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Hard Core Logo

Page 3

by Michael Turner


  for Hard Core Logo

  out west?

  Uh-huh.

  Uh-huh.

  So you were at the benefit.

  Well, thanks, Bruce.

  Yah, we had a great time.

  In fact, we had so much fun

  we want to do Winnipeg

  and back.

  Opening for who?

  Huevos Rancheros?

  What the fuck is a Huevos Rancheros?

  Yah?

  Uh-huh.

  Ah, c’mon, Bruce.

  Are you trying to get back at me

  for doin’ somethin’ I don’t remember doin’?

  What do you mean you talked to Dave?

  Who gives a fuck what Dave says?!

  Yah?!

  Yah?!

  Well, fuck you too, Bruce!

  BRUCE McROBERTS LEAVES A MESSAGE

  You’ve reached 270-4040. I’ve gone down to the dump to shoot rats, but I’ll be back around five. Leave a message after the cool lick:

  Okay, you assholes, the only reason I’ll book you is to piss off Dave Alfelmer. Your tour looks like this: May 13 at the Westward in Calgary; May 14 at the Club in Regina; May 15 at the Spectrum in Winnipeg; May 16 at Amigos in Saskatoon; May 17 at the Power Plant in Edmonton is tentative; and so is May 19 at the Town Pump in Vancouver. Total grosses are between $5,000 and $6,200. Production is included, so you won’t need a sound-man. Deposits total $800. The agency commission is fifteen percent. That’s the best I can do with the shit that you guys . . . .

  WELL, BILLY?

  Whoa! I agreed to a reunion gig—but a tour? Hmmmm, the show did go fairly well, people definitely got into it. And Joe, he definitely had a good time. It was good to see him scowling again.

  But what if I don’t do this? I mean, everybody would look at me like an asshole for quitting. Or worse yet, they’d replace me with some hack and make it look like I was fired. Fuck, I don’t know.

  And what about Seattle? There was that last band I auditioned for. What if they call me while I’m out on the road? They could be ready to do something and I’d miss out. It could be my last chance. Ah, but it was good to see ol’ Joe scowling again.

  BILLY GOES OVER TO JOE’S PLACE AGAIN

  Got a call from McRoberts.

  He left a tour schedule

  on my answering machine.

  Calgary, Regina, Winnipeg,

  Saskatoon, Edmonton, Vancouver.

  All for small money.

  Was this your idea?

  I dunno, Joe.

  Remember the last tour?

  Lee’s Palace?

  If we do this

  it’s gonna have to be different:

  no hard drugs on gig days, okay?

  And it’s not just me, Joe.

  Pipe and John’ll feel the same way.

  AND JOHN?

  Our show at the Arlington was one of our all-time best. If only we’d always played like that! Man, it would have been great. I’d love to have had that show every night during the farewell tours.

  Joe seems clean. But then again he always seemed clean when there’s talk of a tour. Last time out he was constantly stoned. Constantly. Every show got worse and worse. If Joe stayed clean and Billy stopped drinking, this tour could really fly.

  Yah, I really wanna do this now. I wanna get that shitty taste out of my mouth. I wanna be able to walk off stage and feel proud again. I wanna get out there and show this country how fuckin’ good a band we really were.

  JOE REMINISCES

  Used to be

  when we were famous,

  at the peak of our fame,

  we’d sell a hundred t-shirts a night.

  At fifteen a shirt that’d add up.

  Course those were the days

  when we managed ourselves.

  Used to book our own tours, too.

  We’d get two grand a show

  and the best of hotel rooms.

  Unlimited beer on the rider.

  A guy to do our driving.

  Our albums never sold that well.

  Nothing ever got near gold.

  We blame that on management.

  Everything we did ourselves

  always turned a profit.

  PIPE?

  Almost two thousand dollars each for a week’s worth of gigs. And all I have to bring is a snare drum. Sounds good to me. I’d have to work 150 hours at garbage removal to make the same amount of money.

  And just think of what I could do with two thousand dollars.

  I could finally buy my neighbour’s Norton. And that fly-fishing rod in the Buy ’n’ Sell. I could even afford to finalize my divorce. Two thousand dollars for a week’s worth of gigs. Sounds good to me.

  VAN RENTALS

  The rates are as follows:

  A fifteen-seat Ford van

  at Cana Rentals in Richmond

  is sixty dollars a day,

  twenty dollars for insurance,

  and five cents per k

  after five hundred for free.

  The same van

  at Brown Brothers Ford

  is seventy-five dollars a day,

  twenty dollars for insurance,

  and ten cents per k

  after the first one thousand.

  But I know a guy

  who manages bands

  who’ll rent us his van

  for fifty a day

  if we fix the back wheel

  and he’ll give us the tire to do it.

  BY JOE’S CALCULATIONS

  FIVE

  Il Presidente

  at the Wheel

  JOHN’S TOUR DIARY

  May 13 (a.m.)

  Here we go again.

