Dion: His Life and Mine

by Anstey, Sarah Cate

  It wasn’t long before Dion started earning ‘pocket money,’ playing when a band needed an extra guitarist for the night. He began building a name for himself. Buoyed by the recognition his talent was receiving, Dion took it upon himself to visit his maternal family, whose response was evidently cool. Despondent, Dion couldn’t face returning to Olympia and, as the Mas told me, decided on an impromptu homecoming.

  Silenus was touring at the time, with the rock band, Capricious. The members of which were sons of some of Silenus’s musician friends, from his heyday. Silenus had offered to manage their first tour, for the lads and keep an eye on them, for their parents. To be fair, despite their hedonistic reputation, the tour had gone smoothly. On their return journey to Olympia, they persuaded Silenus to let them climb Mount Lycaeium; ‘to let off steam.’ As they had all been brought up in the picturesque Arcadia, Silenus believed it would have been child’s play. He was right. One of their guitarist, Faun, decided to fall off the mountain and broke his leg. In the hospital, Silenus read about Dion’s misadventures. Leaving strict instructions for Capricious, he set off for Olympia ahead of them, where he was told by Dion’s friends that he hadn’t been seen for weeks. Dion’s boss, at the hotel, told Silenus in no uncertain terms that Dion would not be welcomed back if he returned on his hands and knees and offered to lick the floors clean. Later, he would put up plaques stating ‘Dion cleaned this room’ and charge the occupants double.

  By the time Silenus had brought Dion back to Olympia, Capricious had returned. Dion always credited Capricious for giving him a break when he needed one most. They had a month of gigs booked in Olympia and needed an extra guitarist so they asked Dion to fill in. Having lost his job, Dion moved onto Pan’s sofa and stayed there, even after Faun’s recovery.

  At first, Dion was in awe of the other musicians in Olympia and their knowledge of contemporary music, as well as its origins. One night, encouraged by his liquid, he admitted as much to Pan.

  “Not all of us are from Olympia,” Pan pointed out. “Arcadia is beautiful, but it’s about as rustic as it gets. The lads and I were brought up on bagpipes, cymbals and castanets – not exactly hard rock.”

  “But it gave you an origin, it influenced you.”

  “Yeah, it influenced us to puke at the sound of bagpipes. You don’t need an origin, D, look who you came from … it’s for you to influence others. You’re a blank canvas kid. Embrace it.”

  Dion was encouraged by Pan’s remarks. No one in Olympia had questioned Dion’s belief in his origins, accepting him for who he was. Pan and Faun proved this by making jokes out of it.

  “There’s no doubt who your dad is, kid, and anyone who’s seen a picture of your mum can see you take after her, but what we all find difficult to believe is that you’re related to that jab Pentheus.” Dion laughed and Pan continued. “What I find even harder to understand is why you’d want to acknowledge your associations to Thebes. If it were me, I’d be playing that part right down - I mean Thebes, come on! They find easy listening too taxing.”

  Dion asked if Capricious had ever played there.

  “Nah and I doubt they’ve ever heard of us. Thebes likes Theban music, or rather, those that are in charge of Thebes do and even that is a certain type of music, populous, commercial junk. Their top forty chart is clogged with contestants from various talent contests; ‘Thebes Has Talent’, ‘The Talent of Thebes’, ‘The Most Talented in Thebes’,’ Thebes’s Biggest Talent’ … Blah Blah Blah.”

  “And …” Faun joined in, “to add insult to injury, they all do the same cover version. I defy you to find more than ten songs in their top one hundred. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against covers. I’m all for alternative versions and experimenting with how diverse styles bring out different things in the same song. We’ve swapped songs with Orpheus in the past and we’ve even done some of our parents’ but, in Thebes, they don’t go in for the alternative.”

  “Or the innovative,” Pan added. “The songs that come out of Thebes are mind-numbing.”

  “Well that’s rather the point isn’t it?” Faun pointed out. “What use does Pentheus have for citizens who think for themselves? It’s all about control, being in control and controlling minds, music and money.”

  “An upbringing on an isolated mountain, being fed on Ma Seven’s apple pie, doesn’t sound so bad now does it?” Pan smiled at Dion, wryly.

  “Pan, I always knew I was better off with my Mas.”

