HardCoreJaz Interviews No. 02

This story was adapted from a chat play between myself and an anonymous partner.

We've made arrangements by email to do this. I slip backstage as I know most of the staff at the Funky Underground by name. It's a second home for me and the soundman doesn't bat an eye as I pass him and head down the dingy hallway. Peeking in the room I see my interview and step inside.

"Hey," I say, my dark eyes wide and shining, chol rimmed in Egyptian style and shadowed in violet. My skin is light brown and my hair is black, undercut and pulled back, a small bundle of dreads trailing. I'm 5-ft-3 but a bit taller with my platform strap boots. I'm wearing a cotton mini dress, black, off the shoulders and clingy to my small chest and wider hips. My nose is pointy and has a silver hoop in the left lobe. A matching hoop is in my brow. Silver daggers hang from my ears on tiny chains with multiple studs above. I have my favorite skull embossed bangles on my wrists and my faded tattered jean jacket currently pushed off of one shoulder. My legs are bare from the short hem of the dress to the tops of my boots and most of the sorceress inked onto my thigh is visible. "I'm Jaz," I greet him, raising my bottle of Stella. "Great show guys! I'm here for the interview."

"Fuuuckk," he moans out loud as he runs a hand through his sweaty blonde curls. Christian is sprawled back on the old dingy sofa in a black Nike tee and long shorts and has stud through his septum. The other two members of the trio, Dave and Andy, are milling about with a couple of other local girls and don't seem to pay us much mind. Christian tugs the sweaty t-shirt upwards showing off the pale flesh of his trim abs. "Hey Jaz, we have an after party if you just wanna do a quick one here?" he calls to me. "Or follow us through the night? It's up to you," he offers as he leans forward to shake my hand. Then he grabs a water bottle.

"Yeah, party at Sly's," I confirm. "At least until Sly's neighbors call the cops." I take another sip of my beer, adding to my high. I did a bunch of E before the show and it probably shows in my eyes. "We can go there but we should go before it gets too full."

"Damn, how did you know?" he asks somewhat surprised. "Yeah, I mean I understand that but he won't not let us in. We just headlined," he laughs. "This can be like your night with the hottest band in the world... give or take five years," he adds as he downs his water." I can only smirk at his remark, 'hottest band in the world'. That is some ego. "Let's just go in five minutes. We can start here and then go?"

"This is Seattle. This is my scene," I tell him. "I know everything. I know everyone here, including Sly. He's my homey," I wink. "Five minutes it is. I can finish this," I say as I take another swig. "Although I could sneak it out too, hah."

"Yeah, I mean I never even been out on the west coast until like five hours ago so yeah, I'll delegate to you," he says. He sounds a bit fucked up. It's rock and roll. "Just bring it, wait was it? We can split it if you don't wanna finish?"

"Fuck it," I say and toss my head back as I pour the rest of the beer down my throat. A dribble runs from the corner of my mouth at the end. I wipe it with my finger and laugh. "Haha, so ladylike, I know." Christian's eyes widen as he watches me chug. He seems impressed. Then I put the empty down, adding it to the haphazard collection on the end table.

"Wow remember how the grinch's heart grew?" he laughs. "Mine just did too."

"So, ready to meet Sly?" I ask.

"Sure Jaz, I'm ready to go," he says. He stands up, grabs another water and a beer, stuffing the beer in his back pocket. "Water's really my biggest vice besides beer and some dab pens," he says. "I'm always buying it. It's terrible for the environment but we can't drink the water where we live. You can write that down," tells me as he holds out his hand. We're getting friendly already.

"All right then," I say with a sparkle in my eye. I turn and lead him out by the hand, my shoulder nearly bumping the doorway as that last swig kinda hits my bloodstream. I make a left and head back up the hall the way that I came, brofisting with the soundman and waving to the bouncer Drake.

"Found one?" Drake asks with a wink.

"Goin' to Sly's," I tell him and head to the front door. We file out behind the exiting crowd and into the street and I give my jacket a flap letting the night air lick the perspiration from my skin. A car has to slow for us as we jaywalk to the other side and into Sly's building, the people before us holding the door open. It's an older building and the elevator is slow and full so we take the stairs to the third floor. From there we follow the sound and PGMG is playing on Sly's turntable as we walk in. There are already twenty or thirty people jammed in here. "Sly!" I say as I put my free arm around him. He's 6-ft-5 and has a huge fro.