  Joe insisted we leave at five a.m. on gig day in order to avoid buying hotel rooms the night before. So be it. Then he shows up at seven anyway. Pipe, as usual, is riding shotgun, bitching about how tired he is. Billy’s asleep on the back bench.

  We stopped for breakfast at the Petro-Can in Kamloops. Pipe, who had fallen asleep with his mouth open, remained in the van. Billy sat by himself at the coffee bar, reading True Detective, flirting with the waitresses. Joe and I occupied a booth by the window, watching the tourists gawk at Pipe’s gaping mouth. Jeanne C. Riley was being featured on a radio program.

  Joe was convinced that the cassette we were selling, entitled Herd It Through the Bovine, was the best thing we’ve done in five years—even though it was recorded live on a Sony at the Arlington. I told him I hadn’t even heard it yet. He produced a copy from his Mac. The cover was hand-drawn and child-like. There was a sad looking cow in the middle, taking a dump. It looked like a bootleg.

  Pipe woke up five minutes out of Kamloops, complaining of an intense hunger. Joe refused to stop until we needed gas again. Pipe then threatened to piss all over the van unless we did. Billy started siding with Pipe, and the two of them began to ride Joe. Pipe had his prick out, screaming, “It’s gonna blow! It’s gonna blow!” After twenty minutes they calmed down and we drove in silence. Five miles after that Joe pulled over at a fruit stand.

  AT A PAY PHONE NEAR SORRENTO

  Hello.

  This is Joe Dick

  from Hard Core Logo,

  and we’re playin’

  the club tonight.

  Could you tell me

  what time’s sound-check?

  Yah. I’ll hold.

  Hello.

  This is Joe Dick

  from Hard Core Logo,

  and we’re playin’

  the club tonight.

  Could you tell me

  what time’s sound-check?

  Five o’clock?

  Well, we’re gonna be late.

  We’re just east of Kamloops.

  Yah.

  Seven?

  Okay, we’ll boot it

  for seven.

  THE SONG ON JOE’S LIPS:

  THE BIG BUSH PARTY AFTER SCHOOL

  It’s a Canadian tradition

  When your
father goes a-fishin’

  And your mother goes to see her sister, too

  When you have the whole gang over

  ’Cause the weather’s gettin’ warmer

  Headin’ out for the big bush party after school

  You buy a two-four from your brother

  Then again you buy another

  ’cause you never know who won’t show up with brew

  And your best friend drives a four-by

  So he fills it up with ten guys

  Headin’ out for the big bush party after school

  It’s away up the river

  It’s away down the mountain

  It’s away, far away as you can see

  Where the talk is never quiet

  Where the bonfire burns the brightest

  It’s away, far away as you can be

  So you get the fire started

  And your hair is nicely parted

  As you wait around for pretty Peggy-Sue

  But by twelve o’clock you’re loaded

  And you know that she ain’t showin’

  Headin’ out for the big bush party after school

  When the weather starts a-changin’

  And you’ve had your graduation

  And you’re packin’ up to try on somethin’ new

  Take a look around your shoulder

  Little sister’s gettin’ older

  Headin’ out for the big bush party after school

  FROM THE SHOTGUN POSITION

  Check it out, man!

  A skinhead hitchin’—

  in Revelstoke!

  Let’s pick him up.

  THE SKINHEAD LASTS A MILE

  Hard Core Logo?

  Never heard of you.

  LUNCH AT THE GOLDEN ARMS

  MOTOR HOTEL

  Okay.

  One double burger.

  No lettuce, tomatoes,

  or mayo.

  Side of onion rings.

  Diet-coke.

  Chicken pie.

  Side house salad.

  Strawberry Jello.

  Decaf.

  Spaghetti and meatballs.

  Garlic toast.

  Chocolate shake.

  Cheesecake.

  Chef’s salad

  Clam chowder.

  Corn bread.

  Postum.

  ONE OF BILLY’S GIRLS

  Had a girlfriend from Golden.

  She was Miss Golden of something.

  Came down to Vancouver

  for the PNE pageant

  and lost.

  Badly.

  Applied as a model,

  but never got called.

  Got a job at McDonald’s,

  then quit to go stripping.

  I met her one summer

  at the A-2 Café.

  She was working the Five

  right down the street.

  Just the two of us talking,

  laughing at dreams.

  IL PRESIDENTE AT THE WHEEL

  We’ve been making good time.

  Should be in Calgary

  eight o’clock Mountain.

  The contract says two sets,

  forty-five minutes apiece.

  We’ll do an hour-ten.

  Pipe, you load us in.

  Billy, you tune the strings.

  John, draw up a stage plot.

  JOHN’S TOUR DIARY

  May 13 (p.m.)

  Tonight was the worst night of my life. We blew it right from the start. Served us right, though. Joe was like the Joe of old. Screaming at anything that didn’t scream back. Should’ve brought a soundman.

  Sound-check was awful. Couldn’t get the feed-back off my bass. Billy kept demanding more guitar in the monitor. His soloing volume was three times louder than our total output. I don’t know if Joe’s voice is going to last the tour.

