Killer Solo
Excerpt
Chapter One
The house lights dimmed and the crowd erupted, a scalding howl of bloodlust and anticipation. The PA system
began pumping out strange Sufi snake-charming music that
became more insistent and penetrating as it gradually grew
louder and faster. The audience, already stoked, got swept
up by this swirling, modal sound - hypnotic music that
seemed to climb and coil around your brain stem.
Roadies were leading band members out onto the dark
stage, focusing hooded flashlights down at their feet. The
people at the front of the arena were the first to notice the
eerie processional and their cries of delight swept like a paper
fire past where I stood behind the mixing board to the
back of the floor and up into the tiers of balconies.
All the time, the crowd and the music continued to feed
off one another. At the precise moment that the tension inside
the arena crested, flash bombs exploded, clusters of
spotlights began raking the hall and the wild dervish music
segued ingeniously into the thunderous opening chords of
"Blood Money." And Shirley Slaughterhouse was there. In
fact, he was everywhere.
He stood in ... read full excerpt from Killer Solo ebook
