“A slick eel in the city’s streets winding towards the giant spotlights that cross like swords in the star-spangled night sky.”

The early chapters of Enormity set up the decadent lifestyle that Big Bang Theory leads, as well as Jack’s wry interpretation of the situation he finds himself in. He’s at once disgusted and in love with the music industry. Jack’s feelings are perhaps a reflection of my own, but exaggerated through the prism of fiction.

I wrote this chapter a few years ago and am still content with how it is written. It references ‘Black Dog’, by the almighty Led Zeppelin but also a Buzzcocks song I’ve always liked called ‘Ever Fallen in Love?’. Peter Yorn did a fantastic cover of that track for one of the Shrek movies (maybe the second?):

The limousine slithers through the traffic. A slick eel in the city’s streets winding towards the giant spotlights that cross like swords in the star-spangled night sky. The awards ceremony is at a place called The Imperial Theatre. It’s a grand building, historic by anyone’s standards. Another limousine cruises along next to us. Their windows are tinted like ours, declining either vehicle a glance at the other’s passengers.

The McCarthy Awards are a big deal. Big money, big media coverage. It leaves the Grammys for dead. Glitz, glamour, and masturbatory acceptance speeches. Backs raw from the slapping. Big Bang Theory are nominated for five awards that cover everything from our music videos to our most recent album, The Dawn Of Man. It’s an epic title, sure. It was well received. I focused mostly on British rock and early punk. ‘Ever Fallen In Love?’ by the Buzzcocks is on there too. One critic said that we’d refined our sound and were closer to realising our full potential as artists. Right on.

The band sits in the limo with me. We’ve been drinking for a few hours now. Nothing too hectic, mind you. We’re performing tonight. Our new single is called ‘Black Dog’. It’s a rampaging rock song with some insanely shifting tempos. We’re going to unleash it on the sweethearts of the music industry, who by now will be trickling into the Imperial. I can picture them in my mind. Dresses and suits whose cost could feed a starving family for a year. Noses in the air, accidentally bumping into each other. Smiles and mild apologies. Vacuous people in a vacuum. Glittering jewellery. One’s retinas need to adjust in the buzzing chaos of it all.

The awards’ after party and subsequent evening of debauched activity are possibly my favourite passages in the book. Things get loose.