U-N-I Ch. 01

It's 2018. The five of us are sitting in Heathrow airport, waiting to board a plane to New york where we have several interviews to give and a couple of TV shows to shoot for the promotion of our fourth album with U-N-I.

U-N-I, that's the name we gave to the group we formed over ten years ago. Our lives have been so crazy in the past ten years, sometimes I still have to pinch myself to make sure this is all really happening.

I always knew we would be famous one day. Ever since our first jam session in two thousand and five, I knew we would become the biggest rock band in the world...or I hoped so anyway. To be honest with you, if someone had told me back then that we would become this huge band, I would have had serious doubts about the truthfulness of that statement.

But one can always dream. My father had always told me not to dream. To dream was to be disappointed and it was a waste of time. I learned not to listen to my father though. To me, the power of imagination was priceless and at an early age I was determined to do everything I possibly could to make my dreams come true and to live up to my expectations.

Ok I'm getting a little carried away here but now that you know the end of the story, let's start with the beginning.

--

I was born in Ireland from a French father and an Irish mother. We lived in the Dublin suburb of Rathmines, a cool suburban alternative to living in Dublin, according to our parents. It had its own high street, cool pubs, bars, restaurants and brilliant vintage shops. There were lots to do and we were not far from the city centre.

Growing up, I had a great group of friends. I couldn't even remember not knowing them. We had grown up together, started going to school together, practiced the same activities after school, enjoyed the same sports... but mainly, we all loved the same music and we were all playing instruments.

We had always been the best of friends, simply because we lived in the same street. None of us lived far away from each other, although Robbie and I were the nearest neighbours, with Jordan just around the corner. Damon lived only a little further up the street and Dylan moved to the neighbourhood and joined our group of friends when we were around the age of ten. We could walk between all five houses in under five minutes.

None of us were really Irish though. Jordan had Scottish parents who had moved to Dublin for work, Dylan had moved from Southampton in England, and Robbie's mum was Spanish, and his dad was English. Only Damon had Irish parents. He actually looked the most Irish, fair skin and all. The rest of us had darker skin and we could get a nice tan pretty easily when we went abroad. You don't get much sun in Dublin.

Jordan was the youngest, and Dylan the oldest, although we were all close in age and over the years, our respective birthdays were always a good excuse to have a party. Dylan was born in january 90, Damon in march, Rob and I were both born a few days apart in May, and finally Jordan in August.

There was also Rachel, who seemed to be the only girl in the neighbourhood who managed to put up with us. She always wanted to hang out with us and play our games. She was a great girl, funny, smart and even pretty. She was our number one fan whenever we'd perform live together. She was part of our little gang. We really liked having her around and when puberty kicked in, she and I had started dating. So, she had been my girlfriend for a couple of years already.

I loved her, and I loved my friends. I couldn't imagine not having them in my life. I was very close to Jordan, we often hung out together and we loved each other's company, we would always play music together whenever we hung out. He had acquired a bass and he was a quick learner. I played the piano and the guitar. I was quite musically versatile, but I had learned how to play the piano around the age of seven and I was very good at it, probably because my father was always forcing me to practice, not wanting to spend money on lessons for no results. But since we had begun playing together, I had started playing the guitar and it had become my instrument.

I was always carrying it around, playing it whenever I could really, and I was starting to write songs. I had a very good ear for music, I could find a melody in an instant. I was a bit embarrassed to show the guys, but in school, or in my spare time, I had started writing lyrics as well. It was becoming a habit. Anytime I thought of something, experienced something, or witnessed something, I would try to write about it. I was carrying this notebook with me and just scribbled ideas whenever I could.

Whenever I was not hanging out with Jordan, or with Rachel, you would most likely find me with Robbie, mostly at night. He was my next door neighbour, and he was always, always there for me, whenever things got too tough for me to handle at home. Indeed, to counterbalance with having the best friends I could possibly ask for, I had the worst family. Well maybe not, but it did feel that way to me.

