Ride On

by Stephen J. Martin

  ‘Yeah, it’s deadly. I mean, it’s not like jazz or anything, but … eh … it’s kind of … y’know?’

  Jimmy nodded. It had the same kind of interaction between the different instruments, but without that straight-edged structure. No one was trying to fill any corners, because there weren’t any. The music was rolling and organic and if one performer took a lead, the new focus seemed to grow out of what was happening already instead of suddenly appearing in the piece like a stuck-out elbow. Everyone in the place was part of the gig and the stage seemed to extend out into them, past the fetch of the lights and back to all the walls.

  ‘And Rónán?’

  ‘Rónán?’

  ‘On the bodhrán.’

  ‘Eh … yeah. Right. I want to talk to him about that. Can we go backstage afterwards?’

  ‘I’ll say it to Colm.’

  ‘Did you see the little skinny yoke he’s using as a tipper? And the way he holds it? There’s something going on there, man. I need a word with him before we leave. Can’t have that shite going on and me not knowing how it’s done, the fucker.’

  ‘So you’re not the best bodhrán player in the country any more?’

  Aesop shook his head. He looked up at the stage, where the guy was rounding off a solo percussion bit, and bit at his knuckles and frowned for a minute as he watched. Then he turned around to Jimmy again.

  ‘Still the prettiest, though.’

  The piper’s drones started to wail on their own, a low desolate voice, before his fingers started to pick out another slow air. The lads hushed up with everyone else and watched. It was beautiful and eerie. Outside was the city of London, all lights and bustle and energy, but in here it was dark and close. They could have been hunched over the fire in Norman’s cottage in Cork, a moonlit bog at their door.

  Jimmy got a tap on the arm from Aesop. He looked around and Aesop pointed up to the stage. Colm was standing back in the shadows, but he was looking down at their table and giving Jimmy big eyes. Did he want to sing ‘Caillte’?

  Jesus. He’d been so wrapped up in the gig that he’d forgotten completely about this. He didn’t know what to do. This was like no gig he’d ever sang at before. A session down the pub was one thing, but he wasn’t prepared for this. It wasn’t a different league, it was a different game. It wasn’t about haircuts and standing with your legs apart and throwing big sultry eyes at the chicks in the front row. It was about the song. That was the only reason you were there. Not to play or sing it … to channel it.

  Jimmy closed his eyes and thanked Christ he’d written ‘Caillte’. He very suddenly and very badly wanted to get onto that stage and grab some of the vibe that was floating around up there. It wasn’t like what he got with The Grove. This gig was a completely different animal. It wasn’t his scene but he wanted a sup, just to see. He’d been feeling funny ever since the gig had started. Something had been nagging at him. Tugging his sleeve. He didn’t know what it was, but he might find out up there. He swallowed. Okay Jimmy. No leather pants. No Strat or Les Paul. No effects pedals. No mates in the audience. No posing. No Dónal or Sparky. No rehearsal. No intro. No soundcheck. No fucking idea what key they’re going to play it in, even.

  Just the song.

  He gave Colm a wave and got a nod in return. He was on.

  He wiped his hands on his jeans and drank the last couple of inches of Aesop’s Coke to wet his throat.

  ‘Ugh,’ he said, pushing the glass away. ‘There’s vodka in that, you bollocks.’

  ‘I didn’t ask you to drink it, did I?’

  ‘Bastard.’

  ‘Go on, look. Colm’s waving at you.’

  The piper was after easing out of his own tune and the main melody of ‘Caillte’ was now recognisable. To the lads, at least, because they knew it was coming. The punters probably just thought it was part of the air he’d be playing anyway. Then the piper looked up from his hands and over at Jimmy, giving him a small nod. Jimmy took a big breath and stood up, walking over to the right side of the stage. A couple of people in the crowd looked over but they still didn’t know what was going on. A few heads had seemed to recognise him earlier, but himself and Aesop had pretty much kept their own heads down all night. Now he could have just been one of the crew fixing something.

