For as long as he could remember, Clinton "Clint" Maddox had a rocker slowly traveling down the dark and twisted path into metal. It had all started, innocently enough, when he was a senior in high school. Back then, he'd been in one of those "4 friends" bands; groups that had great chemistry but little to no musical talent to speak of. They sounded awful, to him because everyone was trying to play their own style of whatever the hell they'd been interested in. But, fortunately for him anyway, he'd had enough foresight, and just a tiny bit of ability, to rise from the ashes of that time and form his own group. What family support he had was rarely there and when it was, the most precious thing to it was where bottle or pipe would come from. Which was why he didn't talk about his family. There wasn't much there anyway.
The first group he formed after high school, Disputed Idols, had fallen apart due to sibling rivalry. But, they'd had modest success, such that his name got out there a little bit and some of the other struggling groups recognized he was probably too good for the bickering brothers who played guitar. So, the Disputed Idol got cast down and then...well then came a sort of watershed moment. Clint joined a group called Monsters' Den and got his first tattoos and piercings and began to hone his growling skills. He could sing, somewhat, but growling was where he made his name. The serpents on his left arm and the skull and crossbones on his right were badges of honor, a sign that he'd made it. Clint never went as far as some of the others in the Den, who inked their hands and fingers even. But, he gave himself ear piercings and couple more facial piercings. His favorite, and the one that hurt the most if he was being honest, was his tongue ring. At times, on stage, he'd show it off; wagging his tongue at the crowd while one hand gave the "Horns up!" expression to the people; the loyal fans who packed the seats and listened to them play night after night.
Monsters' Den had more success and Clint began to carve out his own little slice of life. Now that he was 25, though, he realized that what he really loved, apart form the music, culture, and ink; was bringing a group back up from the start. Feeling that "We've made it" feeling in every pore of his body once again. So, probably against his better judgment, he left the Den; on good terms though.
Which is why he now found himself among the membership of a new group calling themselves It's All For Nothing. His role here was, as always, to provide the growly vocals. In addition, he changed his look again, this time adding another serpent to his right arm, but nothing more on his left an a chin piercing, just a tiny piece of metal, to show a new direction and change in his life. His black hair remained long and straight and dark brown eyes were said to burn into the very souls of those he performed in front of. But whether this was true or not, he'd never been able to tell.
Times were tight, but fortunately for It's All For Nothing, Clint had pulled some strings and called in a favor or two, and his rider, for the biggest venue this little blink and you'll miss it town had. Someone wise had aptly named The Pit. The place, when it was clean, was an old, decaying sort of structure which somehow would manage to hold the people. Rumor had it the health inspectors were closing and there were rats infested somewhere inside. But, from the backstage area at least, no discerning eye could tell. The crowd promised for tonight concert would probably fill the place, but then again maybe not. Clint didn't really think his talent and name alone could bring that kind of a crowd.
But then again, maybe so. As the rest of the band made sure their instruments and mics were in working order, Clint slipped his own personal mic into his ear (because who held one anymore?) and decided to poke his head, briefly, out of the curtain to see just how much noise was coming from the main theater.
The first group he formed after high school, Disputed Idols, had fallen apart due to sibling rivalry. But, they'd had modest success, such that his name got out there a little bit and some of the other struggling groups recognized he was probably too good for the bickering brothers who played guitar. So, the Disputed Idol got cast down and then...well then came a sort of watershed moment. Clint joined a group called Monsters' Den and got his first tattoos and piercings and began to hone his growling skills. He could sing, somewhat, but growling was where he made his name. The serpents on his left arm and the skull and crossbones on his right were badges of honor, a sign that he'd made it. Clint never went as far as some of the others in the Den, who inked their hands and fingers even. But, he gave himself ear piercings and couple more facial piercings. His favorite, and the one that hurt the most if he was being honest, was his tongue ring. At times, on stage, he'd show it off; wagging his tongue at the crowd while one hand gave the "Horns up!" expression to the people; the loyal fans who packed the seats and listened to them play night after night.
Monsters' Den had more success and Clint began to carve out his own little slice of life. Now that he was 25, though, he realized that what he really loved, apart form the music, culture, and ink; was bringing a group back up from the start. Feeling that "We've made it" feeling in every pore of his body once again. So, probably against his better judgment, he left the Den; on good terms though.
Which is why he now found himself among the membership of a new group calling themselves It's All For Nothing. His role here was, as always, to provide the growly vocals. In addition, he changed his look again, this time adding another serpent to his right arm, but nothing more on his left an a chin piercing, just a tiny piece of metal, to show a new direction and change in his life. His black hair remained long and straight and dark brown eyes were said to burn into the very souls of those he performed in front of. But whether this was true or not, he'd never been able to tell.
Times were tight, but fortunately for It's All For Nothing, Clint had pulled some strings and called in a favor or two, and his rider, for the biggest venue this little blink and you'll miss it town had. Someone wise had aptly named The Pit. The place, when it was clean, was an old, decaying sort of structure which somehow would manage to hold the people. Rumor had it the health inspectors were closing and there were rats infested somewhere inside. But, from the backstage area at least, no discerning eye could tell. The crowd promised for tonight concert would probably fill the place, but then again maybe not. Clint didn't really think his talent and name alone could bring that kind of a crowd.
But then again, maybe so. As the rest of the band made sure their instruments and mics were in working order, Clint slipped his own personal mic into his ear (because who held one anymore?) and decided to poke his head, briefly, out of the curtain to see just how much noise was coming from the main theater.