To heck with waiting until next week to post this ‘spiritual battle’ part two, The Prodigal Band Trilogy, snippet post. While looking through the novel for snippets relating to spiritual battles between spirit entities or between the band characters and these entities, I found a long snippet that shows why one spiritual side or the other cannot always carry out their assigned task of winning over the people (real or fictional) the spirits are supposed to win over. In other words, there are spiritual battles among the group of people themselves, which hamper the spirit forces’ tasks. In the entire trilogy, it just might be the best example of this spiritual ‘tug-of-war’ among the band characters. All of them—singer Erik, drummer Tom, guitarist-band leader Jack, guitarist-producer Mick, bassist Keith, and keyboard-synthist Bryan—are featured. The long snippet is within Chapter Eight of Battle of the Band.
Having just completed a special ‘World Unity Day’ concert in San Antonio, Texas, the two main song composers, Erik (lyrics) and Jack (music) fall asleep in a limo headed to Houston for another gig as well as an appointment at a recording studio to track a new song. While asleep, the satanic character Corion’s minions called the Demons (Gold, Silver, Bronze) ‘give’ the two a new song, not only to be recorded, but to ‘seal the band’s oath’ to the evil as part of the band’s ‘pact’ with Corion explained early in this first novel of the trilogy. Later that morning the song is recorded, but questions arise as to the origin of the song, a song which has an historical context for both the good and evil sides. The song is called “Song of the Demons” (and I will not post the lyric words in this snippet). Eventually, the six discuss the ‘why’ of being ‘given’ a song ‘of demons’ when one of them brings up a previous event as the band several years before began their nationwide contest-winning tour, when Jack ‘prayed’ for success. Then drummer Tom, the ‘channeler’ of spirits within his entourage of new agers, arranges to channel the spirits to find out the truth of this situation. Also mentioned in the snippet are the Tooters, the good angels opposing Corion and his Demons.
Song of the Demons’
En route from San Antonio to Houston, Jack and Erik needed a quiet setting to compose a song Jack had been mulling over for weeks. The two rode in the back of the guitarist’s chauffeur-driven limousine. Jack had his portable amp and guitar with him. When they reached Houston, the song would be taped and arrangements composed later. However, the song wasn’t materializing as Jack wanted. Too wasted on scotch. Nor was the boozed-up singer in any condition to consider rhyme schemes. They fell asleep an hour out of San Antonio.
“They’re asleep now,” Bronze Demon said. “Perfect time to give them our message. But how much of it will we give them?”
Silver Demon answered. “We can’t give them the last verse. They haven’t earned the right to hear their puny planet’s destiny. With this song, they’ll sign our blood-oath. Then they’ll know they are our ultimate troubadours!”
Bronze Demon snickered in reply, puss oozing out of its mouth. “Unless those silly Tooters get to them first.”
“The Tooters?” Gold Demon bellowed with a fiery breath. “Ha! Those insignificant beings haven’t been with our boys in years. Our six won’t listen to them anymore. We have provided them with everything they desire. Sound Unltd is our tool! The Tooters have lost them forever. It’s just a matter of the Pact.”
Gold Demon spoke to Erik’s subconscious in a seductive voice of avaricious greed, its mask of classic Greek god features dripping with a coin-ringing sound. “You think you’re so successful, so rich! So you own five estates, sixteen flashy cars, twelve condominiums, four shopping malls, twenty-five square blocks and sixteen apartment buildings. A real venture capitalist! You possess nearly a ton of gold, silver, platinum and diamonds to keep you warm. Ooooooo, so deliciously rich. The money just keeps dripping off you, doesn’t it, boy? Your latest adventure—Richmont City, a city within a city, with an entertainment plaza to boot—swells your bounty to the sky. So you think you’ve escaped poverty forever, that you’ll never want again, eh boy?”
In his sleep, Erik smiled, warm and happy that his awesome wealth was untouchable.
