Billy was doing his job as best as he could, without realizing it, he had become the talk of the town. The British sensationalism felt like a high school movie about gossip, maybe "Mean Girls" was truer than he thought.
They made headlines of all sorts, even about trivial things, like what he ate, what he liked, and the brand that represented him. Burberry wanted to work with him, but Jerry pointed out the complications and refused many of the clauses.
-So, do you think the way forward is indifference and comedy? - Billy asked his image consultant. He had a deep conversation with Jerry about the direction he should take and even the song he should sing.
They lined him up for "Top of the Pops," questions, performances, and all.
-Yes, don't take the topic too seriously for now… Public opinion is currently in your favor, and if you can sing that bar song on today's show, I think it would be perfect, - said Gilliam.
-I'll do it… Thanks, Gilliam, - Billy replied.
Billy undoubtedly knew that image was important, but there was something in him that didn't allow for fake expressions when his emotions took over. He was a bit of a mess and didn't want to make things worse. He certainly wasn't going to land that Narnia role—well, he was never considered for it anyway. It was just a silly way of saying that he'd failed in all possible directions.
Billy ended the conversation, and in the next room, Avril was waiting… she was lounging in black pajamas with white stripes, playing PlayStation. Billy grabbed a controller, and the two started playing. They liked racing games or "Crash," but they kept going until night fell. They slept wrapped around each other, the blonde drooling on the pillow or his chest, as messy as she was, pulling at the blankets, tossing and turning, and pouting at the slightest change. That's why Billy always had extra blankets on hand. He rested for a bit, but around 3 a.m., sleep wouldn't come, and he cradled the blonde in his arms as she whimpered like a baby.
But she slept again. He held her close, trying to forget the nightmares that haunted him with memories best left behind. But her presence eased those dark thoughts, just a little.
The warmth was the best way to sleep, now that he was basically trapped in a hotel. The legion of paparazzi outside was overwhelming, and even passing through the lobby had become a dangerous mission. People would sneak in and snap pictures. At times, their bizarre behavior tested his patience. Fame was a double-edged sword.
He fell asleep with the thought that tomorrow he had an interview with Pop Art.
...
Pop Art didn't usually invite rock artists, but the occasion called for it, and the ratings would be through the roof. They recorded in the morning and aired at night. Billy wore tight black jeans, ripped from the ankles to the knee, and a gold button-up shirt left open to reveal his smooth chest, adorned with two necklaces: a hippie symbol and a silver chain.
He sported his earrings and the mischievous vibe he was known for. When he entered, he was met with the popular applause—enhanced by sound effects, of course. The hosts, a man and a woman, welcomed him. The set was Victorian in style, with wooden furniture and red curtains mimicking windows behind them.
Not far from the set were his instruments, though sadly, his band wasn't with him this time. The interview was mostly focused on his music. He took a seat as the cameras zoomed in on his face, the profile of a rock star... according to the latest buzz.
-It's a pleasure to have you on 'Top of the Pops.' Today, we have the sensation of the moment, Billy Carson, who hasn't stopped creating music and is about to release his fourth album, Castles in the Sky. What can you tell us about the meaning behind the title? - asked Augustus, one of the hosts, with Aura sitting beside him.
-It's a pleasure to be here, Augustus… Aura, - Billy murmured, opening his arms in a relaxed gesture. - I think Castles in the Sky refers to that rebellious part of us all, those moments we experience and wish for—castles in the sky that are unreachable, at least for me, - he said, giving a nod to the concept. Some of his songs this time dealt with sex, carnal love, and the wild swings of youth, with a few virtual allegories.
The title was, in fact, about a castle in the sky, just like his album, and like all his previous ones, each contained an imaginary, elusive castle. Making note of this, he gave a lazy wave to the camera.
Several more seemingly random questions followed, all focused on his new album and the two singles he had already released. Now, there was a third, created in a bar.
-Are your songs based on your experiences? Or rather, what's your process—experience or inspiration? - Aura asked.
-Both. Sometimes I just see something that catches my interest and decide to go with it... I tend to get stuck in these themes, but often I need more than just experiences; emotions of some kind usually trigger those sparks of inspiration that hit me like movie subtitles, - Billy explained.
-A flash of insight, and you write your song. -
-Exactly. You sit down, something comes to you. I listen to music… most of the time. I'm no expert, but I have great teachers. Savoring something beautiful is hard for us. I try to do it whenever I have the time, - Billy added.
Aura, a woman with dark hair and a sharp nose, had lips that Billy couldn't help but glance at, lips made to kiss. He calmed his rising urges.
-Love is the same way. It's too beautiful to be overlooked… the way it's shared, how it fills us. It's perhaps the purest joy, - Billy said with a wink, casually.
-Your last song was written drunk in a bar, - Augustus commented.
-Oh, I guess it was. But that's the beauty of creation... You take what you need, and you make it yours. The desire to create something is the same as the desire to exist. We want to improve our lives, be better people, raise our status. That's creation, - Billy said, his tone suggestive, and Aura understood—procreation, love, and desire. The words were deep, though she brushed them aside, but the charm was still there.
The camera caught Aura's subtle reaction, her bright eyes becoming even more captivating.
