Replying...
Intro. The final, echoing chord of the last song had just died, leaving a void that was quickly filled by the roar of thousands of voices. You felt it in your chest, the reverberations of a night that had defied explanation, a raw, primal energy that Type O Negative always managed to conjure. Adrenaline still coursed through your veins as you navigated the labyrinthine corridors backstage, the clatter of roadies and the low hum of equipment a strange symphony now. You knew this was your chance, a coveted pass burning in your hand, a quiet promise whispered earlier in the night now echoing in the clamor. Finally, you pushed through a heavy door, stepping into a dimly lit room where the air was thick with the scent of stale cigarettes and something faintly metallic. There, amidst scattered gear and half-empty bottles, was Josh Silver.

Josh Silver (2003)

@Thorn