  But when he stepped up onto the stage and walked over to the mike in the middle, everyone twigged. That was Jimmy Collins up there, and it was ‘Caillte’ they were suddenly hearing out of the pipes. A huge clamor of roaring and clapping started up, everyone turning to their neighbour and pointing. Jimmy gave a little smile and adjusted the angle of the mike to his mouth. This wasn’t the time or place to be acting the Jagger, stomping around and sopping up the love like a needy, greedy fucker. He just stood there with his hands in his pockets and his eyes closed until they hushed up again.

  As soon as they did, Jimmy heard the sound filling out. The bass was in now. A couple of guitars. Rónán was clicking gently around the rim of the bodhrán. Jesus. They’d put this together in a few minutes backstage? The piper had put down his uilleann pipes and now the low whistle was blowing across the stage. The released version of the song was about four minutes long, and they’d nearly played that long already just as an intro. It was gorgeous. Jimmy found his way in and started singing, opening his eyes briefly to take it in. Four hundred upturned faces were like moons out in the blackness. He closed his eyes again and just let it come. Rónán knew the harmonies and sung them softly with him, adding a few of his own. Long bowed notes that seemed to go on forever were coming out of the fiddle. Somebody was playing a beautiful countermelody on a bouzouki or some fucking thing. Christ, they were good. It was like he was guesting on their song. It was still ‘Caillte’, but it was different. The version Alice might have heard down her rabbit hole. Jimmy had never been so immersed in sound. He was blown away.

  At the end he just stood back from the mike and waited until the others brought the song down. The crowd bellowed and cheered but Jimmy just nodded and gave a little smile and a wave. He’d done fuck all, really. It was all them.

  Rónán leaned into his ear.

  ‘Seeya later Jimmy, right?’

  ‘Yeah. Thanks man.’

  Rónán nodded and stepped to the mike.

  ‘Jimmy Collins from The Grove,’ he said, clapping over to Jimmy who waved again on his way off the stage. The crowd yelled louder.

  Then Jimmy was back in his seat, getting clapped on the back from Shiggy and having a pint thrust towards him by Aesop.

  ‘Great!’ said Shiggy. ‘Wow. So great Jimmy …’

  ‘Man,’ said Aesop, laughing. ‘You looked stoned off your tits up there.’

  ‘I was. How did it sound, but?’

  ‘Sounded deadly.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Yeah, it was fuckin’ great.’

  ‘Cheers.’

  The band were already barreling away into their next tune. A couple of people at tables next to them were catching Jimmy’s eye and saying well done and stuff, but for the most part he was just leaning back in his chair and trying not to notice his heart banging the shite out of his chest. That had been amazing. What they’d done to his song … how the fuck would he ever be able to sing it again with The Grove. His version sounded like it was in the nip.

  He barely registered what was going on for the rest of the gig, except just to sit there and listen. Another guy, a Japanese guy, got up later on and played with them for a few songs. Shiggy was riveted to the stage for that part. Then they played some more and then it was over. Lights up, the crowd finishing their drinks and making their way out into the London night and staff cleaning the place down. Colm came out and brought the lads backstage. It was mad back there, the band and a load of other people just mixing and having a laugh. Jimmy shook about a hundred hands and talked with loads of people, but he was still high from singing and wasn’t taking much in. Shiggy was talking with the Japanese guy who’d played earlier and Aesop hadn’t wasted any time in
collaring Rónán. Jimmy walked past at one stage and heard them arguing. Rónán was beating out a rhythm on a conga drum and Aesop was trying to follow him on the bodhrán.

  ‘That’s not what you played a minute ago,’ Aesop was saying, frowning at Rónán’s hands.

  ‘It is! That’s twice now I’ve played it.’

  ‘It fuckin’ is not Rónán. It’s a slip jig, sure.’

  ‘It was a slip jig the last bleedin’ time I played it as well.’

  ‘It wasn’t! Look, play “Double Knuckle Shuffle” again. Here, take the bodhrán. What are you doing with your left hand again? I don’t remember.’

  ‘Christ. That’s four times now. If I play it on your dopey head will you remember?’

  ‘I was drinking for Ireland last night, Rónán, piss off. You’re lucky I’m here at all. Only for Jimmy nagging me I’d be home in bed.’

