He sees you watching and gives you a cold hard stare that disolves all the space between the two of you. Only his eyes are there. And they make you look away. Soon The Doors are making music, Morrison slouches over the rigid microphone and the Hullabaloo's turntable stage slowly begins to spin them towards a widely screaming audience as the curtains pull back. A wild strobe of Instamatic flash cubes silhouettes frantically waving hands in a lightning sky.
Girls press forward against the stage.
A week or so earlier we sat in a Sunset Strip penthouse. I had asked about the group's wild on-stage theatrics. Nobody wants to see mannerism, they want to see just you. We can't help but get wrapped up in what we're doing. You can feel when the audience is with you.