3. Meet The Zamboneys
Meet The Zamboneys
MARY
“Just wait one minute,” an adorably flamboyant PA said as we entered the BBC One studio.
I hung towards the back of our pack, hesitant to step up front.
My plan was to stick to the script, make the new label happy, and look professional.
Don’t look too butch. Don’t be too Swedish.
Focus on our song and what we are about.
I didn’t want to discuss drama or mention the reason I wrote “Justice” at all.
“Right this way.” The sweet baby gay waved us into a studio with Leighton Jones, the presenter.
Leighton Jones waited, with a genuine smile, across from a suite of chairs: two short and two tall. There were no mics before the rear barstool chairs, so I made my way there. Unfortunately, Alicia practically sat me up front.
I glared.
She whispered. “Bitch, like it or not, you are the frontwoman. Know your place!”
I sat by Clarice right before the main mic while a PA passed mics to the others. I glared as if it were a punishment and said little as we exchanged pleasantries. Leighton was good at her job and kind enough, but my nerves got the better of me. This was the big time. It felt familiar in a bad way.
Leighton kindly introduced us. “And how did you come up with the Zamboneys? That’s a departure from Playground.”
I looked back, hoping someone else would answer.
Thankfully, Alicia did. “Oh, well, we thought it was funny. Mary’s dad played ice hockey back in Sweden.”
“He was known as The Zamboni,” I snickered.
“What does that mean?” Leighton asked.
“They smooth the ice. He was a defender. They brought him in for cleanup,” I explained. “Barry suggested the name and we ran with it.”
“Why not stick with Playground?”
Clarice grinned at me. “Because, with Mary in the band, it made sense to take on a new name. It was a fresh start—a funky change—and we loved it.”
“That’s so interesting. People seem to like it. It’s offbeat like your origin story.” Leighton turned towards my seat. “This is your first hit single together, but Mary, you are no stranger to the charts.”
I blushed. Barry elbowed me. “Go on, champ.”
“Oh, you’re so modest!” Leighton said, surprised. “You’re prolific in songwriting! And weren’t you a performer when you were younger?”
“Don’t make me feel old, Leighton,” I groaned, trying to evade her question.
“I don’t but… at your young age as a pop singer, your first single went platinum.”
I blushed. “That was a different time.”
I wasn’t sure how else to respond, so I tried to end the line of questioning. The honest answer was that going platinum in Sweden as a teen not even able to drive was an experience I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Saying that would derail the interview and anger our label.
“Well, after that, you had three platinum hits, a platinum album, four gold albums, and that’s just your producing credits. You have your hands in more pies as a writer. How is that for you?”
Deep breaths. I was my least favorite topic.
“Well, it’s really odd to be on this side of the stage again.”
“Brits might not remember your first act, but I can assure our listeners you were quite the star in Sweden.”
I swallowed, longing for her to drop the line about my life as a poptart.
“I just mean that since growing up, I don’t think of myself as a vocalist, but more of a writer and producer. The band needed me and it worked. These people are my friends. I enjoy playing with them. Honestly, I’m honored that they trust me.”
“If it wasn’t for them would you have graced the track?” Leighton asked an interesting question.
I thought a moment. Did I give her my honest answer? Would that bother the label? I decided that lying undermined how much the band meant to me.
“Probably not,” I snickered. “I think we’d agree I was the singer they needed at the moment and it just… worked?”
Leighton grinned. “Personally, I think you’re a great singer.”
“Girl has pipes! Ignore her!” Alicia giggled.
“You’re too kind—everyone is,” I said.
“That is how you know she’s Swedish,” Barry snickered. “That’s as much bragging as you can imagine from these people!”
I chuckled. “Yeah, that’s probably true. I’m also half-British, though. Don’t forget.”
“And how does this feel? To be on the verge of helming the hit for the Brits in UniVox? I must ask the elephant-in-the-room question, you know?”
I braced for it, knowing it always came down to this.
“You had a hit in Sweden with “Lordy Be” and Leona. It was an amazing song and ended up being your first platinum album as a writer.”
“Well, Leona and I wrote it together,” I pointed out. “She’s so amazing and just a once-in-a-lifetime performer.”
“It cannot be easy to watch that all go down. So many said you deserved to win UniVox last year. Is that what brought you to the UK? People are calling it a revenge plot?”
Heat rose to my face.
“I… well, it’s not a revenge plot. This song was meant for Playground.
I wrote it as a standalone single and it worked for them.
We reworked it, sure, but it was just my job.
It just happened that the friends I wrote the song for are here in London and wanted me to play with them.
That’s all. There is no vast conspiracy. ”
“And what are your thoughts on the frontrunner from Sweden? 4l?t?”
Can we not, please? I cursed her even if I knew she was just doing her job.
Everyone wanted to know if I was just out to get the Swedes back for robbing me last year.
I didn’t blame them. It was the genesis of the song.
I couldn’t say that without sounding like an Angry Lesbian or looking like a bitch, so I deflected.
“It’s more of a ‘loat’,” I corrected. “It means I’m sorry—'Forl?t!’ It’s a clever name and Alia and Jason are brilliant musicians. Alia has an amazing stage presence for such a young performer and Jason is talented at mixing. I would be a bad Swede for not wishing them the best.”
“And there’s no bad blood between you and Max Mixxon?”
I felt the urge to roll my eyes harder than ever before.
“I wish them all the best—Sweden and everyone. What’s brilliant about UniVox is it should bring out good in all of us—unity.
If we’re chosen to represent my mother’s home country and my home for the past two decades, we’ll be honored to compete alongside them. ”
The band nodded in unison and Clarice patted my back.
“Well, thanks. Good luck to you all. Just a reminder to you at home. Voting closes at 5 PM tomorrow, so get those votes in!”
“And… cut!” The director called.
We stood from our chairs and thanked the crew.
I had little doubt we’d win this round and come out on top.
Two months before, I was sure Playground had it in the bag, after all.
The live version—the only one available still—was a streaming hit.
Now, our job was to record an entire EP as fast as we could.
“That was diplomatic as fuck,” Alicia said as we returned to the green room.
I shrugged. “What can I say? The song says it all.”
More than twenty years of pain. Two rageful verses. Did I really need to say more? My honesty always played best when I just wrote things down and ran with them. In my mind, my legacy was best left on a track.
She gave a slight smile. “As you said, the best revenge is living rent-free in Max’s mind.”
“It really is,” I agreed. “Now, back to writing, okay? We have a record to put out.”