by DaNeo Duran
With disposable income and growing confidence Johnny found himself staying over with female students who generally swallowed the lies he fed them about his being eighteen.
Shaun too found a love of spending though Johnny didn’t like how much went on beer. Shaun’s drunken hangovers softened his ambition and when Kev began an apprenticeship Johnny sensed Scarf Ace coming off the boil.
Again Graham suggested he start his own band but facing potential homelessness he decided to hold off.
Instead he bought an acoustic guitar which he took to the markets where, though paid to look after stalls, he’d strum and sing to shoppers who eventually accepted and enjoyed his performances.
In September the next wave of Woolwich Polytechnic students arrived in search of groceries. Johnny’s singing led to greater sales; the new students enjoying his quirky charm.
One day a market landowner heard him and offered him a job in Camden Markets.
‘What’s the difference?’ Johnny asked.
‘The difference is you’d be in Camden.’ Geoff Tavisock said.
Not swayed by such presupposition Jonny asked, ‘How far’s Camden?’
‘About ten miles.’
He shook his head. ‘I live about ten minutes’ walk from here.’
‘I own property. You could live ten minutes’ from Camden.’
With Mike breathing down his neck Johnny’s interest snapped to attention. ‘Tell me more.’
A week later Johnny bought a large cheap holdall from the market and, with guitars, arrived in Eskdale Street; not less than twenty minutes’ walk from Camden Markets.
Geoff let him through the Edwardian townhouse’s solid front door. Though Geoff said it needed work, it looked better than the cover. Most excitingly Johnny had his own room in the attic. The dormer windows didn’t offer much view of the nearby council estate but for the first time since Frank’s death, Johnny had a place to call home.
He didn’t mind having to cook and share the communal kitchen. The house even had a pay phone on the stairs. He met and liked the other housemates, all at least eight years his senior.
‘What d’you do for a living?’ a short dumpy man asked him.
‘He’s a professional musician in my employ,’ Geoff said.
Assessing his housemate’s build Johnny secretly nicknamed him Smurf.
* * *
Settling into his new home he correctly guessed he’d played his last gig with Scarf Ace so began forming Johnny and the Used Ones; a task he found easy given the nature of his new job and Geoff’s introductions.
The problem he faced lay with anchoring decent musicians. Largely built from enthusiastic stall holders only the drummer, an assistant pharmacist called Steve who knew Russell the bassist, came from outside the markets.
Johnny, with his new amp and first recruits rehearsed locally. The band would jam and the backup guitarist raved about The New York Dolls and Ramones.
One band outing they saw The Sex Pistols who had energy and stood for something. Johnny suddenly found his whole band wanted to be punks.
On the upside that gave him the opportunity to belt out some of his own angst in songs they wrote during rehearsals. But he loathed punk’s slating of instrumentalists who had practiced their instruments in order to be expressive.
He particularly didn’t like the affect The Pistols had on his band and particularly Steve, the drummer, who seemed to confuse inability with strength. Grumpily, Johnny could have sacked him when Anarchy in the UK went Top-40 towards the end of 1976.
* * *
Twelve months later, Johnny met someone who sold fruit and veg like nobody else. He learned that Marlon, a big boned lad of twenty-two played guitar and seemed to have a good attitude to the instrument.
Inviting him to rehearsal, the first rhythm guitarist got the message and didn’t return. That said Marlon’s playing didn’t live up to much. Nevertheless Johnny and the Used Ones finally started mixing their own songs with punk covers.
* * *
One Thursday mid-February, Johnny visited Liz and Graham.
In the lounge after dinner, everyone fell silent for Top of the Pops. Because punk had turned pop, tearing through Britain knocking wishy-washy songs aside Johnny couldn’t believe progressive gems could find the Number1 spot.
Though he’d heard Wuthering Heights on the radio he hadn’t seen the performer herself. As the camera moved in, Johnny’s gaze fixed on the eccentric and peculiarly beautiful Kate Bush. Memories of Miss Wilkinson sparkled as this new woman imprinted his mind.
