“This the nannie with the and the?” Johnny asked as he made wide eyes and cupped his hands in front of his chest.
“Yeah. That’s her. She’s a fuckin’ doll but Dee would chop my cock off if I ever went near her!”
“You reckon?” Johnny replied, as ever, loving Danny’s inherent naivety.
“Anyhow. Cig and a line and we’re ready to fuckin’ rock the roll out of Manchester. Gonna blow the fuckin’ roof off tonight. My mam and dad are here. Full family together for the first time. They are getting a show tonight…”
Making his excuses, Johnny sought the sanctuary of the promoter’s office to process the thinly veiled transatlantic threat.
***
“MANCHESTER! BEST FUCKING BAND IN THE BEST FUCKING CITY IN THE WORLD! THIS HAS BEEN A SPECIAL FEW NIGHTS FOR US. I HOPE YOU’VE ENJOYED IT AS MUCH AS WE HAVE,” Jamie shouted, his guitar held over his head triumphantly.
Taking the lead from his brother, Dominic, his shoulder length blond hair stuck to his face in wet tendrils, looked out across the crowd. “YOU FUCKING READY MANCHESTER? YOU READY FOR YOUR SALVATION?”
The Pavlovian response was a euphoric scream, the audience baying for the band’s signature anthem.
“HERE IT IS! LAST SONG ON THE LAST NIGHT OF OUR TOUR. THIS IS ALL YOURS MANCHESTER!”
No matter how many times Johnny had heard the track, from its rehearsal room infancy to booming out of double-decker bus sized speakers at festivals, it still blew him away. And the ferocity that it was played at seemed to have risen throughout this latest tour, Dominic’s playing reaching heights no-one had ever anticipated.
The psychedelic feedback faded out, and putting their instruments down, the band hugged as one before taking a bow in front of the delirious crowd.
***
Laughing softly, and sounding remarkably like his mum, Jamie smiled at Johnny. “It’s been a tough one at times, but I couldn’t have got through this tour without you. I love yer man. And I’ll miss you when I’m gone.”
“You still planning on taking off for a bit?” Johnny asked.
“Bags packed. Just a bag and my acoustic. Flight booked to Seattle tomorrow. Kurt’s hometown and then travel south and see where I end up,” Jamie said.
“We’ll all miss you. Just don’t be a stranger, eh?”
“I won’t but I need some space. A break from all this.”
“I know what you mean J, but let’s enjoy tonight, put the tour to bed in style,” Johnny said.
“You’re a good man, Johnny Harrison. And it’s your round…”
Chapter 64
“I don’t know what to say Jamie. It. It’s…” Johnny sat forward on the sofa in his apartment, and stared at the stereo, transfixed by what he had just heard. “It’s fucking brilliant but wh—”
“Don’t say but what. Tell me what you think of the songs,” Jamie said as he paced the apartment, tapping his forefinger metronome like against his lips.
Tanned and looking the picture of health after six anonymous months in the City of Angels, Jamie had returned home having been entirely celibate, alcohol and drug free. Not that any of that triumvirate of vices had been a serious issue, but he wanted to be clean whilst he recorded what he intended to be the band’s third album.
“The songs are extraordinary. The whole album works perfectly. But it’s your album. It’s not the band’s,” Johnny said almost beseechingly.
“It can be, though. I’m going to take it to them and we’ll work on it together. As a band,” Jamie said as he pressed playback on the Bose stereo.
***
“Hey man. I know you. You’re Jamie from, err, let me get this right. From Lonely Souls. I saw you as a support in New York. Your first album. I fucking love it man!”
***
This chance conversation in a downtown Los Angeles grocery store had led to a very convivial lunch which had led to a recording studio in the Navajo desert. Which had led to Lonely Souls album number three sitting in Johnny’s stereo.
“Let me get this right. You met a producer by chance who loved your album and you wrote this on your own in his studio?” Johnny asked, as he rubbed at his chin.
“Jessie Oliver. I’d never heard of him, but he was wicked. Sick studio. I’d written the songs in less than a month. No distractions and then we recorded them. He played drums and bass, I did all the guitar parts,” Jamie said.
