ARCADE!

Tap tap tap tap tap

Yoshimitsu jumped. Slashed out. Missed. 

Tap tap tap tap tapTAP TAP

Jin punched, kicked. Hit.

Tap tap tap 

“How you feeling?” 

Tap tap tap

“Yeah man. Good. Nervous, again.”

Tap tap tap tap

Jin punched. Missed. Yoshimitsu dive rolled. Upper-hand gained, damage dealt. 

“Ah nice..”

Tap tap tap TAPTAPTAP

“Yeah, I’m feeling really good about this one aye.”

Jin pounced. Yoshimitsu took a flurry of hits. Bam. Bam. Bam.

“Damn. Yeah me too. I reckon tonight will be one of our best shows. I mean, this is definitely the coolest venue.” 

Tap tap tap tap

“It’s already an epic night.”

Jin pulled a final round-house kick, straight to Yoshimitsu’s skull. 

K . O 

“Nice man. You’re good” I said to Toby. His mouth curled up into a smile; moustache following. INSERT TOKEN flashed on the screen of the arcade machine. I reached into the cup, grabbed another token, and placed it into the slot. 

“You reckon one of the best shows, of the whole tour?” Toby asked. “Whammy was pretty awesome.”

“Yeah bro. 100%. Look at the pattern,” I said. 

Eyes glued to the screen, we scrolled the list of games, found Tekken.

“Whammy was epic, right. And UFO was kinda lame. It makes sense that tonight will be epic as well.” I was certain. 

Tap tap. 

“One of our best shows, for sure.”

6 hours earlier…

Tour had begun; SHEEP had at last hit the road. And there I was, sandwiched between Ethan and the rat cage, stuck in the middle seat of the Emerald Wagon as it sped southward out of Auckland city, wincing as I touched the golf-ball sized boil on my neck. It was beating almost to the rhythm of my heart. 

“AUCKLANDERS, COMING THROUGH!!” Tommy howled from behind the wheel. “AucklanDERS!!” Ethan mimicked beside me, almost directly into my left ear. The rattles of Fish and Mouse - Tommy’s pet rats, joining us on our journey across New Zealand in their own cage which was taking up a whole seat in the back of the Wagon - were sharp in my right ear. I couldn’t move my legs; the Emerald Wagon had never felt so cramped before. How did I end up in the middle seat, of my own car? That made me chuckle. Everything about that moment was utterly ridiculous! Rats on a road trip. A giant bulbous beast literally growing out of my neck, rabid with pain. A rock’n’roll pilgrimage down New Zealand in a band called SHEEP, just beginning... Man, I have to write about this journey someday!

The day’s weather was better than most. Brilliant sunshine and the feeling of summer filled the Emerald Wagon, and cattle-tasting wind rushed in through the wide-open windows. “Mmmmmm. Smells like New Zealand!” I said, trying to be heard over the clash of loud wind and loud music. “Smells like SHEEP!” Ethan added. Out the windows, the southern-most suburbs of Auckland had been replaced by low hills, hemmed with trees and dotted with houses and sheds.

We were listening to Mr. Amish - the band that played after us at our Whammy bar gig. Their lo-fi, almost arcade sounding tunes pumped heavy through the Wagon’s speakers behind me. “Man, these guys have been my favourite band from the tour so far. They are so mint!” Tommy said from the front. “Yeah definitely,” Toby agreed. I thought the same - they were awesome. “I reckon Diddies Kong Quest were pretty mint too. Who are we playing with tonight again?” I asked. “Super Narco Man, and Here lies the humonculi,” Ethan said before anyone else. He pulled out his phone. “Actually, I still have to make sure Super Narco Man are all good to bring the drum kit and the bass amp.” He was helping us organise the shows; he had the connections. “Oh true.” Tommy said, a hint of concern in his voice. “You’ve arranged for somewhere to stay tonight too, right?” Ethan looked up from his phone. “Yeah. My friend said we can crash at theirs.” 

State Highway 1 carried us South until we made the turn east onto State Highway 2, and began traversing the farm flats of north-east Waikato. I spent a lot of time watching Fish and Mouse with great fascination. Sometimes they were little rascals of energy, darting about their cage as if it were a gymnasium. Other times, they were taken by the scents on the wind, standing on their hind legs against the cage, snouts sniffing furiously. What an epic little adventure. The two luckiest, most rock'n'roll rats in New Zealand. They were having a blast!