My father was drinking too much, he was out in the pubs every night after work and would always come home late, drunk and often violent. He wasn't beating me up exactly, or even hitting me frequently, although it had happened a few times but the threat of violence was always there.

He would grab my arm a little too roughly, or push me against a wall, or slap my face. He was an angry drinker. Drinking was probably a way of avoiding other issues, such as feeling like a totally useless member of society, going to a dead boring job every day to buy alcohol or cigarettes or if need be, to feed a wife and kids he, from the look of it, didn't even love, although he was a lot nicer to my brother Thomas and my sister Amy, for some reason. I had made a promise to myself never to be like him. I didn't want to end up like that. I wanted my life to be exceptional.

The only good thing I had learned from him was French. He was born in France but had moved to Ireland with his parents when he was a teenager. He'd almost never speak to us in English and we had to talk to him in French most of the time or he'd get mad, telling us that we'd never learn if we kept speaking in English. Even between my brother, sister and me we spoke French to each other if he was around. He'd never really managed to teach my mum but despite not really speaking the language, she understood it pretty well so French was the language we usually spoke in the house. It was not the best way to learn a language because it was forced on us but we did learn it.

Unlike my dad, my mum didn't drink, but she was not a very loving mum. I couldn't really remember her cuddling me as a child. I didn't feel much loved in my own home.

She was a Christian, not that there was anything wrong with that, but she really had some pretty strong beliefs. She did not seem to be able to make allowances. She followed blindly the dictates of the church and she was very stubborn about it. She had to put up with an abusive husband and a pretty sad life I must add, doing the cleaning, cooking, shopping, taking care of the kids and receiving no appreciation or love for it, and I'm pretty sure that she believed God had intended it that way to make her stronger so she was just putting up with it. She was a strict mother and even though she knew how my dad treated me, she never said anything to him about it. Whenever I complained to her about him, she always told us that God had a plan, and that everything we went through in life had a reason to happen.

Consequently, I didn't particularly enjoy spending time at home.

Robbie lived in the house right next to mine. Our mothers were friends and had basically given bith a few days apart. Growing up, they kept telling us how they used to put us in the same playpen, so our friendship went way back. I really thought the guys were a pretty amazing bunch of friends, but Rob and I were best friend, and everybody knew that. I really felt the most connected to him, we knew each other so well, we spent so much time with each other, because every time I needed to escape my father when he came home drunk, I went to his. If my parents started fighting, if I had a fight with my brother or my sister, I climbed out of my window or walked out the door and went straight to Rob's. I used any excuse I could find to leave and go to his place. The peace and love in his house was priceless to me. Rob and his family knew what I was escaping from, I had started doing it at an early age, I must have been only seven or eight the first time I had run to his place in the evening to escape my father's violent outbursts. I had knocked at the door and Rob's mother had let me in, comforted me, as if she had known what was happening to me, and asked my mother if I could stay the night because I was too damn scared of going back home.

She knew and understood what I was going through, she was always there to take me in her arms and make me feel special and loved in a way that my parents couldn't. Over the years, it had become natural, I considered Rob's mum and dad as my second parents. I'm sure Rob's mother tried to make the situation better by talking to my mother and after a while it probably became an understanding, my mum would let me slip out of the house leaving me to be cared cared for by someone else. That way she knew I was safe and my dad was just happy that I wasn't home most of the time. He didn't have to bother with me.

So, despite spending most of my childhood nights sleeping in my best friend's bed I always went home after school, after all it was where I was supposed to be; but after dinner though there was always something that would make me want to escape and I often found myself knocking at my neighbour's door, hoping they would let me stay with them one more time.

It was during one of those nights that my relationship with Rob suddenly changed.

We were eighteen and about to take our leaving certificate. We'd had a pretty long hard day at school and we still had lots of revising to do so that day I didn't even bother going home; we just left school and went to his place, straight up to his room.

