Introducing Quivver and Quake
Mr. Harold Zo took the stage and barked orders to his crew. The concert was set to begin in three hours:
“Set the stage, roadies. Keep the wires from getting crossed. You know how we all hate that. You want us to be tripping? Do not look at me that way, my friends. Look up. Look up at the grey sky. Do you want us to be tripping?
Don’t look so guilty. I’d love to be tripping right now. Sometimes I wish my guitar pedals were like time machines. To hell with reverb, we need to remix our chronology! We’ll drench these godforsaken ghosts in the light of heaven, my sisters. Quivver, Quake! Let’s get this moving. We are God’s messengers, here, damn it! Without us, the Word will lay there like a dog! Kick that bitch, man! Doc–I mean, Mr. Harold Zo is in the room, we got the bass kicked up, the amps set, the world is ready to come…down!”
AFTER THE SOLD OUT SUPERCONCERT!
Clear out, people. Photographs are unnecessary. Mr. Harold Zo is here to rock your body and give your heart a back rub. He blazes on the strings, all six of them. Twelve if he’s feeling moody! Make sure to keep your pants on, your friends close, and your enemies as far away from the good vibes as possible. This is…Mr. Harold Zo, here to talk about his new band of outsiders! But first, put your paws and emaciated appendages together for your host, ALEXIUS!
Alexius: Thank you. Mr. Zo, who is seated across from me, invited us to use his stage after the concert to host a little engagement. Sort of a late-night television interview show gig. We can thank him for that.
Mr. Harold Zo: No trouble, no trouble. I might have washed out of graduate school, but I still learned how to be generous.
Alexius: Maybe we can steer clear of the biographical details for now and focus on your current musical project. Zo Quivver and Quake, is it?
Mr. Harold Zo: To be strictly accurate, this is the only band I’ve been in. I had a solo act for a few months, but I tired of that. It was an outlet for my frustrations more than an artistic project, and I decided…
Alexius: Can we please bring Quivver to the stage!
Please put your paws together for Quivver!
Alexius: Can you tell our audience what your role is in the band?
Quivver: Were you at the show?
Quivver: Were all these people at the show? Are they blind? Didn’t they see me?
Alexius: I’m sure that I didn’t mean to imply…
Quivver: Shut up. Keep your fanged mouth shut, and don’t try to intimidate me. I’m not going to truck with that BS. What do I do? I play drums. I play drums.
Alexius: Hostile drummer! Never met one of those before.
Quivver: Look, this was Harry’s idea. I had no intention of…(drinks water) of being dragged into a ******* stage show before I get a chance to shower and chat it up to some freak of nature with a bad attitude.
Alexius: Let’s stick to the technical aspects of what you do.
Quivver: So I was born in the hinterlands of Wisconsin, up north and such. Cold, bracing winds, snow, the whole works. I started playing drums in a high school band. I got tired of that after a couple of years and had an odd little falling out with the band director. Got rather sordid, really.
Quivver: Now I mostly work on computers. I have a few machines, work with analogue synths, the works. It’s far easier to form bonds with machines most of the time.
Quivver: That’s all you’re getting from me. Harry, I’ll be back in the van. I need to have a discussion with you.
Quake refused to be interviewed. She did, however, leave a message on Alexius’ home telephone.
“I play bass and work synths in this band. I’m good at what I do. Please keep out of my business. Thanks.
Sincerely, and with Effortless Coolness,
We’ll get back to her later.