Ride On

by Stephen J. Martin

  Jimmy shook his head.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Which part?’

  ‘All of it. You reading the newspaper for starters.’

  ‘Sure, I go to the zoo every few weeks to look at the monkeys and chill.’

  ‘On your own?’

  ‘Yeah!’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘I’ve been doing it for months now!’

  Jimmy just sighed. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised. Aesop had a thing for funny animals. He went to see ‘March of the Penguins’ about five times when it came out and was probably the first person in Dublin to buy it on DVD. He’d come home from the pub, roll a big spliff and then stick on the movie and break his bollocks laughing at the telly for two hours before he went to bed. He did it at least three times a week. He had one about dolphins too.

  ‘You’re a bleedin’ looper Aesop.’

  Aesop shrugged and picked up his coffee.

  ‘Isn’t it better to go to the zoo for the afternoon than go out robbing shops?’

  ‘I s’pose it is. Who robs shops?’

  ‘Some people rob shops. Those fuckers were funny today, but. You should’ve seen them.’

  Jimmy nodded.

  ‘You know you can’t have pets in that place?’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’

  ‘So you’re not allowed buy a monkey.’

  ‘Actually they’re apes, Jimmy. If you want to be technical about it. Yeah, I know. I wasn’t planning on getting one.’

  ‘Yeah, well I was just making sure. Look, we better go and get our arses to the studio. We told Sparky we’d be in at eight and you know the way he gets when people are late.’

  ‘I know. Hey, let’s give him another fifteen minutes, will we? He’ll be pacing around the place and kicking things and talking to himself. It’s so bleedin’ funny. He’s like a caged animal when he’s angry, isn’t he?’

  ‘Well you’d fuckin’ know, by the sounds of things.’

  *

  Jimmy and Aesop finished playing and looked up through the window at Sparky. He gave them the thumbs-up to say it was a wrap, and then they took off their headphones and started to yawn and stretch. Jesus, that had been a long session, but at least they were done. The rest of the work would be done by Sparky at the console, Jimmy lending a hand. Their debut album, which Senturian Records were going to release in the UK, would be winging its way to London and all the lads would have to do then would be wave and smile for the cameras. Everything was cool. Well, they had to find a fucking bass player of course. Jimmy had done all of the bass on the album except for the two versions of ‘Caillte’, which Shiggy had already recorded in Dublin and in Japan when the lads were out there with Johnnie Fingers the previous year.

  ‘Aesop, there’s a call on hold for you here,’ said Sparky into his mike.

  ‘Is it the president of me fan club again? Will you tell her I have her pencilled in for Tuesday and Thurday evenings and not to be such an itchy trollop. And would she ever try and have a bit of respect for herself.’

  ‘I told you not to be giving this number out like that, didn’t I? Anyway, it doesn’t sound like one of your little floozies. It might be one of their Daddys, though, looking to kick the hole off you, please God.’

  ‘A bloke? Jaysis. Tell him to hang on, will you? I’m going for a piss.’

  ‘Hang on? I’ll hang your bollocks off the monitors you cheeky prick. You can take it now or I’m cutting the fucker off. He’s tying up the line for ten minutes, the cunt.’

  Aesop nodded.

  ‘Where was that finishing school you went to again, Sparky? Switzerland, was it?’

  ‘You’ve five seconds.’

  Aesop went in to take the call as Jimmy and Sparky started to tidy up. Leet were coming in a bit later to start putting down a demo that Dónal hoped would get Senturian interested in them. Jimmy was finding it hard to multitask like this – his debut album one minute, getting a deal for a bunch of kids the next. Dónal was out now at a meeting with some music lawyers.

  ‘Wotcha reckon Sparky?’ said Jimmy.

  ‘Hopefully it is some girl’s Da looking to kick the hole off him.’

  ‘I meant about the album.’

  ‘Tops, Jimmy. Here you go …’

  Sparky took a CD out of his breast pocket and handed it across to Jimmy.

  ‘Unit number one.’

  Jimmy took it in his hands. It was just a blank-looking CD, no artwork or anything. No indication that it contained a large part of his spirit, his soul, the musical ideas that had been with him since he was a teenager, most of his aspirations for the future. It was going to be called “Brazen Songs and Stories”.

