So - Eddie has a Tiktok and he's reasonably successful for a small creator. He shares haphazard clips of hauling gear (or, more specifically, Jeff bitching about hauling gear) in/out of the van, rehearsal photos in black and white, the occasional photo with the stray CC fan they encounter in meatspace or after a gig. Corroded Coffin are working their way towards being a presence in Indy and Eddie's Tiktok has brought them a long way already.
But then - another creator on the platform starts a fun little tag, inviting musicians to do a song their fans would NEVER expect them to know, much less love enough to do their own version of it.
So Eddie decides to do his take on the tag - perched on a stool in front of his phone and he's grinning like he's just heard some really tasty gossip on the devil.
"I saw this goin' around and I saw all the little sheepies in the comment section for the last two or three days - 'ohh, Eddie! when are you doing the pick-your-song tag?' 'oh, Eddie, do you have anything you could do for the pick-your-song tag'? Well, as it happens, children - yes, yes, I do." He leans over a bit and grabs his acoustic guitar, straightening up in his seat to rest the well-loved instrument in his lap.
"This one goes out to a certain someone, who knows exactly who they are -- nooot the creator of the tag, by the way, hi Dave, howareya-- entirely and completely and utterly fuck you, too. By the way," he tacks on, clearing his throat a little before he jerks his chin at someone just off-screen.
Jeff steps into the edge of the shot with his saxophone and launches into the unmistakable refrain of "Problem" by Ariana Grande.
Eddie looks back at the camera and winks before he starts playing his own simpified acoustic version of the song, his raspy voice adding an unmistakable rock edge to the normally sugary-sweet song.
"Head in the clouds, got no weight on my shoulders / I should be wiser and realize I've got one less problem without ya..."
Jeff adds his voice to the chorus behind Eddie, whispering 'one less problem withoutcha' as Gareth steps in from the other side of the shot, on Eddie's left. He's got a bass drum strapped to his chest, the volume of the thing nearly buzzing out the speakers on Eddie's phone. But if anything, Eddie just grins bigger as he keeps playing - adding a bit of flourish and some headbanging, throwing himself into the performance just as much as if it was one of his own songs.
They cut it short, just before what would have been a rap break in the original and Eddie hops up from his stool, running back up to his phone and covering the screen with his hand, with the clip ending there, on his cheeky, smirking face.
The comments start flooding in almost immediately and people are losing their shit. There's the odd 'sellout!' from the occasional random dickhead, but that's to be expected in just about every comment section online, so Eddie doesn't pay them much attention.
Another significant chunk of the comments are solely devoted to the subject of the especially emphatic 'fuck you' at the start of the video and the identity of the person it was intended for. Eddie smirks to himself as he scrolls through screen after screen of threads, many of them starting with "???????????!!!!" and "WHO TF ?!" Which - if he was feeling petty (and why wouldn't he right now?), he'd be delighting in the threads where people are dogpiling on the intended target of the song. But as it is - he's just really pleased they were able to nail the snippet in one go.
Gareth makes a sour face at him as he stomps his way out, still lugging the monstrous bass drum on his chest, "We'd better make bank on this, Eddie, or so help me," he grumbles as he goes. He'd had to borrow the bass drum from his little sis, who was in the Hawkins High marching band, and he had to go home to settle up with her.
Eddie glances up from his phone with a cackle. "Ohh, you. I'll make it up to you and your dignity soon enough, G-man, don't you worry your pretty little head."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Gareth mutters, flapping a hand at him as he waddles off down the drive to try to Tetris the bass drum back into his parent's compact car.
Still snickering to himself, Eddie shakes his head as he returns his attention to his phone. Refreshing the comments, he sees one that just looks different. Frowning a bit, he taps it to unfold the whole thing and his eyebrows lift in surprise.
@thatrecorddoohickey Wow, man. Not sure who you're singing about, but it sounds like you're much better off without them! PS: This is my new favorite Ariana Grande song. My very first one. So... thanks? lol
Eddie taps into the person's profile and bites his lip. Steve Harrington. He'd recognized the user name, but he'd been hoping he'd been hallucinating or having a temporary stroke or something. Steve Harrington was the lead editor for the indie/internet music desk at Rolling Stone. Anybody who had a lick of sense wanted this guy's attention.
Eddie Munson had Steve Harrington's attention. And he absolutely did NOT want it.