by Anne Donovan
The programme was wanny they magazine type things for teenagers – the presenter was a right eejit and ah never usually watched it. There he was sittin on his beanbag wi a crowd a kids planted round him and he was sayin, ‘That’s almost it for now. But before we go I’ll run through the rules of the competition again. CDs must be produced on a home computer, not in a professional recording studio. The main singers or musicians must be under sixteen years old on the 31st May, though you can sample tracks from other places, subject to copyright restrictions.
‘And remember, don’t worry if the quality of the recording isn’t great. We’re more interested in the quality of the music and performance. The ten winning entries will be professionally recorded and released on a CD and the overall winner will also be released as a single. So get busy – entries must be sent in to arrive by the 31st May.’
As the credits rolled up ah sat starin at the screen
‘What do you think?’ said Nisha.
Ah sat for a minute, tryin tae think it oot. Then ah said, ‘Know how Gurpreet mixes his stuff fae all different records and samples and that? D’you think if we worked on this, mibbe added different bits, he could mix up a track for us?’
‘Don’t see why not. We’d just have tae convince him it was worth his while. But a competition like this could be a big break for him too. Ah know he really likes your voice, and even though he’d never admit it cos ah’m his sister, he likes mines too.’
‘Wouldn’t it be brilliant though?’ Ah looked at the cover of a Madonna CD. There she was lookin straight intae the camera, so cool. Wan day that could be me and Nisha.
‘What else could we put with it?’ said Nisha. ‘Ah mean “Salve Regina” could be the main part but we’d need tae build up loads a different layers.’
‘How does Gurpreet dae it? Just listens tae lots of tracks?’
‘Aye, and sometimes he samples in words and phrases in Punjabi ower the top.’
‘Mibbe we should just start listenin tae CDs and see what we think might work. It’s a pity we cannae use Gurpreet’s equipment.’
‘Don’t even whisper that … let’s get started, look through these CDs. If we’ve a clear idea tae put to Gurpreet he’s mair likely tae take notice. If we just go tae him and say we want tae make a track it’ll be “daft wee lassies, bug off.”’
But it was a lot harder than you’d think. When you hear these folk like Fat Boy Slim daein their stuff it sounds dead easy, stickin bits and pieces fae other singers’ records all thegether wi a backin track aff a computer and makin loads a money. Ma daddy used tae go on aboot it when we were watchin the TV. ‘Would you look at the state of it? Winnin awards for stealin other folk’s work and muckin it aboot. And they used tae say punk rockers couldnae play their instruments!’
But when you sit and listen tae music and try and work oot which bits might go thegether and how you’d organise them, well it doesnae seem that easy after all. We sat and listened tae Nisha’s CDs maist of the efternoon and came up wi nothin, then ah went hame and played all ma favourites and got nowhere. But the next day, flickin through the rack, ah came across the CD of Tibetan chants ah’d gied ma daddy for Christmas. He’d made a tape of it for his Walkman but he’d left the CD here since he’d nae CD player at the Centre. Ah held it in ma haund, lookin at the cover of snow-capped mountains for a moment, then pulled it oot the case and stuck it in the machine. And there it was, just like the chantin ah’d heard the lamas dae that night they prayed for ma granny. Deep harsh sounds, way back in their throats, as if they came fae down, down in the centre of the earth.
On Monday at school, Nisha tellt me she’d spoken tae Gurpreet. ‘He’s dead keen aboot it. Wants tae get thegether wi us next Saturday.’
‘Cool.’
‘Only thing is we’ll need tae watch for him takin ower.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Ah was thinkin aboot it last night efter ah’d spoke tae him. He started gaun on aboot all the ideas he had and how he could use our voices and, well, it kind of started soundin as if it was his CD, no ours.’
‘So whit dae we dae?’
‘We need tae make sure that we’ve got wer ain ideas sorted afore we get thegether wi him – we should put him off for a few weeks. If we go in wi a couple of rough ideas he’ll just take over. Ah know Gurpreet. Most of the time he’s so laid back he’s practically horizontal, but when it comes tae music he just goes for it.’