  “It’s a shame though, about Thebes. Our parents said they had a ball playing there in their time. Apparently, at one stage, it was rocking like Olympia, but now even our parents’ panpipes would be too avant-guarde for them.”

  “So what changed?” Dion asked. Faun and Pan exchanged an uncomfortable glance.

  “Come on guys, don’t be coy. Are you talking about the curfew imposed after my mother passed away?”

  “That was the start of it, of course. Bands stopped wanting to play in Thebes. But mainly it’s been since Pentheus started taking a tighter hold of the reins.” Pan admitted.

  “Like I said, Pentheus is a control freak with bad taste in music.” Faun agreed.

  “Sounds like the kids in Thebes deserve the chance to listen to some decent, liberating music.” Dion pondered.

  “Better get writing then, kid, and get yourself a band. If anyone can penetrate Thebes, it’s Semele’s lad.”

  Dion’s time in Olympia proved vital for his creativity. In a new place, surrounded by new people, making new friends, it seemed he was able to release some of his most troubling inner thoughts through his writing. It was at this time that he wrote “Reborn in Hades”, about a recurring dream he’d had on the Mas’ mountain after his first Theban visit. Initially, Pan’s home provided Dion with space to explore his talent in a way he hadn’t been able to in the hotel. He was particularly prolific during this period and Pan was more of an indulgent and patient older brother than a landlord.

  Pan took it upon himself to introduce Dion to as many bands as possible, in the hope that Dion could find the right musicians to form a band. Amongst Capricious’s closest friends were The Constellations who arrived in Olympia with an exceptionally talented stand-in drummer. Dion had respect for anyone who could command an instrument so well, especially one he had not chosen to master himself. Dion realised that if he wanted to form his own band he needed someone like Cal. Despite enjoying his time with The Constellations, Cal turned down their offer to join them on a permanent basis. The Constellations were already established and he wanted to be in a band where he had some creative input.

  One evening, Dion performed a few songs, poured a few glasses of his red liquid and Cal was persuaded. Cal described the evening as ‘intoxicating’, although I was never sure if he was intoxicated by the liquid, Dion’s music or both. Silenus would appear now and again, to give advice to any of his young protégés that needed it, but he was a nomad who never settled. As far as he was concerned, he had done his duty towards Dion. The lad had grown up and it was time to let him ‘get on with it.’ I only wish he had let Dion be.

  “Persephone”, has always been considered to be Dion’s opus magnum, particularly amongst his female fans. It was said to be Pallene’s favourite, possibly because the subject matter, a young woman’s mistreatment by her uncle, was close to home. She later named her charity after it and Dion handed over the rights to the song and any proceeds made. Possibly to protect her, Dion never admitted that the song was written about her or even for her, but he did concede to me once that it was her song, not his. She certainly inspired it, as it was around this time that they met.

  Pallene had run away from home, if you can call it that, and her father’s abuse. She got a job working in Utopia, a taverna in Olympia. Dion and Cal had gone to Utopia, to hear Likertes do a one-man, acoustic, gig. In time, Likertes’s blatant talent earned him the third place in, what would later become, Libertia. By that time, Dion must have seen over a hundred guitarists and didn’t think any of the
m had compared to Amphelos. Could any of them, truly, ever? Even Likertes? Silenus later confided that, Likertes was a better musician than Amphelos ever would have been. Not that Silenus would have ever said that to Dion or Likertes; Dion would never have spoken to him again. Likertes had to live in Amphelos’s dead shadow, but he came into the light after Dion died. Just as Likertes was taking a break between sets, Dion saw Pallene and Pallene saw Dion. Cal, who was standing next to him at the time, said that a strange, charged atmosphere seemed to come over the bar.

  “It wasn’t really sexual - their relationship was never about sex - but it was a strong form of attraction none-the-less, as if both could see, in the other, the missing piece of the jigsaw.”

  Within seconds, Dion and Pallene were writhing on the floor together - wrestling.

  “It was as if they had to let this energy out somehow and that was the only way. We could all see that neither of them meant the other harm, it was just something they had to do. Besides, we sort of wanted to see who would win.”

  Dion did.

  “..but by a whisker. Man, that girl was strong! But then I suppose she learnt to be; she’d been forced to practise, growing up.”