  ‘So how long will you need to spend on it, Sparky?’ said Jimmy.

  ‘By the end of next week it’ll be in London. No problem.’

  ‘I’d say you’ll be glad to see the back of it then, yeah?’

  ‘I’ll tell you Jimmy, you’ve some good stuff on there. I’d say you’ll do well out of it. But it’s all down to the money and Senturian look like they’re behind it. That’s what’s important in the end. If it’s not being pushed along like a bastard, nothing will happen. That’s the business these days. Good songs mean nothing.’

  ‘That’s a jolly bleedin’ thought.’

  ‘Sorry man. It’s business. You see that fucking eejit that won Big Brother? Number one for the last six weeks and all he does is talk over a song that was shite when it came out the first time in 1966. More talent in my snot so there is. He’ll have an album out now too, watch. Make a million quid. In six months time, no one will remember the cunt and we’ll never hear from him again and that’s the only good thing about it. Hand us those cans will you?’

  Jimmy picked up his headphones and gave them to him.

  ‘You don’t think much of the music industry, do you Sparky?’

  ‘Full of pricks, Jimmy. Always was, actually. These days more than ever. And I don’t mean the likes of that gurrier in there on the phone. I’m talking about fuckers would sell their own mammies. Greedy bastards. It’s got nothing to do with music.’

  ‘So why do you do it?’

  ‘Why?’

  Sparky looked at Jimmy like it was the strangest thing he’d ever been asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Jimmy. ‘I mean, if you think they’re all bastards, why not do something else?’

  Sparky laughed.

  ‘Like what?’ he said. ‘Kindergarten teacher? Nah Jimmy, this is my job. The only one I can do. But I don’t do it for the money.’

  ‘Why then?’

  ‘See that gobshite in there?’

  ‘Aesop?’

  ‘Yeah. Aesop. You know what I caught him doing last week?’

  ‘Oh Christ, don’t tell me …’

  ‘Nah, it’s not bad. He was loosening up before you got here. Playing that old Van Halen song he likes. You know it?’

  ‘“Hot for Teacher”? He plays that to warm up when he can get his hands on two bass drums.’

  ‘Yeah, well he was playing it the other day. I happened to be recording at the same time, just to get some levels for later.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘He played it perfectly.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s good at it all right.’

  ‘No, Jimmy. Perfectly. I have that album on the computer. I brought it up and put the Van Halen intro next to his to check the waves. Identical. He didn’t miss one single beat.’

  ‘Right. Eh … is that good?’

  ‘If you’d told me I’d have called you a lying cunt.’

  ‘Really?’

  Jimmy looked back in at Aesop who was still on the phone.

  ‘It’s that hard to do?’

  ‘It’s not fuckin’ easy. So anyway, that’s why I do it Jimmy. Cos every now and then, when you work with artists, you come across something that you can’t explain. That’s God shining through, Jimmy. It’s a little glimpse of God. I need that in my life. We all do. God is br
illiant, so he is.’

  Oh fuck, thought Jimmy. Sparky was going mad again. Steady … steady …

  ‘Of course,’ continued Sparky, ‘then you look at the people that God chooses to use as his instrument. And, taking that fucker in there as an example, the holiness of it all kind of falls on its tits, doesn’t it?’

  Jimmy laughed.

  ‘I s’pose, yeah.’

  ‘But it doesn’t matter, Jimmy. I heard it. He hadn’t even taken off his jacket. He just pulls out the sticks and goes straight into it. He didn’t even know I was in here. Thirty seconds of the intro. Then he stands up, sees me and goes, “Hey Sparky, is the kettle boiled? I’d a skinful of pints and two French slappers last night. Hairy yokes they were too, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy meself. Is there bikkies?”.’

  Jimmy laughed.

  ‘Sounds like the Holy Spirit working through him all right.’

  ‘I know. But you can’t question God, Jimmy.’

  ‘I don’t, Sparky. I don’t. But … I wouldn’t have figured you for …’

  ‘Ah, I’m not going to stick a bible in your face Jimmy, but when I hit the bottom of the shitter twenty years ago and I couldn’t climb out, it was God who reached down for me.’

