by DaNeo Duran
Facing the stage again she watched Calvin address his crowd. ‘Listen up guys, if you like what you hear we’ve got demos.’ He turned to the drums. ‘What else have we got Raphael?’
‘Well Calvin, we’ve got Little Spirit T-shirts.’ He passed it to Calvin.
‘Thanks mate, what d’you think Danny?’ Calvin showed it to him and the crowd
‘Very nice.’
‘Well,’ Calvin continued, ‘you all seem like nice people and we’d love to meet you so when we finish come and say hi. Maybe get a T-shirt. Or maybe one lucky person will get this one.’
Calvin threw it into the audience. A forest of hands went up as, with four stick clicks, Raphael counted in the next song.
‘This song’s called, Come Around.’
Amy watched Calvin shrug an apology to Danny and Raphael for chucking a T-shirt away.
* * *
Afterwards, off stage the Richard disappointment had paled.
‘Hell of a gig,’ Calvin said.
‘Amazing,’ Danny agreed. ‘Beats busking.’
‘Let’s get out and sell T-shirts,’ Raphael said.
They set up in front of the stage. A queue mostly of girls appeared but a tall, long haired man stood out. He approached Danny.
‘Hello,’ the man said offering his hand. ‘I’m Austin. Fantastic gig.’
‘Thanks Austin, pleased you enjoyed it. Fancying a T-shirt?’
‘D’you think I could get a couple of lady fit ones?’
‘Err, okay. What about a demo tape?’
‘Not necessary.’
‘Oh,’ Danny said. ‘You just want ladies T-shirts?’
‘Seems weird doesn’t it? I’d better take a large man’s too in that case.’
He paid for the T-shirts and shook hands with Calvin and Raphael before suggesting he might see them again.
‘Who was that?’ Raphael asked.
‘Said he’s called Austin, Danny said. ‘Sounded like he was from up north.’
‘Grim,’ Calvin said.
* * *
Back at the flat Calvin said, ‘Might not matter that Richard wasn’t there. Like he said eventually the majors chase the bands.’
‘I like ze way you’re thinking Calvin,’ Raphael agreed. ‘Who knows maybe that Austin is an industry rep.’
‘Doubt it,’ Danny said. ‘He didn’t take a demo.’
‘Didn’t he?’
‘He might be a cross-dresser too. He only wanted ladies’ T-shirts.’
‘Well whatever, you were brilliant. I’ve had the best night ever,’ Barbara said.
‘Thanks,’ Calvin said. ‘We had good support bands tonight.’
‘Yeah but you guys were best,’ Amy shouted from the kitchen where the kettle boiled.
‘It’s true,’ Barbara agreed. ‘When you came on stage you could really tell that the proper band had arrived. You were the most professional.’
‘That’s a cool thing to say,’ Raphael said noting the compliment he’d heard from John.
Saturday 26th November
After breakfast the next day everyone decided to head into London – the girls to shop, the lads to busk. They made their way down stairs but Raphael hung back. He grabbed the phone, dialling, then hung up when someone answered.
‘Hurry up mate,’ Danny said.
‘Sorry.’
They hadn’t given much thought as to where they’d play so Raphael suggested Regent’s Park.
The lads said goodbye to the girls at the tube station and headed towards the park but Raphael strode ahead passing the entrance. ‘Come on.’
Calvin said to Danny, ‘He’s up to no good isn’t he?’
A few minutes later they stood in GMD’s shared courtyard looking up at the office.
‘Looks like business as usual for most of these businesses,’ Calvin said looking at the near-full car park.
Raphael had tiptoed up the steel steps to the door that opened outwards. Back with his mates he said, ‘I knew ze Richard would be in.’
‘So they’re in – meaning?’ Calvin asked.
‘Meaning if ze GMD mountain (well mound) won’t come to us we must go to GMD. We’ll bring ze gig to him. If they don’t like it then fine we’ll go back to ze drawing board.’
‘You think we should gig, right where we stand?’ Danny asked.
‘Indeed, right now.’