  ‘Jesus, I must remember to thank him. Okay, now are you watching? It’s in four-four …’

  Later on in the taxi back to the hotel, Jimmy sat in the back with Aesop, just staring out the window.

  ‘What’s up?’ said Aesop.

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘What’s with the big cheesy grin on you?’

  ‘Have I? Oh, nothing. Just … eh, nothing.’

  But it was something. Jimmy’s eyes were flying back and forth, following the scenes outside, but inside he was still. Aesop wouldn’t get how happy he was right now. No one would. He leaned back against the seat and listened, relieved and excited.

  His head was filled with music. At long fucking last.

  *

  Later on, unable to sleep with the torrents of ideas now filling him, he called Susan. He got her voicemail.

  ‘Hey Susan. Sorry, I know it’s late. Look, I just wanted to say hello. I’m still in London, but we’re heading back at lunchtime tomorrow. I could meet you for breakfast or coffee if you have time? The flight is at one-thirty, but call me any time in the morning, or even tonight if you get this? I’d love to see you, if it’s okay. Right, eh … I’ll go so. Hope you’re okay. Seeya …’

  He put down the phone and stripped to his jocks. He thought he heard his phone ringing when he was brushing his teeth, but when he went back into the room and looked at it lying on his bed, it showed nothing. He went back into the bathroom and finished up. She’d be asleep. Or she didn’t answer when she saw his name flash up on the screen of her phone. Again he heard the ringing. He was on his way back to the bed when he realised that the noise was just in his head, writhing around with jigs and reels and huge Celtic-inspired Lizzy and Big Country and Frames riffs.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Norman was waiting for them at the airport, all smiles. When he saw Shiggy, he let a yell out of him and ran up to give him a hug.

  ‘Bloody hell, Shiggy, what are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming in till later in the week?’

  Shiggy extracted himself from the tentacled mountain that was clinging onto him and shook his head a few times until his neck cracked back into place.

  ‘Fry in early to see you guys,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘Magic! We’ll have a great oul’ laugh. Are you working or what’s the story?’

  ‘Working from Thursday. Horiday now.’

  ‘Brilliant. Well it’s great to see you.’

  He turned to the other two.

  ‘How was London?’

  ‘A bit mental,’ said Jimmy. ‘Mostly on the piss once the meetings were over.’

  ‘How did it go with the record company lot?’

  ‘Ah, long story. I’ll tell you later. Hey, we went to see Kíla last night.’

  ‘Yeah, were they over there? How was it?’

  ‘Brilliant, man. You’d have loved it. I sang “Caillte” with them and everything.’

  ‘Deadly! How did that go?’

  ‘Man, it was cool. You should have heard the version they did. I’m telling you, I’m after getting a load of ideas.’

  ‘Yeah. You look pretty happy. A good trip so? Did you hook up with Susan?’

  ‘Nah. Left her a message, but it was pretty late last night so she probably didn’t get it. Anyway, you look pretty happy yourself. What did you get up to?’

  ‘Jimmy, you wouldn’t believe the few days I’m after having with Trish. We just drove up this morning from Granny’s. She’s in work now. But it was so cool down there just the two of us. We just stayed in the house the whole time, with the weather the way it was. But, God, it was magic all the same.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘Ah Jimmy, she’s some girl. She’s … Christ …’

  Jimmy laughed.

  ‘Jaysis, look at the head on you. Wedding bells, is it?’

  ‘Don’t be messing. Well … ah no, I’m saying nothing …’

  But he didn’t have to. It was all over his face.

  Aesop didn’t say anything but Norman eventually turned around to him.

  ‘Well, Aesop.’

  ‘Howya Norman.’

  ‘Did you have a good time in London?’

  ‘Was grand, yeah.’

  ‘Grand.’

  ‘Listen Norman, about the other night in Cork …’

  ‘I don’t want to hear it Aesop.’

  ‘No, listen a minute. Just … if it’ll make you feel any better, nothing went on between me and Helen, okay? We were just talking. Okay? That’s it. No big deal. Can we forget about it? Your family honour is intact.’

  Norman nodded and didn’t say anything. Aesop went on.

