Excerpt and One Sheet

Moment of Coronation

9 September 1997

Do you know what it feels like to be the underdog, the freak, or the outcast? Most would believe that I wouldn’t either, but that isn’t true. Before I met Julian, I didn’t have any friends. I didn’t want to play toy cars with the other kids in the mud. I was more content drawing and beating on my mum’s pots. Even if my mother said I was too old. I didn’t want to go out and play with the other kids. However, my mum never knew because I kept it to myself. I didn’t want her to know that the other kids picked on me. They laughed at me for my glasses, for the noises I would make with my trucks. When I got older, the other kids laughed at my clothes and pimples. I wasn’t perfect. I was called “pansy,” among other things.

When Julian moved to the neighborhood, he was the only one who understood. He understood my creative side and my flair for fashion. When it came to music, Bowie was tops for him as well. As we talked more, I learned that he had a keyboard at home and was working on writing music. It wouldn’t be long before he inspired me to beg my parents for enough cash to buy a cheap electric guitar and amp. I think after I explained that I had a friend and we were going to start a band, it made their choice easier. Their son had a friend for the first time, and they were overjoyed.

You may think after that everything was easy. You may think that because we were going to start a band, things just fell into our lap, but anyone who has ever been in a group starting out knows it isn’t easy. They know the struggles of finding other like-minded people, people that share their vision and their dreams. Some people are in it for the music, and the other ones are in it to get laid. Honestly, I’ve had my share of moments when the music has come second.

I digress. My point is that when you have retreated from the world, coming out again and claiming yourself is a strange experience. It isn’t something that’s easy to embrace. When you create something, you’re terrified that everyone will think it’s rubbish. “What if?” becomes the scariest thought you can ever have. Beliefs can grow and hold you back from anything you might want to attempt if you let them.

Imagine yourself as the underdog who has created something, and then all of a sudden you hear a few people talking about it. They’re saying how great it is, and they tell a friend, and it grows. They come up to you and are applauding something that you still have a feeling that you could’ve made better or tweaked for a better sound. They see the genius, while all you see is the imperfection. Why? Why not just accept what they like and move on? So, while they are applauding you, part of you is in deep denial.

The first time we played Madison Square Garden was in the summer of 1983. We sold it out, not just one day, but three days in a row. Three fucking days, and sometimes I think back and still can’t believe it. When we got to this point, was I still insecure, still wondering, “What if?” Yes, I was, and unfortunately, it’s heightened. As you stand on the stage at soundcheck and see the sea of seats that will be filled, you take a step back and wonder, “What if something goes wrong tonight? What if I hit a bum note or fall on my ass? What if? What if? What if?” I think that might be one of the reasons I embraced the escape. With a little liquid libation or a visit from the goddess, everything is so much better. Courage has been found to quash “What if?” and now you are ready to rock the fucking world.

That first night at Madison Square Garden, I had a little liquid courage, but I wanted to feel the experience. Midway through our set, I realized how silly it was for me to worry. They may have loved our music, but you’d never know, as the screams drowned out almost every note we played. They weren’t here for the songs. They were here to see their heartthrob live and in person. That was when I realized just how high you could get from them. We had played many dates, but this was the biggest at the time. To hear the chants and screams, girls clutching their signs and some flashing their tits, all I could think was that they liked me. They really wanted me. Some were very willing to prove this by jumping on stage.

That was the exact moment of our coronation: we had a sold-out tour and two songs in the top ten in the U.S. and theU.K. They loved me, and I loved them. Magazine covers, interviews, and TV appearances, all part of this frenzied world that had embraced the outcast. I remember thinking there was no way this would ever end. They would always love us.

Hmm…if only. No, like with everything else in life, it doesn’t last forever.

For some, the ups and downs are easy to deal with, but when it’s all thrust upon you so quickly, it is a lot to handle. If things hadn’t taken off so fast, I might have been able to pace myself. Instead, I was like a shooting star. I burned quickly and brightly, left to find my way back to reality. Don’t get me wrong. Almost every time I step on stage, I feel that rush, that welcoming of an old friend. But now, she is not so embracing. Even though I’ve moved past being an outcast, I still have to learn to accept and love who I truly am. –N