Johnny and The USed Wonz

by DaNeo Duran

  Marlon said, ‘Would someone likes to explain what’s going on?’

  ‘Yeah, Russell would.’ Johnny faced him.

  Reluctantly Russell explained that Steve had been stealing from the pharmacy where he worked which led him to dealers and his involvement with drugs.

  Marlon commented he’d never heard of half the chemicals Russell mentioned; neither had Johnny despite his time at the cover.

  Russell said, ‘Steve kept schtum ‘cause he knew yous lads was clean.’

  ‘Well, now we know. What time is it?’ Johnny asked Marlon.

  ‘Quarter to eight.’

  ‘Anybody know what we should do now?’ Johnny said.

  ‘With no bleedin’ drummer?’ Russell said.

  ‘Well which would you prefer a drummer ruining kids’ lives and our reputation as individuals and a band or the job of finding another one?’

  Russell shrugged.

  Marlon said nothing.

  ‘What did you think of him as a drummer?’ Johnny asked Russell.

  ‘He was alright.’

  ‘He wasn’t. He was rubbish. Hang on.’

  Johnny left his remaining bandmates to wonder where he’d gone.

  When he returned he said, ‘Alright, this is Stu. He’s the latest recruit to Johnny and the Used Ones. And, he’s so good if any of us don’t shape up fast our lack of ability will stand out all the more. So, the time to get good, very good, is now. Any questions?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Marlon said. ‘Ain’t he from that dickhead band what—’

  ‘Wrecked our show,’ Johnny finished for him. ‘Russell, why d’you think they wrecked our show?’

  ‘Dunno.’

  ‘I bet you do. It was because of that creep we just sacked—’

  ‘You sacked,’ Marlon said.

  ‘Justifiably,’ Johnny barked. ‘Because of him Stu’s band thought the lot of us were smack-heads.’

  * * *

  After setting up the rehearsal room’s drums they set to playing.

  ‘Can you hear that?’ Johnny soon shouted up to a dumb looking Marlon and Russell. ‘Guys, that’s groove.’

  Stu cracked into the next song guessing at rhythms, aware he’d have to groove like James Brown’s drummer given Johnny’s commentary.

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ Johnny said to Russell. ‘Stu here’s a proper drummer. That last idiot was so all over the place nobody noticed you were too.’

  ‘But the Pistols—’

  ‘Nobody gives a damn about the bloody Sex Pistols anymore. They’re eighteen months gone. Proper bands groove to the drums.’

  Though fraught, Stu loved the discipline his other band suffered without.

  * * *

  Two weeks after the initial rehearsal Stu gave I’d Sooner Nut You four weeks’ notice. Johnny had cancelled gigs until Stu could get to speed. America had been discussed and as the band’s dynamic changed Johnny sensed Russell not embracing its new spirit.

  Pushing him to breaking point every rehearsal, Johnny figured Russell would either start grooving like a pro or crack and leave.

  Johnny gave him credit. He tried hard and stuck with it another few weeks but he eventually confessed he couldn’t be what Johnny and Stu wanted.

  ‘Now what we gonna do?’ Marlon said after Russell’s last rehearsal.

  With no better suggestions Johnny said he’d ring his old band mate Shaun.

  Shaun turned out to have a renewed interest in bands since the girl he’d been seeing, who apparently had the kind of beauty a guy would ruin his life for, dumped him.

  He showed up at rehearsal with bass guitar and enough natural groove to highlight where they’d been going wrong with Russell. He understood the basics of the instrument and brought flare to the best gigs the band had ever played.

  Even sleeping on Johnny’s floor after gigs, Shaun appeared to be enjoying life on stage. Even Marlon stopped turning up late for events.

  But, over time as Johnny and Stu’s dreams of America deepened, the other two’s became more ambivalence.

  After gigging over Christmas the band pooled their resources in order to record in the new year of 1980. Everyone had saved including Stu who’d started working on the markets having left college.

  The recordings led to better gigs though the band had ignored the studio engineer’s advice of recording three songs well. Instead they’d recorded eight songs averagely.

  Stu turned nineteen and more handsome. Johnny used him as his fashion inspiration whilst the other two band members kept gigging in whatever clothes they’d found that morning.

