Nine Hundred Nights Page 4

  "Well we want our steak knife George." Nick says defiantly; he walks directly in front of the sign, and reads it while pointing at the words as if George were an idiot. "See? It says 'FREE STEAK KNIFE WITH FILLUP, COLLECT A SET!' We're not askin' for a whole set George, just one...like the sign says."

  George has finally had enough "Oh go on stop bothering me about the stupid knife!"

  Nick gestures with his hands like they're scales, weighing the options "Whaddya think Ing? Should we let him off the hook, or call the cops?" prompting a laugh from Ingy.

  "Damn it George, I should have known you'd try to pull something like this! We drive all the way down here from Albany. Four hour trip...and no steak knife...not to mention, you're making me look a liar in front of my friend..." Nick frowns at Ingy and throws his hands up in the air "…I'm not buyin my gas here anymore."

  "Albany my ass. Were you this aggravating when you worked here?"

  Nick finally cracks up and the gas nozzle 'clicks' indicating the tank is full. George force fills it a little to make an even ten dollars.

  "Ten even."

  Ingy pays him. Nick approaches the old man and gives him a hug, saying in a soft voice "Take good care of yourself George, you're no spring chicken…but keep chasing those ladies huh?"

  To Ingy's surprise, George replies with equal warmth "You keep your nose clean son."

  "I will."

  Ingy and Nick get back into the car and wait for traffic to clear so they can cross the four lanes of traffic to the opposite side of the street and enter the parking lot of The Rising Sun.

  "What was that he said...'cookies'? Did he say 'milk and cookies'?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well what the hell does that mean? I don't get it."

  "I worked with the guy for a year and I have no idea. Big George!" Nick smiles to himself, then turning to face Ingy "Wanna hear a Big George story?"

  "Absolutely."

  "We're working one night, it's like seven or eight o'clock on a weekday, and this big delivery truck is coming down the street and it loses a tire, it's the kind that has two tires on each end of the axle, like a semi. Anyway, this big truck tire comes rolling onto the station and hits the pump and ya know, falls flat on the ground. George bolts out of his chair...he was like a short brown blur...I mean, this is the fastest I've ever seen the guy move, and he lifts up this big truck tire that's like almost as tall as he is, and he starts to climb underneath it...so it looks like he got hit and can sue 'em or something, I dunno...when the truck driver comes running onto the station.

  "Oh no!" Ingy starts to laugh.

  "Oh it's friggin' true. George and the guy are screaming at each other" Nick imitates the screaming match 'Get away from that tire!' 'Your Goddamn tire hit me!' 'Bullshit! Bullshit! I seen you climbin' underneath it!' 'I didn't climb underneath nothing, I was getting OUT from underneath it! Ohhhhh my leg hurts!' Nick is laughing now "Dude I was actually peeing in my pants."

  Ingy chokes in laughter "So what happened?"

  "Eventually the guy tells George to go fuck himself, picks up his tire and rolls it back to his truck and takes off." Nick tries to compose himself, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes "Big George."

  The Rising Sun was not large as heavy metal clubs go, and the interior was always dimly lit so you couldn't see well enough to notice that it wasn't particularly clean or in good repair. The stage is against the far wall and a long bar runs nearly the length of the wall on the right side of the club. There is a cover charge and a large doorman at the entrance to collect it.

  Ingy and Nick each pay the five dollar cover and enter the noisy crowd, a mix of men and women in their 20's. Ingy and Nick lean into one another and speak in raised voices to be heard over Black Sabbath's 'The Mob Rules' which the D. J. is blasting through huge ceiling mounted speakers located everywhere, including the bathrooms.

  "So you spent a lot of time here huh?"

  "Never been in here. I was too young when I was working at the gas station."

  Ingy gestures to a wickedly striking B.C. Rich 'Mockingbird' model bass guitar set in a guitar stand on the stage where the band's instruments are set up. "Check it."

  On the bass drum skin, the band's name 'Warlock' is printed in gothic lettering.

  "That the Mockingbird?" Nick asks.

  "Yup."

  "Sweet."

  Ingy looks around and begins to take notice of the crowd around him "This place is hoppin', look at all the girls."

