Topic: Night Rose: The Rock Sensation

White Apocalypse

Date: 2008-04-20 11:21 EST
((IMPORTANT NOTE: What you're about to read is from Chase's Past. This is all in the past tense. Flashbacks, if you will. Documenting them like this are to shine light on the kind of relationships Chase shared with her ex-band mates. To be a bit more precise, this would be about 3-4 years before Chase came to RhyDin.))

Music blasted in the venue. Spotlights of every fathomable color danced and spiraled about the stage. Beside a kilted Keith jamming with a bass guitar in his hands and his face close to a microphone was none other than the star. The lead. The very Rose of Night Rose. Chase "Rose" Rosewinds sang into the microphone beautifully, simultaneously striking chords and plucking strings artfully. Perfection lived in her fingertips. Her makeup was shimmering glory upon greater beauty.

Dark Serenity

Date: 2008-04-20 11:23 EST
Drumming in the center behind her was none other than Travis. His eyes were between being closed in concentration and glancing to the Rose. Thick eyeliner highlighted his green eyes. Spiked wristbands hailed his wrists. His nails? Painted black like hers was. She painted them herself while on the bus the night before. She even sang him to sleep. He missed having his hair stroked by her calloused fingers. He was in love with her. He didn't know if she was like he was?but he knew. He played the song faithfully. Yet, they all seemed gray compared to her.

White Apocalypse

Date: 2008-04-20 11:29 EST
Her hair of rainbow wisps whipped about wickedly with the beat. Her tanned skin glistened with sweat. Stash's foot-tall pillars of spikes were in blurs of speed as he banged his head to the undeniable power of their song. Their gift to the world was their music. Their unified sound was their grace. Rocking hard and heavy, she moved about the stage flawlessly. She would prop a leg on Travis's drum set for her guitar solos, closing her eyes in relish.

Unlike Keith who had a standing microphone, Rose was accommodated differently. She had an ear piece, complete with a taped microphone to her cheek. The tape was colorless, and wasn't noticeable at all compared to the pyromechanics of the flares and flashing distraction.

Why was the lead singer given an ear piece? One would discover that ten minutes into her shows. Nothing was beyond the entertainer's possibilities. During a slow chorus that lead into the ending of a sweet, sweet song, she slid her legs apart from one another. Slowly, strumming her electric guitar gently, she descended into a split. The acrobat always added her own un-planned stunts into the shows.

Dark Serenity

Date: 2008-04-20 11:46 EST
There were panels beneath all the musician's areas. In random, choreographed intervals of their numbers, the panels would elevate them slowly with the gravity of the song. Travis didn't like the idea, but knew he didn't have much say. Arena shows, as prestigious as they were to attain, didn't give you many options. Thrashing his tight skinned drums, his tricks were subtle.

He would juggle his drumsticks in high tosses, catching them effortlessly. If he didn't? He always had a pocketful of more if needed. With all the shows they've been doing this tour, he hadn't used a spare once. Not once. As futile as it was, he always hoped Chase would notice. His hair was black with distinct red steaks through his punk-styled mane. Stash's was the most distinguished of the guys with their haircuts, however. Yet, Travis was just as much as a heart-throb as he was. Just in a more subtle, bad-boy way.

His tattoos were visible. Bare-chested, he had old English letters forming a name/word across his chest. His toned muscles would flex and move drastically with his own drum solos.

White Apocalypse

Date: 2008-04-20 11:57 EST
Then, proof was visible. The reason why Chase REQUIRED a mobile microphone. She sang a beautiful string of lyrics. When the instrumental part of the song kicked in, Chase dove into the audience! Back first, it showed she trusted the crowd. She needed the audiences as much as the audiences needed her. Guitar hugged tightly to her chest, countless hands reached out and touched her. Many touched her inappropriately, but she didn't care.

This was one of the myriads of ways she gave herself to her shows. That was all she was. She had everything banked into her band. Her gigs. Finally, when her time to sing and play returned, the audience knew to take her back to the stage. They ushered her back with waves of arms and strength. And with the help of ultra-muscley security buffers, she was on the stage again. Tumbling back to stand, she resumed without a beat missed.

