Nine Hundred Nights Page 9

  Sean raises the obvious question on everyone's mind "Do we look for another guitar player?"

  I chime in before this gets even farther out of hand "Not yet. Let's just get The Rising Sun behind us. What about Bill Kardos, will he still roadie for us?"

  Sean says "No way he stays if Ingy goes. They're really close, remember Ingy lived at Bill's for a while when his old man threw him out last year."

  "Can you get someone else?" I ask.

  Surprisingly, it's Kenny who responds "I know a guy, Dave. He's interested."

  "Well, that's it then." Jimmy says.

  "Want me to tell him?" Sean asks.

  "It's up to you, but I wouldn't. Fuck him, he didn't show up again and we're moving on. So that's it." Jim says as he shoves his sticks into his kit bag with nearly enough force to break them.

  Everyone arrived at The Rising Sun early; Sean brought Dave, the new roadie, into the dressing room to meet me while I was tuning my guitars.

  Sean made the introduction "Nick, this is Dave."

  The two exchanged greetings and Dave asked "Want me to do that for ya?"

  "Thanks man, I like to do this myself. Wrestling my stack in up on the stage and setting it up would be great though."

  "It's warming up and on standby." Dave said.

  "Nice, thanks Dave!"

  "No problem." Dave said, adding "I noticed your head was tweaked…C&J?"

  I was surprised "Yeah."

  "Thought so, I just plugged you into the top speaker cabinet if that's the way you want it? You'll get a better sound by driving that one harder than driving both cabinets less."

  "Heh, that's the way I do it. Dave, I gotta guess you're a guitar player." I laughed and smiled.

  "Yeah. I play through a Mesa Boogie though."

  "I'm impressed." I said "Well Dave you're right on all counts, you have it just the way I like it."

  "I didn't see any effects petals in your equipment bag."

  "I don't use any."

  "Cool. OK I'll see you out there and lemme know if you need anything." Dave said and left the dressing room.

  I stared at the door that Dave left through and said to Sean "THAT guy…we gotta keep him."

  "No doubt…and he's a very cool guy besides, I was talking with him for an hour on the way over."

  "Let's get some of his DNA and clone a few more."

  Half an hour later all of the major equipment is ready and Sean, Dave and Scott are tending to the small details. Bobby-the-Light-Guy begins to go through some sequences on the powerful spotlights as he checks their function and positioning; as he does so the owner of the club, Mo, bellows from the back of the club.

  "HEY! Lay off those fuckin' lights. Electricity costs money!"

  Scott smiles at Bobby, enjoying Sid busting anyone's balls but his own. Kenny comes in carrying a piece of equipment.

  "And shut that fuckin' door! I have the air conditioner on!"

  Sid comes striding toward the stage; he's a shade over five and a half feet tall, grey everywhere and heavy set. The half-smoked cigar in his mouth is not lit. He reminds Sean of The Penguin from watching Batman as a kid.

  Sean takes an ashtray off of a table and shows it to Dave "Look...he's using spray-painted tuna fish cans as ashtrays. What a cheap bastard."

  "Jesus H. Christ..." Dave finds it very funny "…does Nick want the wireless hooked up?"

  "Not tonight, too tight a squeeze in here to make use of it."

  As Sean, Dave, Scott and Bobby continue with last minute adjustments, Sid finds more to gripe about.

  "Let's get the sound check over with already."

  Sean says "Sid they'll all be here and ready soon, it's early, we'll get it done."

  "They're not here yet?" Sid asks irritably.

  "Last couple of guys are almost here. It's early Mo."

  With a sweep of his hands, Sid says "No sound check then. They're not here yet, no sound check. You're the manager, you should know."

  As Sid says this, Jimmy and Kenny enter the front door and make their way to the dressing room.

  "This guy's a piece of work." Sean says unhappily. "He says no sound check, says it's too late."

  I look at Sean with a blank face "So what's the problem?"

  Scott pipes in "The first song will sound like shit."

  "No it won't, we're doing a sound check." I say reasonably.

  "The guy might flip out." Sean warns.

