Local rock star Mark Mallman has just pulled off a 78 hr straight through/no sleep/alone when the Turf Club was closed rock show, using over 70 different band lineups and no drugs of any kind (except one cup of coffee and one energy drink)! Jesus, dude. That's rock!
From the blog-marathon, amazing in its own right:
As the clock neared 10, Mallman tried to argue against finishing the marathon one last time, crumpling over his keyboard and feebly holding his microphone up to his mouth. "I'm shaking, my legs are shaking! I see Nana! I see Nana!" And with that he slumped down to play dead, his rat assistants motioning for the crowd to cheer him on. This entire 78-hour song has centered around the idea of transformation, and it was time for Mallman to be reborn.
The room exploded as he stood up, picked up his massive 400-page book of lyrics, and started tearing out handfuls of pages and throwing him out into the crowd. He has no use for those lyrics anymore; this particular song will never be performed again. Once all the pages were scattered into the room, he tore out the metal brackets from his three-ring binder and clamped it around his wrist, then picked up the microphone to sing one last time.
"It's all been a dream!" he cried, hoarsely. Again, a lump planted itself in my throat. "It's all been a dream! A dream! A dream!"
Meanwhile, the band was whirring away, Chuck Prophet leading the pack as they descended into total madness. (Side note: I think Prophet should do his own marathon someday, as even his three-hour stint on the guitar tonight left me wanting more.) The lights flashed, the band clashed, and everyone in the room pressed forward and screamed at the top of their lungs.
When he could sing no more, Mallman picked up a handful of the flowers fans had brought to the stage and tore off the petals in his mouth, showering the crowd with spit and daisy shards. He picked up two more daisies and clenched their stems between his teeth, then climbed atop his piano one last time, baring his teeth in an unholy snarl and holding up his index and pinky fingers in the international sign of rock. Mallman was the victor, and the room roared -- it was all we could do to show our gratitude for his unimaginable sacrifice to his art, and the entire front part of the room was left wiping tears off our cheeks.
As if that wasn't enough of an emotional climax, Mallman's dad, John, climbed up on stage as Mark tumbled to the ground, helped his son to his feet, and spoke.
"I'm a marathoner myself, and I know what kind of dedication and support it takes to make it to the end. And Mark, you deserve an award."
He presented Mark with a medallion, which had been recast from three of his own marathon medals, and hung it around his son's neck.
As the band cleared the stage, Mallman stumbled off stage and was quickly whisked away by his support staff, heading out into the night to confront silence for the first time in days and begin his rebirth and recovery.
on Monday, October 11, 2010