‘I’m so happy!’ he says. ‘This calls for a celebration. Maybe even a double celebration.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, I got my first results back yesterday, and yeah, not so bad! Not brilliant, not first in the class or anything like you, but much better than last year and I think good enough for me to scrape into the uni course I want.’
‘What about the sound engineering course?’
‘I still want to do that, but I have to save up for it. I have to get a few thousand dollars to pay the fees upfront. I can wait a couple of years to do that if I have to. I’m not really in a super rush.’
‘We do have all the time in the world.’
Tim
Just as she’s saying this I get a call from my friend Cooper, one of the two guys who play in this band called Katie Homeschooled. I’ve known them for a while and they’ve always talked about having me play with them sometime, but I thought that was maybe something they were saying just to be polite. Apparently not. They’re launching a single at the Hopetoun next month and they need a couple of supports, and Cooper is wondering if I want to maybe do it?
I say yes immediately, of course. This show is going to be a step up for me. Not playing as a headliner or anything, but playing to people who might actually listen. Musicians. Music lovers.
I look across the table to Mandy.
‘Hey, Cooper, can you do me one more favour?’
‘Yeah, man.’
‘This is going to sound dumb, but can you repeat what you just asked me? I’m going to put you on speaker so my girlfriend can hear.’
A couple of seconds later, Mandy almost knocks over the table in her rush to hug me.
We start making plans for a celebration and buy a box of sparklers and try to find some nice-but-affordable place for dinner, but then we get sidetracked and get drunk on cheap champagne and end up having sex on the floor of my room, then watching Sixteen Candles, which is probably better. I’m starting to think that getting sidetracked is often better than taking the obvious path somewhere.
Love at first sight is a funny idea. It’s something that comes up all the time in my songs, something I just seem to be drawn to writing about, even though I never sit down and consciously make the decision that’s where the lyrics are going to go. There is something quite frankly a bit stupid about falling in love with someone you don’t know, but it’s also this dangerous and incredibly thrilling thing. If the high point of your relationship comes before you hear the other person speak though, then I just feel bad for you.
I fell for Mandy that night in that shitty old-man pub, but I was only getting started.
I got lucky. I found my girl in a dive bar and things were never the same again.
When I walked across the cracked lino at the Old Canterbury to talk to her, I knew I was getting myself into something. I just didn’t know it would be something this good.
I fell in love with the idea of her, with her second-hand band T-shirts, her apple perfume, her pretty cheekbones and scuffed-up shoes. But the real person I’ve got to know is way better than the image I fell for then.
Mandy
The day of Tim’s big gig is here. In the time since it was booked, it’s gone from another little Thursday-night gig to being a bit of a big deal as Katie Homeschooled have started to get a lot of airplay on community radio and have got seemingly bigger and bigger with each passing week. As of last week, the delicious words SOLD OUT are stamped next to the listing for the show in the street press.
First things first, though.
I hear a knock on the front door this morning, but by the time I answer it nobody’s there. For one disheartening moment I feel burned again, like I’m back in primary school and the mean kids have put dog shit on my doorstep and run off laughing. But this time when I look down there’s a shiny CD-shaped package on the step. And the unmistakable figure of Tim disappearing past the abandoned car down the street and the mothers with their prams, towards the smog and noise of Parramatta Road.
I unwrap the parcel and it’s a mixtape Tim has made for me. Cute boys making me mixtapes has always been my sad secret fantasy, the thing I’m too cool to admit I wanted.
There are some good ones that I haven’t heard for a while, and some I don’t know, which is just as exciting. It starts with Sleater-Kinney’s ‘You’re No Rock N’ Roll Fun’, then The Aislers Set’s ‘The Walk’, Low’s ‘Kind Of Girl’, Howe Gelb’s ‘Of’ (weird title), The Smiths’ ‘Girl Afraid’, The Magnetic Fields’ ‘I Wish I Had An Evil Twin’, our old friends The Nits with ‘Write To Me From London’, then Ben Folds covering The Divine Comedy with ‘Songs Of Love’, and finally Nirvana’s ‘About A Girl’.
