Tim – The Official Biography of Avicii by Måns Mosesson

Author:Måns Mosesson [Mosesson, Måns]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2021-11-29T17:00:00+00:00

THE PROJECTOR ON the other side of the street illuminated the white façade of the SLS Hotel. Outside, a sign as tall as a man was flashing in large letters: AVICII.

Six golf carts were lined up along the sidewalk on South Beach in Miami. The speakers blasted songs from Tim’s new remix album, young women in white Avicii tops and leather shorts handed out ice cream to passers-by. Once inside the lobby, the visitor was greeted by black-and-white framed pictures of Tim Bergling – even in the bathrooms his face was plastered on to the mirror wall, so that those who peed could, for a short while, feel like a superstar.

The most expensive double room cost almost $900, but that included a pair of headphones, slippers and a bathing suit, all emblazoned with the Avicii logo.

Filip Holm wiped the sweat from his brow. It had been a hell of a struggle to get the hotel in order and at the same time his inbox continued to scream. Holm, who had toured with Tim for the first few years, was now working on the development of PRMD and LE7ELS, the record imprints that were run out of the office in Stockholm and released the work of other house musicians from all over Europe. Avicii was the springboard, but expansion was just as important. And since the entire industry was in Miami in March, the meetings had come thick and fast. Filip Holm had not slept much in the last twenty-four hours and now it was Thursday evening and At Night’s party by the pool had been going on since eleven that morning.

The night before, Ibiza veteran Luciano had been spinning, proving that At Night still was in touch with the ground levels of the culture – Luciano was one of the respected pioneers in house music. Now the main attraction was the Swedish DJ duo Rebecca & Fiona, who were bouncing up on the stage by the pool, one with pink hair, the other with blue. It had ended up just as Filip and the others had hoped for: Paris Hilton was in the audience, the line was winding far down the street. Now they were just waiting for Tim’s plane to land. Avicii would close out At Night’s party this evening, show that he had arrived in town and was ready for a new triumph at Ultra Music Festival.

Arash Pournouri suddenly told Filip Holm that none of that was going to happen. Tim had gone to hospital.

Again.

Filip’s body physically reacted to this information. He went into a secluded room and felt the nausea pour over him. What the hell was going on? He hurried over to the hotel across the street, ran up to his room, into the bathroom, and fell to his knees.

What came out of Filip’s throat was a thick mass. Like sticky coffee grounds, solid red against the white toilet porcelain. Clotted, viscous blood. After a while, he lay exhausted on the bathroom floor. He dug for his cell phone and called one of the members of Cazzette.

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