‘And I thought I was the ideas man,’ Danny said.
Deciding they had nothing to lose, they displayed both backdrops dominantly before popping round the corner to warm their voices.
Strutting back they launched into sound that bounced around exterior office walls amplifying and reverberating; powering their voices.
But before they reached the first chorus of Life in the Sunshine the door that opened outwards flew outwards and from the steps Richard yelled, ‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?’
They stopped dead with surprise.
‘Get up here now,’ Richard said flabbergast. ‘Dear God.’
‘Oh merde,’ Raphael said as Richard vanished leaving the door gaping.
‘Better get up there,’ Calvin said grabbing the Little Spirit banners. Raphael followed leaving Danny carefully packing his guitar away.
Calvin and Raphael got through the door of the office which seemed smaller than last time. Grace spun away fastening her jacket.
Richard said, ‘People in these offices work weekends. I could get in trouble.’
‘I thought we sounded pretty good,’ Calvin said cockily.
‘That’s not the point,’ Richard snarled. ‘Put the kettle on love the lads look cold.’ With jacket zipped to the neck Grace got up and Richard sat behind his desk saying, ‘Sit down. Where’s the other one?’
Danny came bumbling through the door.
‘Grab a chair mate,’ Calvin said.
‘Sorry Richard,’ Raphael said as they organised the plastic chairs. ‘We’d hoped you’d come to a gig.’
‘When you didn’t,’ Calvin said taking over, ‘Raphael thought like Mohammed going to the mountain.’
‘Got it,’ Richard said checking papers on his desk.
Raphael shot daggers at Calvin.
‘Sorry mate, just slipped out.’
Grace lined up chipped mugs of tea on the desk.
‘Anyway we went to the poly gig, didn’t we love?’ Richard said looking at Grace who blushed. ‘In fact Grace went to three gigs in all. Seems you’ve won one of us over at least. I told her to keep a low profile which wasn’t easy given how you like kissing your audience’s asses instead of having them kiss yours.’
The band checked each other’s stunned expressions.
Richard continued. ‘Situation is, I’ve listened thoroughly to the demo and can hear real promise. The word on the street, although quiet, is good. Plus I’ve spoken to the producers we’ve used previously, some are busy and a couple didn’t think they could help but strangely a personal favourite of mine seemed already to have your demo.’
‘We sent demos to some production companies,’ Raphael said.
Richard neither appeared interested or impressed. ‘Anyway, I invited this prospective producer along last night. His train was late so we arrived just as that synthesised racket you walk on to was ending. We saw the whole set but I had to leave immediately afterwards. It seems you pull a decent crowd and you all have a very pronounced stage presence. Actually it was entertaining from start to finish. Well done.’
‘We took ze points you made seriously,’ Raphael said.
‘Some, perhaps. Now, what I have here,’ Richard said pushing a stack of paper towards Raphael, ‘is a one album recording contract.’ He looked at the other two whilst Raphael started reading from the top of page one. ‘Don’t look so disappointed. An eight album deal can be as much of a millstone as a God send. This document is tough but fair. I suggest you get a lawyer to check it over before signing – assuming you’re interested.’
‘So we take this away?’ R
aphael asked.
‘Correct. If you want to sign bring it straight back with a lawyer.’
‘What about management?’ Raphael asked with some trepidation.
‘What I have here,’ Richard said pushing another document forward, ‘is a management contract. Give it to your lawyer and if you’re happy with the terms I’ll manage you. Once the album’s recorded you’ll need someone like me and I’ll need you to have someone like me. I know I banged on a lot about management but that was to illustrate its importance.’ Richard smiled. ‘Management’s actually the biggest part of what we do here.’
‘Crikey,’ Raphael said.
‘That’s a turn up,’ Calvin said. ‘You mentioned studio and producer?’
‘I did and that’s the next thing to decide,’ Richard said. ‘I take it you’ve got a record player at home?’
‘Yeah,’ Danny said.