Ah knew whit she meant. Ah’d seen Gurpreet often enough round at Nisha’s house, lazin aboot on the couch, remote in wan haund, bottle of Beck’s in the other. He looked as if a bomb wouldnae shift him. But the Gurpreet ah’d seen thon karaoke night – the difference was unreal. It was like watchin a cat that’s stalkin its prey; all that energy concentrated in its body, every whisker and piece of fur alive wi it. If Gurpreet took over we wouldnae get a look in.
‘Nisha, d’you want tae come round tae ma bit wan night this week and we’ll try and work sumpn oot afore we see Gurpreet? Ah’ve got an idea.’
‘Cool. When?’
‘Wednesday? You could come round tae mines for your tea.’
When ah played the Tibetan chants tae Nisha she just looked at me. For a minute ah thought she didnae like it but then she said, ‘Awesome,’ and a big grin spread across her face.
Ah smiled too. That was it. We’d found it.
Course that wasnae it at all. That was just the start. We had the base line of the chantin and the ‘Salve Regina’, but that wasnae enough tae make a whole track. In the end it took us ages and ages and for a lot of the time ah felt we werenae gaun anywhere at all. The funny thing was that right fae that first day ah felt ah could hear the whole song in ma heid, how it was gonnae sound, but it was like a dream that’s just started tae slip away fae you when you wake; ah couldnae access it.
It didnae help that me and Nisha had nae real musical trainin. We could sing but couldnae play any instruments. And it’d probably of been easier if we’d let Gurpreet help us right fae the start, but Nisha was definitely agin that.
‘We cannae let him in on this till we get a good idea of what we want. Or it won’t be ours.’
Ah knew she was right but it didnae make it any easier. Here we were sittin in ma bedroom wi wan CD of monks chantin and a Latin hymn ah knew by heart – less than two month fae noo we were gonnae submit a recording tae a TV programme.
‘How are we gonnae dae it wioot him though?’
Nisha looked through ma CDs and picked oot wan by Fat Boy Slim.
‘What’s the best track on this?’
‘“Right Here, Right Now”.’
‘OK – we’re gonnae work out how he does it.’
If we listened tae it wan time we listened tae it fifty, sixty times.
‘Opening – he’s got this really solid base track and he lets it repeat a couple of times then he has the voice over it for just a phrase repeated a couple of times, then back again. So …’
‘We could have the chants startin aff then bring in a voice.’ Nisha started singin ‘salve’, playin aboot wi different notes. ‘No, no, this isnae right, but get the idea?’
‘Aye. Then back tae the chants again afore the actual melody comes in.’
And so we went on and on, tryin tae work oot a structure, thinkin aboot how we could make different layers in it. The problem was we’d nae way of hearin how it sounded thegether. We could sing ower the Tibetan chants but we didnae have the equipment tae record our singin on tap of them. And sometimes somethin started tae sound good but we couldnae exactly remember how it went.
When Gurpreet came for Nisha at nine o’clock we were shattered.
‘At least it’s a start,’ said Nisha. ‘See you the morra.’
‘So,’ says Nisha, ‘have you asked your da yet?’
‘Ma da?’
‘Aye – it’d be easier for him tae contact the lamas, wouldn’t it?’
We were staundin just ootside the main door, waitin for the bell tae ring. Ah d
idnae have a scooby what Nisha was on aboot and ah hated talkin aboot the lamas at school in case anybody overheard us.
‘How d’you mean?’
She waved her haunds in fronty ma face.
‘Hello, is there anybody there? Tae ask them tae chant for oor CD.’
‘Ah thought we were gonnae take it aff the CD ah bought for ma da.’
‘We cannae – it’ll be copyright. Even if we could get permission it’d be dead complicated and take ages. It’d be a lot easier tae ask them tae dae it. We don’t need much – Gurpreet can sample it. Give him something tae dae while we work on the other parts.’
‘OK.’
The bell rang and everyone started tae heid aff. As we split on the first flair, Nisha said, ‘Anyway, if the lamas dae it, they’ll be Scottish Tibetan chants.’
All mornin ah couldnae think of anythin else. Ah just didnae want tae ask ma da, didnae want tae get him involved in it. Couldnae figure oot why, ah mean, he wasnae gonnae be like Gurpreet tryin tae take over. It was just, somehow ah couldnae be bothered wi him askin a lot of questions and makin a big fuss – ah wanted tae wait till it was all done afore he heard it.