After a couple of hours driving, we found ourselves weaving through a lightly forested valley alongside a river that sparkled at every bend under the afternoon sun. This river valley was one of the southern veins of the Coromandel - our passageway to the Bay of Plenty, where Tauranga and Mt Maunganui were waiting for us. I wondered how the show that night would go down. “Hey Ethan, do you know much about the venue?” I asked. He pulled from his vape as if to prepare for an epic story or a memory of the venue we were heading to, and blew out the window. “Yeah, it’s called Arcade.” He took another swig of his vape. “I’ve never actually been. I’ve heard it’s pretty cool though.” He said no more, so I settled back into a more comfortable position. Arcade, huh. 

We arrived in Tauranga just as the sun had slipped beneath the horizon. Time was pressing on us; we had no time to climb the Mount, or even check out the beach. We drove straight to the venue. Arcade. The bartender/owner hustled us in through the back door.

THE THIRD SHOW: ARCADE, TAURANGA 

The room itself was small - maybe the smallest bar I’d ever seen. A rectangular room, the front was wide open to the street, and the walls of the front half were lined with Arcade Machines - six of them. The back half of the room had the bar on one side, and stools lining the other. The bartender had long hair and wore a summery Hawaiian shirt - it matched his friendliness perfectly. “So you guys are Sheep aye?” He was talking with Tommy. Toby and I were trying to figure out where we would set up. There was certainly no stage, and barely enough room to fit a drum kit, lettle-own a whole band. “I guess we’ll just play in this corner,” Toby said, holding his arms at a right angle. “Push the drums right back.” 

Super Narco Man arrived shortly later. They were happy to provide the bass and the drums, each lugging a piece of drum equipment through the back door. Friendly fellows, they were, with quite a reputation around Tauranga and Auckland for being a hard-hitting punk band. “We’ve been looking forward to this show,” they told us as the drummer began setting up the drums in the corner. “It should be a wild night.” They sounded as if it were an absolute fact; and I certainly agreed.

Once we set up and did a quick sound-check, the space didn’t seem so bad. It was tight, with the drums leaning into the back corner like a spider in defense, and me and Tommy standing abreast at the front. But it was fact that we played better in smaller spaces; this is what I had observed from all of our previous gigs. “This will be the tightest show we play,” I announced. The bar stool was the perfect height for my synth as well, such that I didn’t need to bend over to reach the keys in hunchback mode.

And then we had 2 hours to relax. As we leaned against the bar, the friendly bartender poured us crisp-golden pints of beer, and pushed them over to us. “Ah, also,” he said, reaching beneath the bar, “you’re welcome to as many of these as you want.” He pulled his hand up - it was chunky with Arcade tokens. They all clanged together as he dropped them into a cup. “Are you serious?” I said, eyes widening as he grabbed another handful of tokens and added them to the cup. “Yeah bro. Go wild! There’s heaps of games on there. Space Invader. Donkey Kong. Tekken.” Toby was as thrilled as I was. “Ah sweet!” He said.

We took to the Arcade Machine for a digital showdown, and chewed through the next hour or so just drinking beers and playing old school Arcade games. The anticipation for playing that night grew stronger by the minute. Ethan was arranging the table at the front with papers and a safe for the money, occasionally challenging us on the Arcade Machine. Tommy was mainly hanging out with Fish and Mouse - he said he wasn’t feeling very well.

It wasn’t long before groups of Tauranga folk trickled into Arcade, each paying their $10 entry. Here Lies the Humonculi played first. Their music was strangely unique, with their layered effects and electric drum kit. It pulled a vibe out of thin air, coaxing pedestrians on the street to come into Arcade and join the buzz. By the time they had finished and packed up, the bar was fizzing like just-poured champagne.

We began setting up, already half drunk from the beers. Placing my Korg R3 on the stool was exhilarating - people usually expect a bass guitar, not a synthesiser. Toby shuffled the drums around until they were precisely how he liked them. And Tommy was kneeling on the floor, arranging his pedals. It was right in that moment that the beast on my neck decided to flare up, as if to say “I’m still HERE YOU BASTARD! I’m still APART OF YOU!!” Bloody thing! I cupped my hand over it. The beast had surely grown to its gnarliest size, and it was the most painful it had ever been. I looked up at the crowd - bigger than the crowd at Whammy - and then back to my synth. We all agreed to give this show 110%. But with the boil in the enraged state that it was, I wondered if I even had that extra 10% to give… 

“Hi. We’re SHEEP. Baaaaaa.” Tommy was leaning into the mic; almost swallowing the thing. “BaaAAaaAaaAA” I copied. Another few ‘BaaAAaAAA’s came from the audience. They all gathered close, barely a hairs width in front of us. Man, this is real tight! I flicked through my settings, and added the effect where I made the bass sound like a motorbike. Then I began revving it, with the volume knob turned to its extreme. VVVRRMMMMM VRRRMMMMMMM. It was one of my stage tricks. It looked like people were still trying to get closer, the bass already rattling their bones. 

