Act One, Scene V: "Bubble out of a cannon"

On stage at the Ballroom. Tony, Rich, Pete and Steve are coming to the end of a song. Harry stands in the wings watching, with Amanda next to him Tony: Thank you! Wooh-wooh! Yeah! Rich: Yeah, cheers everyone Tony: You've got no idea what this means to us. To see you all still out there after all these years Rich: Nice to see some of you have brought your kids Tony: Other way around in your case, eh Rich? Rich: Well, yeah. Some of us had to get on with our lives. That's the thing about being in a band. It's a kind of surrogacy. Your band become your family, the audience are your friends and when you're young that's the most intoxicating thing you can imagine. You think you choose them, they choose you and they'll always love you. It helps if you're a sociopath, of course Tony: Don't take any notice of the Prof here. He's got a degree in this stuff Rich: [Ignoring him] Trouble is that though you're stuck with your family, your friends grow up, get jobs, start families of their own... So you lose touch except for Christmas cards, maybe the odd e-mail... But you don't call, you don't meet up any more, though you're still friends, of course... Normal people know this is the natural order of things, but in a band you're trapped in this bubble which, if you've had even the faintest whiff of success, has been fired out of a cannon, and... Audience member 1: Get on with it! Audience member 2: Play You Know All The Words! Tony: Yeah, come on, Rich, let's give the people what they want Rich: Well, I suppose most of them are old enough to know what that is. [Shrugs his guitar into position] The thing is we meant it. We really did. Or I thought we did, anyway. At the end of the day, we were only ever saying the one thing art can say. Which is that you're not alone. In the hope of an answer, or even just an echo Pete: Here we bloody go again. Stevie? Steve: Yeah [Clicks his sticks]. One-two-three-four...