But ah couldnae work oot any other way tae dae it so that night ah said, ‘Da, Gurpreet wants tae record the lamas prayin.’
‘Is he thinkin a turnin intae a Buddhist then?’
‘Da, you’ve got a wan-track mind. Naw, just wants tae sample the chants on a record. Can you ask them if they’d dae it? He could go round tae the Centre and record them.’
‘Aye, hen, nae bother.’
Efter that Nisha and me spent almost every spare minute we had workin on it. If we werenae actually singin or lookin through CDs tae find ideas we were talkin or thinkin aboot it. Nisha was deadly serious. Ah’d never seen her like this afore. Usually when we were thegether we were always laughin and cairryin on, but this was different. It was brilliant – actually it was the maist fun ah’d ever had – but it was hard work too. You’d tae concentrate that hard tae haud it in yer heid, all the ideas. But even if we were tired and fed up we kept gaun. Nisha kept us gaun.
And it helped take ma mind aff ma granny. Ah was really really missin her. It was dead strange that she wasnae there any mair – ah’d been that used tae gaun round tae her hoose whenever ah felt like it. She was just always there, always the same. Even if ma ma an da werenae gettin on or ah was pissed aboot sumpn at school, there was ma granny, always glad tae see me, get the kettle on, have a chocolate biscuit. And noo she’s no here any mair.
The only person ah could talk to aboot it was Nisha.
‘It’s weird the way that naebody talks aboot her noo – you’d think she’d never existed. We don’t even have her photo up.’
There was a big photie of her da hangin under the photos of the Gurus in their livin room.
‘My ma won’t even take my dad’s name off the buzzer on the close – says it’s still his household.’
‘Ma granny’s hoose isnae even hers noo. Mammy cleared it oot last week and handed in the keys.’
‘Suppose she had to, though.’
‘Ah know – ah just wished she’d of let me help her wi it but she just done it hersel. And ma daddy said, “It’s no a job for you, hen.” But ah think it would of made me feel better somehow.’
Liz
HE STAYED IN a flat up Wilton Street, the end nearer Queen Margaret Drive. A lot of the tenements round here have been stone-cleaned and done up, but this hadnae. Weeds filled gaps in the steps leadin up tae a close that smelled of cat pee and there was nae door entry system. Ah climbed tae the tap flair. On the door there was a bit of paper wi five names stuck on it, includin David’s.
Ma stomach was churnin as ah rang the bell. Through the bubble-glass panel in the door ah could see him comin, hear his feet paddin across the flair. When he opened it wi a big smile for me ah couldnae speak for a moment. He’d just washed his hair and it was still damp, curlin round his face, makin him look even younger. He’d on an auld perra jeans and a big baggy shirt, and was in his stockin soles. Ah’d taken ages tae get ready and felt a bit daft, overdressed in a short skirt and kitten heel shoes.
‘Come on in.’
‘Hi.’
He pulled me towards him and ah smelled his aftershave, that vanilla scent again, though it didnae feel as if he’d shaved, his cheek rough against mines. Ah kind of hauf-kissed him on the cheek. It’s weird, he felt that wee and slight compared wi Jimmy.
‘Come intae the kitchen.’
A huge hall wi loads of doors leadin aff it. Ah followed him intae a big room at the back. Under the windae was a sink and a guddle of dishes waitin tae be dried and in the centre of the room was a wooden table, littered wi papers, hauf-drunk mugs of tea and an ashtray overflowin wi douts. Faint smell a dope in the air. Claes hangin fae the pulley dripped on the flair. Whoever’d done a washin hadnae bothered tae wring them oot properly. Ah listened tae the drip, drip and looked at the puddles buildin up underneath them on a pile of newspapers spread oot, presumably tae catch the watter.
He was watchin me lookin round. Ah haunded him the bottle of wine and he took the wrappin paper aff it.
‘Ah’ll find you a glass. Ah did mean tae clear up a bit but ah thought ah’d better get the dinner on first.’ He pointed tae a big pot on tap of the cooker; the flames of the gas ring, leppin high, a black mark all round the bottom of the pot.
‘Ah’m impressed. What are you makin?’
‘Just a veggie sauce – ah’ll make some pasta tae go wi it.’
