@theresastargirl sent 🎤 to find Liam making music
People, like blood through veins, pumped through the tunnels of the London Underground. Another heartbeat with every tube that arrived. Pumping more people to hasten for the escalators and taking those waiting by the platform. It was a constant coming and going. So many people that they weren’t even people any more. Just masses. Never stopping. Never looking. Never listening.
Which made it easier for Liam to busk despite his crippling stage fright. There he was, just outside the station, no permit, but prepared to grab his mini amp and guitar and do a runner as soon his inner copper alarm went ‘ding’. He was playing for an hour now. A bit tired of explaining to three different people that, no, he won’t play Wonderwall. Not even for a tenner. Fuck off.
He paid homage to other Manchester bands instead; The Stone Roses, Joy Division, The Smiths. He’d just finished ‘Big Mouth Strikes Again’ - a personal hymn, even though his vocals would never match the godhood of Morrissey - when he took a break to count the miserly few quid he’d made until now. It was only then that he realised someone out of the masses of disinterested worker bees had stopped to listen. “Oh... hi,” he felt strangely embarrassed, “Before ye ask, I’m not gonna play Wonderwall.”