  "I don't give a shit what he does, he flips out and says leave, we'll pack up and go. I don't give a rat's ass what he thinks. He can TRY to be a prick…it doesn't mean we have to let him get away with it. I say fuck him."

  Jimmy nods and says "Totally agree. Let's go, I've had enough aggravation for the week."

  The band members get arranged on stage and a few guitar licks and drum rolls are heard as they test the equipment. On Scott's cue they strike up a short sound check song, a dirty parody of the Brady Bunch theme song.

  Sid's compact form appears from the direction of the office and strides purposely toward the sound board, but he is intercepted by Sean ostensibly to ask about business of some kind. The stall tactic works and the band plays a useful sound check; Scott nods from his sound board indicating he's got the levels dialed in.

  When the sound check is over the boys all congregate in the back room and are surprised when Sid storms in.

  "Listen to me. That wasn't funny. Play your songs and watch your mouths. I've had complaints from the locals about hearing foul mouths from the fuckin' PA. Understand? No cursing!"

  Sid leaves and Kenny immediately says "Locals? What locals? There's nothing but businesses anywhere near here?"

  I find this whole thing more hilarious than irritating and glance at Tommy with a big smile; Tommy's radar is working fine tonight and he smiles and nods back to me.

  Two hours later, Ingy and Bill Kardos are in Ingy's car heading to the club. They're making a defiant visit to the gig.

  "What are you gonna do?" Bill asks.

  "I'm gonna stand in the middle, right in front of the stage, and wave the bird at them."

  Bill chuckles "Really? Maybe everyone will start to 'BOO'. If they do, I'll do it really loud."

  Ingy shoots a conspiratorial look at Bill "You have the thing with you?"

  From his jacket pocket, Bill pulls a plastic box the size of a cigarette pack; it has a single white toggle switch on its face.

  "Think it'll work?" Ingy asks nervously.

  "Not sure. It should cause his wireless to go nuts with static." Bill takes a thoughtful breath "If it works, it'll fuck up the show for sure."

  "Cool." Ingy says maliciously.

  As Ingy and Bill pay the cover charge and enter The Rising Sun, the band is belting out 'Heartbreaker' by Led Zeppelin…and secretly in both of their minds, there was no doubt the band was cookin' tonight. Ingy starts to walk toward the stage, but slows and stops well short of it, in the middle of the crowd. A look of surprise registers on his face; he's never heard the band from the audience and when he wasn't playing along. He feels a wave of embarrassment wash over him as he realizes what he's given up; and quite to his surprise his anger and resentment dissolve into a tangible regret he can physically feel in his belly.

  Bill comes out of the crowd to Ingy "He's not on the wireless tonight."

  "Forget it. Forget that thing." Ingy mumbles.

  "Wanna try to unplug some of the sound cables?"

  "What?" Ingy says, as if seeing Bill for the first time "No. I said forget it!"

  As the two listen, Bill says "They sound really good."

  "Yeah. I never heard it from here...fuck that sounds good." Ingy says as the song ends.

  Tommy raps with the crowd between songs "How's everyone doing tonight?"

  There are some cheers and someone up against the stage yells something that Ingy can't quite make out, but clearly Tommy heard it.

  "Homework?" Tommy says incredulously "It's Saturday dude." the crowd laughs along with Tommy at the guy
who shouted it.

  Tommy grabs a beer bottle offered to him from someone in the crowd; he takes a deep swallow and returns the bottle. At the top of his lungs he yells "FUCK HOMEWORK, IT'S SATURDAY MOTHER FUCKER!" then growls "This one's called 'Genociiiiiide'."

  Scott smiles as he spies Sid at the side of the stage, arms waving furiously; the boys ignore him as they crank out Judas Priest's martial dirge of conquest and defeat.

  Track 9

  Lenny

  In the courtyard of an apartment complex, Jimmy and I carry a sofa towards the front door of Tommy and Hope's new apartment.

  Kenny passes us carrying a lamp in one hand and a metal folding chair in the other "That's the last of it."

  Tommy locks his van and makes his way to his new home. In the living room there are a few scattered boxes. Sean and Dave are sitting in chairs and Kenny sets the lamp down in the corner, unfolds the chair he's been carrying and sits down. Jimmy and I follow suit, gently putting the sofa down against the longest wall and then collapsing into it.

