Matthew Bellamy Jackson Randy Rhoads

“I just know this is going to suck! I cannot fuckin’ listen to myself!” Seated great on top of the massive drum riser, Tommy Aldridge was fuming. The foundation contains a steel lines developed to create him and his kit appear to flow above the stage. Unfortunately, it was so great that the audio from his observe pitching sand wedges, placed behind him at ground stage, dissipated before it could arrive at him. Tommy screamed down to the observe engineer: “This drum riser’s so great I’m getting a nosebleed!”

Far below him and several legs away, Randy Rhoads craned his throat to get a perspective of Tommy. “We’re going to need field glasses just to see your cues!”

“I do not know how in the terrible I’m going to be able to listen to you people from up here,” Tommy reported. “I can hardly listen to myself.”

Randy agreed. “I can hardly listen to myself with all of the amplifiers invisible by the ridiculous adventure.” Worried that our amplifiers would look out of position in the set, Sharon had made the decision to position them behind the adventure. Consequently, Randy’s audio was muffled and inactive.

“I do not know how we’ll be able to perform like this,” Tommy said, as he used his stays down in disappointment. “Somebody get Sharon on the cellphone.”

Two time later, Sharon came.

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