I tingle with excitement. I look forward to each and every song.
Tim
I’m hanging around on a busy corner outside the Hopetoun, wishing I had a winter coat and listening to the heavy rain tumble, when I’m surprised by Mr Taylor, huddled under a golf umbrella and unfashionably early. He’s wearing faded jeans and a white T-shirt with a square like a record cover on the front showing a red screaming face. He walks up the street uncertainly, but beams when he sees me and sticks out his giant hand to shake.
‘Good evening, Tim!’
‘Evening, sir. Didn’t expect to see you here.’
‘One of your classmates tipped me off.’
‘Oh, well, it’s cool you could come out.’
‘My word, it’s been a while since I went out to see some rock ’n’ roll bands,’ he says. ‘I’m quite excited. I used to go and see bands all the time. The Angels, Cold Chisel, Hunters and Collectors — I saw them dozens of times, all sorts!’
Ned is sitting on the steps. He gets up and he and Mr Taylor shake hands and nod and mumble at each other.
‘You must be very proud of what he’s doing as a musician,’ Mr Taylor says. ‘He’s very talented.’
‘I am proud of the kid,’ Ned says.
‘He’s a good student too.’
‘That’s a bit of a stretch,’ I say.
‘Well … he’s not a bad student. He does his best.’
I wonder if Mr Taylor thinks Ned’s my dad.
He’s joined by his daughter, Sarah, running in from the rain. I know her a bit from parties, but not from school as she, probably wisely, insisted on not going to the school where her dad teaches. We say hello and roll our eyes at the olds as we all move inside out of the cold.
‘What’s the T-shirt?’ I ask Mr Taylor.
‘Ah, it’s King Crimson. Do you know them?’
I shake my head. The shirt looks suspiciously new, like he’s bought it especially for this occasion.
‘This is the cover of In the Court of the Crimson King, which was their greatest album, their magnum opus. It’s probably the greatest prog rock album ever made. The playing on it is simply superb. I’d be happy to make you a copy.’
‘Isn’t that highly illegal, sir?’
He looks a bit put out.
‘I’m joking,’ I say. ‘I’d love a copy. If it’s as weird as that artwork it’ll be worth listening to.’
Now he’s pleased, smiling and nodding.
Ned offers to buy him a drink. He goes for a light beer, and stands in the middle of the floor, clutching it with a silly grin and giving me the thumbs up whenever he catches my eye. Maybe I will take him up on his offer of a chat sometimes. At the very least, maybe he can teach me all about this hippie music and prog rock that he listens to, and I can teach him how not to be serious about everything all the time. I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.
Mandy
I’m friends with rock stars now. No big deal. Alex and Cooper, the two guys from Katie Homeschooled to be exact, say hi to Tim, then introduce themselves to me. Maybe I’m jumping the gun by saying we’re friends, but they seem super lovely. Cooper is skinnier and smaller than he looks in photos, a stick figure in a leather jacket, drinking from a can of Red Bull and propping himself up against
the brick wall. Alex is short and stubbly and bleary-eyed, blinking into the light like a mole coming into the sun.
‘Big night?’ I ask, showing again my unmatched ability for sparkling conversation. I should host a talk show.
‘Yeah,’ Cooper sighs. ‘We played Canberra last night, and Melbourne the night before that, and we both had to work late the night before that and get down there early to do community radio and talk to the local papers and stuff. We’ve clocked a lot of miles in the van and eaten a lot of shitty fast food. Plus I slept on someone’s couch in Melbs that was like sleeping on a rock. I learned the hard way that sometimes the floor isn’t the worst option.’
‘How was the Melbourne show? Was it worth it?’
‘Oh yeah, some people down there actually knew who we were this time. First time we played to seven people and six of them were friends. I think the other guy was on meth and didn’t know where he was. He was literally licking the wall at one point.’