  Tommy's wife Hope appears from the kitchen "You guys want a beer?"

  Tommy comes through the front door carrying a plastic cooler, which he lays in the center of the room and starts throwing beers to everyone; he takes one for himself and finds a comfortable spot on the carpeted floor.

  "Thanks guys."

  "Ahhh this hits the spot, we're even." I say, feeling happily quenched.

  No one says anything for a few moments as we relax…but Jimmy has something on his mind and it isn't long in coming out.

  "Nicko McBrain." Jimmy says to me

  "Jimmy Hendrix." I return.

  "I was thinking maybe we should look for another guitar player."

  "To replace me? You bastard!" I shout.

  "Not you, you idiot..." Jimmy says chuckling.

  "I know, I know. Fact is I was gonna bring it up with you guys. I think we need a fuller sound."

  "So what do you guys think?" Jimmy asks.

  There is a general agreement from the other band members.

  "I know some guys, but seriously, no one that's good enough." Jimmy says.

  I know a guy that I'd met in the clubs before the band. He's an excellent guitar player, but this is a touchy situation. I don't want the guys to perceive me giving some sort of 'stamp of approval' to the guy; I want everything we do to be a group consensus.

  I tread carefully "I know a guy, he's good technically."

  "How good?" Tommy asks between sips.

  "He can play."

  "So he's the guy?" Tommy asks.

  "I didn't say that…but we can try him if ya want."

  Jimmy suggests "Invite him to the practice on Tuesday if he's interested."

  "'Kay...I'll ask him."

  "Tommy, I moved that smokey-joe grill of yours onto the patio, why don't I go to the store and grab some dogs and burgers and we can eat before we leave?" I ask.

  Tommy looks at Hope and then says "I'm starvin' man, that's a good idea."

  As I get up Sean rises with me and says "I'll take a ride with you."

  On Tuesday night we're plugged in playing tidbits of this and that as we prepare to jam. The door opens and Lenny enters with his guitar case.

  "Lenny. Ya made it." I say and shake his hand.

  I introduce the band members, pointing to each "Lenny this is Jimmy, Kenny, Tommy and that guy over there beating off with the tweezers is Sean…he insists on being called 'Heather' though."

  Sean waves at Lenny "Hi, I'm Heather."

  Lenny acknowledges each person as I introduce them and then says to Sean "I see MY onions are not the only ones he busts."

  Sean replies with a smile "You gotta learn to ignore him."

  "You can plug into that Fender over there wiseguy." I say to Lenny.

  Lenny plugs in and tunes up and when he looks ready Jimmy asks "What songs did you have time to learn man?"

  "All of 'em."

  "Cool. Emerald?"

  Lenny nods. We launch into Thin Lizzy's 'Emerald'. Lenny and I switch off the lead guitar parts which gains some notice from the rest of the boys since in the past I played the leads exclusively. We finish the song and the rest of the guys nod their approvals to Lenny; we proceed to play every song on both play lists.

  Later, as we're cooling down around the table, Jimmy asks Lenny in a very diplomatic tone to go and grab a beer for ten minutes down in Ray's.

  Once Lenny has left, Jimmy expresses a thought "I see what you mean." He lights a cigarette and continues "He's very good."

  I complete his thought "But the chemistry isn't there."

  "Yeah." Jimmy says "What do you think we should do?"

  "I think we should take him in, give it some time and see if it grows. Make no promises though, just ya know…'if ya wanna play with us, we're willing to give it a try.' "

  Everyone agrees.

  "Strange isn't it, how it works. He's twice the guitar player Ingy is. Technically." I say.

  "I know. It's strange." Jim agrees.

  For five months we continued to play two to three times a week, most weeks. Lenny lasted; he showed up to every practice and every gig and if his playing changed at all, it was for the better. The old 'flame' was still missing, but no one could complain about the guy. Ingy on the other hand seemed to drop off the face of the earth. I expected him to show up in another band but it never happened, we never saw him at Ray's, none of us ever got a call from him and perhaps most surprising, he never showed up at any of our gigs.

