“You want to help me roll their cars into the harbour?”
“Grow up. Let me explain sophisticated.” And she did.
In truth, the plan she outlined lacked the sting of action that involved serious physical damage but I was willing to go along with anything Kelsey wanted out of me. She had me twisted around her finger like a pretzel, as the saying goes.
We knew Alex would never go along with her idea and decided ahead of time that we’d take the rap for it. We wouldn’t let him get punished.
The next morning I met Kelsey outside her house and she had the memory stick with the MP3 file of “The Condom Song” that we’d recorded. We hovered around outside the school until everybody was cozy and comfy in their homerooms. As you might have guessed, it was the one and only Alex who had the job of doing the morning PA. He was reading the announcements and trying to sound like a professional.
When the coast was clear, Kelsey and I crawled beneath the hallway windows of the office and threw open the door to the school radio station booth. Alex swivelled round as we burst into the room.
“What the —”
But it was our time, not his. I put my hand over his mouth and yanked his chair backwards. He struggled so I had to wrestle him out the chair and yank his arm up behind him.
“Not so rough,” Kelsey scolded me. But I liked being rough. Despite the fact that we had been playing music together, I never fully trusted Alex. He always thought he was too good. I loved putting douches like him in his place.
Kelsey looked at the control board. She popped in the stick with our tune. She cranked up the volume and suddenly every homeroom in the school was getting a taste of Scream Static at our best.
I let go of Alex and barricaded myself against the door at the onslaught of the secretaries, the principal, and Mr. Locksley, the guidance counsellor, but when Mr. Gideon, the wrestling coach, showed up, I was overpowered. The door opened. “The Condom Song’’ was cancelled and we were all in very deep shit.
One verse and one chorus had made it out of the little booth, though, and into the hearts and minds of the students at our school.
I think I really hurt Alex. Something I did to his shoulder. Not my fault, really. I was used to fighting guys who could fight back, not little boys who get driven around in their mommy’s Audis.
It was the VP, Mr. Alphonse, who sat us down (with Coach Gideon in the room for backup, I might add) to read us the riot act. Detention all around. Definite suspension if we tried to stir up any more trouble with the condom machine issue. “It’s a dead issue,” he said. “You have acted way beyond the bounds of reason. Alex, I’m most disappointed in you for being involved.”
Alex was rubbing his shoulder.
“Alex wasn’t involved,” Kelsey said.
“I find it hard to believe you weren’t all involved,” Alphonse said.
Alex could have bailed just then, but he didn’t. He said nothing. For the second time since I’d known him, I think I really liked the guy.
The price you pay for fame. In our case, I think the detentions were worth it. People in the halls were talking about the song. They were talking about SS as well. They were saying it was a crime we didn’t get the gig playing at the dance. Kelsey had posted the tune everywhere on the Internet and almost everyone had downloaded their own version. I got a nice little glow walking the halls watching kids mouthing the words to Kelsey’s song as they went from class to class.
Then one day I was sitting in English trying to get my rest when Mrs. Lyons directed a question at Kelsey. We were supposed to be studying The Mountain and the Valley by some dude named Buckler. Mrs. Lyons said that the book had been banned in some schools. The class was in the middle of a discussion on censorship.
“Why do you think The Mountain and the Valley would be banned from schools?” she asked Kelsey.
Kelsey didn’t like being called on in class, I knew. She had a rep for being a kid who’d once lived on the street, who’d been in trouble. Nobody thought she was very smart but I knew better. “I think it’s a lot like my song,” she said.
Suddenly, everyone in the class was alert. “How do you mean that?” Mrs. Lyons asked.
“Well, I think people — adults, at least — are afraid of my song because it tells the truth. They feel threatened because they’d rather not have to deal with the difficult issues — things like sex and STDs and AIDS.”
I was ready for Lyons to shoot her down, tell her that she was changing the subject or something so I jumped to my feet. “We’ve got a right to express the way we feel about things. Kelsey’s got a right. We all do. People are going to listen to our song. They’re already listening and you can’t stop them.”
Instead of giving me a hard time, Lyons actually looked pleased. “Good point, Cody. It’s good to hear you voicing your opinion in class.”
Well, that was a bit of a shock. I sat down, feeling a little dizzy. This was weird beyond belief. I was wondering what was coming over me. Here I was getting involved in some geeked-out classroom discussion and the teacher was actually agreeing with me. Was I losing it or what?
Some other guy raised his hand. He said that just because a song was controversial it didn’t mean it was good, and that the school made the right decision by keeping out condom machines and by yanking our song off the PA.
I could have wiped up the parking lot with him and his opinions. I was ready to tell him so in front of the class. Who the hell did he think he was to try and keep Kelsey’s song from being heard?
But then this other freaky thing happened. The Chinese kid who called himself Paul had his hand up. Lyons called on him. I couldn’t stand his face and thought it was a big mistake that we had even allowed his family into the country, let alone allowing him into the school. Now he was going to throw in his two cents about censorship. He couldn’t speak English worth spit.
“Before we left China, my parents got put in jail because of what they said in the newspaper. When they did it a second time, we had to leave the country or they would have gone to prison. Like Cody, I think everyone should be free to speak.”
