THE BARD: (David Shaw-Parker) Attend! Attend! I sing the Myth of Orfeas, The greatest musician of the ancient world. So gifted was he, It was said that Orfeas Could make the wild beasts, And trees and stones Dance to his music. The Legend says that he came from the land of Thrace, But I happen to know he was born in Potters Bar, And tonight he is playing the Wembley Arena… Attend! Attend! Attend! Attend!

ORFEAS: (Judge) He was right, that bloke, about making the Stones dance. Well, two of them anyway. At the Speakeasy. Must have been seventy-two. That Jagger can’t half shake a leg… I suppose I’ve got a formula. Well, it works for me. Wear a good suit, sit down to play, And never, never, never, Ever, Sing.

RADIO STATION JINGLE: (Dorie Jackson) Music radio... The Hour of Rock! Mike Tiger! FIRST RADIO INTERVIEW (Judge & David Shaw-Parker) TYGER: My guest today is one of Rock music’s most enduring icons. For over thirty years he’s been one of our most influential guitarists, and I’m delighted to welcome George Orfeas to the show. ORFEAS: Good to be here… TYGER: You’re in the middle of a major tour, with a new album out. So, at the age of fifty-five, you’re not slowing down yet. ORFEAS: Fifty-five; yes, thanks for reminding me about that, Mike. Well, I still seem to be able to find new things in the music, and as long as that’s happening, I might as well carry on. TYGER: The album’s called ‘Live and Kicking’ and it’s new performances of your classic numbers. It has been a while since we heard any completely new material from you… ORFEAS: Well, it’s true I’m not writing anywhere near as much as I used to, but I think people want to hear me improvise. That’s what I do. The solos. And if an old tune of mine still inspires me to do something exciting with it, I’m happy to keep playing it. TYGER: How do you account for your phenomenal ability to do that; to constantly find new ways of putting notes together? ORFEAS: I think I must have a special brain. All I know is I pick up old ‘Furry Dice’ and off I go. I don’t have to think about it much. TYGER: ‘Furry Dice’, that’s your guitar, isn’t it. I did read somewhere that you stole it. ORFEAS: Oh right, now it’s the lawyers… Yes, well, I might have said that a long time ago. I think I was trying to sound hard. The truth is I found her. I came back off-stage to the dressing-room one night, on the first ever tour I did, and it was locked, the room, by the way, and there it was, an old guitar on the table. Don’t know how it got there. Nobody claimed it, but she suited me a treat, so I’ve still got her. Never play anything else in fact. It’s a weird make of guitar as well. The lettering’s really worn, but I think it says ‘Furry Dice’, and I’ve never managed to find out anything about it. TYGER: You have interests outside music as well, don’t you. You collect and restore classic cars. ORFEAS: Just Bristol Cars, Mike. Yes, I’ve got a few of them. Lovely things. And I’m single again now, for the second time, so, y’know, a boy needs a hobby. Yeah, the big Bristols are what I go for…Cars.. and wives, as a matter of fact. TYGER: And on that note, George Orfeas, thank you for joining us on the Mike Tyger Hour of Rock. ORFEAS: Always a pleasure, sir. TYGER: And you can catch George and his band at the National Indoor Arena in Birmingham on Wednesday…

ORFEAS: (Judge) Off they go. Look at their little heads bobbing up and down. Like a bunch of bloody meerkats. It wouldn’t matter what I played. I could be doing complete crap, and they’d still think it was the voice of God. Well, only two more gigs to go, and then bollocks to the lot of them. Six months off, At least. Do the Gumball Rally in the 407, Finish restoring the 402, Lovely… Hang on. Time to do a bit… All right, you lucky people. You may know this one from off the telly, but we call it ‘Wolfman George’!

