by DaNeo Duran
‘What’s the crack?’ Johnny asked Dane.
‘I’ve just spoken with Vanquar headquarters.’
‘New York?’ Mazz asked.
‘Yup.’ Dane looked pleased. ‘Album sales are doing really well in every town we’re playing. I don’t know if it’s linked to the T-shirt drive or anything else but Vanquar are really pleased with your progress.’
‘That’s great,’ Stu said and to Johnny, ‘Maybe we’ve been worrying for nothing.’
‘Well if that demo’s anything to go by you’ll surely keep winning their interest with a new album no matter what.’
‘We gonna see some royalties?’ Stu said beaming.
‘Absolutely,’ Dane said. ‘But first let’s get some T-shirts sold. We’ll be back on track in no time.’
Tuesday 06th September 1983
On their second day in LA, forced into Pacific Time regardless of jetlag, The USed Wonz got up and lunged into Trudie’s gruelling schedule which involved interviews with the legendary Pete the Panther at one of LA’s coolest AOR radio stations KROQ. Christine, who Stu kept nipping every time she slipped into a faux Californian accent, invited Pete to the Whisky where they’d be playing the next night.
‘We’re only supporting some local band but they are signed so it should be good,’ Christine said.
At first Pete stared at her in astonishment, then he roared with laughter.
‘I don’t know if these guys are being modest,’ he told listeners before saying to the band, ‘Guys, you do realise you’re supporting Toto, don’t you?’
Fortunately Trudie had informed the rest of them but Christine still felt embarrassed if not surprised that such a notable band who’d recently had worldwide hits with Rosanna and Africa would be playing such a comparatively small venue in their home city. She guessed the Whisky a Go Go must have every bit as much kudos as Trudie had implied.
From KROQ the band then visited Aron’s Records on Melrose Avenue where they signed records and had photos taken.
Without time to ponder where the crowd had come from they left Aron’s Records for KXLU the city’s biggest college radio station. Matt, who interviewed them, had no hope of hiding that he fancied Mazz. When she called him ‘hot stuff’, stunned Matt had to pull himself together and apologise to his listeners for the seconds of dead air.
After he finished going on about Mazz being a female bass player the band informed the listeners of their other upcoming gigs.
‘We’re doing two gigs per night sometimes,’ Stu said before listing the Anti-Club, Troubadour and McCabe’s Guitar Shop in addition to the Whisky.
They told him they’d then be getting a bus to tour the rest of the states. But first they needed instruments. Matt wished them well and The USed Wonz left for West L.A. Music on Santa Monica Boulevard where much to Johnny’s delight Linda showed up.
Both Stu and Mazz had secured merchandising deals before leaving the UK. When they arrived at the music store they had their pictures taken by musical instrument manufactures, Mazz with a Fender Jazz bass and Stu with a Yamaha drum kit and Paiste cymbals.
Trudie, present with a Vanquar chequebook, signed for a Fender Twin amp for Johnny and for Christine an inexpensive Rhodes and string machine as well as a way more expensive Roland Jupiter-8 synth which everyone but Richard agreed she had to have after she spent forty minutes filling the shop with its peculiarly wonderful sounds.
With no van, Trudie said they’d be back the next day to collect the instruments, when they’d have one.
Wednesday 07th September 1983
After a forty-five minute journey the following morning Richard said, ‘I’ll be glad to get the van; it’ll save a fortune in taxi fares.’
The girls had been given a few hours to window shop on Olympic Boulevard whilst Johnny and Stu had travelled with Richard to Habor Boulevard in Costa Mesa where, on another arrow-straight dual carriageway lined with car and van dealerships, they’d found Steve’s Truck Rental.
A tall man shielding his eyes from the midday sun came out to greet them. Grinning through a massive jaw he introduced himself as Steve.
‘Linda tells me you require a van for shifting musical equipment,’ he said. ‘Come see what I got lined up for you.’
‘Is there nobody she doesn’t know?’ Johnny whispered to Stu.
Out in the rear courtyard other members of staff showed customers to larger vehicles. Steve showed them a van everyone thought would be perfect until price came into the conversation.
Price, opened negotiations and closed opportunities.