"Sup Jaz?" he greets us as he hands both of us a Rainier and gives Christian a nod.

"Hey Sly. I'm Christian. I just headlined tonight, the drummer from Stuck in Japan. I think someone from the label invited us. I don't know. I was just told to come here. It's a nice place," says my interview as he reaches out to bump knuckles. I can see Christian's eyes checking out all the other girls.

"There no invites, just come brothah," Sly says in his easy tone. "I saw the show. Cheers," he says and clinks his bottle to Christian's.

"Cheers," I join in. Then Sly moves on as he greets more people at the door. Once he's gone, Christian turns to me.

"So Jaz, where do you want to do this interview?" he asks.

"Let's try the balcony," I say. "Probably the only place quiet enough." Then I lead him between the bodies across the room. The ceiling is lined with holiday lights in funky colors all glowing bright and dimming again. Stepping through the sliding glass door, we're on the little balcony. There are three people on the other end passing a joint. Down below we see the club across the street. I take out my phone/camera to get ready for the interview while Christian indulgently inhales the second-hand smoke. Someone from inside the room calls out to him and he shouts back.

"Should I just start and introduce myself or?" he asks me.

"I gotta frame up," I tell him. "You look great right there except that you're backlit. You're basically a shadow on the camera," I explain. "You'll have to stand against the wall under the lamp," I wave him over to the left. Then I move the lone patio table into position as it will end up as a tripod. Phone in my hands, I start recording with a shot of the club below. The video goes like this.

People are milling about on the sidewalk, smoking and criss-crossing the wide street between the sparse traffic. The music and voices of Sly's party behind me are humming in the background.

"Hey, this is HardCoreJaz with Christian Rheun from Stuck in Japan who just played a sweaty set at the Funky Underground. We're just across the street at Sly's," I begin. Then I pan the camera over to Tristan, standing dishevelled and smiling against the side wall of the patio and set it down carefully on the table, it's case folding into a prop-up. The picture is a bit jiggly as I do this. "Is that how you pronounce it? Rune?" I ask him. He has a pensive look.

"Um, it's Run," he corrects me with a wink and runs his fingers through his thick blonde tangles. Suddenly Mr Rock Star seems a bit camera shy. "Do I look good?" he asks, his eyes looking above the frame to me behind the table, then follow me around to his side.

"Don't be shy," I tease him as I join him in the frame now that my hands are free. I lean back against the wall and rub my shoulder into his arm rather playfully as I clink bottles with him. Silver titles with a black shade appear beneath across the bottom of the screen: "CHRISTIAN RHEUN - Stuck in Japan / HardCoreJaz". Then I look into the camera. "So if you've never heard of these guys you've basically been on a desert island for the past six months. Either that or you just aint cool," I explain. "Christian is the drummer and main songwriter producer, yadayada." I turn to him. "Did I get that all right?" I ask.

"Everything," he confirms. "I make the music, compose it and with any electronic stuff I do all that." At that point there's some off camera ribbing as the other two band members snicker to try to distract Christian. He seems unfazed as he gazes down into my eyes.

"So first question," I pose. "What's it like to be Stuck in Japan?" I ask with a clever wink. Christian laughs before answering.

"God, y-you sound like my... my grandparents when I told them the name," he sputters. "I mean... it's all right. It's a good time I think," he says as my arm slips behind him to curl around his waist as I cozy up before the next question.

"So you've been together for two years. How did you guys meet?"

"Well, I knew Dave since junior year of high school and met Andy freshman year in my first dorm when I was making garage band mixes and then we just kinda said 'let's try out a band' and add some of my mixing skills and we just blew up from there," he explains as his arm reciprocates around my shoulders. He smiles down at me and takes another pull from his beer.

"And that was in New York, right?" I follow up. "Which college?"

"Yeah, New York, New Jersey area, but a lot of days spent in central Jersey hanging out until college which was NYU and then it was a bit of the city and a lot of time in The Bronx," he relates. "I like flavor, ya know?" he smiles and laughs, getting more comfortable with the camera.

"So the three of you have been doing this for two years now and you don't hate each other yet?" I smirk. My fingertips give him a little squeeze around his waist while I drink some more listening to his answer and watching his face intently.

