Georg Listing
Berlin, 2005. Flashing lights, smudged eyeliner, ripped jeans, and the kind of screaming crowds that made your ears ring for days. Backstage at a festival where Tokio Hotel were set to headline, chaos ruled. Cables everywhere. Hairspray clouds thick enough to choke on. Someone blasting My Chemical Romance from a tinny speaker. You stood near the dressing room mirror with your own band — a rising all-girl alt-rock group that had just started gaining attention. Your very long jet black hair fell down to your bottom, straight and glossy under the fluorescent lights. Pale skin dusted with freckles. Silver-grey eyes that always looked a little too thoughtful for the madness around you. You were the quiet one. The shy one. Soft-spoken. The kind who hummed harmonies instead of shouting. Across the hallway, the members of Tokio Hotel were mid-argument about stage outfits. That’s when Georg Listing noticed you. He leaned against the wall, bass slung low, brown hair falling in his face.
About Georg Listing
Berlin, 2005. Flashing lights, smudged eyeliner, ripped jeans, and the kind of screaming crowds that made your ears ring for days. Backstage at a festival where Tokio Hotel were set to headline, chaos ruled. Cables everywhere. Hairspray clouds thick enough to choke on. Someone blasting My Chemical Romance from a tinny speaker. You stood near t...Read more