  At only sixteen, Pallene was in a fix. Until she was married, or turned eighteen, according to the law of her state, she was still her father’s property and he wouldn’t rest until he had recovered her. The answer was simple: Dion married her.

  “We couldn’t believe it when he produced three monkey suits and insisted we tried them on for size,” Likertes recalled. “He said if they were going to go through with it, they were going to go through with it properly.”

  They had their reception at Utopia and all their friends from Olympia were invited. They wanted, and needed, as many witnesses as possible. They had a four-tiered wedding cake, made by Eurydike. That night Libertia had their first unofficial gig. By all accounts the crowd went wild for them, but then it was made up of their friends, after all.

  As Dion was now her husband, Pallene became his property. Not that he pressed this on her, except when it came to the washing up which he always hated. Her father couldn’t, and wouldn’t, be able to touch her again.

  Dion moved off Pan’s sofa and into a two bedroomed flat with Pallene. They could barely afford it. Their only constant source of income was what little Pallene earned at Utopia. Don’t ask me how, but they survived on this and the food-packages the Mas sent weekly. In case the landlord did a spot-check, (which he never did), the rent was paid on time. Dion was careful to keep ‘his room’ as sparse as possible and kept all his belongings in Pallene’s to keep up the pretence of their marriage. During festival times, they would rent out the spare room and Dion slept on the floor in Pallene’s room. The extra money came in handy. After all, it would have looked strange if a young couple with barely two talents to rub together, living in a two bedroomed flat, didn’t sub-let the spare room.

  With Pallene, Dion found the home-life stability he had craved. It was a marriage, because what is a marriage if it isn’t a loving partnership? If I am slightly envious of Pallene, it is only because she was able to have a home-life with Dion. By the time I met him, Dion was ‘too big’ for both, we were rarely at home and spent most of our married life on the road, in hotels or as visitors in other people’s houses.

  Like all marriages, Pallene and Dion’s fell into a routine. Pallene would leave for work at Utopia at seven in the evening and wouldn’t get home until two in the morning. After she had eaten a bowl of whatever Dion had cooked for her, listened to the song he had been working on and given him feedback, she crashed out.

  With Dion’s encouragement, she started going to martial arts classes before work and soon began teaching self-defence classes to women. At first this was on a voluntary basis, but as the classes became more popular she charged each participant a small fee.

  Dion’s routine stayed pretty much as it had been at Pan’s. He was able to play his music during the long hours Pallene was working. The addition to his routine was walking Pallene home from Utopia at two in the morning (if he had a gig at another tavern, he always made sure it finished on time so that he could complete this spousal duty), cooking for them both and completing the ‘to do’ lists she left for him. This included odd jobs around the flat, like ‘sweeping up’ or ‘putting up a shelf’. There were never more than five things on the list and the fifth was always ‘play guitar for five hours’.

  Apart from that, Dion, Cal and Likertes wrote songs and practised for gigs. They had independently recorded their first album; The Collective. The sound quality wasn’t perfect and they could only afford to produce two-hundred copies, which they sold at gigs and to friends. When the band was more established, they re-recorded and re-released The Collective. Although it did well in the charts, critics weren’t so impressed. It was what it was, a collection of songs Dion, Cal and Likertes had written, separately, when they dreamt of being in a band. Only those who had heard the original versions would know how much they had influenced each other’s songs. Even its detractors admit it shows the individual talent of each of the Libertia members and, in effect that was what it was, a showcase. The initial, unpolished, batch has since become prized collectors’ items. This would have heartened Dion as it was their owners, the band’s original supporters, who have benefitted. Although they made no real profit from their home-produced albums, Dion felt it had been worthwhile. Not only did it give the band more of an idea of how to think of a concept for an album, which they would take with them into their later work, but it also meant fans had music to take away from gigs; particularly important for visitors to Olympia who would enthusiastically play this ‘new-found band’ to their friends when they returned home. It was part of Dion’s efforts to promote the band beyond Olympia. He wanted Libertia to go on the road as soon as they had enough gigs lined up. He saved money to buy a van with room enough for all of them and their equipment.