  One day in March of '83, in the middle of a week day, Jimmy and I played hooky from our jobs and took a drive into Manhattan to 48th street, also known as Musicians Row. All the big music stores were down there: Manny's, Rudy's, Sam Ash, etc. and Jimmy was in the market for a new splash cymbal. He chose a huge store to start his quest and there were piles upon piles of guitars, amplifiers, keyboards, drum kits and accessories…it was a total drool-fest. Jimmy ran up the stairs and hopped on a huge and shiny looking drum kit and started pounding away, while I grabbed a white Gibson 'Flying V' guitar off of the wall and plugged it into a Marshall stack. Musicians are shameless when they go into a well stocked music store…they're like a pack of chimps…they'll disrupt everything and keep playing with things until you finally kick them off of the friggin banjos and kazoos!

  The sales dude arrives and I pose myself as someone very interested in a new guitar; after five minutes of playing with the tuning pegs he gets bored and leaves me alone. I crack that amp open a little bit and begin to fill the store with the opening of Iron Maiden's "Number of the Beast". About a minute into the song, just at the right time, I hear Jimmy joining in on the high-hat and swivel my head around, looking up at his smiling face playing the drum kit on the balcony above me. The customers in the store began to migrate over to a clearing where they could see both Jimmy and I.

  Then something strange happened; the second guitar part came in exactly on time; I couldn't see who it was since the store was so packed with stuff; another bar band guitar player most likely and lover of Maiden for sure. Jimmy and I continued to play the song, without seeing the 'third man', and were in perfect time. About two minutes into the song, to our dumb amazement, Ingy rounded the corner of the stack of amplifiers playing the song on a day-glow green Fender Stratocaster; Ingy was the mystery guitar player! The three of us played pieces of a bunch of other songs, ones on our playlist and some we just played for ourselves and never played out, and it all sounded tip-top. When we finished playing some people who were watching us applauded, and of course the employees frowned. We returned everything to its proper place and the frowns turned back to bored expressions and we met Ingy by the stairs.

  I hug him "Ingaaaay. Hey don't grab my ass."

  Jimmy hugs him "Hey bro."

  "Ayyy. Hey you guys sound good but electricity costs money!" he says in a comical gravelly imitation of Sid from The Rising Sun.

  "So do you! How you been?" I ask.

  "School, you know how it is
."

  "Yeah. Been playin' I see." Jimmy says, smiling.

  "Yeah." he says, his tone a bit sad "Not like you guys, just ya know, in my room."

  "Yeah? It shows! Ya sound bubble-licious bro." I said.

  "I heard you guys at The Rocket a couple weeks ago."

  "Yeah? I didn't see you, why didn't you come up and jam?" Jimmy asks.

  "Naaa. You sounded great though! That new guy's an awesome guitar player."

  "Lenny? Yeah. Good technician." I say.

  There is an awkward silence that I'm sure was only a fraction of a minute, but it seemed much, much longer.

  Ingy looks down at the floor "Well, hey I guess I owe you guys an apology."

  Jimmy says immediately "For what?"

  "I fucked up, that's what. And when you tried to talk to me, I took it out on you. I'm sorry about what happened." Ingy's voice is hoarse at this point as he struggles to control the flush of emotion.

  I say "It's OK man, you don't owe anyone an apology."

  "Yes I do." and then he tilts his head and repeats himself as if explaining it to me reasonably "Yes I do. We were a band...and that should never have happened. Anyway..." Ingy's working hard at trying to keep his emotions in check. He shakes hands with both Jimmy and I "I gotta take off. Hey, seriously, you guys are sounding great. Keep going." Ingy turns abruptly and quickly walks out of the store.

  We both watch him leave the store, then I ask Jimmy "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"

  "Yeah...Yeah I am."

  Track 10

  Back Home

  Easter was on the first Sunday in April and we all agreed to take a little time off; it was during this time that Jimmy and I grabbed Kenny, Tommy and Sean and headed to Ray's for a beer and some discussion. Jim and I agreed not to tell the boys about our unexpected jam with Ingy until we were all in one place, minus Lenny, and had the time to walk through the subject completely.