  ‘Fuck. I never knew that.’

  ‘Yeah. Well that’s between me and him. The point is, most people don’t give a fuck about anything they can’t show off to their greedy bastard mates, and you can’t show off your soul. This isn’t about heaven and hell or any of that manmade shite, Jimmy. It’s not even about music. My job isn’t really about music. It’s about getting into someone’s head and showing them the way out. Fuck knows, I’ve had a lot of practice flying in and out of me own head. For a while there I used to be gone for days. Sometimes me head wouldn’t let me back in and we’d have a big row. Confusing as fuck that was.’

  ‘Jesus. What were you on? LSD, coke …?’

  ‘LSD and coke? Christ, you don’t want to take LSD and coke together Jimmy. The fuckin’ last thing you need when you’re hallucinating is a confidence booster, I’m telling you. Anyway, I don’t do that shit any more, but when an artist – like you for instance – wants something, I can usually get a feel for it and help them bring it out. And I thank God for giving me that gift. You’ve got your gifts too, as does that little delinquent in there. But the music industry doesn’t give a fuck about any of that. No more than any other industry. It’s about money, Jimmy.’

  ‘You’re fucking bumming me out here Sparky. Jesus …’

  ‘Ah, I don’t mean to Jimmy. The important thing is how you feel about the album. Where it came from, what it means … are you cool with it? Your name is on it. Can you stand next to it?’

  ‘Yeah. Yeah I can.’

  ‘Then fuck them all.’

  Aesop came back into them. He had the knuckle of one index finger in his mouth and was frowning.

  ‘What’s up?’ said Jimmy. ‘You in the shit over some bird?’

  ‘What? Oh. No. No, it’s not that.’

  ‘Who was it then?’

  ‘Remember Mena?’

  ‘Probably not, Aesop. Around when was she having the pleasure?’

  ‘No Jimmy. Mena. Remember them two little young fellas were outside here a while back? Wanted me to go to their sister’s birthday party. She was sick, right?’

  ‘Oh yeah. Eh … Liam, wasn’t it? And the little fella.’

  ‘Yeah. Well, that was their Da on the phone. Turns out that the poor young one is out in Crumlin in the hospital out there. She’s not fucking doing well either.’

  ‘Jesus. That’s fucking terrible. Is it bad?’

  ‘Yeah. They’re only letting her home for her birthday cos they aren’t sure she’ll be having another one.’

  Sparky blessed himself and shook his head.

  ‘Poor child.’

  ‘Her birthday is Friday night. I said we’d drop in.’

  ‘Okay. But … eh … we’re playing Vicar Street on Friday, Aesop.’

  ‘We’ll just say hello on the way to the gig. I know it’ll be tight but, listen man, apparently I’m all she talks about, right? She thinks I’m fuckin brilliant or whatever. And now Liam is after copping that something’s going on with her. He’s starting to go off the rails at school, his Da says, and he keeps fuckin running away and all, y’know? And the Da sounds like he’s only barely holding it together himself. C’mon. We’ll drop in, Jimmy. Half an hour, right?’

  Jimmy just nodded.

  ‘Okay. Yeah, no problem.’

  The three of them stood there for a minute.

  ‘Cup of tea Aesop?’ said Sparky, eventually.

  ‘Thanks man.’

  Chapter Four

  Norman looked at himself in the mirror. He was just out of the shower, standing in his jocks and cursing at the spot of blood on his neck. His Mam kept buying him cheap disposable razors and they were making shite of his face. He smiled at that. He couldn’t even use a crappy blade now without cutting himself and yet he could still remember being crouched over a small stream in the mountains of Afghanistan, shaving with a Bowie knife so that the locals wouldn’t notice the big red head on him if he had to unwrap the thick scarf that covered his face. Freezing cold water and a nine-inch blade. The lads would only laugh at him if he told them about it. They were always taking the piss about when he was a soldier. He didn’t mind that much. And anyway, there was nothing cool about shaving with a knife. No more than there being anything cool about having to carry your gick around in plastic bags when you were on a mission so that animals wouldn’t sniff it out and give your position away. They tended to leave stuff like that out of the Rambo movies.