"Yeah, no not at all I, think we keep a good distance and we, ya know, like hanging out but we're also only two albums in so..." he shrugs and laughs again after flinching from my little affectionate squeeze had caught him off guard. Reaching out, I put my bottle down on the table next to the camera. It sits just on the edge of the frame but being so close to the lens it's a dark brown blur. Now with my hand free I reach up to run my fingers through his unruly bangs, sweeping them aside to see his young blushing face better. His locks are drying but the roots are still wet on my fingertips.

"I like your hair. You have nice hair," I say, then laugh quietly. A drunken grin slowly parts his lips.

"I like yours too," he says. "It's really soft." Then his hands tease up to my bundle and trace down it's length to my lower back. "You can touch it Jaz. It feels really good," he says with a bit of a slur as his hands creep down towards my ass.

"Haha," I laugh playfully as I take the elastic out and shake my hair loose, my drunk body wavering against his, my small breast nudging into his ribs. "Next question," I put things back on track. "Like the show was tonight, your music is high energy with a definite urban streak," I set it up. His body pushes up against me and we jostle on our inebriated legs. He looks back to the camera, definitely losing his stagefright. The curl of his fingers can be seen around my lower back. "Some of it reminds me of Beastie Boys actually. Much of it is danceable but it's definitely not mainstream. How would you describe your sound?"

"Oh man, I'd actually go... way more modern," he exaggerates, the booze talking now. "Infectious energy like Lil Uzi and maybe some 1975, and Vampire Weekend but wayyy less preppy," he laughs and inhales more second-hand weed. My eyes actually blinks with a hint of sting from the cloud wafting our way. Unseen behind the camera, someone leaves the patio and a couple more join in.

"Hey Jaz," someone calls out to me. For the record, it's a friend of mine named CJ who plays bass in a local band called Landshark.

"Hey," I smile back.

"What's goin' on?" he asks.

"I'm doing an interview," I shoo him away with a laugh.

"Interview?"

"Yes, shhh," I shush him and return my attention to Christian. "So your first album was 2016 Dreams," I say. "What's the significance of the date November 6th?" He looks at me, furrowing his brow in inquisition. He's not expecting this question as I reference the title of one of his songs.

"Yea uh," he chuckles briefly while forming his answer. "We made that in 2018," he starts and then pauses again in drunken thought. "We just all missed 2016 like that was a transformative year, ya know?" he says and then finishes off the last of her beer and carelessly plunks the empty bottle on the table. My eyes widen in apprehension as I watch it teeter and wobble, hoping that it doesn't bump the camera, but it manages to settle standing up near the edge on the left side of the frame. "And God, November 6th was like the end of the era," Christian continues. "The fucking idiot got elected and it's been terrible since, so it's like the turning point of the album too," he says as his arm wraps around my waist. The camera shows the ends of his fingers curling around my ass.

"Fuck, sorry Jaz," he says but his smile isn't so apologetic.

"It's okay," I say softly as I reach my other arm up across his shoulder and my lips inch closer to his. He bites his lip.

"I must be drunk but your eyes are so pretty. They're like diamonds," he says quietly. It's meant as a compliment, obviously. I rise to my tiptoes and wrap both of arms up and around his neck to press my lips to his mouth, my drunken stance leaning against him and crushing my little chest into his. He pulls me in and we kiss, slowly and sweetly, stroking tongues on one another's. When our lips part, he holds my face in his hands. "Fuck, that was nice," his voice trails off before he indulges in a second kiss and my mouth opens wide in invitation.

"I thought it was an interview," CJ calls out again from off camera. I take one hand from Christian's neck and give him a playful middle finger without breaking the kiss.

"He's right, we should keep interviewing," Christian stops to speak. "I think we're just drunk," he adds as he stares into my eyes, captivated. He leans back against the wall with his hand firmly planted on my booty and I nuzzle in. "So next question right?"

"Next question," I smile broadly. "So the next album was Abducted and picked up where the first one left off. Was there a social commentary in the title or are you just into the whole sci-fi thing?"

"I, hmm.," he struggles to compose his response. He seems distracted by my little body in his hands. "It's more of an we're abducted by fame and we have a lot sci-fi references in our music too," he grins.