When the closing moments of the song arrived, she would trot herself to play back to back with Keith. Her Lucky Irishman. Her Irish brother. One she'd grown up with since she was back in the circus. Kilt to jeans, they sang and finished in one. Stash thunderously played at his keyboard, faithful to the sound he so brilliantly constructed along with the Gypsy Rose.

Dark Serenity

Date: 2008-04-20 12:20 EST
The Australian was furious at his drums. It was his outlet. Tonight his drumsticks glowed in the dark. Matching Chase's guitar pick, that also glowed in the dark, it was for an auction with the profits going to Charity. The arena was deafening to his sound. Yet, no matter what, he always heard her. Her voice. Her sound. Her guitar. Despite all the noise of their careers, she was crystal clear to him. Thoughts of her were the only things he could define.

His Emerald eyes would lock on her when he knew the rhythms, he'd even grin in certain parts of the songs he himself personally enjoyed. He would often sing with her. When he did, he was in bliss. They gave him a suspended mic above his drum set. Arching his chin to it, he would harmonize with her. He even had a song of his own that he'd sing with Stash in duets.

Each member of this band could sing. Each had a different style of voice to contribute. They were a little bit of everything that was Night Rose. A little bit of everything mashed into one ensemble of mixes and matches.

No matter how much collaborative works were behind their name, they were still comparable as a sound all their own. A broader musical perspective was hand in hand with their growing reputation.

Travis, no matter how many expensive rocker t-shirts or vests they gave him before the shows...would take them off with a dismissive rip eventually. The heat of the stage was just too much for him to handle. He always wondered how Chase would do it. Wearing jeans to shows of blistering lights.

It was thoughts like these that gave the Drummer an excuse to eye her backside with a grin. Chase was a beauty to behold in so many ways. One of the few moments he would admire her physically would be when the only thing he saw for hours was her backside.

White Apocalypse

Date: 2008-04-20 12:45 EST
Even as she sang and flirted with the crowds with her winks, puckered lips, and beckoning fingers, she felt his eyes on her. Her heart would rush. At every show, it felt the same.

She'd keep the show in mind. There were certain nights where the rush would consume her so much that she would run to walls to kick off them for no reason at all. She played with her stage space. She never stood still. Rose was at her most engaging at all times.

Her fuel was his smile. His drumming behind her set the pace. Rose relied heavily on him. Yet, she would eye the stars with a giddy smile whenever his drum solos would include a hoot and cry of his. She always stole opportunities to turn around and watch him go at it.

Chase would get the crowds to clap in beat with him to complement his streaks. She wasn't known as Chase here. They knew her as Rose. Her fans knew her as Rose. Only those psycho stalker-like fans would know any more about her than the simplicities.

His gaze gave her so much life. It got her heart to race. Got her smile to stretch into a goofy, girlish smile. And before the music started, when they would arrive on stage? They would enter in a row. Yet, Keith was to her right, Travis her left. And on the end would be Stash beside his best mate, Travis.

They were all close friends. Two pairs of mates brought together with talent and raw ambition. They were truly musicians on missions. A united mission to bring their own ideas to the ears of the world.

Disastrous Prodigy

Date: 2008-04-20 16:09 EST
Terrance was his name at birth, but he became Stash years ago. How exactly did he pick up the name Stash? There's a ton of conflicting stories behind that one, and if you listened to any one of them, you'd hear at least part of the truth.

Stash was a virtuoso. He was a classically trained pianist, but somewhere along the way, he was turned onto the 1970's sounds of Aerosmith, KISS, Led Zeppelin, and the Rolling Stones.

What's a pianist to do?

He was born to rock.

It was fate that brought Stash and his best friend Travis together with Chase and Keith.

Night Rose paid their dues. Within a couple of years, Night Rose soared to the top of the charts. They scored number one after number one after number one. Night Rose became the biggest band in the world, behind the stunning vocals and guitar playing of the drop dead gorgeous Chase Rosewinds. The four members came from all corners of the world, and when they took the stage, they created a sound that could only be described as perfection.