  "Hey! We're here on business, alright? We're scopin' out the competition..." a girl walks by who's legs look about ten feet long in her heels and miniskirt "Oooo look at that!"

  "When we find a singer we'll be playing here too." Ingy says hopefully as he watches the sexy girl move through the crowd.

  "I can't wait. I wonder how good we'll have to be?"

  The band takes their places on the stage. The crowd hears brief bursts of drums and guitars as the band tests the sound; the crowd moves up against the stage. The band members are dressed in the typical heavy metal stage wear, but decidedly their motif is witchcraft. The band's singer has very long brown curly hair and an enormous cross shaped earring. He speaks to the crowd in a gravelly growl.

  "Good evening Rising Sun...we are WARLOCK! Experience the power of our dark magic. This first song is one we call...Warlock!"

  Ingy and Nick look at each other quizzically. The band plays an original but trite heavy metal song. Four girls are in front with home made WARLOCK T-shirts and by their over-enthusiastic reactions, they are definitely their girlfriends.

  "Let's grab a drink." Ingy suggests and Nick follows him to the bar. They wait for the bartender and then scream their drink order to her over the cacophony of the band.

  Ingy voices his thought "I guess it's their theme song."

  Nick looks towards the stage a bit perplexed "I guess. What's with the bass player?"

  The bass player for Warlock has by far the shortest hair in the band, about collar length. His clothing is the least 'cool' and his presence cries out 'square peg'. In spite of the awesome bass guitar he playing, he looks like a fish out of water.

  "He looks like he's..." but Ingy can't finish the thought.

  "Captain of the Chess Team?" Nick finishes the thought for him.

  Ingy chuckles "Oh yeah, he's definitely the captain."

  They each have a drink and turn to watch the band, from the bar area. The guitar solo begins and it's trite as well. The bass player, who's been bouncing up and down with the beat, now begins to jump up and down and it looks ridiculous.

  Nick volunteers with a grin "Our boy is feelin' it."

  Ingy yells towards the stage at the top of his lungs "ROCK ON CAPTAIN!"

  Warlock's guitar player twirls his guitar around his body, and the four Warlock groupies squeal. Seeing this, the bass player tries to copy the move but in mid-twirl the guitar strap unhooks. The eye-catching bass hits the stage at a ferocious speed and the headstock with the tuning pegs breaks completely off of the neck. The resulting WAAAANNGGG is loud but the band keeps playing. The bass player's immediate reaction is to grab his head with both hands in shock. He picks up the broken bass guitar, still being amplified through the PA system and is starting to recover from the initial shock. In an ill-conceived face-saving rock n' roll gesture, he slams it back down on the stage, and begins kicking it in an attempt to look 'Pete Townsend' cool. It completely falls flat.

  Ingy begins laughing uproariously "OH MY GOD!"

  Nick's reaction is unemotional and subdued "Damn. That was a sweet looking bass."

  Ingy cries out "HOLY SHIT!" and slaps Nick on the back so hard that some of his drink spills.

  Nick analytically says more to himself than anyone "Didn't have strap-locks."

  Ingy GROWLS his imitation of the Warlock singer, while Nick talks at the stage as though he's speaking to a four year old.

  Ingy: "We are Warlock...and this first song is called...Warlock!"

  Nick: "Gotta h
ave strap-locks if you wanna twirl the guitar."

  Ingy: "We're hoping everyone has a WARLOCK evening, and that we're all...WARLOCKS!"

  Nick: "If you don't have strap-locks, don't - twirl - the - guitar." he elbows Ingy "I think we'll be good enough."

  They both take a sip of beer, and after a moment, break up in laughter all over again.

  Track 4

  Welcome to Hell

  For two weeks the boys got together five nights each week and hammered out the beginnings of two 45 minute sets of material; the hard work and close quarters also served to fully integrate Nick into the close knit circle that had already existed between Ingy, Jimmy and Kenny. Finally the issue of finding a singer was discussed.

  "I think we're ready to put an ad in the paper." Ingy said.

  There was unanimous agreement and they sat at the table and worked on the language for a few minutes. The ad read:

  'H/M BAND (MAIDEN, SCORPS, PRIEST, ETC.) LKNG FOR SINGER WHO LIKES TO DO TERRIBLE THINGS TO HIS CAT WITH A FORK. IF YOU HAVE THE PIPES, CALL JIMMY AT ...'