  The worst part was all the people who showed up. Young kids who’d never seen us before. I remember wanting to put my sunglasses on; I couldn’t bare to look them in the eye. It seemed like Joe broke a string every second song. And Pipe! Pipe does not like playing without a full kit.

  We ended the night with the worst version of “Hair” ever. We’d never even rehearsed it, and Billy claims he never even knew such a song existed. Still, the crowd loved it. They were going wild. And that’s what bugged me the most.

  JOE GOES OVER THE OPTIONS

  It’s a ten-hour trip

  from here to Regina.

  If we leave here tonight

  and drive it in shifts

  we can get our hotels

  by one-thirty.

  Sound-check’s at six,

  so a five hour nap

  would give us,

  all told,

  our eight hours.

  Or we could stay here the night

  and leave at eleven,

  blow out the sound-check,

  and get there at tennish.

  The opening band

  gets off at ten-thirty,

  so we could load in and play

  then sleep through the morning.

  SIX

  Set List by Committee

  JOHN’S TOUR DIARY

  May 14 (a.m.)

  Joe has not slept since we left Vancouver. That was thirty-two hours ago. I’m convinced he’s doing blow, but no one will confront him. I tried to take the wheel in Swift Current and a pushing match ensued. Joe won out, of course. It’s as if he’s hauling a cross or something.

  We’re right on the verge of Regina. Everyone stinks of booze and stage-sweat. The van is littered with pop cans and donut icing. There’s a banana peel hanging from the rear-view mirror. This is easily the worst part of the tour.

  The city of Regina looks like the set from The Last Picture Show. Businesses boarded up, people wandering around in a daze. Regina has always been depressing. But depressed? What’s going on here? What are people doing? Pipe says they’re hosting the NHL awards here in June.

  Tonight’s gig is at the Club. We used to play the Venue, but I heard it burned down. We’re staying at the Sandman Inn for the ninth consecutive time. Apparently the Sandman’s got the biggest hotel swimming pool in Western Canada. Never seen it, though. Always too tired.

  JOE PUTS IT INTO PERSPECTIVE

  Getting people together

  for a rock band

  and an attitude

  is like living in a co-op.

  But trying to get a booking

  is like sales

  for small commission.

  While loading up the van

  makes me feel

  like I’m in shipping,

  it’s driving to some tavern

  that makes me feel

  like I’m a trucker.

  Setting up on stage

  makes me feel

  like I’m a millwright,

  or a puppet

  who is tangled

  for a moment

  during sound-check.

  And lately, like a goldfish

  when the stage lights

  hide the public,

  I work my strings

  and notice

  how this job’s

  like all the rest.

  HARD CORE LOGO’S IDEAL RIDER

  24 bottles of Dos Equis beer

  24 bottles of domestic beer (nothing ‘light’)

  1 mickey of Jack Daniels

  4 bottles of mineral water

  2 pitchers of Coca-Cola Classic

  4 hot meals at sound-check

  A meat-generous deli-tray to be served in the dressing room immediately after the last encore

  A television set with VCR hook-up. The last half-hour of Apocalypse Now must be playing just before show-time

  PIPE TEASES BILLY

  There’s a girl out there

  says she knows you.

  She’s got a baby

  at her mother’s.

  Says that baby

  looks just like you.

  I told he
r

  that you gave up music,

  that you took a job

  in a laundromat.

  She got upset

  and wouldn’t stop crying.

  The younger brother

  took her home.

  SET LIST BY COMMITTEE

  There’s nobody here.

  Cut out the ballads.

  Throw in the fast stuff.

  We’ll start with the fast stuff.

  We’ll get them up dancing.

  There’s nobody here.

  I hope they’ll be drinking.

  How much are tickets?

  Did you see some promotion?

  Let’s start with some covers.

  There’s nobody here.

  Who else is in town?

  There’s only one club.

  I think it’s stopped raining.

  Let’s wait ’til ten-thirty.

  Let’s wait ’til eleven.

  There’s nobody here.

  Where’s the promoter?

  He’s gonna lose money.

  Have you seen the owner?

  The owner’s promoting.

  He’s not even here.

  There’s nobody here.

  JOE, EYES GLAZED BY NARCOTICS,

  DEDICATES THE FIRST SONG

  This song is defecated to all

  the drug addicts and pedophiles

  who dominate the music business.

  WORDS AND MUSIC

  You’ve got some words and music

  You think they sound real perfect

  You want to play them for your mom

  The words are deeply moving

  The music’s very groovy

  You want to play them in a club

  You meet some manager

  Who loves the way you dress

  You sign your name to his

  He promises he’ll do his best for twenty percent

  You make a four song demo

  For the local college radio

  In a week you’re sittin’ on the charts

  Then a guy from Sick-O Records

  Hears you while he’s playin’ checkers

  And he wants to sign you on the spot

  You meet his company

 

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