Steve adjusted the Stetson he’d picked up on his way through the office.
‘Your budget only really leaves you with this,’ he said leading them towards a lorry-sized truck which Johnny though would be too big.
Of course Steve hadn’t meant the lorry; he’d meant the battered unloved white minibus behind it.
‘Does it work?’ Richard asked without a shred of disappointment in his voice.
‘Sure,’ Steve said, ‘if you keep her under fifty. She’s a twelve year old Chevy G-Series. Five litre engine. V8. I wouldn’t recommend taking her too far from home though. I’ll have a mechanic remove the back rows of seats if you can hang on half an hour or so.’
Looking at his watch Richard gave the go-ahead.
‘If you like fancy cars why don’t you boys pop over the road to my brother’s shop, Casper’s Customs? Tell him I sent you and I’ll give you a ring when we’re ready here.’
The lads left Richard settling paperwork and organising the bus they’d need once they started touring outside LA and headed off dodging traffic for Casper’s Customs yards up the road.
‘Wow,’ Stu said when the last building ceased obscuring the garage’s forecourt.
‘Agreed,’ Johnny said.
Other than Geoff’s Aston Martin and Linda looking sexy with her Lotus he’d never given much thought to cars.
‘What’s this one?’
‘G’day USed Wonz,’ another large jawed man said. ‘I’m Steve’s brother Casper. He just phoned to say you might need educating in American muscle but don’t tell me you don’t recognise this car.’
‘Looks like the Dukes of Hazzard’s General Lee,’ Johnny said.
‘Correct. 1969 Dodge Charger,’ Casper announced proudly. ‘Superseded by this.’ He indicated a similar resplendently customised restoration. ‘1971 Challenger. You seen the film Vanishing Point?’
Stu had.
The lads asked questions as Casper showed them car types that had popularised films and TV shows like Bullet, Smokey and the Bandit and Starsky and Hutch.
‘We either buy old cars and customise them or restore classics to their original beauty. But most of these cars are customised to order.’
‘This one doesn’t look like much,’ Johnny said pointing to an unrecognisable rust bucket.
‘No,’ Casper said. ‘But, let me show you how it’ll look when we’ve finished with it.’
Casper led them to his showroom and a car so darkly metallic blue it might have been black.
‘No way,’ Johnny said.
‘Yup. Chevrolet Camaro, S,S,’ he emphasised its letters. ‘It’s sold of course. Buyer’s coming from Las Vegas next week sometime.’
‘Pity. If I had the money I’ve taken it off you right now,’ Johnny said.
Other than the Stratocaster he’d stolen from Hal, he had no obsessive desire for material belongings.
But admiring the oversized hot-rod-style bulbous back tyres with emblazoned Goodyear logos he said, ‘Here’s a car I could really dream about.’
‘Indeed,’ Casper said. ‘No rock star should be without one. And don’t even start me about its sound; you like music? These V8s are symphonies unto themselves.’
‘What d’you think, Stu?’
He held his hands up. ‘I’m sold. Any one of these cars would do me. I love that Oldsmobile though.’
They looked towards another corner.
‘Excell
ent choice. 1969, 442. She’s a beauty. Excuse me,’ Casper said when the phone rang, ‘I dare say this’ll be my brother calling you back.’
* * *
Volunteering to drive the minibus Stu did okay despite repeatedly stamping the floor where the clutch should be.
‘We need to earn some money,’ Johnny said to Richard who sat up front struggling with the map. ‘We’ve seen the cars we want.’
‘You know until now, you guys have been a breath of fresh air. Most bands crap on about cars and stuff before the ink’s dried on the contract,’ Richard grumbled.
‘Relax, we don’t mind waiting,’ Stu said.
‘I’d love to hear what Linda would say if I drove up in one of those Camaros,’ Johnny said.
Stu pulled a face. ‘Why would it matter what she thought?’
‘I’m just saying, her Lotus would look pretty small.’
‘She’s a nice lady, but I really don’t think she’s for you.’
‘I thought we were talking about cars; what are you on about?’
Slowing as they joined the downtown gridlock Stu said, ‘We were talking about cars; then you brought her into the conversation.’