Saturday 09th June 1984
Alone and working late on Saturday Linda still couldn’t fathom why she continued losing business. She shut the books wishing Trudie would come back to the States. Trudie could send her more business than she could handle.
Her money concerns grew spawning regrets of having helped The USed Wonz financially. She grabbed her keys and made to stand when her desk phone rang.
‘Dwight,’ she said not managing to hide her despondency but feeling better when he said he’d be out and not to wait up.
She decided to visit her mom instead.
She had one foot out the door when the phone rang again. Faffing with keys and assuming it’d be Dwight she scooped the handset as the machine kicked in.
A man’s English accent said, ‘For a minute there I thought you’d turned normal and were out enjoying your Saturday night.’
‘Johnny,’ she said.
She sat on her desk and smiled.
Her regrets of helping him withered at once as he talked about his chat with Christine. Though Linda hadn’t given him a timescale she told him how badly she needed the money. He said he’d have some money for her for their next meeting but ended the call without flirting with her.
* * *
A smartly dressed Johnny checked the address he’d been given by the venue’s stage manager.
Soon he took a seat at a card table and looked at his first hand: a pair of threes. No good. With the dealer directly to his right he considered his token compulsory bet but matched the big blind to his left. What the hell.
A hostess caught his eye. Nice try, he thought. With these cards he’d need all his concentration. He hadn’t always been so immune to feminine smiles though.
Saturday 07th April 1979
After a year of fantasising about Kate Bush, Johnny stood on a stage jabbering a frenetic message he didn’t quite believe into a mic whilst scrubbing away at his guitar strings.
Johnny and the Used Ones had followed a band called, I’d Sooner Nut You.
Johnny looked around the stage and caught Marlon’s eye and mouthed, what’s their problem?
Marlon shrugged.
I’d Sooner Nut You stood at the back of the venue jeering Johnny’s band and shouting things he couldn’t work out.
Johnny couldn’t understand why they’d be under attack. He’d not said anything disparaging about the previous band and had been out getting food so hadn’t even seen their set.
Their animosity would have ruined the gig for him but he ignored them and soon they left. And, looking down he saw a girl who looked just like Kate Bush.
He stared and she smiled.
After playing, the girl hung around and Johnny introduced himself making no secret of his looking her slender body over.
Like Kate Bush she wore what might have been a leotard with a long skirt. Like Miss Wilkinson she had knee-high heeled boots. She refused his invitation to come back to his place and wouldn’t even part with her telephone number.
Experience counselled him, no number, no interest.
Nevertheless her kiss didn’t lack interest. Slightly baffled Johnny compromised on the phone number situation by, upon her request giving her the house number.
‘I don’t even know your name,’ he said having lamely told her his.
‘Veronica.’
During the following week Veronica didn’t ring. He only hoped she’d show at another gig.
> After karate the following Thursday Johnny made himself a meal with the fresh food he’d got from the market and sat down to watch Top of the Pops.
The second it finished the phone on the stairs rang. He ignored it but Smurf shouted to him that he had a call.
He picked up the receiver.
‘So, where you taking me tomorrow?’
‘Veronica?’
‘Of course. You haven’t other girlfriends have you?’
‘Plenty, I’m surprised I recognised your voice.’
‘Well?’
‘Well what?’
‘Where you taking me gorgeous?’
Though he liked what he saw in the mirror his past hadn’t done much to support his self-image. He loved being called gorgeous.
‘It’ll be Good Friday. There’ll be a lot happening. Lots of people about.’
‘Will you take me clubbing?’
‘Can do. Will you stay over?’
‘No.’
‘Would you like me to cook for you?’
‘I said you were gorgeous, not show me your room.’
Thursday 28th June 1979
Twelve weeks later Stu had a gig in Fine Art College, where he studied. He knew the turnout would be good given he’d been studying at the college a year with bandmates.