Then, his body shook. The mask of Gold Demon began to spew puss and excrement.
“You’re wrong, boy!” Gold Demon cackled in a high-pitched maniacal voice. “You’ll want for the rest of your life! More wealth! More gold, more cars, more real estate! More! More! More! You’ll never have enough! When the world’s economies crash, you’ll not be safe. Cataclysm will get you, boy!”
Erik mumbled and grumbled, trying to awaken from the nightmare.
“Don’t you wake up yet, boy!” the mask of Gold said, now slurping its own molten ooze of smelted gold. “I have a song lyric to give you. A song that will make you a lasting living legend and give you and your fellows lasting luscious wealth beyond the scope of your puny mind.”
The music, a clashing, thrashing, colliding symphony of molten metal, ghoulish organs, and heart-pounding rhythm began, and then a scream in agony. “You will not forget these words, boy!”
The lyric, sang in Erik’s own voice, resounded, and backed by an echo of the chorus, ‘Song of the Demons.’
(After the song lyric sang in Erik’s own voice is given)
While Gold Demon spoke to the singer, a silver apparition, dressed in silver lame’ brushed with flashing gems, black leather studded bracelets and gold metallic boots, played a fiery smoking guitar and spoke to Jack’s subconscious.
“So! Perfection is your game. Perfect woman. Perfect homes. Perfect cars. Perfect playing technique. Perfect investments. Your hotels, night clubs, movie houses, amusement parks, body-building clubs, restaurants—perfect! Your works of art and décor in your six private palaces—perfect! Your style of dress and your image—perfect! You, my boy, will be among the masters of the music-ax, and a master composer will be your acclaim.
“I will give you our music, boy, and you will compose it with all its intricacies, and your fellows will arrange it to your exact specifications. No note, no arpeggio, no fugue will go wanting. It will be your greatest work. You will not forget this!” For eleven minutes and fifteen seconds, the raging violins and metallic symphonies played in Jack’s dream.
As they slept and slept, the Demons beckoned them. “Follow us. Be one with us.”
They got to the studio at around seven a.m. It was all set up to write the song.
“You know, Jack,” Erik said with cocked head and cockier attitude, “if this most awesome masterpiece doesn’t convince the world we are the greatest.”
Jack fired a chord. “The reigning rock genius!”
They whooped and slammed their fists together.
A couple of hours later, all six listened to the mock-up tape and agreed it could be their best song ever.
Jack sat on a stool, guitar ready, unfinished song sheets in front of him. “Can’t wait to finish these arrangements. I think it’ll be even better than ‘Let the Night Down.’”
“Hmmm.” Tom lit a cigarette. “Could be,” he said. “Fascinating lyric. Hey. Erik, where’d you get the words from?”
“Where I always get the lyric. From me head, eh?”
“Come on, man, it sounds so bloody historical. I can’t believe you just made that up. Or have you been reading medieval history lately, in between blow jobs?”
It then occurred to the singer that Tom had a point. “I hear you. I dunno. It just came to me, eh? Like I dunno who this ‘Duke’ is or that ‘King’ is. Just came to me.” Perplexed, Erik sat in a corner, lit a cigarette, and wondered.
“Too witchy for me.” Keith grabbed his bass and started free playing. “There’s a lot about our songs lately that get to me. Like, Demons? Bloody heavy-metal groups do that shit, eh? I’ve never known us to be into that satanic shit. So, why now?” Thump, thump, thump. “Getting tired of all this New Age crap we’re into. I still believe in The Code, though I’ve joined all those stupid Foundations and Swami crap.”
“You got a point, eh? Demons. Why us?” Mick walked over to Jack and pulled up a stool. “Could it be, Jack? The same demons, or angels or whatever, that you said spoke to you the night before we left Walltown back in 1986?”
“Hmmm. I dunno what spoke to me back then. Like, the demons in the song could be the same— And anyway, Mick, they called themselves my guardian angels. Are you saying they’re demons?”
