Track 01 — Intro
Spotlights flash directly into the eyes, and a shock wave of sound rolls over the auditorium like a tsunami, crashing down in a wall of noise from the stage right onto the fan zone, spinning the dense scrum of spectators like a violent whirlpool.
The intense light continues to strobe relentlessly, scrambling retinas, pupils and minds. The sheer energy of Steve’s introductory guitar riff sets hearts pounding and hands raised overhead in clenched fists or the sign of the horns.
There was a good reason Loyal Revolt had chosen Patient Zero to open their set. From the outset, it captivates its listeners with the rolling rhythm of its opening chords. Steve’s explosive, jagged riffs intertwined with Claudio’s dark, rhythmic bass guitar rumble and the increasingly neurotic percussive pulse of Markus’s drums.
But then there is a brief lull in the high-voltage intro, and Dave kicks in with the first verse. At first, his delivery is measured, almost recitative, but then gradually the pressure and harshness in his voice builds.
Trapped in this ruthless and useless cold third world war
The ideological warfare of roses and cross
I am patient zero, I’m at zero point
I am an origin vector of threats and loss
Headstrong can see the audience’s response, he senses them, reaches out to them, sharing with them his pain and the challenge he is hurling right into the face of society and the system. The tremulating vibrations of his voice elicit an enraptured roar from the throats of the thousands-strong throng. This huge ravening pack is starving and ready to tear the world to shreds.
In the volcano’s maw of political franchises
Honor is cheaper than silver and thinner than ice
I’m the elusive trespasser of all borders and limits
I have access to every heart and every known device
And without letting them catch their breath and without a bridge, Dave relentlessly powers into the chorus, letting his lyrics rip into the back rows of the hall, the entire population of the neighboring city and every person in the world who would prefer to ignore his music and avoid contemplating his ideas.
However, this time around
I’ll depart from the script
As right here and now
Our souls…
“Right, stop there. Can you roll back to the end of that verse, Mikko? Right there, look, camera three, see? Just before the chorus, where Steve does his short riff, and flashes his wolfish grin right into the camera. Let’s take that shot and immediately transition to the chorus, okay?”
“No problem, Dave.”
Seated in his own recording company’s cutting room, Headstrong was personally supervising the edit of the band’s video, offering suggestions and comments. Not that he doubted the quality of his video production department, and especially the skill of Mikko Järvi, who was on the wish list of many a Hollywood studio. It was just that Dave loved working with every aspect of music, he loved to immerse himself in the technical process and sense for himself first-hand how something amazing and beautiful might be born from the raw recorded material.
And the technical team really did listen to his opinions. This was not just because he was the frontman and leader of the band whose album launch they were currently working on. And not just because he owned a controlling stake in the recording studio and, in effect, was their employer, but because Headstrong was an excellent producer who was a genuine perfectionist with a subtle sense of music.
“Perfect. I reckon we should have more shots like that, don’t you think? As soon as you can draw the attention away from me and back to the guys, make it powerful and full of drive, if camera three or four get a good shot of any of them in the middle of an interesting solo, then focus on that.”
“Okay,” the engineer nodded, continuing to check the recordings from all six cameras and selecting the relevant shots.
“Let’s see what we’ve got from the middle of the verse, Mikko.”
However, this time around
I’ll depart from the script
As right here and now
Our souls and our minds are unzipped
The vicious circle is rent
Smashing shackles and chains of illusion
Follow me, my friend
I’m patient zero of the revolution
“That’s awesome.” Headstrong pounded the table in satisfaction. “Now when it comes to the stadium, let’s use the flying boom camera shots over the heads of the audience sparingly, say, once or twice per song, just to give the viewers an idea just how many people there were at the concert.”
“Okay.”
“And try to use cameras five and six to the max to show the crowd during the chorus.”
“Are you sure?” Järvi looked at him doubtfully, “It’s customary to concentrate on the audience during the bridges and solos, and the chorus is the best time to get a close-up of you from camera two.”
“I get where you’re coming from, Mikko, but I want more emotions on the crowd’s faces and they are at their loudest during the choruses when they’re singing along.”
“You’ve got a point.”
“I want to see their burning eyes, their bared teeth, the veins throbbing on their necks, the sweat on their screaming faces, I need their adoration, their determined resolve and their disgust at the world — the whole gamut of their extreme emotions in extreme close-up. I want to see their total engagement and focus. We need every single person who watches this DVD to experience the same emotions as the crowd who were in the stadium that day. I want them to feel the same power of the sound, I want them to be blinded by the dancing of spotlights, for the smoke, fire and lasers to bring them to the same frenzied climax.”
“Let’s do it,” Mikko nodded.
“I want our music to penetrate the very souls of our viewers, I want to rock the fuck out of this indifferent inert world, to shake the shit out of it, wake it up and make it feel, think and act.”
In the eye of the storm of foul secrets and fears
I’m free to be no one, just to be my own man
In the abyss of blind faith and hackneyed ideas
I’m sick of being what I am and what I eat
In a scum-filled maze of filthy human dregs
I grope my way through sweet swamps of sickly lies
The world in a swirl of rituals, myths and shit
Votes again for tyrants, cheats, fools and spies
However, this time around
I’ll depart from the script
As right here and now
Our souls and our minds are unzipped
The vicious circle is rent
Smashing shackles and chains of illusion
Follow me, my friend
I’m patient zero of the revolution
Patient zero
Of the revolution
I’m patient zero
Of the revolution
♫♫♫
I often wonder how I ended up in the body of David Headstrong because you’d be hard put to find a more inappropriate and objectionable figure if you tried.