Eyes on Toby, fingers ready to pounce on our instruments, Tommy and I waited for the signal. He looked at me, and then Tommy, and then TAP TAP TAP TAP.

BBOOoowwwwwwWAAAHHHHH BBOoooooooWAAAAHHHHH. My fingers clutched the effects knob, twisting the synth tone from bass rumble to synth squeal and back again within seconds. Toby’s sticks were a blur, whacking the hi-hats and snare. Tommy leapt into action, fingers sliding across his guitar. Anandamide + Beta Endorphin + Phenethylamine. It is our best song to start with - straight into the action. “Now you gotta sweat. Have you burned your place down yet.” Tommy’s vocals were sounding so clean and dominant. “In your pocket with a cigarette!!!” He was throwing everything into this performance already. Shit man!

The bass was clear and and dominant too - it was a powerful amp. I could not only hear what I was playing; I could feel it. And that satisfaction drilled through every piece of me, and was localised into my fingers, hammering down on the keys of my synth. After the first song, the crowd was already wild, hooting and baaa’ing like maniacs. The intensity didn’t dissipate. It hung there, but only for two brief moments. We blasted into the next song like a brick smashing through a window.

Fuck the Matrix. I turned my synth towards Toby, and locked into what he was playing. His face was bent with exertion keeping the pace and the time - we achieved a perfect unison. When we aligned like this - drums and bass - the fury doubled. Tripled, even. Behind me, the crowd whirled and crashed like a king-tide against a rocky shore. I turned to look, and pain stabbed my neck. Bloody boil! Toby drove the beat harder and harder, seeming to pummel more and more energy into the music, and pain into the boil on my neck, with every thwack of his sticks.

Burn Alex is Burning. Another banger. Tommy’s guitar playing was so focussed, and so precise. He didn’t miss a note. Actually, he might have missed all of them, but it sounded epic regardless. He could make anything sound good, just by the way he plays it. I turned my synth towards him this time. He noticed and leapt closer. We locked in. The fury of his guitar and the force of my bass clashed, united, and erupted in a greater frenzy. I watched his fingers, amazed. Man, it’s fuckin Graham Matrix!

We slammed the crowd harder and harder with each song. Government can’t take my Benny. Valhalla. Anatomy. They kept on too, thrashing about, dancing, headbanging, pretend-fighting, moshing, trying hard not to crash into us. Toby was drenched in sweat, and still drumming. Tommy was physically exceeding his limit, screaming remorselessly into the mic, surrendering to the ultimate performance. 

And then suddenly, it was done. It was over.

We stumbled out the back door. I fell to the cold ground, bending over, hand cupping the beast on my neck. The pain was savage - if it gave off noise, it would have been louder than what we had just played. Tommy staggered against the wall and stooped his head. He heaved forward and vomited his guts-worth onto the ground. Toby was physically drained, slumped in the doorway. “Holy shit. That was insane,” one of us managed. We really did go all out. 

It was the most intense performance we ever gave. 

After….

I was writhing on the floor. The scratchy floor. Sleep wouldn’t come, no matter how hard I tried. “We should just go now,” Tommy was saying to the others on the couches. Noooo NOOOO please… I thought desperately. The boil had not stopped pumping pain through my neck. It felt like some kind of alien abomination, pulsating and sickly. I had my hand over it as if it would diminish the pain. It didn’t. “Hmmm” Toby considered. Ethan was keen, but Toby wasn’t entirely sold. 

“We could do it,” Toby replied. He still sounded torn between the two options. "No!" I rasped, rolling to face them. “Wellington is ages away. Not tonight, no way!” I groaned from where I lay. How can they not be tired after tonight! They can’t seriously think that driving to Wellington now is a good idea. I flashed my phone; the time read 2:47AM. 

“I can drive the whole way,” Tommy announced. He definitely wanted to make the drive tonight. “You can sleep in the car man. Seriously, I’ll drive. It will be all good.” Nooooo! NOOO PLEASE! 

So much pain!