The bell rang. Class was over. I found myself staring at Paul, wondering how it could be that this skinny Asian kid had come to my defence in an argument in English class. It made my skin crawl just to think that we shared something in common at all. I was beginning to wonder just what the world was coming to.
Chapter 8
I think that was the beginning of the legend. Even Alex had to admit the controversy was good, although I do think he never forgave me for being so heavy-handed on him in his little radio studio.
Kelsey’s old man had given up the idea of ever parking his car back in his garage because it had become permanent SS headquarters. I don’t even know why we practised so much or so hard. We just did. The music drove us to it. And every time I turned around, Kelsey had a new song she wanted us to try. It seemed like she had a new song for every opinion she had. And the girl had some strong opinions.
Sometimes kids would show up to watch. Like — believe it — we were getting a following. The band that played at the school dance was a big flop. Somebody had tried to sneak a copy of “The Condom Song” onto the sound system, only to get it squelched. This led to some shouts of “Censorship!” but, of course, I wasn’t there to see it. You wouldn’t catch me at a high school dance.
Although I have to admit these days I wasn’t doing much other than the band. There was a bit of chill between me and my old boys. I guess they were thinking I was a bit of a snot for spending so much time with the band, but this was my life now. They must have been curious though, once they started to hear about our reputation. And that’s why they showed up at Kelsey’s garage.
We were working on some new material that was really kicking. I looked up from my drums to see ugly old Jordan staring back at me. “You’re not as good as you used to be,” he said. Eric and
Logan just grinned.
I knew what he meant. He meant I was too controlled, not outrageous enough. I guess I had mellowed a little, it was true.
I didn’t know what to say to them but they were giving Alex the creeps. Alex said he was going to split early. He didn’t say why but the reason was obvious. He went inside to call home for a ride. When his mom pulled in the driveway, she saw Jordan and the boys lounging right there alongside the leaked oil from the Dubinski family car. Alex’s mom didn’t look too happy to see the quality of our home-grown audience.
Eric started making crude remarks about Alex’s mother and I had to tell him to shut it. Once Alex was packed up and gone, Jordan cornered me and said he was “very disappointed” in how I turned out.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.
He looked at Kelsey. “She a lesbian?” he asked me. Jordan had a problem with any girl who didn’t know how to “stay in her place.” He lumped them all together as lesbians. And he hated lesbians.
“I don’t label myself anything,” Kelsey told him, not waiting for me to answer.
“Yeah,” I said, reinforcing the point.
Logan laughed. “She’s got you whipped, Cody.”
What could I say to them? Eric was leering at Kelsey now. They were all trying to get me going so I’d do something stupid. But maybe Kelsey had influenced me. I wasn’t going to let them get to me.
“We miss you on the street, man,” Jordan said. “We didn’t expect to see you waste your time on this music thing. It’s not like your old band. You used to be hardcore. This is too lame.”
“We’re good,” I said. “You heard what happened at school?”
“It was cute, but we weren’t impressed,” Eric said. “If the song had any real impact, it would have made everybody crazy. The whole school would have been trashed.”
“Just ’cause kids didn’t go wild and destroy the school, you don’t think the song meant anything?” Kelsey asked.
Logan snorted. “Oh, it meant something, all right. It meant that Cody here sold us out.”
“What? How did I sell you out?”
“The music, man. The street. The stuff we believe in.” Jordan was angrier now and shoving a fist at my face.
In their minds I had crossed a line, turned my back on them. I was a traitor. There was a rift between us and it was getting wider. What was it we had believed in, anyway? We believed in having fun. We believed in cleaning the junk off the streets — the human trash. We believed in making up our own rules.
No. We believed in nothing.
But I hadn’t really changed. Not much. I still didn’t believe in anything other than what was good for me. The only difference was I had decided that the music was good for me. Kelsey and the music. I wasn’t about to turn my back on those two things to get back in with these guys.
“Get out of here,” I told Jordan. “Go find some little kid to beat up on.”
Jordan never took my advice well. He hadn’t changed. He picked up a crowbar from a corner of the garage and was walking towards me when a car pulled up in the driveway. I guess he figured it was Kelsey’s old man or something. Or maybe he only wanted to make the threat. If he was gonna thrash me, he’d do it some time when I wasn’t ready, some place where nobody but his boys would see. He’d catch up to me on a dark street and do it. Now he had a girl and maybe her father watching. Jordan didn’t like wiping out anybody unless he was sure he could get away with it.
I didn’t blink. Jordan threw the crowbar through the front of my bass drum, ripping the front skin. Then he, Logan, and Eric left.
It turned out it wasn’t Kelsey’s father at all but some guy in a beat-up Volvo. As he tried to get out of the car, Jordan was walking past and shoved the door back at him angrily, chomping the poor dude’s leg.
I studied the damage to the front of my bass drum. No big deal, I said to myself. A lot of drummers play without a front skin on it. Now mine had a big gash with a crowbar sticking out. I decided I liked the image. Forget about being ticked-off at Jordan. I’d go with the new look.
The guy who just pulled up seemed pretty confused as he walked towards us. “Friends of yours?” he asked Kelsey and me.