“And you think the band will re-record their parts just as they are and be happy with that?” Johnny said.
“We’ll sit down. Listen to it and yeah, record it as a Lonely Souls album,” Jamie said without missing a beat.
Johnny sat silent and pondered the situation. The only self-serving positive from his perspective was that the ‘Lies’ track was nowhere to be heard. Every cloud and that, he thought.
“It’s brilliant, J. It feels like a classic album. They’ll go fucking mental for it in America.” Shaking his head at the thought of ‘the numbers’, Johnny returned to the pressing matter of telling the band that album three was a fait accompli having been written 8,000 miles away from Manchester…
“I knew you’d love it,” Jamie said, his enthusiasm unbounded by the delicate curveball he had served up.
All Johnny could muster was another mumbled, “It’s brilliant,” as he thought about the multi-platinum offering he was absorbing.
“Look, I’ve got to go. Want to catch up with Mum and Dom. I’ll leave that disc with you, yeah? I’ve got three more copies,” Jamie said as he stood up quickly, his energy levels preternaturally high.
“Thanks man. I’ll guard it with my life,” Johnny said. Standing to hug Jamie, he assumed a serious tone. “You do know that this isn’t going to play out as straightforward as you’d like?”
“It will. I’m sure it will,” Jamie replied matter of factly.
Johnny’s eyes widened at the assuredness of Jamie’s statement. “I hope you’re right J, I really do.”
After Jamie had left his apartment, Johnny sat and crushed at his temples with his balled fists.
Mulling over the scenarios, Johnny thousand yard stared through his apartment window across the ever-evolving cityscape.
“You still recording?”
The voice was unmistakeable.
Jamie.
“Yeah dude. You just play and leave me to the twiddling. Make music Jamie.”
A second voice that Johnny assumed to be Jessie – who Jamie had spoken about in non-stop glowing terms.
And then some slow minor chords played on an acoustic.
Sitting utterly spellbound for 38 minutes, Johnny listened to 11 tracks of intensely personal dark melodic wonder.
Jamie.
His acoustic.
And a smattering of piano accompaniment.
It was Jamie’s Nebraska. A dark, introspective solo album. A
fucking solo album.
“Fuck me,” Johnny whistled to himself.
Not only had the lead singer of Lonely Souls just dropped a class rock album on him, he’d also thrown in a thing of fragile beauty that had left him breathless.
Pressing rewind on the stereo remote, Johnny let out a little laugh. “Well that’s the cat amongst the fucking solo project pigeons…”
***
“Fuck sakes, Jamie. I’ve missed like you wouldn’t believe and I’m made up to see you. Shit, it’s the longest we’ve ever been apart. But this! It’s your album. It’s not us. It’s not the fuckin’ band!” Dominic said, pulling his hair back into a ponytail as he shook his head slowly.
“It can be though, bro. I want us all to work on it. Make it our album,” Jamie implored.
“I need to time to take this in. Fuck, J. It’s a solo album innit. That’s what it is. I can’t believe it. I’m fuckin’ stunned.”
They sat in silence and listened to the rest of the album, Dominic pulling deeply on a cigarette throughout the playback.
As the last track played to fade, Dominic looked up at his brother and smi
led ruefully. “Fuck me. It’s brilliant. It really is.” Almost at a loss for words. “It’s fuckin’ brilliant. But it’s not ours!”
Jamie nodded slowly trying to assuage his brother’s anxieties.
“We’ve always written together J. Always!” Dom implored. His exasperation not evaporating quite so easily.
“Then let’s make it ours. You’re a miles better guitarist than I could ever hope to be. Take the guitar parts make them yours. Make it us. And Jessie isn’t a patch on D-Mo and Kong. No way. It’ll be us. I promise you. Listen to it. Take it with you. Live with it for a couple of weeks and then tell me we can work on it together,” Jamie said. Willing his twin brother to be convinced by his pitch.
“And what about Danny and Mikee? We keep your little secret from them for a couple of weeks? They’re gagging to get back in the studio. Gagging for it. Especially D-Mo. Got to love him!”
