„Hey, off with that fookin cam, Fletch! I’m really not in the mood for that shit now!“
„Ooh, listen folks – our Diva Dave is not his cheeky self today!“
The red haired man still zooms onto David’s angry face and the now lifted finger doesn’t seem to help as well.
„Stop it, for fucks sake!“
The singer now pushes Andy’s digital camera away furiously and it nearly slips out of his hands.
„Woah, easy now!“
Dave rushes out off the main studio and seeks his bliss in the empty stairway, leaning against the cold, concrete wall – breathing heavily. Fuck! Smoke detectors! He even can’t have a drag in this godforsaken place! A look outside the window tells him it’s raining again. Brilliant! He sinks down onto one of the steps, head down, his chin braced onto the knuckles of his beautiful hands.
A smooth, concerned voice reaches his conscious and he recognizes Martin’s blonde curls coming nearer. He just shakes his head, still fuming. Mart takes a seat next to him on the stairs, his thigh toughing Dave’s slightly. If words don’t work – physical contact usually does – but Dave jumps up again and leans against the window. The fingers of his hands are restlessly drumming onto the wooden sill.
„One week now! One fucking week!“
Martin has a clue but for now he stays silent. It’s better to give Dave space to vent.
„She will stay some more days! Rosie told me last night on Skype. Jen doesn’t even have the guts to talk to me personally!“
He smacks his open hand onto the dark, polished wood.
„Give her time, Dave. You can’t force things – you know that.“
„Very clever, Dr. Gore! You not letting me into your bed is a great help!“
Ah, there’s the other smelly fish!
„Dave, I told you what you were in with this studio session! We all need the little time to recover.“
„Recover, me arse! I can’t find any proper sleep! It’s already getting at my voice!“
„Do you really think you’d get more sleep when staying with me? Come on, David!“
The brunette man turns around and flashes some dark, angry looks at his friend.
„Fucking hell! Yes, I’m bloody sure about it! Do you really believe I would cling to you all night – insatiable like a cheap whore?!“
„Shush – the others might overhear us!“
„So what?! I’m sick of it! We didn’t even had a little private time during the days so far! Would you drag me into the restroom now and fuck me senseless?! Suppose not! Then go to hell, Martin Gore!“
„You reduce it to the sex now...I should have known.“
Martin lowers his head for a moment, not wanting Dave to see the tears building up in his misty, green eyes.
„OK, then I know where I’m standing.“ He breathes sharply in and turns to walk back up the stairs.
Two strong hands try to hold him back.
„God, Curly! I didn’t mean it like that!“ The baritone voice sounds tired and desperate.
„It’s just – it feels like I’m the outcast now! Jen gone, the kids gone – and you gone kinda, too! I’m standing here empty handed! How am I supposed to work...how can I live that way?!“
He swallows hard and loosens his fingers that are digging into Mart’s arms.
„The worst thing is, it was me – my fucking self again – manoevering me into this situation.“
Martin looks kinda shocked now.
„Do you regret to have opened the lid of my laptop?“
The colour completely fades from Dave’s face now. Lost for words he just stares at his band mate.
The door a few steps above falls into it’s frame with a loud thud. Too late.
Back in the studio he sees Mart eagerly fuzzing with a sequencer, talking with Ferg and Ben. When he steps near and pats him onto the shoulder to get him for another try to talk he just meets a cold stare.
„David, I’m busy. You better warm up. We need to record ‚Wrong’ in a bit.“
Oh. So emotional shutdown. The usual Martin Lee Gore strategy! Nothing gets in – nothing gets out. Freezer tactics. Hiding behind the work.
Dave knows there’s no way to get through at the moment and he walks for his back pack to get the lyrics sheets.
Wrong. How befitting! He grabs his iPod with his warm up set and goes into the soundproof box to prepare.
I was born with the wrong sign
In the wrong house
With the wrong ascendancy
I took the wrong road
That led to the wrong tendencies
I was in the wrong place at the wrong time
For the wrong reason and the wrong rhyme
On the wrong day of the wrong week
I used the wrong method with the wrong technique
Wrong - Wrong
There’s something wrong with me
Something wrong with me
The wrong mix in the wrong genes
I reached the wrong ends by the wrong means
It was the wrong plan
In the wrong hands
With the wrong theory for the wrong man
The wrong lies, on the wrong vibes
The wrong questions with the wrong replies
Christ, why do I have to sing exactly this song NOW?! Dave, BE professional now!
Easier said than done. Christian peeks into the box and signals Dave to join them in the main room.
Ben looks up and smiles at him, when he finally appears.
„Take the new mic. Let’s see if it’s worth it.“
Martin pretends to be invisible, hiding behind a monitor and checking the software. Clearing his throat again Dave starts with the intro. His voluminous baritone perfectly fits the mood. He yells out all his frustration now.
Ben ticks Ferg’s shoulder and whispers silently.
„Wow, what’s gotten into him today!? Bloody brilliant!“
The sheet of paper starts shaking in Dave’s hand – that much he’s laying all his emotions into the song now. Everybody in the studio seems stunned and Christian has to wipe his forearms as crawlies make it over his skin. Yes, that’s the ‚Dave Magic’. Nobody knows how he does it but he can get you simply with his voice – not just his naughty hips.
I was on the wrong page of the wrong book
With the wrong rendition of the wrong hook
Made the wrong move, every wrong night
With the wrong tune played till it sounded right yeah
Singing these lines he stares over to Martin now. The blonde man glares back at him in awe.
YOUR words, Martin – not mine!
When the song is through Dave’s nerves and energy are as well. He slowly puts down the headphones, still in kinda agitated trance.
„Dave, that’s a keeper! Geez, you really were giving me the creeps here, man!“
Ben seems honestly excited and his eyes flicker vividly behind his black framed glasses. David just shortly nods and then simply walks out off the room. Now Martin finally seems to come back to his senses and swiftly gets up from his chair, following his friend’s direction. Nobody in the hallway. Passing the restroom he suddenly can detect silent sobs.
Hearing the door creak Dave freezes in his cubicle. Then there’s a knock.
„David? Please, open the door.“
„Piss off, Mart!“
„Dave – I’m sorry!“
„It’s all wrong – YOUR OWN fucking words! Now leave me alone!“
„Yes, it’s MY words – my damn mistakes! My fucked up life!“
„Then you better keep me out off the mess! You don’t want to add my bit of hell to it – and so don’t I!“
„Dave – I love you!“
Another choked sob from the inside and then a low, utterly sad voice.