ORFEAS: (Judge) Right, Ronnie’s big accordion work-out bollocks. Time for me to slip off for a cup of tea and a reefer. Guitar on the stand. And a modest exit…. Better. Much better. I’m fed up with this. I’m going to have a word with Morris about my Pension Fund, See if I can’t knock this on the head for good. I’m bored…. Right, time for the big finish. And where’s the guitar? Where’s the guitar? WHERE’S THE GUITAR? What do you mean, you don’t know. No one’s moved it? It was here, on the fucking stage. Someone’s had it away. Some wanker’s come up on stage, under your fucking noses, And had it! Get me the manager of this dump!

THE BARD: (David Shaw-Parker) And so it was that Orfeas Lost Eurydice, The most precious thing in his life, And, in his torment, so the story goes, He descended to the Land of the Dead to find her, And Orfeas so charmed the Lords of the Underworld with his music, That he was permitted to return, with Eurydice, to the living Earth, But on one condition; That he did not once look behind him…

ORFEAS: (Judge) Right. That’s it. Cancel the rest of the tour. How could that have happened? My guitar! My ‘Furry Dice’ Security? Bastards! Safe in the motor, and off home. Feel better in here. The relaxing smell of Connolly hide upholstery. She used to say it stunk of money, Well she should know, She’s got half of it now. A fine car never lets you down. Just push with your foot and you’re in a different place, Push harder and you’re there quicker, And the quicker I go, the better I like it. Cuilfail Tunnel coming up fast. Once I’m through there, I always feel better. Five minutes and I’m at my place, Away from all the shit. Got the wall, the gates, CCTV, Just please myself… Here’s the tunnel. Let her rip… Oops... Too much torque! Oh fuck!

ORFEAS: (Judge) That hurt so much!… What a bloody mess… Okay now though. Quite comfy. Bit dark though, Dark and floaty. I’m moving again… On through the tunnel… It’s that music that’s doing it… The tunnel’s nowhere near this long. Oh sod! I’m dead, aren’t I… Oh no, I knew it; I’m dead And Hell is a disco… I hate this music, it’s making me fly… I don’t like flying. I think I’m gonna be sick…

ORFEAS: (Judge) Where am I? EURYDICE: (Lene Lovich) Evidently you’re here. But I wasn’t expecting to see you quite so soon. ORFEAS: Am I dead? EURYDICE: I suppose… But you don’t look quite right. You’re a bit too transparent. ORFEAS: Who are you? EURYDICE: I am Eurydice… Eu-ry-di-ce... Eurydice Ring a bell? Ring a bell? Orfeas? ‘Eurydice’, not ‘Furry Dice’, you idiot. ORFEAS: What are you? EURYDICE: I’m a Muse. Your Muse, unfortunately. ORFEAS: What does that mean? EURYDICE: Don’t you know anything? But then you’ve always been a bit dense, That’s why we had to send you that ridiculous magic guitar, You wouldn’t have picked up my music without it. ORFEAS: What do you mean, your music? EURYDICE: You don’t think that you made it all yourself, do you? You and your ‘Special Brain’? No one makes music out of nothing, You pick stuff up On the solar wind Then you change it and improve it, Or change it and spoil it. You were a good improver, George, But you went off. You didn’t want the music any more And so it was taken away. ORFEAS: The music in my head; was that all you, then? EURYDICE: Well done, George. Right in one. ORFEAS: Oh shit… And someone nicked my guitar. EURYDICE: My guitar. That was us too ORFEAS: Oh shit… And why am I singing? I never sing. EURYDICE: Everyone sings, All the time. It’s just easier to hear it where we are. ORFEAS: Is this Heaven? EURYDICE: Well it usually is for me. ORFEAS: If this is Heaven, is there a Hell? EURYDICE: They always want to know about Hell. Okay George, hold on tight, We’re going down…

EURYDICE: (Lene Lovich) …Don’t be afraid, George, They can’t see you. They can’t see anything except themselves. That’s why they’re here.