“We were just throwing them off the property,” Kelsey said.
“I thought maybe they were part of the fan club.” The guy smiled now and looked around the garage. “You’re missing somebody, right?”
“Yah,” I said. “What business is it of yours?”
“Oh, sorry,” he said, sticking out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Barry Goddard.” He handed me a little business card that said, “Barry Goddard, Independent Producer.”
“Am I supposed to be impressed?”
“No, not at all.”
“Then what?” Kelsey asked him.
“I heard about you guys. A kid from your school let me hear your song, the condom thing. They even have a nickname for you. What was it . . . the Rubber Band?”
I groaned. “Spare me.”
“Sorry. Look, I liked the tune. I liked the sound. Can I hear more?”
“As you can see, we’re missing a guitar. It’d sound pretty empty without Alex.”
“Yeah, right. But it’s really the songs I’m interested in. Who does the writing?”
I pointed to Kelsey.
“You got others?”
“Yeah, lots.”
“Play something, okay? Just the two of you. I’ll imagine the guitar in my head.”
Hey, I didn’t care. I’d play music for the Pope if he asked. We did a version of “Downtown Dangerous” and “Me, You, and the Other Poor Slob.” Kelsey’s lyrics were getting more edge to them. She was getting more daring and I liked that. My guess was that we were moving farther out on the fringe from the really safe emo stuff. Maybe it was my positive influence. Of course, Alex was getting antsy about the direction. He kept saying we could never “go commercial” with stuff like that. But here we were with some independent producer — very small time, no doubt, but he was interested in us.
“I’ve got a digital recording studio in my basement,” Barry said when we were done. “I’d like to record all of you sometime and see what it sounds like.”
Kelsey was skeptical. “How much is it gonna cost us?”
“Nada,” Barry said. “Nothing. I’d just like you guys to see what a real engineered mixed version sounds like. You’re good. Kids are talking.”
“What’s in it for you?” I asked.
Barry threw his hands up in the air. “Who knows?”
Chapter 9
“We shouldn’t get involved with small-time operators like that,” Alex said, as soon as we told him about Barry.
“What could it hurt?” Kelsey answered. “We haven’t exactly signed any deals. He just offered to record our stuff. At least we might end up with a good demo.”
“What was he driving?” Alex asked.
“A Volvo,” Kelsey said. She didn’t tell Alex that it looked like a Volvo that had been driven through the streets of Baghdad during the Gulf War.
“I still think we should polish our material and hold off for a while.”
“Let’s just do it,” I said. I was getting pretty sick of people who had to discuss everything before they acted.
“Kids are asking to hear more of our songs, Alex,” Kelsey said. “If we could get some good tracks down maybe we could even burn some CDs to sell at our gigs.”
I guess the idea of making a few bucks from our music appealed to Alex. He gave in.
The session was weird but cool. It wasn’t exactly a basement studio. Barry lived in the basement of an old apartment building. He had a couple of dogs in there that he’d taken off the street. They sniffed me pretty seriously as I walked in. The place was a real dump. You should have caught the look on Alex’s face. But after making friends wi
th the dogs (I got down on the floor and sniffed them), I decided I liked this guy.
He did have a fairly sophisticated digital recording setup but we had to spread out all over his ratty little apartment to get arranged. Kelsey ended up in the kitchen with her keyboard. Through the mic she said, “Barry, why does the only woman here have to get stuck in the kitchen? Isn’t this just a little bit sexist?” He got the joke. She had to explain to me later the thing about putting the only woman in the kitchen. So maybe it was funny, I don’t know.
Alex ended up in the bedroom with his guitar and both mangy dogs, who seemed to thrive on the sound of an electric six-string.
Wouldn’t you know it? I had to set up in the bathroom and keep the door closed. “Otherwise, you’ll be too loud, Cody. If I want to mix this properly, I need to have you all isolated from each other.”
Talk about weird. We were a band trying to play without seeing each other. The headphones helped but it was hard playing without being able to watch Alex or Kelsey. I swore it was the last gig I’d ever do in somebody’s bathroom.
We recorded “The Condom Song” and “Downtown Dangerous,” Kelsey’s song about her days living on the street. We played it together and then one at a time while listening to the other tracks already recorded. I was thinking it was all a waste of time, a big joke. Barry was just a hack amateur who had been bullshitting us.
But then we heard the mix. It sounded very good. In fact, it sounded too good. “That’s us?” I asked.
“Scream Static just got a little bit better,” Barry said.
Barry invested some money into promoting the band online. Alex didn’t trust him, but that was Alex. We hadn’t signed any contracts. But I thought Barry was okay. Maybe he’d help us get our sound out there.
Then CKDU, the Dalhousie University station, started playing “The Condom Song.” People all over Halifax and Dartmouth were hearing it. Alex couldn’t deny that we were getting attention. I could handle the glory. Clearly, if CKDU was giving us airtime, we were cutting edge.
In fact, a guy from CKDU called up Kelsey and invited us all in for a live interview. Now, it wasn’t exactly MTV or anything but it seemed like a step up. Even Alex was impressed.
Gone Bad Page 4