  In March Shaun found a new girlfriend who didn’t want to go to America.

  One day in April he took off and didn’t come back. Johnny rang his home for a week before catching him in. Shaun confessed he’d left the band.

  After the annoyance passed Johnny phoned Stu who, having learned the importance of finding the right people, suggested Shaun’s disinterest in America probably meant he’d not been right anyway despite being a decent player.

  Back in his room Johnny wondered when Shaun would come back for the bass he’d left behind after their last gig.

  When Shaun didn’t collect it Johnny took it along to the next rehearsal and tried to persuade Marlon to take over the role of bassist.

  ‘I don’t want to,’ he said folding his arms.

  ‘Come on Marlon. We need something at the bottom end and your groove’s pretty okay.’

  ‘Why don’t you play it?’

  ‘Can you play this?’ Johnny fingerpicked a beautiful chord progression.

  ‘No,’ Marlon admitted.

  ‘Can you play this?’ Johnny pedalled away on his lowest string.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Then you can play bass. Give it a go at least for tonight. You might enjoy it.’

  Marlon huffed putting his guitar in its case. But, when they played Johnny nodded at Stu. Marlon didn’t look or sound too bad and Johnny soon found ways to fill the gaps the second guitar’s absence created.

  After a thorough rehearsal everyone agreed Johnny and the Used Ones sounded decent as a three piece and within a few more rehearsals they hit the bars gigging again.

  Things seemed fine until the band’s growth reached a plateau and new songs stopped appearing.

  Marlon seemed happy having lapsed into lateness again but Johnny worried about Stu who had chosen working musically with him over further education. When questioned, Stu indeed had concerns.

  By this time they’d known each other almost a year yet professionally they’d hardly progressed. Most importantly, something fundamental seemed wrong.

  ‘Is it Marlon?’ Johnny asked.

  ‘I think it might be.’

  Stu had observed his timekeeping, image and stunted improvement. But stated his lack of ambition determined his lack of “rightness” which affected the band’s freshness and progression.

  Johnny agreed knowing Marlon didn’t live and breathe the band like he should. Though they’d talked about hunting down record companies they decided they should focus on getting the right team together first.

  ‘A keyboard player mightn’t be a bad idea,’ Stu said.

  ‘Okay,’ Johnny said, ‘let’s do whatever it takes to get a quality bass player and maybe find someone to play boards along the way.’

  ‘They’ll have to look good too.’

  Johnny agreed.

  * * *

  A week after that conversation Johnny went home to discover one of his housemates had moved out. Johnny talked to Geoff and Stu moved in.

  Johnny talked to his landlord about the band. Geoff said they should be aiming for greater successes.

  Johnny and Stu spent the summer working by day, attending martial arts classes by evening and rehearing.

  Living under the same roof made song writing easier. They’d spend any other free time pubbing and clubbing, seeing other bands and meeting girls. Though neither mentioned Veronica, Stu found it amusing that every girl he thou
ght pretty Johnny would disagree; that is until he found himself doing the same. Either way, Stu fancied girls his age or younger but Johnny seemed always to eye more adult ladies.

  They tried poaching notable musicians in vain. Perhaps their mediocre demo let them down but though their songs had moved on in truth nobody inspired them to try too hard.

  Wanting management they collected business cards, but not sufficient interest to secure a manager.

  That didn’t surprise either Johnny or Stu; the band seemed to be getting worse not better. Disagreeing on most issues including fashion, Marlon resisted, painting himself evermore as the black sheep of the band.

  Sunday 10th June 1984

  Johnny hadn’t shaken Dane’s hand. They’d both looked at one another but Johnny had backed out the motel’s room to Dane’s clear relief.

  ‘You see him then?’ Stu asked when Johnny found him by the bus with Jack and Quinn somewhere nearby.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Nothing much, ‘Johnny said remembering the paper all over the bed. ‘He’s got an idea of how we can generate some cash for Linda before we hit LA.’

  ‘Cool, what is it?’

  ‘He’ll tell us when we’re all together on the bus.’

  ‘So what about you – you ready to believe he’s innocent?’

