Sound and Fury

Air Band

Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing.

-William Shakespeare

It was 1988…

My Vermont high school wasn’t that large but it was to me. I had come from Alaska where my class had 12 people in it. I now found myself in a class of 103 which was hard for me to wrap my head around. The whole school felt overwhelming, busier than any school I had ever been to. It even had cliques: mean girls, jocks, preps, nerds, artsy kids, farm kids (hicks) and stoners. This was something I had never experienced before.

People asked me if I had lived in an igloo many times. It was laughable but I answered earnestly: “no we had a regular house.” They asked me if we had school busses or if I rode a snow mobile or hiked on snowshoes to school. Again, I’d answer thoughtfully: we had regular cars and busses. It was before the internet so their questions were pretty understandable, because to a 14 year old in Vermont, Alaska was like another planet.

My freshman year didn’t go so well for a bunch of reasons: I was the new kid. I was weird and not the good kind of weird. I had never seen a bagel and the kids who had politely asked me if I lived in an ice shack were the same ones who laughed uproariously and shamelessly in my face when I asked what the bagel was. By the way, it’s a kind of small round bread that’s been boiled and then baked, it gets cut in half and then made into a circular toast shaped like a donut, complete with a hole!

Adjusting was hard and I made 1000 mistakes. I hung out with the wrong people which is to say I mixed cliques and crossed their invisible borders without knowing I was doing it. I also thought it was ‘cool’ to do well in my studies and this had the unintended effect of making large groups of my fellow students dislike me for being a ‘suck up’ and a ‘teacher’s pet’. Then, when I tried to show everyone I was edgy by dying my hair punk rock red, I came out looking like an old, sad, garage sale Strawberry Shortcake doll. My hair wasn’t red, it was a washed out faded pink that made me look sickly and bizarre. I was a mess.

My freshman year felt pretty hopeless but then, something good happened. I saw a flyer outside the guidance counselor’s office that was advertising for a summer camp program called: Governor’s Institute for the Arts. You had to apply and only 2 students from each grade would be accepted. It was held on a college campus and it would be two weeks of art, writing, acting and dance classes. I had nothing to lose, and even though the odds were against me, I applied. I had literal stacks of poetry to submit, because yes, I was that kind of girl.

I submitted several poems, called myself a poet and by golly… I got in! And this began a distinct and important arc for my character in the story of my life. I became an artist that summer. Mining out the deepest kept secrets of my soul and flinging them onto the wall of the world like so much monkey poop. It stuck.

I returned to school after that summer to start my sophomore year with a new swagger and a clean slate. I had friends now, I was a poet. My camp experience had taught me how to wear my thrift store fashions in a truly edgy way. I learned you could screw up your dye job if you pretended you meant to have pink hair. I was eccentric and mysterious, always scribbling in my notebooks. I had studied over the summer with published writers. I had taken fine art class from a painter. I had taken improv and modern dance and could suddenly move my body better and more confidently. I was an artist! Now my weirdness made sense to people, they could fit me in a box. “Oh yeah, she’s an artist. She’s alright, you know… weird, but good weird”. I also got a boyfriend who was a grade above me and he too was an artist. I had solidly locked myself in, so you might say, things were looking up.

Air Band

Our school had a showcase every year called “Air Band” which was basically a lip synching contest, but it was elaborate. The students who participated went all out paying homage to their favorite bands. Instruments were made from wood or other materials. Costumes were poured over and meticulously chosen to best represent the rock stars that were to be impersonated. Band choices and set lists were also important, 3 songs. 3 songs to knock em dead, to get em off their feet. The acts were well rehearsed, choreography was on point and a tech crew would light each individual set to exact specifications.

The end result was really like going to a rock concert. The kids who participated were mostly juniors and seniors, the popular kids, the shining stars of our hallowed halls…the kids who (though we didn’t know it at the time) were likely peaking in high school. You couldn’t just go up there and wing it. It was serious! Prizes for first, second and third were given out. It was acclaim! It was small fish fame.

My friends and I decided rather unceremoniously to enter that year, like why not? Who cares? There were 4 of us and I was the only sophomore. We decided to turn the school on to one of our favorite bands: Bauhaus!! We knew that the music of Bauhaus was likely not well known or popular, but we didn’t care. We used my friend’s dad’s wood shop to make our instruments, the thin plywood guitars were a perfect likeness. The Trompe-l'œil drum kit was also carefully constructed and painted. We borrowed a throne and drum sticks from another friend who was an actual drummer. We chose our costumes carefully and we rehearsed like crazy. During rehearsals in my friend’s basement (just spitballin’) we worked out more and more elaborate choreography.