  He was all excited tonight. The lads had finished their album, and they were celebrating with the gig in Vicar Street. They’d blown everyone away the last time they played there and this time was going to be even better. The press would be in, the new songs would be on show, the venue was sold out. After this one they’d be taking a couple of weeks off and then the CD would be in the shops and the whole thing would start up again. Dónal was already finalising the details of the tour. Yeah, it was going great for the lads. But that’s not why Norman was excited. The reason he was clipping his toenails and scanning frantically through the shirts in his wardrobe was that he had another date with Trish.

  Earlier that day, he’d talked to Jimmy and Aesop on the phone. He wanted everything to go perfectly tonight.

  *

  ‘Jimmy?’

  ‘Norman. What’s the story?’

  ‘Listen Jimmy, I’m on a date tonight.’

  ‘Yeah? Brilliant. Who is she?’

  ‘A nurse from out in Baldoyle, at work.’

  ‘Great stuff.’

  ‘Yeah. I’m picking her up at eight. What time are you on?’

  ‘We’ll be on around nine-thirty I’d say. Leet are supporting us. Remember that band I said I was doing a bit of work with? They’ll be on at eight.’

  ‘We’ll probably grab a quick bite, but we’ll be there for when you come on. Listen, can I buy a ticket for Trish?’

  ‘Jesus Norman, didn’t I say to you …’

  ‘Ah no, Jimmy. That’s not fair. I don’t want to impose. You said I could just show up and I appreciate that, but I only met this one recently and then she wasn’t sure if she was free tonight so I didn’t want to …’

  ‘Ah Christ, Norman. You’re already on the guest list. Guests can bring guests. Bring whoever you like, really. Get her to bring her mates, sure, if you want. There’s a few dozen spare spots. Half of the press won’t turn up anyway, the pricks. It’s no problem. Just tell the guy on the door your name and you’re in, done deal.’

  ‘Ah Jimmy, I feel like a terrible …’

  ‘Norman, for fuck sake it’s nothing. We’ve been over all this before! Please, you and Trish come backstage afterwards. I want you to. And don’t queue up either when you get there, right? Just come in.’

  They’d actually nearly had a row ov
er it before. The last time The Grove played Vicar Street, Norman had actually paid for his ticket and then was too embarrassed to ask to go backstage afterwards to see the lads. Jimmy went spare when he found out. Him and Aesop had been mates with Norman for twenty years. Norman had come to see the band play when there was more people on the stage than in the audience. He wasn’t fucking having him pay in to see them now.

  ‘Jimmy, it’s awkward, y’know? The fella won’t know me and he’ll be giving me that look, like I’m only …’

  ‘He’ll fucking know you tonight, don’t worry about it.’

  ‘How will he?’

  ‘I’ll tell him a fucking huge Corkman will be in tonight with his bird and if he’s not nice to you, he’ll be cleaning the jacks next week. Okay?’

  ‘Ah, Jimmy, see what I mean? Going to the trouble …’

  ‘I’m joking Norman. Look, it’ll be grand. Seeya there, okay?’

  ‘Okay Jimmy. Okay. I’ll seeya later. If I don’t see you before you’re on, good luck.’

  ‘Thanks man.’

  *

  ‘Aesop?’

  ‘Norman. Howya. What’s up?’

  ‘Listen, Aesop, I’m bringing a girl tonight to the gig.’

  ‘Sorry, I’m confused. Which Norman is this?’

  ‘I’m serious Aesop. I’m bringing a girl.’

  ‘A real one?’

  ‘Yes, a real one. From Kerry.’

  ‘Okay. Well it’s starting to make sense now. Fair enough. Good man. Why are you telling me, but? Did I ride her or something?’

  ‘No. But I’m just telling you that I really like this girl and there’s a good chance we’ll both be backstage afterwards. Okay?’

  ‘Right. Eh, Norman?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I’m only out of bed. What are you fucking talking about?’

  ‘I’m just telling you. I like this girl a lot, and it’s our second date.’

  ‘Okay … right. And it’s my turn to say something now, is it?’

  ‘Did you hear what I just said?’

  ‘Yes, I fucking heard you Norman! You’ve got a bird. Brilliant. Porky Pig is hang gliding past the window here. Are you going to tell me why you fucking rang me?’