  Johnny thought for a moment. ‘Not sure. If I’m honest Dane seems a bit …’

  ‘What, too thick to be part of a plan to rip us off?’

  ‘No.’ Johnny laughed. ‘I mean, he can obviously think. He’s got some plan of how we can make some cash.’

  ‘And he’s had other good ideas for us,’ Stu agreed.

  ‘What I mean is, he seems too nice to rip anyone off.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking the same,’ Stu said turning for the motel. ‘But he’s not so charmingly nice he’d pull one over on us.’

  ‘That’s it. I suppose he’s just a genuine guy who’s managing us because he was told to.’

  ‘Right. But, could someone that sort of a nice guy be so subservient that they’d fall into a plan to rip us off because someone more important told him to – someone like this silver-haired Yul Bryner fella?’

  ‘Hmm, I hadn’t thought of that.’

  ‘Well I had and it kinda bothers me,’ Stu said as they neared the motel’s reception. ‘I need a shower. Christine will be pleased you spoke to Dane though.’

  ‘I guess. I’ll give Linda a ring.’

  ‘Christine won’t be pleased with that.’

  Johnny laughed but said, ‘You don’t know what her problem there is do you?’

  ‘No idea, but I’ll tell you yours.’

  ‘Mate, don’t remind me.’

  ‘Nar, I wasn’t gonna give you a hard time about being obsessed with her. I was just gonna say it’s Sunday.’ He stopped in his tracks. ‘Mate, she hasn’t given you her home number has she?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. I’ll leave a message on her answer machine; though actually I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s there anyway knowing her.’

  ‘Well, I’ll see you at the bus soon,’ Stu said turning and leaving Johnny at the reception’s payphone.

  ‘Oh,’ Johnny said shouting after him, ‘I must mention one funny thing that Dane said.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘He knew about us scrapping when we met but he said he couldn’t believe Christine and Mazz would give us any trouble.’

  Monday 25th August 1980

  Thankfully Graham and Liz secured Johnny a gig which injected the band with new life.

  Through her work, Liz had heard of an open air event in Regent’s Park scheduled for August’s bank holiday. Le-Clash would headline supported by bands comprised of kids in Social Service shelter schemes.

  She recommended Johnny and the Used Ones. Johnny’s upbringing barely qualified the band but armed with extensive gig experience they landed the principle support slot.

  Though scheduled to take the stage right before Le-Clash, Johnny and Stu nevertheless spruced up and arrived before the first band performed from the park’s erected stage. Fully enthused the lads took flyers from the girls distributing them.

  ‘What’s this?’ Stu said startling Johnny.

  Looking at his flyer Johnny saw what Stu had. ‘We’ve been bumped. Our slot’s gone.’

  ‘By Wayward Wenches?’

  ‘Who the hell are Wayward Wenches?’

  Aggrieved they showed their artist passes and tracked the organiser backstage.

  ‘Sorry lads,’ the man, called Big Al said, ‘it was a last minute decision.’

  ‘Can they play?’ Stu asked.

  ‘Who cares? They’re five sexy girls and, no disrespect, but that’s something you guys aren’t.’

  ‘Neither are Le-Clash.’

  ‘No but, they are Le-Clash.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry lads, the flyers are printed; running order can’t change now.’

  Big Al excused himself in order to announce the first act.

  ‘We’re stuffed if Marlon’s late,’ Johnny said.

  Rather than languish, the lads spent the afternoon watching bands and observing audience fashions and responses.

  By the time Marlon arrived they’d collected business cards from managers and record companies. Unfortunately most had vanished by the time they came to play.

  Ready for their 8pm slot Johnny and the Used Ones took the stage ready to rock the growing Le-Clash-hungry crowd.

  On the drum riser Stu failed to manipulate the toms obscuring his view of the audience. He despaired seeing Marlon pulling saggy jeans over exposed flesh. Johnny however, well-dressed and lean from martial arts training, looked terrific.

  Big Al approached the mic and said about the previous band, ‘Ladies and gentlemen weren’t they fab?’

  No, Stu thought.

  ‘We’ve got a treat for you now. Ladies and gentlemen please put your hands together for, Johnny, And, His, Used, One.’