WILLEM: (René Van Commenée) Lords of Darkness, hear our plea. We have faithfully served thee, Doing evil constantly. Our usefulness now is spent, And to this hell we have been sent, Tormented for your merriment. Cast out to this dreadful place, Deprived of your Satanic grace, Expiating our disgrace. And we breathe the dust Of the vile crust And the foul stench Of the Black Trench As we crawl on the Carpet of Bones. Bones! Bones! Bones! Bones! Numberless skeletons spread on the stones. Bones! Bones! Bones! Bones! This is the fate of those Satan disowns. Bones! Bones! Bones! Bones! He smiles at our screaming, and laughs at our groans. Bones! Bones! Bones! Bones! As we slowly sink into the Carpet of Bones. Ingemisco, tamquam reus: Culpa rubet vultus meus: Supplicanti parce, Deus... Prisoners in a poisoned land, Numberless as grains of sand, Crushed beneath your cruel hand. We wander this scorching plain, Dead in body, dead in brain, All is horror, all is pain. No one told us of the rule That Satan always spoils his tools. We knew nothing. We were fools. And we feel the breath Of the Second Death As we feebly curse At the universe And we crawl on the Carpet of Bones. Bones! Bones! Bones! Bones! Satan the banker has called in his loans. Bones! Bones! Bones! Bones! Our mortal souls are the assets he owns. Bones! Bones! Bones! Bones! Reason and sanity cast from their thrones, Bones! Bones! Bones! Bones! Driven insane on the Carpet of Bones.

ORFEAS: (Judge) Well he must have been pretty evil. EURYDICE: (Lene Lovich) Willem? Dear me, no, he was just an Insurance Broker, Scarcely even naughty. He just has the wrong idea about a few things. ORFEAS: So now he’s down here being punished. EURYDICE: No no no. People are here Because they think they’re here. And when they don’t think that they’re here, They won’t be... And now I think we won’t be…

ORFEAS:(Judge) Woah...Off again. Not so bad when you get used to it...

EURYDICE: (Lene Lovich) I thought so. You’re going to have to go back, George. It seems that you didn’t die quite enough. ORFEAS: (Judge) I don’t want to go back without my music. That’s what I do. That’s what I am. That’s what I’m for... Please…. What’s your name again? EURYDICE: Eu - Ry - Di – Ce ORFEAS: Eu - Ry - Di - Ce… Please, EuRyDiCe Let me have my music back. Give me another chance. I’ve been a dickhead. EURYDICE: That’s not for me to say, But you’re here at the right time, Our grand musicians’ festival. Look over there, just behind those stars. What do you see? ORFEAS: Okay, You may be real, This place may be real, But that! That is just my imagination. EURYDICE: Of course it is. What else is there? The universe is just imagination. So what do you imagine you see?

ORFEAS: (Judge) I see a table a hundred miles long A feast for thousands And they are all musicians, Of every time and place. And some I can recognise That must be Beethoven, But he seems to be wearing Jeans and a biker jacket And there’s Frank Zappa Swapping groupie stories with Mozart, Stravinsky arguing with Charlie Parker, And Freddy Mercury drinking champagne with Schubert, And Howling Wolf looks like he’s getting off With Hildegard of Bingen. And figures in robes from who knows where or when, All the Great Forgotten Maestros. And there, at the head of the table, Old Man Bach, who seems to like his beer, Beams at us through the bottom of a stein As big as the Crab Nebula.

EURYDICE: (Lene Lovich) Orfeas, you’re on now. When did you last do an audition? ORFEAS: (Judge) What? EURYDICE: Play for them, George, They might just give you what you want. ORFEAS: But I’ve just lost my guitar... Sorry, your guitar. EURYDICE: Can you imagine it? ORFEAS: Of course I can, I remember every little crack, Every mark on her. I remember every inch. EURYDICE: Oh, look what you just did. ORFEAS: My guitar! My ‘Furry Dice’ You’re back! How did that happen? EURYDICE: Not now, George, just play something... And today would be good.