But despite his band, I’d Sooner Nut You, gaining the headline spot he didn’t feel excited. His girlfriend would be there but she’d wavered telling him it’d be poorly organised.
Stu had arrived to find the lecture theatre already converted to a concert hall and the corridor a bar. After soundchecks the seats filled with students and parents. The likelihood of being noticed by anyone who could further his musical ambitions almost negated the need to spruce up. But liking to look good, Stu excused himself and returned from the gents spiky-haired; ready for action.
When his turn eventually arrived he sat behind his drums and saw his girlfriend standing near the front of the stage amongst a tight hoard of students.
When his lecturer introduced his band Stu laid down his rhythms with accurate ease. His bandmates leapt around fooling themselves more than the audience that their songs offered anything of merit.
He lost slight his girlfriend until she reappeared looking agitated from behind the speakers. Soon he saw why.
She’d attracted a nuisance.
As best he could he forced himself to remain behind his kit watching her shake him off, something she managed only after he planted a kiss on her lips.
Seeing her determinedly make it past the pogoing students to the right-hand speakers Stu relaxed re-concentrating his emotions into his performance which worked to great effect.
His band might have been terrible but he played stupendously; right up until he saw his girlfriend’s nuisance again.
This time she put him in his place but Stu’s blood boiled. Of course his girlfriend would attract unwanted attention; all pretty girls did but Stu particularly hated drug pushers and there hassling his girlfriend stood the singer of Johnny and the Used Ones.
From the audience the rejected singer looked right at him. Stu glared back knowing what had to be done.
However, the moment Stu came off stage something so unexpected happened his emotions transformed.
A well-dressed man approached him claiming to be from EMI. He told Stu to go directly to room 122 for a private meeting; something to do with a potentially better band that had better prospects.
Emotions turned to excitement as Stu hardly believed he’d been spotted by someone that mattered. He’d played well of course and guessed his anger had given his performance necessary spice.
The now apparently absent Johnny would have to wait. Hugging his girlfriend he told her he’d be right back before bounding the stairs to room 122.
Knocking and entering Stu looked ahead as once again his emotions u-turned and rage roared back, turbo charged with disappointment as he figured the man downstairs had hoodwinked him.
He faced Johnny.
Sunday 10th June 1984
As per each morning throughout both their first and second US tours, bandmates and technicians found a private area and prepared the combat gear.
Following Christine and Mazz’s talk, Johnny had lain awake contemplating his treatment of Dane. He didn’t much feel like training.
He held the pads ready for Stu who finished stretching and watched Christine moving her pads rounds as Mazz chased them with featherweight but rapid kicks, punches and knees.
‘Brace,’ Stu said before blasting Johnny’s padded left hand sideways causing a delicious stretch across his pectoral.
He barely found time to pull the pad back ready for Stu’s knee strike.
‘I need more sparring practice,’ Stu said.
‘Pick on someone your own size. You’ve been crazy lately. I don’t know what’s got into you these past few days.’
‘Gorra stay sharp,’ he said pummelling the pads with lefts and rights.
When they swapped Johnny took over the attack but his fists couldn’t find Stu’s determination to destroy the pads.
‘You’re right,’ Stu said, ‘I do need a more challenging sparring partner; Maybe Mazz.’
Johnny responded with tremendous left and right punches but knew it still lacked what Stu had delivered.
‘That’s more like it,’ Stu said. ‘By the way I told Jack and Quinn about the money we owe Linda.’
‘What the hell?’ Forgetting the pads Johnny wanted to aim for his face. ‘What d’you tell them for?’
‘Because we got to think about getting some cash together. Quinn’s helping me.’
‘So everyone knows now – even Dane,’ Johnny said on the cusp of exploding.
‘Dane?’
‘Christine told him. She’s sure he’s innocent. That was the talk you missed last night and why she was cross when you left for your date.’
‘Interesting,’ Stu said moving the pads around. ‘She doesn’t rush to judge character – especially men’s.’
‘Took her weeks to warm to us.’ Johnny focused his frustration into the pads. ‘Like you she reckons we should forget the crims and start making Linda some money.’
