In the crowd, Iron John pricks up his old ears. Is it? It sure is. He feels something like a hot poker stick in his gut. That day. That day we made this, and his son Thomas sees him slump and has to come forward to take the old man’s weight off his walking frame and help him sit in a plastic folding chair. Out here in the sun he keeps his hand on his father’s shoulder while incomprehensible tears come pouring down.
Thankfully it’s not all quite so terrible.
Patti takes a step forward with a walnut grin in those still-craggy features. She just can’t keep that immense smile off her face. It even surprises a few people beside her. But she knows this music so well! It was her guilty, secret pleasure for so long. After all, her Roger might never have known why there were nights they had to listen to this record all the way through, but she did. Every other LP they owned was in the very pleasant fashion of Shirley Bassey, Perry Como and José Feliciano, but this raucous pounding? Still, she’s sure he never really minded all that much, for whenever she laid that platter down they didn’t relax in sedate contemplation of too-loud rock-and-roll but did actually fuck like minx.
So now a significant proportion of the gathered mourners hold their breath; of course they’re familiar with this piece of music too; they know that after the violin’s extended haunting solo at the start their absent friend’s drums will come in with body and wings.
Wait, wait. Debbie Canova holds me back. Not yet, Max, not yet.
Wait, wait. Laetecia pulls me out of her and gently eases off the condom, then swallows me deep inside.
Wait, wait, Muxx, this is the beat, wait till you do feel it in you bones, then you join like this.
Now.
The flesh shivers and the air vibrates to a beat taught me by a young woman’s slender fingers tapping on my shoulder. That beat shoots straight, straight and true, until it’s slowly silenced in the endless sky.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The author would like to extend his sincere gratitude to Madonna Duffy, Katherine Howell, Fiona Inglis, Sarah Muir-head, Julia Stiles, Matt ‘Tonne’ Tucker and Alan Westacott. Also, never to forget a broken-down rock band called Paradox and its assortment of players, including Cyril Campbell, Alan and Rodney Westacott and Tony Widowski. Thanks Nic, thanks Rocco.
The lyrics quoted in Part One were ad-libbed by Alice Cooper during his recording of Rolf Kempf’s ‘Hello Hooray’ on the album Billion Dollar Babies (Warner Bros. 1973). The song appears in The Dirty Beat with the kind permission of Rolf Kempf. www.woodysparks.com
For Cyril Campbell, drummer and friend.
1954-2005
First published 2007 by University of Queensland Press
PO Box 6042, St Lucia, Queensland 4067 Australia
www.uqp.com.au
© Venero Armanno, 2007
This book is copyright. Except for private study, research, criticism or reviews, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any foram or by any means without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.
Typeset by Post Pre-Press Group
Cataloguing in Publication Data
National Library of Australia
Armanno, Venero
The Dirty Beat
1. Jazz and rock musicians - Fiction. 2. Funeral rites and ceremonies - Fiction. I. Title.
A823.3
ISBN 978 0 7022 3690 7 (pbk)
ISBN 978 0 7022 5874 9 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7022 5875 6 (epub)
ISBN 978 0 7022 5876 3 (kindle)
Dirty Beat Page 23