EURYDICE: (Lene Lovich) Well that wasn’t too bad for you, Grandstanding in the coda, as usual, But it seems to have gone down well. And the marks are in; Douze Points! Well done. I think you’re getting somewhere with them, But it looks like it’s time to go back, You’re fading fast. It’s not your time It’s not your time It’s not your time And the Powers of Music say I can go with you again. My voice will always be there Inside your stupid head. But the Powers also say That if you once look behind you On the journey you’re going to make You will lose me forever. You will lose me forever. So don’t look back. Don’t look back… Don’t look back… Don’t look back…

RADIO STATION JINGLE: (Dorie Jackson) Music radio... The Hour of Rock! Mike Tiger! TYGER:( David Shaw-Parker) Just over a year ago, the musical world was shocked to hear that George Orfeas, the doyen of British Guitarists, was close to death, following a catastrophic car accident in a road tunnel near his Sussex home. Against all medical predictions, he survived, made a full recovery, and he’s with us today on the Mike Tyger Hour of Rock. Welcome back George. You’re looking well. ORFEAS: (Judge) Good as new Mike. Thank you. TYGER: But your recovery has been quite a struggle. ORFEAS: Well, it took a lot of time, and a lot of work, other people’s mostly, for which I’ll always be grateful, particularly as it was my own stupid fault I smashed up in the first place. TYGER: I understand that, at the time, you had some sort of Near Death Experience. ORFEAS: Well, something happened. It’s all a bit hazy, but I went somewhere and met someone, or something, And I might have had to stay there, but in the end I got sent back. I don’t remember much about it, but I’m a different person as a result, that’s for sure. TYGER: In what way? ORFEAS: Well, I’m bloody glad to be alive, for one thing, that’s new for me, and, you know my career better than most, Mike. I’ve been playing the same sort of thing for years, kind of resting on my whatsernames. TYGER: Laurels. ORFEAS: Yeah, and now I just can’t do that any more. I can’t look back. I’ve got to go forward, do different things, play different music. I just feel I must not look back. TYGER: And you’re on the road again. ORFEAS: Yes, but now we’re playing smaller clubs. That’s something different after all those years in the stadiums and arenas. It’s very exciting for me; getting back to where I started. TYGER: With the same band? ORFEAS: Same guys, with Ronnie on the squeezebox and everything, but I’ve also been working with the American rapper and producer Hi Crimes, and he’s come on the road with us. The hip-hop thing is a whole new sound for us; opens up all kinds of possibilities. TYGER: So what kind of music can people expect? ORFEAS: It’s all new material. I don’t do any of my old stuff now. That’s all behind me. Sorry, but if people want to hear those tunes, they’ve got the albums. These days, it’s no looking back for old George. TYGER: And your famous guitar survived the crash too. ORFEAS: Eurydice? Unscathed. There’s a hundred-and-fifty grand’s worth of motor smashed to pieces, me with a dozen broken bones and lord knows what else, and Eurydice is in what’s left of the boot with not a scratch on her. The funny thing is that it shouldn’t have been in the car in the first place. I swear that guitar’s got a mind of its own. TYGER: (to fade) So how’s this new direction going down with your fans? Has there been any protest about you not playing your classic hits any more?

ORFEAS: (Judge) Yeah, back where I started, Playing in toilets for crap money. The fans don’t like the new numbers Or the new guitar sounds. Everyone thinks I’ve gone loopy. Can’t afford to keep the band on much longer. Thank you very much Ladies and Gentlemen, That was ‘Fishin’ In The Styx’. Well, Hello Swindon! It’s good to be back at ‘The Bird in Hand’. It’s been a while since I played here last. I think they still had the gas lighting… But I was pleased to find that my chewing gum’s still stuck under the table…Thank you...This one’s called ‘Don’t Deafen Me, Persephone. I Heard You the First Time’.