I notice Matt, face hidden in a Deafheaven hoodie, and he pats me lightly on the back as he goes past. Suddenly it’s like an episode of Cheers in here, except with everyone drinking bottles of Mexican beer and wearing band T-shirts.
‘I feel like you look really familiar. Do you come to a lot of shows here?’ Cooper asks me.
‘Yeah, this is pretty much my second home.’
‘That explains it. So how did you get into music?’
It’s such an obvious question, but I’m surprised by it, like you would be if someone asked you how you started breathing.
‘I hated school at the time and I guess it just seemed like this whole other exciting world,’ I say.
‘Nice.’
‘How did you get into music?’
He laughs and looks a bit embarrassed and wistful. ‘I got a keyboard for my fourteenth birthday after nagging my parents for one for months … I got into playing music to meet girls.’
‘Did it work?’ I ask.
‘Ha ha, not really. Maybe sometimes. Mostly you just meet guys who know a lot about guitar pedals. But I think for probably everyone, and definitely for me, the reason you keep doing it is different from the reason why you started.’
Seeing Matt reminds me of the coaster I still have in my wallet from The Flaming Lips gig. I pull it out and re-read the message he wrote on the back: Remember: you’re not JUST a fan. The whole thing falls apart without people who believe in it.
Cooper leans over to see what I’m looking at and I show him the writing. I think it’s going to be meaningless without context but he nods. I put it back in my wallet. I get it now.
And then another familiar face: Sarah Hendry, my old high-school nemesis, cluelessly wearing a sparkly black cocktail dress and towering heels in a dingy pub. She looks at me with a sour expression as I’m talking to Alex and Cooper, and then Tim comes back from playing the Addams Family pinball machine and puts his arm around my waist. Now this is a priceless moment — people often use the phrase ‘jaw-dropping’, but this is the first time I’ve actually seen it in person. She stands there disbelieving for a second, her mouth hanging dumbly open like in a cartoon.
Tim
I look at the list of playing times sticky-taped to the wall and see we’re on first, before Mope City, and Camperdown & Out, and the headliners, Katie Homeschooled. It’s still a while before we play, but there’s already a decent crowd. FBI Radio have started smashing the new Katie Homeschooled single and there’s a feeling that they’re on the cusp of something, and the hype around them has created a wave that we’re happy to crash in on. We don’t even have a name yet, have had one whole rehearsal and been a band for only a couple of days, but I’m actually super confident.
I’ve been listening to a lot of that yelling, passionate, poetic loser punk stuff lately, bands like X, The Lawrence Arms, The Smith Street Band and The Menzingers, and writing songs in that vein, and I thought I was moving a bit away from being the guy with an acoustic guitar and needed other people to play the songs with me. Brandon was an easy choice because he’s a dark horse and an awesome bass player and it’s hard to get awesome bass players because most people who get really good want to switch to guitar and get the glory. He’s quit school and wasn’t doing much so it was easy to get him involved. James was also someone I didn’t have to think about at all because he’s just the best drummer, and I’m stoked he said yes because he’s quite busy with his other bands. Also, he makes a sex face when he drums and that always amuses me. Matt, I chose because he’s a good dude and a steady guitar player who can just chug out a solid rhythm and let Brandon and me do the more flashy stuff. I got them together in a matter of hours and we rehearsed three or four new songs and a couple of covers at Matt’s studio, and then I decided to turn this solo slot into a band slot and here we are.
While we’re waiting to go on, I see Dougy from The Nits, standing at the bar by himself and making sure everybody notices him. It’s funny, just this afternoon I was thinking that it’s been a while since I’ve seen Dougy around, he’s normally part of the furniture at shows. I don’t think he ever likes any of the bands he goes to see, it’s more like he just has to check out the competition.
He sees me across the room and makes his way through the growing crowd, stopping in front of me and grinning, like I should be blown away by his mere presence.
‘This is fate, Tim, absolute fate,’ he says.
‘What is?’
‘Us meeting again like this.’
