Realistic or Modern with love, 1974.

[Crookie]

❝ F A M E. ❞

what you like is in the limo​

The blistering summer sun left bite marks on the backs of our necks. Los Angeles was the hottest it would ever be this year. Sweet sweat mixing with the low smoke in the air was our fragrance. Volkswagons pass by, hoods shimmering, beautiful women dancing in the backseat. We were devotees to the boulevard, on our knees for the palm trees. The asphalt was hot, the hair was big, and life was fine.

The city was the place for drugs and dreams. Fluorescent lights shone back in your squinting eyes, contouring your cheekbones with pink shadows. If you were another pretty face, you're guaranteed to be shoved into a claustrophobic underground club, pressed up against sultry bodies. Guitars scream their heavenly raw cries, hitting you square in the chest, peeking into your soul. They called to you, and only you - the one with the starry eyes. Fingers dragging down the frets were like a mesmerizing magnet, pulling you forward, caught in an unshakable trance. You blend in with the people with the white upper lips, dilated pupils and bursting hearts. It was like an epiphany, this gorgeous sound never heard, alluring you for more - like you're already experiencing withdrawal from the art.

But, you're not alone - so many others are experiencing the same as you, discovering this life-changing, gritty and true music. Such a clash from the new arising funky disco-jams - this music called to your heart, making people rebel and follow their own path, throwing back their heads and screaming the lyrics. It was a whole new world, and goddamn, you've been born again.

1970 and the years above were the supreme time for electrifying rock music. The rock scene promised a life of excitement and endless luxury, anything between a piece of ass to a line of coke, as long as you know how to shred a six-string and sing a chorus or two.

And during that time, one band was top of the class, indestructible on their pedestal.

The Followers was the name on everyone's lips and in everyone's radios. They were the definition of rock stars, living their lives to the fullest and taking in everything like champs. Having pumped out 5 albums to date since their formation in '69, they bleed success and effortless fame.

Alas, the thing about keeping such a famous band afloat, is the fact that the outside world is oblivious. The fans never know what's going on amongst the band members, if they reach for each other's throats the moment they put their instruments down. All the fans want is an autograph, a lock of your hair, and maybe a quick fuck. Your managers don't compute empathy or understanding, rather becoming obsolete if you tell them anything that doesn't include "new record", "new tour", or "expansion of business". And of course, the roadies don't know shit unless you metaphorically man up and spill your heart out to some twink that happens to replace the strings on your bass.

No one ever speculated that such a band like The Followers would ever be able to deteriorate - the members always rocked the stage and appeared to have a great time, harnessed their own teen-heartthrob asshole personalities, and apparently used music to keep themselves alive. To some degree, it was all a hoax. They're all brilliant actors. Keeping a band held together by strings is proving to be one of the hardest things these band members could ever experience -- their careers ruined by love affairs and cheating, being caught in the public eye, drugs and constant physical stress, fights and arguments, and conflicting artistic directions.

The only unanswered question left is whether or not this chart-topping band, rooted in the deep California summer, is able to hang on for a bit longer -- or if they will finally crumble, leaving behind the fame and wealth for attempts at a "normal" life, but never being able to escape the scathing spotlight.

SummaryYou, in some way or another, are directly connected to the world's hottest band, The Followers. Whether you're a manager, roadie, or in the damn band, you're someone. Too bad The Followers don't want to be that "someone" anymore. Fame has poisoned their heads, blasted their egos, and created a rift within the band. They want to split up, but that just isn't an option when you're this popular. They are truly reaching the end of the line, tossing on smiles when on stage, but praying for murder backstage.

June 28th, 1974, The Followers are invited to a massive Gatsby-style party at a mansion in the rolling hills of Hollywood. It's unclear who is the host, but rumour has it every famous artist, actor, band, and them some will be there. The band's manager insists they go, just to make an appearance. Their involvement in this party could truly solidify some connections with the top 1% of the 1%. However, this party could be the tipping point. Will the members of the most famous band on their time risk it and ruin the rest of their world tour, fuck everything, and call it quits in downtown Los Angeles? Or keep gritting their teeth through this torture, all for the high of fame?

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