Instead of studying I started going through the new NME magazine that we'd just bought. We just loved talking about music, the bands we admired, the songs we loved. He was also very musical and played the guitar so we'd always play together and I'd show him the melodies I had come up with. We had started composing songs together and he was always supportive and admiring of my song writing abiliities, always telling me I had an incredible talent for it, and that if we ever were to become successful, they would have me to thank.

I had a good voice too, and I loved singing, but so did Rob. He was, however, a lot more confident than I was, I didn't mind singing behind closed doors but I couldn't bring myself to do it in front of an audience; Rob, on the other hand, loved performing. He had such a good voice and he brought so most energy and passion into his performance that whenever we played music with our friends he was always the one singing. Plus, it gave him an opportunity to show off, which he just loved to do.

We usually learned how to play songs from The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Queen, The Eagles, Don Mclean, Elvis, Bob Dylan and most especially U2. We were huge fans of them.

After learning how to cover hundreds of songs, it just sort of happened. Just like that. A brand new melody coming out of nowhere. Well it was coming from us, but it didn't feel that way. It felt like it was coming from another place. The songs sort of wrote themselves, and it was an amazing feeling. We were so thrilled to be able to do that and we all really loved playing and writing together. We had spent hours in Damon's garage, because that was where the drums were, and when we began to realize that we could come up with sounds of our own, it all started to become really exciting.

Damon was definitely sticking to the drums. He didn't have a very strong body and he was quite thin, but somehow, he managed to hit the drums with so much energy and enthusiasm that he had convinced us very early on that he was supposed to be the drummer.

Whenever I wasn't, Dylan was playing the keyboard. Except for when I was writing songs, I was playing electric and acoustic guitars, Rob too if we needed it, but I felt more comfortable finding a melody on the piano. Jordan was getting to be really good on bass.

Rachel was our groupie, telling everyone how good we were, making sure people would come and watch us play whenever we performed live in pubs and bars.

--

I was still sitting on Rob's bed when I heard my dad scream from downstairs.

"Mark, if you're in here, you'd better come home right now!"

"Shit!" I exclaimed, looking at Rob and standing up in a flash.

"What the fuck does he want now?" Rob said as he headed out the bedroom.

I followed him reluctantly and we both went down the stairs.

As soon as I was close enough to him my dad roughly grabbed my arm and tried to throw me out the door.

"Hey, leave him the fuck alone!" Rob shouted at my dad as I passed by him on my way back inside, as there was no way I was going to follow him home and do as I was told, and Rob knew that.

"Excuse me?" he asked him back with an angry voice, looking at Rob straight in the eye.

"I said, leave him the fuck alone!" Rob repeated with confidence, not breaking eye contact. He had deep green eyes, and he could definitely talk with his eyes, there was a light in them, and as he looked straight at my father at that moment, he made him hesitate.

"We were studying, we have exams next week so whatever you want him to do for you tonight, it ain't gonna happen."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah! We're eighteen now, and soon, trust me, he's out of your life forever."

My father just laughed,

"Good luck with that. Why don't you try to find yourself a job first. Now, let's go Mark! We're leaving, we're invited."

"I don't wanna go, I've got better things to do!" I said to him angrily.

"NOW!" he yelled, and pushed Rob away. But Rob fought back, pushing him out the door.

"He's not coming with you!" Rob added, with a determined tone of voice.

"What's going on?" we heard Rob's mother say as she was just getting home from work.

"Jane, can you please tell your son to respect his elders."

"That's okay James, Mark can stay here tonight, they need to study."

"Like that's gonna make them smarter!" he told her nastily then looked over to me and spat,

"Fine, you get to explain to your mother why you didn't come with us, I didn't want you around anyway."

I glared at him and he left, giving up on me...again.

I shood my head at what he'd said and turned to Rob's mother.

"Thanks Jane," I said. "I have a feeling I would have received a few punches tonight."