  In an attempt to minimize the time needed to find a viable singer, Jimmy had everyone set aside Tuesday and Wednesday of the following week, from four in the afternoon to midnight, to audition the mountain of responses he received from the ad that Ingy had placed.

  On Tuesday there was a sign next to the door of the practice studio so that people wouldn't wander into Ray's Lounge looking to audition, and accidentally wind up as strippers. A large hand-drawn sign read 'AUDITIONS', with an arrow shaped like stair steps pointing up the stairs. There was an equally large sign on the opposite side of the doorway that read: 'ABBA FANS please call 212-562-4141', and displayed an arrow pointing down the street.

  Sean parks in front of the studio, retrieves a large cooler from the trunk and man-handles it up the stairs; he enters the studio to find the band in the process of auditioning a singer. The band is playing Saxon's 'Princess of the Night' and in front of them is a classic rock signer type: perfect hair, large jewelry, three days of beard growth but with a decidedly mediocre voice. He strike the poses and is confident enough to be a front man and take charge of a crowd, however his voice doesn't create the chemistry that the band is looking for, and when the song ends they all congregate around the table.

  The singer who's name is Brett, is the first to speak "Well?".

  "Sounded good." Jimmy responds "You were with Fallen Angel?"

  "Yeah, I replaced Bobby Moore." Brett says with a little 'tone' to his voice.

  "Do I sense a Mike Connolly related incident?" Nick asks, smiling. Mike Connolly was known in the tri-state area bar band crowd as a hellishly talented guitar player and creator of the very successful bar band 'Dreamcaster', but he was more known for his short temper and inability to get along with singers for any length of time.

  "Yeah you do...sonofabitch thinks he's the second coming. Major Ego. We didn't get along at all."

  Jimmy laughs sympathetically "Yeah, you and about nine hundred other vocalists."

  "So what do you think?"

  Jimmy responded earnestly "It was good, but we're committed to listening to everyone who responded. I'll call you and let you know."

  "Cool. Later guys."

  They wave goodbye to Brett amiable Ingy observes "Nice guy."

  Kenny agrees "Yeah, he seemed normal enough. Not a bad singer."

  Nick says neutrally "Just not a good one. I don't think he's what we're looking for."

  Jimmy joins in "He's on the top of the list so far, but yeah, he's not the guy."

  "Agreed..." says Sean "Hey, what the hell is with that ABBA sign downstairs? The phone number?"

  "Just a joke." Nick says smiling at Kenny.

  "I don't get it." Sean says flatly.

  Kenny, who's doing his favorite activity, lighting a joint, asks "Did ya call it?"

  "No, why?"

  "It's the phone number for Bellevue."

  "Oh, I see. Aren't you clever..." Sean says "...good for you two."

  "Well you don't have to be a wet blanket about it." Nick says.

  At that moment the next singer bangs on the open studio door "Yo!", enthusiastically giving Jimmy the rock and roll 'horns'.

  He's shorter than the previous singer and not as handsome and is dressed in more extreme stage clothing that succeeds in looking badass to the bone.

  "From Queens, Syl right?"

  Syl, short for Sylvester, shoots back "Rock on", nodding.

  The band gets into position and Ingy says to Syl "Princess of the Night. OK?"

  Syl replies boisterously "Rock and roll!" and at this point everyone is getting the impression that Syl does everything in life 'over the top'...in other words, he's an annoyance.

  The band again launches into Saxon's 'Princess of the Night' and immediately the singer is off key. He is flat-out terrible. Nick and Ingy exchange looks, both making a supreme effort not to burst out in laughter; they focus on their fret boards as if they're trying to concentrate simply to avoid looking directly at the singer, since they'd 'lose-it' if they did. Ingy notices that Kenny has his back to the singer. Kenny has long wavy blond hair which does a great job or hiding his face unless you're looking directly at him. Ingy discretely takes two steps backward to glimpse Kenny's face; it is beet-red as Kenny is openly laughing and his considerable head of hair is shaking ever so slightly. Ingy almost cracks up completely once he catches sight of Kenny's laughing face, but his years in Catholic schools have strengthened his ability to suppress laughter.