For those not aware, Bauhaus was a sort of post punk, gothic band with a flair for the macabre. Our costumes were tight fitting, vampiric mostly black clothes and we had makeup-made, white pasty faces and black eyeliner. I had bright red lips, a black mini dress and shredded black tights. My wooden bass guitar was painted red.

The night of the Air Band drew closer and closer and our music was approved, though I don’t think they looked at anyone’s lyrics too carefully. We learned that we were up against the likes of Led Zeppelin, George Thorogood and Guns N’ Roses to name a few. Of course, the field hockey girls were doing something totally hot to showcase their sexuality in skimpy outfits. It all kind of blurs for me now, but it was just what you'd expect for a very preppy Vermont high school packed full of white kids in 1989.

When the whole school gathers on a Friday night it's a big deal though, it's a serious matter. Air Band was really about showcasing your courage, your outward facing confidence, your ability to shine. Looking back, I’m not sure if my friends actually thought we were cool, or if they knew our performance could be met with a little less enthusiasm than “Bad to the Bone” lip synced by Brad the Amazing Lacrosse Player. I personally thought we were pretty cool. I thought that people would find it entertaining at least, (nerd pushes up glasses and says earnestly, Well, this should be entertaining.). Bottom line though, my friends and I never talked about the impact our performance might have, we just gleefully made it as bizarre as possible.

Our first song (for you Bauhaus fans) was “Silent Hedges” which is relatively poppy for Bauhaus, with a clear melody and less grindy guitar riffs than some of their other songs. We thought it would warm up the crowd. We launched into it and the opening chords brought the whole auditorium to attention. While performing we couldn’t see the dead eyed wonder of our schoolmates. We couldn’t see the concern and worry in the teachers faces. It may have just been that our music wasn’t familiar “sing along” music, because you see, people desperately wanted to sing along. “We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year...”

That’s what they wanted! And we did not deliver. We were told later that “people just weren’t into it” and that they “didn’t get it”.

But *we* were really into it, and we got it. The killer lyrics, the vampire style. We were taking ourselves and our commitment to the post punk/goth/vampire vibe just about as far as possible. As “Silent Hedges” wrapped up we were riding high. We had the entire school focused on us and that felt exhilarating. Our second song was “God in an Alcove”, it came and went beautifully, we were killing it!! And the best was yet to come.

our last song was “Stigmata Martyr” which, to put it simply, is really just a sort of gothic tribute to the Bauhaus lead singer Peter Murphy’s catholic boyhood. It’s not uncommon for artists to explore their faith through their art, even Madonna had a thing or two to say about religion. My friends and I had made this song choice by consensus but without a discussion, I mean…must an artist always have a reason? Sometime it’s just about raw emotion.

My boyfriend Jay was playing the part of Bauhaus front man Peter Murphy and he was throwing himself around the stage to the opening lyrics of “Stigmata Martyr”

In a crucifixation ecstasy
Lying cross chequed in agony

Stigmata bleed continuously
Holes in head, hands, feet, and weep for me

Stigmata, oh, you sordid sight
Stigmata in your splintered plight

Nothing strange here right? Just a new, artsy spin on the story of Jesus. Jay moved jerkily back and forth across the stage with some really frenetic motions, passionately lip syncing. He was quite the showman, using every inch of space provided. At one point he fell to the floor twitching and then jumped up smoothly, it was captivating! Then the tempo of the song slowed ominously and the guitar came in sporadically with sharp, jolting notes as Peter Murphy began to chant:

In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum
In nomine patri et filii et spiriti sanctum

At this time, Jay, while lip sync-chanting this Latin prayer thingie, began to move slowly to the center of the stage and right up to the edge. He got as close to the audience as he possibly could without falling off the stage. Then the stage went completely dark except for a blue tinted spotlight that covered Jay and his sunken cheekbones in a puddle of eerie light. The drums thumped like a heartbeat and Jay waited for the perfect moment. It was right in time with a loud shriek of the guitar when Jay threw his arms triumphantly into the air like Jesus on the cross. Then (as we had perfectly rehearsed) my buddy Jim on lead guitar and I on bass emerged from the shadows and moved into the blue light. We positioned ourselves right behind Jay and then we very deliberately and carefully made the necks of our guitars into the shape of a cross behind him. If you were sitting in the audience at that point there was no denying that you were watching a goth teen reenactment of the crucifixion.

I believe that’s when some people in the audience started booing.

Then (omg) right at the climax of the song, at the very end where Peter Murphy screams “FATHER, SON AND HOLY GHOST” Jay dramatically punctured the fake blood packets that he had been hiding in his hands. The “blood” exploded from his palms and dripped all over the stage. It was a lot of blood! Perhaps more than we intended? The result was an absolutely terrifying depiction of Jesus being crucified set to music that some of our classmates would later describe as a “cacophonous noise”. The song ended and my band mates and I stood frozen under the blue light in that shocking tableau (for dramatic effect).