  Stu counted in the first songs with his sticks, rather than throwing them at Big Al. Hidden and feeling excluded he watched Marlon, as usual, standing stock still staring at his instrument neither engaging the crowd nor seeming to enjoy himself. Between toms he saw Johnny singlehandedly win the crowd.

  * * *

  Disappointed the show’s potential didn’t register on his expectations, Stu stepped from the drums not bothering to take his usual bow.

  Away from the stage the three found a private area where Johnny leapt up and down saying, ‘Did you hear that crowd?’

  Obviously Stu had but couldn’t feel Johnny’s excitement, or Marlon’s.

  ‘That stage was huge,’ Marlon enthused.

  ‘So why d’you just stand in one spot then?’ Stu said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You had all that space yet you left all the rocking and crowd pleasing to Johnny.’

  ‘Did I? I don’t think so. I fairly rocked it tonight.’

  Stu said no more.

  Within ten minutes, in typical style, Marlon excused himself.

  When the next band started Johnny said, ‘Let’s go see if these wenches are wayward sexy enough to justify bumping us down the bill.’

  ‘They don’t sound it but okay,’ Stu said over the racket they’d just started.

  Out front Johnny thought they must be seeing things. ‘Blimey, is that really five sexy girls I see?’

  ‘Image is definitely their strong suit,’ Stu said as stage lights illuminated swishing hair and inviting curves. Listening closely he dissected Wayward Wenches’ cacophony. The drummer looked like she might be tossing salad as the drums sloshed along leaving nothing for the bass to latch to. Not that the bassist would have noticed. Her lumbering sound set the band up for outrageous chords as one erroneous note followed another.

  The guitar twined possibly thrown by misleading bass notes whilst the singer’s glissando shrieks skidded everywhere but in key.

  ‘Terribl
e,’ Stu said.

  ‘Maybe, but we shouldn’t underestimate image. ‘Marlon better get it together.’

  Stu told him he’d had enough of Marlon. ‘If he was going to sharpen he would have by now.’

  Johnny agreed but Stu couldn’t determine whether he’d grasped the depth of his implication. He said, ‘He’s not actually bad looking though is he?’

  Johnny laughed. ‘He’s not and look at these girls, not all of them are beautiful.’

  ‘Maybe we just got wowed by the lights and outfits,’ Stu said considering how the Wayward Wenches had created a stimulating look he knew he’d remember.

  From the waist up they looked like eighteenth century serving girls; each wearing champagne-coloured corsets and whorish makeup. Whilst below the waist they wore tight fitting jeans and high heels. They united the juxtaposed styles with punky jewellery made from chains and safety pins.

  Johnny, analysing sound and image noted the singer’s corset not doing her any favours. Layers of flesh poured over when she turned her back.

  That she didn’t have much bust meant the corset highlighted the figure she didn’t have rather than exaggerating one he wanted her to have. He reckoned a producer might be able to hammer the band into shape but would have to go to the drawing board with the singer. Given the terrible sound he guessed there must be better singers within the band.

  The guitarist had a lean figure but, like the singer had no bust and her stocky midriff meant she didn’t suit her corset either. He couldn’t see much of the drummer but heard enough to know it didn’t matter how she looked.

  He found the bassist most appealing. Her slender body had a tiny waist yet, where her sleek black hair fell, the corset strained accommodating her impressive bosom. Despite the makeup disguising her elfin face Johnny knew she must be the youngest.

  Watching her delicate inexperienced fingers he felt for the girl as she guessed at notes on a bass that looked enormous.

  Never straying from her position she acknowledged the audience less than Marlon; yet Johnny found her adorable. If her gaze ever lifted from her instrument’s fingerboard she’d look past the singer to the keyboard player who, when Johnny saw her, wondered how he could possibly have missed her.

  Perhaps the mousy bobbed hair or pallid skin had given her less immediacy than the others. But now he’d found her, he had a favourite Wayward Wench.

  Her body curved in ways that made him forget the rest of the band’s musical shortcomings. Lost in the moment Johnny yearned to put his hands on the silk and bone of her corset as she played two keyboards comparatively well. Sitting sideways to the crowd she appeared to keep an eye on the young bassist.