  The boys finish the song and politely send Syl off with a "We'll call you."

  For several hours the band auditions twenty singers; the incredible variety is a source of disbelief to them. One singer cradles the head of the microphone in his hands and presses it to his lips; he blasts his voice into it and barely a word is understood. Another singer actually has a passable voice...but wears an accordion and is dressed in shorts, sandals with black socks and a dress shirt and tie. He also has some unidentifiable accent. Yet another singer looks the part, but the way he growls every lyric sounds absurd, like a guy doing a parody of a bad heavy metal singer. There were many more and each had a trait that earned him a nickname after leaving, providing a way for the boys to remember that one in particular against the hoard of others. After the hours of disillusionment each of the boys is drained and feeling pessimistic.

  Jimmy sits on the edge of his drum riser, cigarette between his fingers as he rubs his eyes with heels of his hands "This is like torture...like that Chinese thing where they drip water on you."

  Nick comments in a weary voice "Drip. Drip. Drip. The fucking guy with the accordion was the highpoint of the night."

  "I wonder how an accordion would sound through a Marshall stack?" Sean offers.

  Nick looks up at Sean "Sean I swear I was just wondering that myself."

  "Jim, anyone else?" Ingy asks, voicing the thought that they're all thinking 'Maybe it's time to call it a night.'

  Jimmy, still rubbing his eyes, says "That was the last one."

  The quiet is disturbed by the sound of footsteps on the stairs and the boys track the sound as it approaches the open doorway to the studio. A long haired man of medium height appears in the doorway, with a woman pushing a baby stroller behind him; he's dressed in a flannel shirt, jeans and work boots. His clothing was not helping any of the boys feel optimistic about the chances of this being 'the voice'; and the unscheduled 'drop-in' at this late hour did nothing to improve the situation nor Jimmy's mood.

  "Hey man, this the audition?"

  After a noticeable silence Jimmy says "Did we speak on the phone? 'Cause I don't recall speaking to ya."

  "I didn't see the ad in the paper until today. I'm Tommy, this is my wife Hope."

  "Well..." Jimmy stops speaking; his fatigue is evident as he stares at the floor.

  Tommy kisses Hope and shuffles over to the equipment and removes the microphone from its stand. As Jimmy starts to protest, Tommy begins singing a pass
age from 'Children of the Sea' by Black Sabbath. It's intense and emotional; Tommy sings it powerfully.

  “IN THE MISTY MORING, ON THE EDGE OF TIME,

  WE’VE LOST THE RISING SUN, A FINAL SIGN.

  AS THE MISTY MORNING ROLLS AWAY TO DIE,

  REACHING FOR THE STARS, WE BLIND THE SKY.”

  Jimmy looks up intrigued as Tommy belts it out at the top of his lungs; it sounds fantastic. Jimmy scrunches his face up for a moment, as if not understanding, and then his fatigue instantly fades. As one, the members spring to their feet and get ready as Tommy continues to sing the song. On the downbeat they join in behind Tommy and in that instant it all comes together. It's as if someone flipped a switch and the band came into being…even Tommy is completely unprepared for the sensation he now feels. Tommy and Nick harmonize and it rings true. The boys watch Tommy closely and it's clear he's feeling what he's singing in every cell of his body…it's how each of them experiences the music.

  The song ends and each of the five is trying to downplay their feelings, to look cool and unaffected…and failing miserably. They move to the table and join Sean, Hope and the baby, who's hidden beneath a blanket in the stroller. As if for the first time, the boys notice Hope and the baby. Everyone is chatting at once as Nick wanders over and picks up the baby who has started to cry. He lifts the baby out of stroller and kisses her on the cheek, then holds her up and turns toward the others so they can see he baby's shirt.

  "Check it." Nick says smiling.

  The baby is wearing a tiny BLACK SABBATH T-shirt and diapers; everyone claps and cheers, which prompts the baby to begin crying again.

  "Definitely a singer." Nick says, as he steals a quick look at Jimmy and gives the slightest of nods, which Jimmy returns.

  .

  Track 5

  Going to Church