Tonight, Stash was in his element. It's an old cliche, but he was one with the keyboard as his head continuously rocked to the perfect beat kept by his bro Travis. Sweat freely gushed down his face, at times blurring his visage as he played. He watched Chase literally give herself to the people. He sometimes hated that she did that. It was an instinctive big brother type thing. She was his partner. Chase and Stash wrote the music that had turned the world on its collective ear time and time again. Yeah, he worried about her making herself TOO accessible to the public, but there was no stopping her.

Night Rose was on the stage tonight, and at least for the next three hours or so, all was right with the world.

Emerald Vivation

Date: 2008-04-21 00:55 EST
Keith's fingers were hammers and lightning along the neck and strings of the bass throughout the show. His mic was close enough to flow up towards for the bits his heavy, almost raging voice would bring to compliment or accent dearest Rosey's. His space was small, but he used it beyond the means it was meant for every time. Though he rarely moved more than a few steps from the planted mic on the stage, he always held the presence few other bassists ever did.

He watched Rosey play whenever he could. She was better than any natural he'd ever seen on the guitar, and her pipes made him feel like a comparative middle-schooler going through puberty. Trav was another story, though a similar one where those drums came about. If Keith had ever seen a Demon, it was Trav under those lights after three-and-a-half hours of straight drumming. Stash was, well, Stash. Not really a comparison to make to him. Prodigies will be prodigies, after all. Then he had to consider himself, of course. He always liked to think he had an endless amount of improvement to make. According to the magazines and critics though, he was like the rest of his bandmates. One of the best of his time.

His piece, though he'd never admit it, was probably the simplest out of the four. He didn't mind it though. Let him get to the point where he'd actually be able to play from muscle memory alone near the ends of tours. His head, shaved down to bare skin glistening with sweat under the lights, thrashed back and forth to the sound. He'd take his moments of (what he, though not many others would think to be) ease to step back, face away from the crowd, and grin like a wicked idiot at Travis or Stash before turning back to that writhing, breathing thing called an audience. He lived for this.

Emerald Vivation

Date: 2008-04-21 00:59 EST
The one thing that always delighted him the most though was when Rosey'd throw herself to the crowds. It always got him to think back to when he'd been against it. More specifically her first surf, at that little backstreet venue. Sanity. There'd only been a good thirty or forty people able to pack into the pit, and the stage was a little low, but she'd jumped it anyways. Always a free one, Rosey was.

Unfortunately for one of the first guys catching her, Keith had found himself watching like a hawk. A big, temperamental, Irish hawk. The guy copped a feel. Hey, nobody down there thought much of it, so why would he have worried? He didn't, of course, and that was the mistake that got him wheeled out on a stretcher after the set finished off with the bass player diving into the crowd spewing profanity and throwing punches. Keith's first lawsuit followed shortly thereafter. His nickname, Lucky, came more into play than ever after he won the case and celebrated by starting a brawl at the nearest pub.

Back to the present, though. Keith never did understand how he took all these trips down memory lane and never missed a note. Just lucky, he guessed.

White Apocalypse

Date: 2008-04-22 15:14 EST
Chase was effortless in finding a healthy balance between her stunts. Now that she was back on stage, she was singing. Triumphantly so, this song was smooth, pleasant, and a bit energetic in certain parts.

Her fingers followed the strings with expertise. And her hips dipped and swayed slow. Nice and still. A careful balance to not be too over the top, but being over the top enough to be considered groovy!

Certain sweeps of passion had her thrashing the neck of the guitar downwards or upwards. Finally, the crescendo arrived. She made eye contact with several members of the audience. Beginning a slow stroll across the stage, she did her best to give front-row folks a bit more bang for their ridiculously paid buck.

When she caught a certain fan singing along the words, she would up nod to them with a wink. Her winks were like instant heart attacks to her fans.

The conclusion was coming close. And with the closing song, she always returned to her original spot. To the right of Travis's drum set, in between Keith and Stash. The final scraping of notes were delivered. And rows of pyrotechnology showed itself. The smoke at the band's ankles were colored with bright luminescence from the dancing lights overhead.