“Like you really think if they were demons they’d admit it? Not bloody likely. So, like, how we supposed to find out?”
“Like, you really want to?” Keith got off his stool. “You really want to play with fire like that?”
“Just curious, man.”
“You know what they say about being ‘curious.’”
Tom sat at his drums and banged on a snare to get attention. “Maybe I can channel these demons.”
Several sarcastic laughs.
“Yeh, yeh, yeh. Through Corion, I suppose.”
“Yeh, Skinny, I think I will!” The drummer returned to the floor. “Unity circle,” he called out. “On the floor, eh?”
After Tom cleansed his chakras and did his meditative breathing, Corion really spoke through him.
“I am Corion, god of light born in darkness. Your question, please.”
Jack asked, “Corion, as a follower of your light path in The Circle of Unity, tell me, who are those demons in the song we just composed?”
Corion answered through Tom. “The demons you speak of, my son, call themselves demons but they are not demons in the sense you know. They are unjustly accused of evil, misunderstood by the self-righteous phonies. Yet their strongest desire is for what you seek in your Foundation—world peace, world unity and world justice. An end to wars, famines, and poverty. They are the leading lights of my heavenly spirit. When they first came into this world, they indeed took part in evil doings, but they had no choice. They carried out their part of the Plan which is now beginning to see fruition on this beautiful planet. Out of confusion, stability. Out of evil, good.”
“Okay. But are these the same demons who spoke to me years ago and told me Sound Unltd would reach success?”
Jack’s eyes lit up. “Through you, Corion, could I speak to them again?”
The Demons overhead yelled, “Yes! Yes! Now we’ll seal our Pact with you!”
Corion answered through Tom, “Yes, you may.”
Keith immediately broke the circle. “No way, man! I’m not taking part in calling up demons!”
Jack and Mick had fits about the interruption, but Bry cut in. “For once I agree with you, Keith. What you want to do, Tom, is dangerous! Not only that, but shit, Jack, it’s like now you’re saying that some damned demons, not us, made our success. So, like, which is it? You saying we didn’t earn our success? We just had it handed to us?”
Mick put his hand on Bry’s shoulder. “Calm down, Red-beard. That ain’t what Jack said.”
Bry turned angrily at Mick. “That’s exactly what he said! The demons told him we’d be successful.”
“Hey, look, Bry. You know damned well we worked our bloody asses off to be where we are now. You know damned well we’ve earned it!” Jack stood up and pointed at the bulky one. “What the demons said was that we’d make it if we earned it. If we wanted it more than anything. And, dammit, we did!”
“Well then why the hell are we even doing this channeling crap? Ain’t what we have good enough?”
“Yeh, it is, eh?” Erik wanted to get on with it and drop the subject. “Like, why don’t we just do the song, put it on our next album, and rake in the loot. Like I don’t know how the song got into me head, but it did, and we were meant to have a hit with it. So let’s do it and be done with it.”
“Okay, okay, let’s do it,” others agreed.
The Demons cursed in anger.
“Pact or not Pact,” Gold Demon cried, “they will pay for this!”
The low, deep voice called to The Demons out of the fire. “Have patience, children. I decide when our servants pay off!”
Humble now, Gold Demon answered, “As you wish, my Lord.”
And, as their Lord wished, three young men who had attended the World Unity concert were arrested in San Antonio July 19 for “…bashing in the heads of two four-year-old boys with lead pipes in a rash of unprovoked violence in the Alamo City the past few days.”
The San Antonio newspaper report shocked many.
Hopefully, the next post will be put up next week. In this one, the six will be ‘communicating’ with the Tooters.
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The Prodigal Band Trilogy © 2019 by Deborah Lagarde, Battle of the Band © 1996 by Deborah Lagarde, The Prophesied Band © 1998 by Deborah Lagarde and The Prodigal Band © 2018 by Deborah Lagarde. Permission needed to copy any materials off this page.