‘So what if I did? It’s not like you fancy her – do you?’
‘Mate, given the millions of girls my own age in this city and throughout this amazing country, no I don’t fancy her.’
‘So we’re okay then; not that there’s any reason to be rude about her.’
‘So you’re admitting you fancy her?’
‘I’m …’ Johnny decided not to lie to his best friend. ‘Yeah, I do.’
‘Flaming heck,’ Richard muttered. ‘Why? She’s a tidy piece alright but—’
‘I don’t know why,’ Johnny interjected sounding surly. ‘Maybe I’ll get over it.’
‘Mate,’ Stu said. ‘I don’t mean to be rude. I agree with Richard she’s very tidy but don’t forget there are fifty states crawling with girls our own age who’ll love us and our English accents.’
‘Can’t you both just leave me to fancy who I want?’
‘No,’ Richard said. ‘If you start chasing women twice your age you leave guys like me with nothing.’
* * *
Though The USed Wonz had done well in their impromptu Anti-Club gig Linda knew a full set at the Whisky in front a demonically impassioned thousand-strong Toto audience would be a very different experience.
Backstage she’d directed Pete the Panther and the young man from BAM to The USed Wonz dressing room knowing they’d already dressed for their performance. Fancying a rare cigarette she turned from the dressing room when—
‘Jeff,’ she said startled to see the Toto drummer milling around.
The bespectacled drummer looked her over and grinned. ‘Linda.’
‘My god, any chance I could get a photo of you with your support act?’
After photos and interviews, Richard cleared the dressing room so his musicians could have a few moments of composure.
Leaving Richard to view the performance from the wings, Linda and Grace joined the loosely gathering crowd in front of the Whisky’s stage. Suddenly the house lights dimmed and a voice from the speakers said, ‘Would you please welcome to the stage, The USed Wonz.’
Nervous for them and the tour she’d booked, Linda joined Grace in cheering the band.
Perfectly costumed, Linda thought the whole band looked good enough to eat. It seemed Christine really could turn up the beauty volume when she chose. She remembered herself, fifteen or perhaps twenty years earlier, when she’d thought Rock ‘n’ Roll had just been invented.
With maturity she’d outgrown the desire to date rock singers but as Christine’s synthy sounds lapped around bass and drums she felt the band’s fresh sound washing away rock’s cobwebs rejuvenating it.
The uniquely blue guitar Linda had heard so much about hung around Johnny’s crotch; lower than the Gibson he’d borrowed. His open shirt appeared to reveal a ripped body hard enough to stop bullets; surely an effect exaggerated by the stage lights.
Stu’s drums dropped to hi-hat counts.
Alone with Christine’s overtures Johnny, still without plucking a string, began singing in a prayer-soft voice that dissolved conversations out front the softer he crooned.
His voice rose with the addition of Mazz’s bass and Stu’s drum crescendo. As suddenly as it had risen, the music dropped leaving the line Linda and Grace had been waiting for: How can we be so happy when we have nothing at all?
If Linda could hear ripples of appreciation throughout the room she certainly felt them as Johnny struck his first guitar notes of the night. Like a stone in a millpond The USed Wonz broke the ambivalent surface of Toto’s audience.
The band’s full live sound with keyboards and Johnny’s incredible guitar blew away the last of Linda’s doubts hanging over from the Anti-Club.
When the song ended The USed Wonz gained no shortage of cheers. On stage Johnny said, ‘Let’s hear you Toto fans.’
Way to suck in someone else’s audience, Linda thought proudly joining the room’s uproarious response.
‘Toto will be along shortly. In the meantime we’re The …,’ Johnny stopped. ‘Actually does anyone out there know who we are?’
To Linda’s surprise no small portion of the room cheered wholeheartedly. She and Grace beamed at one another. From then on in Linda stopped analysing and started enjoying the show.
* * *
Christine laughed. ‘Me and Johnny?’
‘What?’ Linda chuckled too. The successful Whisky show had put everyone in a celebratory mood. In a bar nearby Santa Monica Boulevard, Linda knew Earl would be waiting at home like a bad-tempered bear but she couldn’t leave just yet. Her interest in Johnny kept growing and, though she knew she shouldn’t, she relished the way he looked at her.