“If you can, then yes. We do this and same as ever. It’s a Lonely Souls album. Four-way split. Plus Johnny obviously,” Jamie said, a smile breaking out across his face.
“Talking of Johnny. He’s been seeing a fair bit of Mum,” Dominic said.
“They’re both consenting adults,” Jamie said, a slight frown on his brow as he processed the news.
“Anyhow. I’m going to get off. Me and Eleanor are having some work done on the house. I’m gonna be honest J, I’m not happy about this but I’ll listen to it and have a think, yeah?” Dominic said.
“Can’t ask for any more than that. Say hiya to Eleanor. I’m off to Mum’s now,” Jamie said, already planning to ask her about her ‘relationship’ with Johnny.
***
“He was as good as I had seen him in ages. The break has done you all good. Even you!” said Cally, a flirtatious glint in her eye.
“It’s tough on the road doing the rock ’n’ the roll. I miss my bed too much these days,” Johnny said with a warm laugh. “It’s a young man’s game.”
“You love it. And don’t ever try and tell me otherwise.”
“I love it. You’re right,” Johnny said. “Look, there’s something I want to chat to you about.”
“Go on,” Cally said, looking concerned. She tucked her bare feet under her and crossed her arms across her chest.
Johnny glanced down. She’s even got pretty feet, he thought to himself. Fuck. I’m not becoming one of those weird foot fetishists am I….
“I said I would never talk to you about the band. Y’know, other than to let you know how the lads were and that.”
“You did, but you can talk to me. Course you can,” Cally said, her azure blue eyes squinting slightly as she furrowed her brow.
“It’s Jamie. He’s really sorted his shit out in America. Got a handle on his pre-gig panic attacks, seems really calm. Too calm almost. Anyhow. He’s recorded an album,” Johnny said.
“That’s what he does. He’s in a band,” Cally said, deadpanning as she pulled a face at Johnny.
“Oh haha. Yes. Funnily enough I know that. He’s recorded a whole album. A fucking mind-blowingly great album.”
“On his own?” Cally asked.
“All on his own. Well. Him and some producer he met. But yeah. All on his own if you mean the other Lonely Souls. Did it in the desert in LA,” Johnny said as tapped at the sole of his trainer.
“Very rock ’n’ roll I must say,” Cally said, trying to make light of the situation.
“All very LA, man,” Johnny said, exaggerating the vowels in a passable West Coast American accent. “But it could be really destructive. I know that Dominic is not best pleased. The others don’t know yet.”
“So why tell me?” Cally asked, the soft tones in her voice so soothing to Johnny.
“Why? I suppose I just want to hear somebody say it’ll all work out okay. I’ve just got a bad feeling. I mean, the album is stunning. As good as they have done. And that’s the problem. It’s Jamie’s album and they’ll always know that,” Johnny said as he met Cally’s gaze.
Every time.
Every time she looked at him, his stomach did that not-unpleasant tightening thing and his problems seemed to melt away.
“Dominic’s very stubborn but he’s always prepared to listen to Jamie. But I do see your point,” Cally said before pursing her lips pensively.
“I just have to let them thrash this one out. I’ve got an opinion but it’s one that gives you splinters in your arse,” Johnny said.
Cally frowned at the crude expression.
“You know what I mean. Sitting on the fence and all that.”
“I knew perfectly well,” Cally replied.
“The album is brilliant. Could be even better after the rest of the band have worked on it. But it’s never going to be totally theirs. Suppose it depends how much they want the next step and what alternatives there are.”
“I don’t envy you, but you just have to let it take its natural course I suppose,” Cally said.
“All I can do,” Johnny said with a sigh. “Fancy coming out for dinner tonight? No talk of the band. Promise.”
“If you promise,” Cally said before untucking her feet from beneath her and kissing Johnny softly on the mouth. “But you’re paying and I’m picking the restaurant.”
Chapter 65
“Who the fuck is this Jessie then?” Danny asked as he paced up and down the rehearsal room, patting his jacket pockets down for his cigarettes.
“I told you. I just bumped into the dude in a store in LA. He had his own studio and it went from there. Simple as that,” Jamie said, as he watched Danny walk in concentric circles.