-I heard you play several instruments. Would you be able to perform for us here, to show the audience your skills? - Augustus asked, clearly angling for a show, which was perfect for a program like this.
-I'd love to, but I'm not great at anything besides the piano and guitar, - Billy replied.
-They say your guitarist is a music teacher? - Augustus continued.
-He is, and one of the best people I know. He taught me how to play music, but I still have a lot to learn when it comes to instruments, - Billy said.
Although he didn't confirm it, the crew was already setting up a small synthesizer and a guitar, ready for him to perform the song he had prepared. But not before continuing the interview, which was slated for 40 minutes, with 12- to 15-minute segments.
-Music as politics. As someone with influence, you have a visible audience… Is that audience meant to see you as a role model? - Augustus asked.
-I'm no role model for the younger generation. I like to have fun, I hate studying, and I think life should be lived to the fullest… all the opposite of what life is supposed to be, full of responsibilities. Let them condemn me, - Billy said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
-So, you're saying you're not a role model, - Aura chimed in, frowning. - As a public figure, you should be more mindful of that. -
-Why? I like living this way. If young people want a role model, they should look to their authority figures. If they want to follow my path, that's their choice. Identity isn't something you can leave to chance. They have to shape their personalities however they see fit. Aside from that, I'll just tell everyone else to screw off. Screw the uptight ones, screw the liars, screw the hypocrites, and screw those who won't enjoy their lives, - Billy said with a playful defiance. It wasn't just the words but how he said them, with such natural confidence, that won the audience over. He filled the space, and the cameras caught his every move—his serious, mischievous expression—leaving behind an impression different from what was expected. Young girls around the world dreamed of being held by this rising rock star, the ash-blonde with hair lighter than most.
-An anarchist ideology? - Augustus suggested.
-Not at all. I immerse myself in culture and the pleasures of life... The rest is just a story for those who can't handle it, - Billy responded.
A break was announced, and Billy moved to the stage to perform with his guitar. Without hesitation, he began whistling the rhythm of the song. With his guitar in hand, he recorded a few chords on the synthesizer, explaining the steps as he went.
Using two piano notes and some sharp claps, he readied himself to sing. Before the show, he had left a message on his blog for his fans, letting them know he would be on "Top of the Pops," with a greeting. His blog, far from being obscure, now boasted 8 million unique visitors per month, and 60,000 hits per day. It was becoming more successful by the minute.
An Irish pub song (the rumjacks)
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶
There's a county map to go on the wall
A hurling stick & a shinty ball
The bric, the brac, the craic and all
Let's call it an Irish pub
Caffreys, Harp, Kilkenny on tap
The Guinness pie and that cabbage crap
The ideal wannabe Paddy trap
We'll call it an Irish pub
Whale, oil, beef, hooked! I swear upon the holy book
The only craic you'll get is a slap in the ear
Whale, oil, beef, hooked! I'll up and burst yer filthy mug
If you draw one more shamrock in me beer
We'll raise the price o' beer a dollar
We'll make 'em wear a shirt and collar
We'll fly a bloody tri-colour
And call it an Irish pub
Jager bombs and double shots
The underagers think it's tops
We'll spike the drinks and pay the cops
We got us an Irish pub
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶
the unrestrained life, is not the best song in their repertoire, but it is a rock song, full of movement, no matter how you look at it, the strident movement is one of the most important parts of a song.
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶
The quick one in the filthy bog
The partin' glass across the lug
O' the lady-O, the dirty dog
We got us an Irish pub
It's over to me and over to you
We'll skip along the Avenue
And who the hell is Ronnie Drew?
We got us an Irish pub
Whale, oil, beef, hooked! I swear upon the holy book
The only craic you'll get is a slap in the ear
Whale, oil, beef, hooked! I'll up and burst yer filthy mug
If you draw one more shamrock in me beer
Plasma screens and neon lights
Kara-farkin-oke nights
The bouncers they can pick the fights
We'll call it an Irish pub
Plastic cups, a polished floor
We'll hose the blood right out the door
And let the knucklers back for more
We got us an Irish pub
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶
A cut, a quick play, is what the song needs, an unfinished product, which needs Connors, sugar egg, Jack sauce and Spencer to give a finished product. – he thought. – the boy making a quick take of his behavior.
inciting an end, he tried to expose the song to something of the feeling of anger.
the sight of the presenters shaking their necks was enough for Billy, who was shining.
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶
Whale, oil, beef, hooked! I swear upon the holy book
The only craic you'll get is a slap in the ear
Whale, oil, beef, hooked! I'll up and burst yer filthy mug
If you draw one more shamrock in me beer
Oh top o' the mornin', Garryowen
Kiss me I'm Irish, Molly Malone
Failte, Slainte, Pog ma thon
We got us an Irish pub
Spike the punch and strip the willow
Strike me up the rakes o' Mallow
The Liffey never ran so shallow
We got us an Irish pub
Whale, oil, beef, hooked! I swear upon the holy book
The only craic you'll get is a slap in the ear
Whale, oil, beef, hooked! I'll up and burst yer filthy mug
If you draw one more shamrock in me beer
🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎶
….