‘Well, guess what, I made a bit last night.’
‘Yeah – on your date?’
‘Wasn’t that sort of date. It was an anti-date. Made two hundred bucks. I gave Quinn a bit for his trouble but it’s more than I’ve ever earned in a day.’
Johnny kept attacking the pads with only one idea as to how Stu could have come by extra cash. ‘Don’t tell me you entered some unofficial boxing tournament?’
‘Yup. Freestyle actually. I won my category.’
‘God almighty mate. Now I know why you’ve been giving these sessions everything you’ve got. Didn’t you get hurt?’
‘No broken bones or teeth. But mate, two hundred dollars.’
Johnny stopped. ‘Stu, don’t think I don’t appreciate what you’re doing but have you heard yourself; or seen yourself for that matter? You’re way too pretty to be risking fractured cheekbones and this band needs you handsome.’
‘We gotta have something to give Linda when we see her.’
‘I know and I’m on it. Plus Christine wants us all to get together to discuss ideas before we move off today. Mind you I’ll have to have a private word with Dane first.’
Thursday 28th June 1979
One-night stands suited Johnny’s independent nature. Veronica however had captivated his interest and almost his heart. He’d surely have fallen for her if he didn’t still find her a little odd. And, after three months he experienced the oddest night with her.
Geoff, his boss and landlord, had told him about an upcoming gig at an art college featuring his daughter’s band. Knowing Johnny always kept an eye out for talented musicians he’d told Johnny the headline act featured some hotshot drummer called Stu; not to be missed.
Johnny invited Veronica but she said it’d be rubbish and asked what did Geoff know about drumming a
nyway?
That seemed valid enough until on the night he found Veronica at the very gig. Not only that but, after an initial snog behind the speakers, she became determined to avoid him.
His heart fell further when he recognised the hotshot drummer as Stu, from I’d Sooner Nut You; the band who’d jeered his band months earlier.
Having popped out for something to eat that night he’d missed their performance so had no idea Stu’s degree of percussive talent.
But at Fine Art College, Johnny realised he had a problem when within a few bars he heard and saw Stu’s talent. He so outshone his bandmates Johnny felt he had to introduce himself and sway him towards Johnny and the Used Ones.
After Veronica had repeatedly told him to back off Johnny faced the stage only to find the drummer glaring with venom. Keen to get to bottom of Stu’s problem he confided in Geoff who pretended to be from EMI.
* * *
Sitting in the only room he’d found unlocked, Johnny’s mind swerved anticipating meeting Stu and pondering the reason for Veronica’s nastiness. Of course she had kissed him but he’d emerged from behind the speakers feeling like he’d never kiss her again.
The door of room 122 burst open and though Stu appeared alone Johnny knew he’d brought trouble with him.
A left hook came from nowhere.
Instinctively blocking, Johnny retaliated. But unlike any other street fight he’d experienced Stu’s combative answer awaited the strike. In the next beat Johnny defended a round kick.
‘Stu I—’
He couldn’t finish as Stu came with high-speed complex combinations mixed with painful blocks to Johnny’s counter attacks.
Chairs and tables toppled or became missiles. Johnny quit protesting as the fight whored his concentration.
Through Stu’s raged expression Johnny glimpsed elements of equally surprised concentration.
Eventually Johnny darted using a table to separate them.
‘Stop,’ he shouted rediscovering his voice. ‘We’re gonna kill each other.’
If Stu considered this it didn’t last as the table vanished and down came the next attacking rain.
Knowing one mistake would give Stu sufficiency; Johnny didn’t dare guess what he’d do to ensure the fight’s end.
Imagining he’d be fading too, Johnny pressed ever harder seeking advantage through Stu’s response managing to get a knee through his defences sending him back two feet.
Stu tried reengaging but stepped on the back of a fallen chair. His foot slipped beneath him and Johnny wrestled him to the floor intent on trapping him in an unshakable grip.