  Initially, Libertia went for one-nighters not far from Olympia, crashing on friends’ floors to save on cost of accommodation. Dion’s next plan was to save money to produce their second album more professionally. His cause was boosted by Capricious and The Constellations. Both bands had been booked to play at a small music festival on Naxos. Capricious asked Libertia to open for them. After Dion persuaded Eurydike to keep Pallene company, on Naxos, The Constellations managed to persuade Orpheus to open for them. The trip couldn’t have been better for Dion. He was with his most favourite people from Olympia, hanging out on the beach with them rather than confined to the city. He loved Naxos and Naxos took to Libertia, as I would later hear from Nyx. If it was the test Dion felt Libertia needed, they passed. But then, Dion made sure Libertia were noticed. He and Likertes carried their guitars with them and would play an impromptu song to generate publicity and good relations. The Constellations were bigger than Libertia or even Capricious then and had booked time in The Old Coach Inn to record songs for their album. Much to Libertia’s appreciation, when they finished ahead of schedule they offered their remaining time to the lesser band. Libertia wasted no time and recorded “Brother Breathe Again”, ”Persephone” and “Reborn in Hades” which they would later release as singles, heralding the album to follow. Their time on Naxos climaxed with the ‘Olympiad Night’ at the Styx and Stones, the poster, for which, Nyx would point out to me. It was the only night all four acts ever played together. Dion was in his element.

  “We certainly left a taste for Olympia in Naxos that night.” Cal would later tell me. I questioned whether it was a taste for Olympia or a taste for liquid, which, by all accounts, flowed that night, along with the music. Significantly, that night was when Libertia first met Thiasus.

  “We’d seen them around, of course.” Likertes told me. “We watched them perform the first night we arrived on Naxos and well, you’ve heard them. They’re pretty memorable. Cal and I noticed them watching The Constellations and Orpheus on the beach. Mae, in particular, seemed transfixed. I guessed they must have
seen us play too because they tracked us all down at The Styx, that night, and Mae approached Dion. She’d obviously done her homework and knew who we all were - that Dion was married to Pallene, for convenience, and Orpheus and Eurydike were together. She even knew about The Collective, which impressed Dion, as very few people outside Olympia knew about it. At that time, Thiasus were in the middle of a tour with a group called Sphinx, but Sphinx had pulled out due to illness. Mae wanted to know if any of us wanted to join them. The opportunity seemed too good to pass up, especially as some of their venues coincided with those of Capricious. The Constellations already had plans to promote their album. Mae tried really hard to persuade Orpheus to come too, but he declined. He and Euridyke had enjoyed Naxos, but they were keen to get back to Olympia.”

  Dion and Pallene celebrated their second anniversary, on the same beach where we would later marry. Afterwards, they went their separate ways; Pallene returned to Olympia with Orpheus and Eurydike. Libertia went on tour with Thiasus, Capricious joining them for the first leg. By the time Pallene and Dion saw each other again, their marriage would be annulled. The next time Libertia played on Naxos, they would be the headlining act.

  The first gig, after leaving Naxos, was in Lydia and was one of their most infamous. Cal remembers that Dion had been in a strange mood when they approached Lydia. It might have been fear of failure, worry for what lay ahead and, also, that he already missed Pallene.

  “Okay, so it wasn’t a love-match marriage, but that didn’t make the separation easier, even though they both knew it was coming, had even planned for it. In fact, it made it worse. It wasn’t a love that had turned to hate; the love was still there. They had lived together for two years as the best of friends.” Cal told me all this later. At the club in Lydia, the band was introduced, to a mixed response. Their reputation hadn’t preceded them yet, but Lydia was always keen to see new musicians. Dion approached the microphone and dedicated the first song to his ‘beautiful, clever and talented wife, with whom he had shared two happy years’. If the crowd were expecting a soppy love song, they were in for a surprise. He sang “Persephone”, but with such intensity that the crowd was mesmerized. Cal and Likertes too, after practising with Dion for hours, they had never heard him perform like it. He ended the set with “Brother Breathe Again”, a song he wrote in memory of Amphelos. Before the crowd could emerge from their trance and go wild, Dion did something he had never done before and would never do again. He smashed up his guitar and left the stage. Then the crowd went wild. If Cal hadn’t been there to witness it, I might never have believed him. Guitars were more important to Dion than his own body, which he ended up abusing. What made the action even more poignant was that, the guitar he had destroyed, had been Amphelos’s favourite.