“It’s not that simple though, J. We’re a band. We’re a fuckin’ great band and this is just you.”
Dominic remained silent as he awaited his bandmate’s verdict. Sat in their familiar rehearsal room albeit with an undercurrent of tension.
“What about you, Johnny? What’s your opinion? You know how to sort this shit out!” Danny said, having finally settled when he had realised he was out of cigs.
Mikee threw him a packet which he caught, taking one out before tucking it behind his ear. Then deciding he needed an instant fix of carcinogens.
“You got a light too?”
With a slight nod of his head, Mikee tossed D-Mo his Zippo. “And don’t fuckin’ lose it. That’s the third one I’ve bought this year.”
“Cheers Kong,” Danny said as he caught the lighter and started to light up in one practiced movement.
“You can’t smoke in here D-Mo!” Dominic said in a distinctly un-rock ’n’ roll manner.
“Balls to that! I’m in fuckin’ shock here,” Danny replied as he drew deeply.
“I’ll be in fuckin’ shock if you set the sprinklers off and ruins all the gear. Fuckin’ put it out,” Dom snapped.
“Right, right. It’s out,” Danny said as he took one last drag before extinguishing the cigarette on his boot heel. He then produced a vaping device that looked sizable enough to bring down a light aircraft.
From behind a billow of sickly sweet-smelling vapour, Danny asked, “Go on then Johnny? What about it?”
Leaning back against the rehearsal room wall, Johnny looked at the four expectant faces – awaiting his verdict, needing his validation again. Time to step up Mr. Manager he thought
Having lived with the album – and its ‘hidden’ acoustic partner piece – for some two weeks, Johnny was testimony to both the song’s brilliance and their unit-shifting potential.
Picking his words carefully, he said, “I know this is a tricky one and I can see it from both sides.”
Glancing round for a reaction, Johnny saw Jamie idly tuning his guitar with a relaxed air of calm, whilst Danny fiddled with his hair agitatedly.
“The songs are brilliant. Simple as that,” Johnny said.
This afforded a quick smile to pass across Jamie’s lips.
“But, it’s not that simple. Regardless of royalty splits, you’re a band. A really fucking tightknit band. And that’s always been one of your
strengths.” Taking a deep breath, he ploughed on. “I think you have to take them on board but only when you’ve jammed them out. Put the band’s stamp on them. In your studio. In your hometown. Then we sit down in a few weeks and see where we are at.”
“Sounds fair,” Dominic said. “D-Mo? Kong?”
“S’pose,” Danny replied sulkily. “The bass parts are shite, so I know I can improve on them.” He turned to Mikee, who had remained stoically quiet. “What do ya reckon Kong?”
“Same as you. I’m not happy but we have to work with them. Can’t just chuck songs like that away. And as you said, I know that I can put way better drum tracks down.”
Jamie nodded his head slowly, his Zen calm seemingly intact. “Let’s get to work then…”
***
The relief of the night air was like an elixir to Johnny after the cloying tension of the rehearsal room. Even though the band had moved to more luxurious and roomier surroundings, the room had taken on claustrophobic qualities as their summit meeting unfurled.
Closing his eyes and leaning against his newly purchased top-of-the-range Audi A3, Johnny let the Mancunian chill seep through his shirt until he could no longer stop himself shivering against it.
Pulling out his phone, he speed-dialled Cally.
Voicemail.
“Hiya. It went okay I guess. Yeah. Danny was most vociferous about it all funnily enough. Although Dom still seems uneasy about it all. But he’s doing a good job of covering it all up. I’ll see ya soon…”
***
Like a four-stringed Scud missile, Danny flung his guitar against the plexiglass studio window. With an embarrassed skip, he sidestepped as it ricocheted back, landing at his feet, seemingly unscathed.
“IF YOU SAY, ‘JESSIE SAID’ ONE MORE FUCKIN’ TIME!” Danny shouted through the studio mic. Bending down to retrieve the bass guitar - willing it to be intact - his heart sank yet further when the neck splintered away from the body.
“FUCK’S SAKE! LOOK WHAT YOU HAVE MADE ME DO NOW!”
The Rock 'N' the Roll. 'N That Page 47