HI CRIMES: (David Shaw-Parker) Yo, check out my man Orfeas. They call him the modern Lazarus, ‘Coz the guy died; he was broke inside, He was deep fried, when he totalled his ride, A candidate for formaldehyde. Well, that’s what the doctors diagnosed, He was gone, he was toast, no more’n a ghost. And as he bled, on his death bed, His soul was led to the Land of the Dead, And what he saw there changed his head, ‘Cos he spoke with Angels, and the babes all said Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Never look back. (Yo, Big ‘O’!) Don’t look back. (Yeah...) (Word up!) And they said it ain’t his time to go, So he say ‘Cheerio’ to the Place Below, And before you know, the medico Find his heart beating out fortissimo. So now he’s back, playing fast, showing class, All the rockers he surpass; An’ now, he gettin’ Hip Hop on their ass, With the dope beats of MC Crimes, And my fresh rhymes, he’s changing the paradigm With the message he brought back from Hell That he’s compelled to tell, so listen well. He say Don’t look back. (Yo, Big ‘O’) Don’t look back. (Word up, y’all) Don’t look back. (Check it!) Never look back. (Sheet!) ORFEAS: (Judge) Thank you, thank you...Maxwell Blow, saxophone!.. and MC Hi Crimes! Thank-you-very-much!..

THE BARD: (David Shaw-Parker) But despite the dreadful warnings, Orfeas Turned his head Just once, and Looked behind him. And in that instant, Eurydice vanished once more Into the Underworld. And Orfeas was never to hear her voice again In this life.

ORFEAS: (Judge) It’s a brilliant offer Could save my bacon A mega festival in Czecho Second billing on the final night. Silly money, And a big-budget concert movie off the back of it But they say I have to play the old repertoire, all the hits. I said I wasn’t going to do this, But I’ve got to take it. And just once more through for old time’s sake What harm could it do?

DJ/MC: (Lene Lovich) Okay.... I have an announcement. We are sorry but George Orfeas will be unable to continue tonight. He’s okay, but he’s not feeling well and so there will be no performance by the George Orfeas Band... So now we go on to our next band, and I’d like you to welcome to the stage the Dark Gods of Metal themselves! It’s Bacchus!

SINGER: (René van Commenée) So that was the great Orfeas... I think he’s too old to play his guitar. What do you think, Mogadon? MOGADON: (Judge) (Pitch-shifted roar) SINGER: Our bass-player agrees with me... We are Bacchus and we are here to make you insane! And we dedicate this first number to Orfeas. This is for you, Mr Orfeas. Bacchus says Tear Him Asunder!.... MOGADON: Behold our mad and beautiful Bacchantes. Each one a pure and deadly praying mantis. She’ll cut your head off just so she can surprise us With her pretty, bloody gift for Dionysus. SINGER: He is your teacher, he is your priest… Tear him asunder! He is the God of your Fathers… Tear him asunder! He is your Master, he is your king… Tear him asunder! He is your Grandfather, he is your Father… Tear him asunder! He grows weak… You are strong… Sacrifice!…Sacrifice!… He is old… You are young… Sacrifice!…Sacrifice!… The Rout of Bacchus comes!… MOGADON: Euhoe bacchantes, euhoe capita inflectentes. harum pars tecta quatiebant cuspide thyrsos, pars e divolso iactabant membra iuvenco... SINGER: He is Light and he is Reason… Tear him asunder! He is Order and Due Process… Tear him asunder! He is Prudence and Good Council… Tear him asunder! He is your Rock, he is your Anchor… Tear him asunder! Feast on his flesh… Gnaw his bones… Sacrifice!…Sacrifice!… Scatter his limbs… Dance on his dust… Sacrifice!…Sacrifice!… The Rout of Bacchus comes! He grows weak… You are strong… Sacrifice!…Sacrifice!… He is old… You are young… Sacrifice!…Sacrifice!… Sacrifice!…Sacrifice!…

THE BARD: (David Shaw-Parker) According to Legend, Orfeas was indeed torn to pieces By the frenzied Followers of Bacchus, But I happen to know He just quietly retired, And lost all his money investing in a chain of city centre pubs. And I suppose, In the long run, That amounts To much The same Thing… Attend!…Attend!…Attend!…Attend!…