Then I heard screaming in the audience, Like a frightened boy shrieking.

When we left the stage we were met with shocked faces. The drama teacher was scowling angrily at us. Another teacher who had to go out and clean up the fake blood told us with frantic disgust: “We can’t have the next act slip in it and get injured!” The crowd was whispering excitedly, in shocked, hushed tones. There was no applause that I can remember. Then, another one of our friends came rushing up from the audience to tell us that Jonny Roe and his crew had taken acid before coming to watch the show and we had totally and completely screwed them up. Hence, the scream and shriek of terror. A few of them had apparently sprinted out of the auditorium, trying to get away from the blood of Jesus.

We didn’t win. 🫤

We didn't place at all. You might think that we ended up getting in trouble, but let me tell you those were different times. There were no ‘Conservative Moms for Jesus and Proper Values’ to have us expelled. No one seemed at all worried that we were somehow going to turn their precious babies into gay communist vampires. Even the drama teacher, who was herself Catholic, came around to the fact that you can’t (and shouldn’t) censor art. We had shaken things up a bit though. We had taken the popularity contest reigned over by high school jocks and mean girls and made it interesting, thought provoking and even offensive!! My English teacher had a knowing smirk on her face in school on Monday, she approved heartily of our performance. “Art should disrupt!” I can remember her saying in class one day.

When I think of that Air Band performance now I feel a little embarrassed… you know the way you feel when you remember how you cried at 11 when your celebrity crush got married. We were just kids though, the artsy kids! Doing what artsy kids do. The memory also makes me laugh. We were so self assured. When Jay suggested the fake blood, the rest of us nodded in agreement seriously, like scientists agreeing on the next step of an experiment. We pushed every button and boundary, exploring the limits, but we did so rather nonchalantly. We reveled in counter culture and we casually brought it to the forefront of our conservative, white bread school. Surprisingly, on Monday, the teachers just turned around and said “Wow that was weird, but great job on your history test kid, you’re going places! Don’t ever be afraid to be yourself.” Hold yourself harmless, they implied. We are made of tougher stuff than your shenanigans.

I remember that feeling of being 15 and leaning into a future where I had the freedom to be who or whatever I could dream, it helped shape me. It made me fearless but also more thoughtful. And I truly believe a society is broken if it can’t explicitly say to its children: Make art! Do it! Give us old folks something interesting to think about. Challenge us, please move us to some emotion!! We can take it.

“AND THE WINNER IS!!”

Brad the Sexy Lacrosse Player as George Thorogood.

One bourbon, one scotch, one beer
Well I ain't seen my baby since I don't know when
I been drinking bourbon whiskey, scotch and gin
Gonna get high man, I'm gonna get loose
Need me a triple shot o' that juice
Gonna get drunk, don't you have no fear
I want one bourbon, one scotch and one beer
One bourbon, one scotch, one beer

Oh my. Sexy Brad really brought down the house with that one. He laid on the charm in his tight Levi jeans, pristine white t-shirt and Ray Bans. It was so smooth and charismatic and the crowd was off their feet, singing along, so pleased with themselves. I found it a little offensive and boring, I mean it was a song about getting wasted! Lame. Brad was extremely popular though, most everyone either wanted to be Brad or date him. First place for glorifying alcoholism! Way to go Brad. I wonder if he puked that night as he celebrated his victory.

Boring AF. Where's the fake blood?

Just some kids I once knew...

Epilogue

My friend Jim on lead guitar went on to a prestigious, Ivy League University and became a doctor. Amy on drums got a state university degree and became a high school teacher (bless her). My path ran a little more scattered, I always did have a bit of trouble picking a lane. And we all (mostly) had the privilege of getting older, just being unapologetically ourselves. Except Jay. He and I dated for almost 3 years through high school. We had so many adventures and he was pure gold. Always quick with the big fake blood ideas! Always brainstorming the outsider art. He had a razor sharp wit and a fearless mind. Jay didn’t make it to 40 and losing him was hard because we were both feral wildlings and despite it all, we had remained close friends.

Now sing it with me: “How I wish, How I wish you were here.”

---

This story really happened. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. Some facts have most likely been slightly altered because this all took place 36 years ago.

This is an original creative work by me: Valkyrie J. Liles. I don’t use AI and I never will. Pic was furnished by another high school chum.

“Jim” in the foreground as Daniel Ash and “Jay” in the background as Peter Murphy. Fortunately I am not pictured here.