He was the idol of elderly rock connoisseurs and all-consuming youth alike. Edgy, dangerous bikers and well-groomed hipsters. Americans and Albanians. Men and women.
His wild rambunctiousness was as charming as his intransigence and intolerance were shocking. A singer who rebelled against God and the Church, against society and its conventions, against faith and religion. A man notorious for his eccentric delinquent antics. A walking headache for the Church, the police and lawyers the world over. And a walking goldmine for the paparazzi, the media and yes, lawyers the world over.
So, how did he win over the attention of all these conflicting constituencies and congregations? With his open sincerity? With his bold call to pull down the pillars and foundations that have stood the test of time over many centuries? With his rebellious spirit that was simultaneously so lacking and so desperately needed in our times? With his candid lyrics and visceral music? With his potent melodic voice that one moment would soar up to the heavens to join the angelic hosts and then crash back down with a hoarse infernal growl the next?
Or did he have some sort of innate elusive charismatic quality that distinguished him from the crowd? Some God-given quality? Or was it Devil-given?
There’s no question that he could ever have been considered a Satanist, he would never have proclaimed himself the Antichrist, or eaten innocent babies for breakfast and bathe in the blood of virgins. But sometimes it seems that he was born to be a thorn in the side of the forces of heaven.
Wherever the truth lies, he was a terrible choice. Perhaps I should have been more thorough in preparing for my return. Perhaps, I should have selected the most suitable candidates, studying every nuance of their character comprehensively before deciding on the human vessel that I would be moving into.
I realize that my excuses must sound like the pathetic whining of a child, but, unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about it now. I was just caught completely off-balance when I found out that I was going to be given a second chance. It was all a bit of a surprise because for the last two millennia, I had been constantly trying and failing to persuade my Father to allow me to return. And then suddenly, out of the blue… Without the slightest hint or preamble, He just asked me whether I’m ready. Damn it, I’ve been incapable of thinking about anything else.
I had beseeched my Father about it and longed for and dreamed of being given a second chance. I imagined what I would do right down to the finest detail. I worked through all the subtleties and nuances of each new sermon, each new parable. I developed ideas for the most incredible miracles, I thought everything through. You could call it my business plan if you like. It included a plan “A”, a plan “B” and so on right through all the known alphabets of the universe, along with any number of bifurcating and parallel scenarios. After all this time, I should have learned something useful from you. And in order not to allow failure of the second coming, I prepared extremely hard. After all, I’d been working on it for over two thousand long years.
But I wasn’t prepared for this…
Once again, my Father decided everything for me. He decided that the human race deserved to be given this final chance, this final test. That His intervention in the fate of mankind would depend on the success of my mission. To execute or to pardon — that is the question. Everything or oblivion are tough enough odds at the best of times.
And I would have never doubted my success if it weren’t for the severe restrictions that he decided to impose on me. These hadn’t been in my calculations even for my worst-scenario plan Z. They hadn’t featured in any of my plans, to be honest. I am to be granted no miracles or divine intervention. No superhuman powers. No virgin birth, because I was not going to be allowed to return as a child messiah again. For my new mission, I would just have to choose the body of one of the mortals already living in your world and move into it.
Simples…! Which might have been easy enough for Him! But how do you go about choosing a vessel worthy of this vital mission from the billions of people now walking the Earth? The one whose mouth would proclaim my sacred truths. The one whose face would remain on the icons throughout eternity. The one whose name would be praised throughout the ages. The one who would act as the bridge between God and Man. The door to a new era. The key to the gates of Paradise. The guiding star. The prophet and the Messiah. The right hand of the Father. The Holy Grail, the vessel bearing the Spirit of God on Earth…
I cast my attention towards the Earth and, in an instant, millions, billions of faces flashed before my eyes. Some seemed more suitable for this mission than others. But somehow, no matter how I tried, a genuinely ideal candidate was not immediately forthcoming. And what difference did it make, I asked myself. The most important thing was that I would once again be living among my people, working my miracles, strengthening their faith and bringing love to the world.
What difference did it make, which body I would inhabit? The main thing was to get myself back here, and then I would sort the rest out when I came to it, right? All this stuff about “no miracles and divine powers”, couldn’t be serious, right? I’d come up with some way of getting around it. After all, rules only exist to be bent and broken, right? Especially when it’s ultimately for the good of all mankind. And when all’s said and done, I am God, after all! There’s nothing I can’t do and that’s all there is to it!
The vessel and body really weren’t going to be that important, the main thing was to get back as soon as possible. I was ready. I had been ready for eternity.
For such a supernatural entity as my Father, my haste, spontaneity and hot-headedness seemed most out of character… For Him, everything should have its own meaning, purpose, path and plan. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so reckless and thought through all the possible consequences.
Because no sooner had I made my decision than the die was cast, and I became Dave the Headstrong, Dave the brawler, the blasphemer, the lecher and rebel, Dave the new Messiah…
