A six-member band forsakes their licentious behavior on- and off-stage and continues on their journey to redemption, aided by spiritual forces of Good.
The Prophesied Band is © Deborah Lagarde, 1998. Rights Reserved.
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Note: Parts of Prologue and Chapter One included in this preview:
On the eve of apocalypse
And what a tale it is, this saga of the prodigal band.
“Sure, Lord Creator.” I turned from the Book of Life to face a human-like form. “I was close to Sound Unltd—when I was Jay Elliot, free-lance writer, that is. But of course You know that. You’ve always known, my Creator. And only You know why You made me Your Counselor-angel.”
“You are one of many,” I heard the Creator tell me, “but only you could have completed the task of counseling my six troubadours.
“You were the best popular music writer ever. Your Rolling Stone interviews were many. And you alone suspected my purpose for Sound Unltd.”
“To lead the world’s youth to accept their Savior. Your Son.”
“You know, my Creator, I still can’t believe they were the ones. Talk about sinners! They even worshiped Your evil counterpart. And they almost persuaded all the young to do the same. Their red crystals gained a lot of souls for Corion. By the time of their crisis, Corion had almost succeeded through them.”
“But he didn’t.”
“Yeah.” I laughed with pounding heart.
Did this mean Corion was defeated and my Creator had changed His mind about the Biblical end-times?”
“Counselor-angel.” Obviously, He read my mind.
“Yes, my Lord Creator.” My body shook with jitters. “Look, I didn’t mean to presume—”
“When the End comes, you’ll know it.”…
THE LEGEND OF THE PROPHESIED BAND
Richmont, California, 1982
I first heard the song ten days before High School graduation.
That song. Surrounded by ringing bells and riffs with a surf-music staccato, the full-bodied voice of Cobey McLeod came through.
(Spoken) The beginning of time, the alpha.
(Sung) The voice of the Creator did sing—
Before the day of fire, a band will inspire
The young out of darkness they’ll bring.
They’ll deliver the youth to His loving truth.
(Spoken) A prophesied band. Who is this band?
Only He and the Tooters know for sure.
(Sung) Before the third millennium comes due
The angels will make a deal.
“You’ll be the best in the land, the greatest-ever band
And the All-Mighty Spirit be with you.”
Then, the surfer riffs clashed with metallic onslaught. McLeod’s voice spoke of deals made with the ungodly and lives of pleasure wasted.
And they will dance with Satan,
And they will be filled with lust.
Their minds won’t be their own.
They’ll be the tolls of the unjust.
But, like the Prodigal Son, they will come home to live in the ways of The Creator. And they young will follow them.
There’s a spoken part at the end of “The Legend of the Prophesied Band”—
A prophesied band—from where will they come?
And then McLeod sang a line that would haunt me twelve years later, in another song by another band.
From the hovels in the slums…
(Elliot then got to interview McLeod, singer of the Marauders, after a gig in the fictitious city of Richmont on the west coast of California between LA and San Francisco, which led to free-lancing for Rolling Stone Magazine.—D.L.)
Two hours later in the back of Cobey’s limo
I thought I’d be clever by asking McLeod, “What possessed you to write that song?”
“Possessed me?” He cocked his head. “You are a bit screwy, eh? Like, you ask that question, and then you ask me if I was possessed. Well,” he straightened his head, “I was possessed to write that song. I musta been. I’da never done it on me own, eh?”
“So, you’re saying you wrote that song while a spirit possessed you?”
“Yeh. I’m convinced of that now.”
“Possessed by what?”
He lit a cigarette. “You know that line about the Tooters? It goes, ‘A prophesied band…Who is this band? Only He and the Tooters know for sure.’ Well, ‘He’ refers to the Creator, eh? And the Tooters are—are you ready fer this?—a statue at the north gate of Victoria Park in Walltown.”
I stifled a laugh. “You were possess by a statue?”
Long drag. “No. There’s a tale that goes that the Tooters are really a transfiguration of angels sent by the Creator to watch over Walltown and protect it from demons sent to burn the walled city in the twelfth century. Only one small section called the Hovels was saved during a peasant revolt. The legend goes that if a child in need calls out to the Tooters to help him touch the sky, the Tooters will hear and answer—somehow.”
I—and my tape recorder—got closer. “Fascinating. So you called to them asking who the prophesied—”
“No, no, no! I was given the song. Without asking fer it, eh?” Another puff on the cigarette….
(A bit later—D.L.)
“…Anyway, we wanted to make it big here.” Drag. “So I asked fer a song that would make us big Stateside. A few nights later, the Tooters answered.”
“Are you sure it was the Tooters?”
“Who else would it be?” He lounged back. “Like, do you really think I woulda made that up on me own? I mean, you’ve heard some of the stuff we’ve done before that. Does it sound like we woulda come up with a song like that? A wee bit mystical.”
All I could say was, “You got a point.” But what was the point of anyone—anything—giving out a song about a prophesied group, or as the song called them, troubadours? “But, okay, if you yourself didn’t make it up, are you saying the Tooters or something ethereal gave you the song just so you could have a megahit? I mean, that’s it? You asked for a song, and you got this one?”
Cobey squirmed, ground the stub of his cigarette into an ash tray, then lit another one. “You’re asking me who the hell are we to be given a song of this importance? You’re saying you think that I think we’re the band of prophecy?”
“Well, are you?”
“I don’t think so. The Marauders are not from the Hovels.”
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