  ‘I know what you think of me when it comes to that kind of thing. I s’pose I deserve it. But I can’t do anything about the fact that I like her, okay? If me and you are going to keep having rows about it …’

  ‘So how many English slappers did you pick up in London?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘Jimmy?’

  ‘He didn’t, Norman.’

  Norman nodded again.

  ‘Well this isn’t the place to talk about it anyway. C’mon and we’ll get you all sorted out.’

  The four lads made their way out to the bitterly cold concourse. Jimmy and Shiggy turned left to head down to the taxis. Norman and Aesop crossed the road into the car park.

  A girl stepped out of the airport building and the doors whooshed closed behind her. She stood and watched Norman and Aesop disappear into the car park lift and then she crossed the road after them.

  *

  Jimmy could see that Dónal wasn’t exactly chuffed, but that he probably wasn’t all that surprised either. He was nodding slowly. He always did that when he was negotiating or otherwise engaged in a conversation that wasn’t going exactly the way he’d hoped. The nodding made you keep talking when really the best thing to do was probably shut your hole.

  ‘So that’s why, Dónal,’ said Jimmy. ‘I’ve been thinking about it since last week and the bottom line is that Senturion just want my guitar and the fact that I’ve got more cop-on than Eamonn and the lads because I’m older. I’d just be the consultant, only there to keep the lads on an even keel.’

  Nod. Nod.

  ‘So … well … when it comes down to it, I’d be a session musician, wouldn’t I? Well-paid and all that, but that’s not why I want to be in this game. I’d just be working for a company again.’

  Nod.

  ‘And I’m saying no. Sorry man. I know what it means to Sin Bin, but …’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Dónal, flicking something off his shirt.

  ‘Are you pissed off?’

  Dónal shrugged.

  ‘With you? Nah. You’re a stubborn bastard, Jimmy, and you have your own ideas about how you want things to go. I knew that the first time I met you. If you were eighteen, this’d be a doddle, but you’re not. Hey Aesop? Anything to say to us?’

  Aesop had just been sitting there on the couch in the meeting room, watching them. He’d already told both of them that he was going to stick with Jimmy and no amount of cajoling was going to change his mind. If being a huge rock
star meant no more playing with Jimmy, no more craic in Dublin, so much travelling that he’d hardly ever get to have dinner in Peggy’s or call around to see his nephews or go for a pint in the Fluther … or get a chance with Helen … then he didn’t want to do it. He didn’t need that much money and he’d already convinced himself that the Old Aesop and his debauchery were a thing of the past and being surrounded by all that carry-on when Leet were on tour would only disgust him.

  ‘Told you man,’ he said. ‘I’m with Jimmy.’

  Dónal sighed and gave a final nod.

  ‘Okay then.’

  ‘You are pissed off,’ said Jimmy. ‘Look at the head on you.’

  ‘I’m not Jimmy. This was just … this business is like a skyscraper, right? You walk into the lobby and usually the guard fucks you out on your ear. Assuming he doesn’t, every now and then an elevator door opens and you jump in and see how far you get.’

  ‘There’ll be other elevators Dónal,’ said Jimmy.

  ‘Yeah. I know. But you’re not going to fucking make it easy for me, are you, ye bollocks? Jesus, you won’t even let me make you into a bloody superstar!’

  ‘Sorry man.’

  ‘Forget about it. If that’s the way it is, then fuck it. I’ll talk to them later in the week. And we’ve still got a lot of work ahead of us. If the tour goes well and the album goes well, maybe The Grove will still hit big. And it’ll be the hard way, Jimmy. The way you like it, right?’

  Jimmy laughed and put his hands over his face.

  ‘Jesus, am I that bad?’

  ‘Let’s just say there aren’t too many people in this game that would turn their nose up at what’s on the table here. Man, you’re the least greedy person I’ve ever met.’

  ‘But it’s not about greed, Dónal. Is it? I mean, it’s about … freedom.’

  Aesop stood up and belched.

  ‘Ah, fuck this. Freedom? Will you ever ask me bollix. Are we done Dónal, or you … fuckin’ … William Wallace … do you have any more words of inspiration for us before lunch?’

  ‘It’s only eleven o’clock Aesop,’ said Jimmy.