But she’d also seen the way he and Christine looked at one another and wouldn’t have blamed either of them for breaking the most pertinent of band rules; especially as, now alone with the stunning young keyboard player, Linda could appreciate the effect Christine had on most men.
‘Not a chance,’ Christine said dismissing the notion of them as an item. ‘I was pretty defensive when we met.’ She glanced over at him sipping lemonade whilst Stu supped a beer. ‘Maybe if we’d met in different circumstances. He’s certainly got the hots for you though.’
‘I’ve no idea why,’ Linda said.
‘Be modest if you must, but you can’t deny there’s something between the pair of you.’
‘There’s something,’ Linda agreed, ‘but as I told him it’s not that. Seriously, I live with my boyfriend.’
Christine raised an eyebrow.
‘I’m not interested in Johnny that way,’ she implored, ‘not even for a quickie. As you guys’ agent it would be unacceptably unprofessional. And, even aside from that I’d hate to send him across the States for weeks amongst thousands of women of all ages wanting to have it off with him; and it’d be ridiculous asking him to behave. I know how boring life on the road can get.’
‘Okay,’ Christine laughed patting her knee. ‘I get it. You don’t fancy him.’
‘Thank you,’ Linda said but looked across the bar to him. ‘I don’t know what it is about him. He’s a mysterious one.’
‘Well as long as I’ve known him he’s hankered for girls at least his own age. I figured it might be because his mum died when he was young.’
‘That might explain it.’
‘You realise nobody knows his real name?’
‘What?’ Linda faced Christine. ‘It’s Johnny Won, I saw his passport.’
Christine shook her head. ‘According to Stu, half his life ago he got tied into the Social Services system. When he refused to give up his real name they appointed his chosen one on his insistence. It was supposed to be temporary but he just got lost in the system so he’s stuck with it now.’
‘A criminal record would rekindle interest.’
‘He’s no angel but he�
�s managed to keep himself out of trouble.’
‘So what happened to make him want to forget his birth name?’
‘Never talks about it; not even with Stu.’
‘Jeez.’
‘Stu reckons he might have witnessed a murder or something. Whatever happened it frightened him off booze for life.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘D’you see him drinking?’
‘I saw your live video, he necked an entire bottle of JD.’
Christine laughed. ‘Tea, not JD and don’t even ask about his scars.’
‘Scars?’ Linda nevertheless asked.
‘Looks like he’s been run over by a combine harvester.’
Linda shook her head. Not only had her interest in Johnny deepened but now so had her curiosity and sympathy.
Saturday 23rd June 1984
The temperature had already reached near unbearable heights before band and crew had finished pummelling pads.
Christine helped Stu repack the bag with sparring gear. The previous night they’d headlined the town hall in Nevada’s St. George. To save cash the bus had pulled into a campsite. The band had slept on the bus and used the site’s washing machines. Mazz handed Christine her pads and went to retrieve the washing. Dane too handed her the gloves he’d been forced to wear again.
‘Thanks,’ Johnny said before making off towards the shower block.
Stu clocked Christine’s joyless look. ‘Rushing to ring Linda no doubt.’
‘Waste of time and quarters,’ Christine said helping him zip the bag shut..
‘Whatever makes him happy.’
‘You wouldn’t say that if they got together. Any girlfriend of Johnny’s would be crazy to let him go on tour for weeks on end.’
Stu lumped the bag on his shoulder and grinned. ‘True, if you were my girlfriend I wouldn’t trust you to behave on tour.’
‘Exactly,’ she said not seeming offended. She kept step with him towards the bus where Quinn had the boot lid open in readiness for the bag.
She said, ‘What worries me is if they did hook up Johnny mightn’t want to tour.’
Stu laughed. ‘I can’t see that happening.’
‘Don’t take this so lightly.’
‘Cheers Quinn,’ Stu said relieved of the bag.
He faced north seeing past green but parched trees to the red rock Snow Canyon State Park. The heat seemed uncanny given the city’s altitude. He knew he’d never tire of touring America providing they had fresh songs. He didn’t believe Johnny would either.