‘Yeah, it’s amazing I would be at a gig I’m supposed to be playing at. I can’t believe it.’
He smooths back a lock of loose hair, positions it behind his ear. ‘What have you been up to, Tim? What’s been happening?’
‘A lot’s been going on. You?’
‘You know what’s been going on with me, bro, you read the street press.’
‘I think you’re really overestimating how famous you are,’ I say.
‘Ha, this takes me back, you taking the piss out of me! You were the only one I ever let get away with it. You were always the cheeky baby in the group. But nah, the thing is, just the other day I was saying to everyone we’ve got to get Tim back in The Nits.’
‘You’re joking.’
‘No, I’m completely serious, we need you. I know I did some stuff that wasn’t cool, but I am begging, and I promise you it’ll be better this time.’
‘I thought you already had a bass player?’
‘Nick? I got rid of him. I had to in the end, he forced my hand. His other band got their song on Triple J and he turned into a tosser. Well, more of a tosser than he was already. You would have heard their song, it is complete garbage, it sounds like Cat Stevens. Anyway, he was never that good a bass player compared to you.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Will you think about it, at least?’
‘If I say yes, will you go away?’
‘Alright, I know this is all a bit out of the blue. I’m hearing that I need to give you some space right now, I’m hearing that. You can think it over.’ He goes to leave, then turns back and says in a low voice, ‘Hey man, check out that chick in the Replacements T-shirt over there.’
‘Don’t even think about it,’ I say.
He looks a bit confused, but smiles and nods as he shambles off, hands in his jacket pockets, confident this interaction has gone much better than it actually has.
When he disappears, I can go back to thinking about my band and what lies ahead. I feel so jittery I can barely stand still, but it’s a different kind of nerves than I’ve had before. It’s not a fear that we’re going to fail, or me being worried that people will hate us, or anything like that.
It’s just this: I simply cannot wait.
Mandy
Alice and I are in high spirits, resplendent in our best op-shop fashion: her in an old twill wool jacket, black pinafore dress and school shoes; me in my Replacements T-shirt, a tartan skirt and coloured stockings. It’s our time. This city belongs to us.
She passe
s me a glass of water and smiles. I feared maybe her days of gig-going were over after she told me she’d started taking that medication, but she seems fine tonight. In fact when I talked to her this morning she said she’d slept for a day after finishing a whole bunch of exams and she sounded easily the most upbeat she’s been in a while. It’s good to have her here.
Sebastian brushes past us, saying something that ends in ‘ladies’. We ignore him.
We nod across the room to the twins, who have Tim’s friend Ricky with them. We watch with interest as some other guys turn up and talk to them and Ricky tries, mainly unsuccessfully, to hide his annoyance.
The place is filling and there’s a pent-up energy in the air, like the whole room is holding its breath. I feel someone gingerly approaching us and then Alice is tugging on my sleeve.
‘There’s someone I want you to meet. Mandy, this is Justin. Justin, Mandy. I don’t think you’ve been properly introduced.’
I shake hands with a scraggly, skinny boy with pretty eyes and a baggy bottle-green cardigan, a military satchel with cloth patches sewn on and tin badges on his shirt. He looks familiar but it takes me a second to realise … It’s lion-T-shirt boy.
‘I was looking at a certain poetry zine today and saw that someone had cheekily written his phone number on there,’ Alice says.
‘Not that I was hanging on your phone call or anything,’ Justin says and smiles at me conspiratorially. ‘I just happened to answer on the first ring. Pure coincidence.’
Alice leaves us to go get some drinks and Justin just stands there grinning unselfconsciously, like a puppy about to be let off its leash at the park.
‘Have you seen any of these bands before?’ I ask.
‘No, not at all. I’m pretty excited. I mean, this is like the first rock concert I’ve been to … Well, “rock” in the general sense. I haven’t even heard Katie Homeschooled, but Alice described them as “electro thumpy-thumpy”. I mainly go to classical music recitals.’
You’re the Kind of Girl I Write Songs About Page 20