She sighed knowingly,

"I'm sorry he's doing this to you," she said as she came over to me and gave me a quick but comforting hug.

"Come on, you two," she began saying to change the subject. "go back upstairs and study. I'll call you when dinner's ready."

We nodded and went back to Rob's room.

"Fuck, I hate him!' I said as I entered Rob's room, "I can't believe you stood up to him like that" I told him, quite impressed.

"I can't stand this anymore," he spat. "we're eighteen. This has gotta stop. You're staying here from now on, alright? And as soon as we make enough money, you can just leave and never go back!"

"If only that was true."

"It can be. It will be!" he said with confidence in his voice.

"Yeah, I guess," I smiled coyly.

He came closer to me and gently wrapped his arms around my back. I let him hug me for a moment. I knew he was only trying to make me feel better.

"This isn't fair," he spoke with sadness in his voice. "you don't deserve to be treated that way."

For a moment, I hugged him back and as usual, it felt comfortable. I felt protected and safe. It lasted a bit too long and I began to pull back, wondering why he wasn't letting go. As I eased further back, my eyes met his and he gazed at me, but then quickly looked away.

"Well, come on. Let's study a little and prove your asshole of a father wrong."

We did study and I stayed with Rob's family again that night. We were all very quiet during dinner, we briefly talked about the upcoming exams and the gig we were going to play on the next day.

Every time I glanced at Rob, it seemed he was already watching me. He kept looking right into me with a reassuring smile, letting me know he was there for me and it felt good. He had a killer smile. It made me feel so much better every time he smiled at me, no matter the problems I had at home, he could just smile at me and the look of happiness on his face would take all of my worries away.

I could always see real understanding and care when he looked at me. He had such great eyes. They were mainly green but there were different shades in them. He sort of had this amazing ability to talk with his eyes. You could read his emotions and feelings just by looking into them. It gave him charisma and confidence...which was the reason why we had all agreed that along with the fact that he had a great voice, he had the personality to be our frontman. People were drawn to him.

He was just a born entertainer. He was great to hang out with. He could make people laugh really easily and he loved being the center of attention. You could never get bored with him. He always had these wild ideas about what to do to entertain ourselves and I gotta say, it got us into trouble more than once. Jordan was a lot like that too. He was the kind of guy who's always joking around but in a smart way, if you know what I mean.

He was popular at school. All the girls were drooling all over him. Well to be honest, they were drooling over me too, but Rob, I don't know he'd make them laugh, and he was just so nice and sweet with everyone. He always thought of other people before he thought of himself. Rob just had this capacity to love and show emotions. When we were together, the attention was definitely more directed toward him than me. I'm sure it also had something to do with his eyes. I'm telling you, you could see his soul in those eyes. Girls were attracted to them like moths to a flame.

But even though he was this confident guy out in public, I knew that sometimes he was just putting on a show to not let people know how he really felt, which he still does ten years later. He was really good at that but I could see through him. I think I was probably the only person he felt comfortable enough with to be completely himself. He always acted differently around me. He was shier and more reserved. He didn't joke around as much, he was more serious and sincere and, well, himself. I knew sides of his personality like his doubts, fears and insecurities that few people knew about, probably not even his mother.

And that night, all I could see was how much he cared for me and it was a bit unsettling. I had been feeling a bit weird and awkward around him lately. Something had changed in his attitude. He was overprotective of me. He always wanted to hang out, always wanted me to stay the night, never wanted me to go home. I knew he was worried that something would go wrong with my dad and that I had better stay away from him, but I was starting to feel that there might be more than that.

We went back to his room after dinner but we didn't study again. We each took a quick shower, played video games for a bit and then a bit of guitar.

"Hey, listen! what d'you think of this riff?" I told him before I played it to him.

"Hehe," he said with a laugh. "Fucking awesome. When did you come up with that?"

"Just now."

"Doesn't it sound a bit like Muse? Sounds like 'Showbiz' to me?"