‘Are you veggie then?’
‘No me, ah’d gie ma life for a big plate a mince and tatties – it’s just cheaper.’
He lifted two glasses fae the drainin board and put them on the table. ‘Ah’d dry them but ah don’t think there’s a clean tea towel in the place.’ He opened the bottle of wine and poured it oot.
He raised his glass.
‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers.’
‘Christ, what a useless host. Look, sit doon and ah’ll clear this mess up.’
Ah perched on the edge of a chair while he moved the papers and stuck them in a corner, then started tae wash the cups.
‘Want a haund?’
‘Naw, don’t be daft, you sit there and look gorgeous – ah’ll just be a minute.’
The ashtray was still in the middle of the table. He chucked the ash intae the bin and put it in the washin up bowl alang wi the dishes.
‘Right, ah’ll just gie this table a wipe.’
As he drew closer he kissed me below ma ear, just a soft brush of his lips.
‘You’re lookin awful serious. You OK?’
‘Aye, ah’m fine.’
A big guy wi dyed blonde hair appeared at the door of the kitchen. ‘Dave, I’m off to the pub. Oh, sorry … hi.’
‘Hi,’ ah says.
‘Richard, this is Liz.’
He waved. ‘Hi, Liz. Didn’t realise you had company. You coming to the pub with us?’
‘Quiet night in.’
‘Nice. Maybe see you later. Steve been in yet?’
‘No idea.’
‘OK. Well, enjoy yourselves. Bye.’
‘Bye.’
‘That your flatmate then?’
‘One of them. Steve’s oot. Susie and Fraser are away for the weekend. Julie lives here in theory but spends that much time round at her boyfriend’s that we don’t see much of her.’
He poured bilin water fae the kettle intae a pot and lit the gas under it. Afore he put the match in the bin he stuck it intae the washin up water; it made a faint noise like a sigh.
‘Tagliatelle or fusilli?’
‘Ah’m no fussy.’
‘Ah know that or you wouldnae be here wi me but what kind of pasta dae you want?’
‘Tagliatelle, please.’
‘Refill?’
‘Thanks.’
Ah hadnae realised ah was drinkin it that quickly. Better slow doon or ah’d be pissed afore the food was ready. Ah took a sip, p
ut ma glass doon on the table next tae his, which was still nearly full. He chucked haundfuls of pasta in the pan. ‘Ten minutes and we can eat. Hungry?’
‘Aye.’
‘Me too.’
He came tae the back of ma chair and put his airms round me, startin tae kiss the back of ma neck, soft wee kisses that found their way round ma hairline behind ma ears. And the feelin started gradually, just a warmth tinglin round ma neck and ma shoulders, then all of a sudden it was fierce and stabbin. Ah stood up and faced him, then wer airms were round each other and we were kissin, tongues in each others mooths and hauf way doon wer throats, could hardly breathe. Ma haunds were under his jumper, grabbin at the flesh, ma nails scrapin his back and his breath was gettin faster, then he pushed me away.
‘No here – no on the flair this time,’ and he led me through intae his room, onto his bed. And ah thought, if ah thought anythin at all, that it would be like the last time, hard and sharp and fast, but efter the first few moments when we were grabbin at each other and pullin aff claes, once he got inside me, suddenly it slowed doon; the jaggy edges blurred and a haze of feelin washed ower me. Ah opened ma mouth tae speak but no sound came oot, just breaths comin and goin like waves, like a big ocean, a giant pulse. It was like when you’re exhausted and floatin aff intae sleep – but ah wasnae sleepin, felt as if ah knew everything that was happenin, everythin he was daein, but fae a different perspective, as though ah was him inside me, inside ma ain body. Then it stopped, and ah was just there, quiet inside and oot, as if ah’d been wrapped in cotton wool and laid oot on a cloud.
Ah don’t know how long we lay there in silence, side by side. Only a few minutes likely, but it seemed ages. Then he rolled over and kissed ma mouth.
‘You OK?’
‘Ah don’t think that’s quite the right word. Ah think ah just died and went tae Heaven.’
‘First time ah’ve been mistaken for an angel.’
‘Must be cause you washed thon halo of yours.’ Ah ran ma fingers through his hair, which was dry now, soft and fine.