"Well, the band's popularity has certainly exploded in the past few months," I remark. "You've been touring a lot, if you check the dates on your website. Maybe mention some of the places you've been since the record came out?" I suggest as I lean into him again, my arm tightening around his waist.

"Uh yes, of course... we can," he continues to struggle. His words are slurring with drink. "We've mostly been in the east coast. My favorite spot so far has been Florida. I love Orlando and I think we're gonna record there next," he says.

"Oh really?" my eyes light up for this big scoop for my blog. "In Orlando. Is there someone that you're going to record with?"

"Mickey," he jokes. "No, I'm not sure. I don't really like features besides singles?" he answers with trepidation. He has misunderstood the question. "I just think I'm ready to go all out with this one," he smiles.

"So you're just going to continue to self produce?" I pose, clarifying my line of query. A couple more people join the balcony off camera, adding to the background chatter.

"Yeah, I mean... if there's someone who can make nice synths and like want to stick to our vision then sure, but overall I feel comfortable in going down there," he explains as his hand palms my back. "It's a really nice spot, hot girls, fun, tourism. It's a great place to be single young and a rock star," he elaborates. Then his tone changes as he senses the party encroaching upon us. "Hey, should we move?" he asks.

"We could take this somewhere else, yeah," I nod with a bashful grin. "You think?"

"Yeah, lead the way. I just want you to have a good interview," he says.

Just then someone bumps the table and it rocks. The picture slants and pans as the camera slides nearly off the edge and my beer bottle topples and rolls off. A wet clompshh is heard as it smashes and spatters on the concrete.

"Shit," I say and grab my camera. "All right, we're just going change venues and continue on with Christian Rheun, young single rock star, hahaa, of Stuck in Japan," I say into the lens and then hit pause.

The video stops. Taking his hand I head for the patio door.

"What about the interview?" CJ calls.

"I think they're makin' a porn," says another voice in the dark. I flip two fingers, English punk style in their direction and step back into the party. It's loud and crowded now. We have to slip between the bodies as we make our way to the front door, nearly stumbling into the hall.

"We gotta find a spot," I say looking up and down the hall.

"Well, we can go anywhere? Back to the bus?" he suggests. "Also, those dudes fucking suck," he laughs. "They need to just let you work.

"Hey, it's a party," I shrug. "What do I expect?" Then I head for the elevator. "Back to your bus?" I shrug again. "Sounds good to me." The elevator opens and four more partiers filter out, dressed in leather and smelling like weed. "Shall we?"

"Yeah, of course," Christian says as he barges through the disembarking quartet. Once alone in the elevator, he grabs me by the hips and pulls me close for a kiss. I fumble with the flap on the front pocket of my jean jacket trying to slip my phone inside with one hand while my other wraps around him and my lips press to his. Eventually I succeed, freeing up both arms to hold him and tilt my head back to open wide and take his tongue fully inside my mouth. My back thumps against the wall and the doors close. One of us is going to have to push the button, I suppose but I have other priorities, namely his body crushed up against mine while we snog drunkenly. Then the elevator begins to descend as someone pushed the call button from below. Christian has me pinned to the wall and two handfuls of my booty as the elevator jerks to a halt, kinking my knees. The bell softly dings and the doors glide open to the busy chatter of the lobby. When the crowd sees us they begin to hoot and cheer us on as they pile in. Phones come out for pictures. We've created a scene and I chuckle, half-blushing.

"All right Christian!" someone shouts and more voices chime in with encouragement.

"There's too many people in here," some girl remarks.

"The sign says 'max 6 persons'," another guy reads, inciting more laughter from the crowd.

Christian stops, takes my hand and leads me through the crowd and out onto the street. There's no traffic at the moment, so we jog across and step around the corner of the building. Once in the alley, he grabs me and kisses me again, softly this time.

"Call an Uber?" he changes the plan.

"So where's that van of yours?" I press in mild frustration.

"The van smells and is way too crowded. I don't even know who would be in it honestly. I'd feel ungentlemanly," he says with a quiet nervous laugh.

"Well then, let's just go back across the street," I say in a bit if a huff. He's being rather primadonna-ish. I lead him back across the street to Sly's building and in the front door as someone walks out.

"Hey Jaz," he says. I'm not sure who he is but people on the scene seem to know me. I give him a nod and a smile. The lobby has thinned out. Everyone must be up at Sly's.