stage as a devilish laugh radiates around the venue, and we all join in on the song, starting off one hell of a show that won’t be forgotten anytime soon.