‘Well if you can carry anything else take these 7-inches and check that you like the sound production. You don’t have to like the songs just the sound.’ Richard took a pile of singles from a drawer and pushed them towards Calvin.
‘Thanks Richard.’ Calvin wrapped them into the Little Spirit backdrop.
‘You’ve met your potential producer. He believes he can work with you adding plenty of value to what you’ve already got.’
‘That’s great,’ Raphael said. ‘Who is he?’
‘A very good producer. You’ll hear that when you listen to those records.’
‘And we’ve met him?’ Danny asked.
‘His name’s Austin. He bought a couple of T-shirts for Grace.’
‘The cross-dresser from up north,’ Calvin said.
‘Leeds actually. He runs The Production Annex studio. As long as you understand and accept the terms of both those contracts and you appreciate The Production Annex sound that’s where you’re going.’
Richard sat back in his chair and slurped his tea. The band looked at each other. Raphael looked at Grace who looked at him from her desk. Her now unzipped jacket exposed her Little Spirit T-shirt. Wide-eyed she looked as if willing them to shake hands with Richard and get on with things.
‘You like Little Spirit?’ Raphael asked her.
She smiled averting her eyes. ‘You’re fabulous.’
‘Easy now,’ Richard growled, ‘that’s my little sister’s kid.’
After leaving the office Little Spirit couldn’t wait to hear how they might sound properly produced. Bad weather helped them back to Chingford.
Arriving through the flat’s door Amy called down to the lads.
‘Hi,’ Danny shouted back, ‘how come you’re back?’
‘Couldn’t stand the rain.’
When Danny explained the good news Katherine said, ‘Let’s hear these records then.’
‘You okay with this?’ Calvin asked Barbara.
‘Can’t wait.’
Danny brought his record player into the living room. ‘Hear goes,’ he said putting the needle into the first groove.
A few moments later the room filled with the noise of an angry man’s terrifying voice. Everyone wanted to like the horrible song but—
‘Next.’ Calvin said.
‘Thought you’d never ask,’ Danny said. ‘They better hadn’t all be like this.
‘Hang on. Let me think,’ Raphael said listening through the awfulness to consider the fundamental mix. Apart from the screaming the instrumental balance had superb depth and colour. ‘What year was that?’
‘1977,’ Calvin read from the centre of the vinyl.
‘Hard-edged punk,’ Raphael said. ‘Six years ago we’d have done anything to sound like that.’
‘I don’t know,’ Calvin said. ‘The Sex Pistols would seem like The Sound of Music after that.’
‘Anything recent?’ Danny asked.
‘This,’ Calvin said handing him another record. ‘1982.’
Before the introduction finished Danny said, ‘This is better.’
‘By miles,’ Calvin agreed.
Raphael listened to the rapid song with female lead vocals appreciating the same diligent balance and blend of instruments.
‘Ah,’ Calvin said leafing through the stack, ‘The USed Wonz. These are who GMD sent to the States.’
Danny put the record on the turntable.
Calvin looked at the cover and read. The lead singer Johnny looked tough wearing an expression short of a sneer. Another image showed another cool character and two gorgeous but edgy looking girls.
Raphael recognised a triumph of production when he heard it. Though lacking the glitz of a Trevor Horn production, The USed Wonz sounded as good as anything else they could wish for. Personality burst from every instrument and Johnny’s voice. He loved the twisting synths and figured he’d have to get a lend of the shop’s keyboards for the album.
Listening to the lyrics Calvin said, ‘The Yanks’ll love this; Johnny’s telling them their country’s the best.’
Soon all tracks Richard provided had been heard. Amy said, ‘I liked some of the songs but none were as good as Little Spirit.’
Danny played Duran Duran’s Rio album by way of contrast and, like the songs or not The Production Annex quality of sound held its own against big budget recordings and walked all over the rushed demo John had funded. He then flicked through Richard’s management contract. ‘I’ve got no idea what any of this means.’
Calvin thumbed the recording contract and said, ‘We’ll need help alright.’
‘Who?’ Danny asked.
‘John’ll know someone,’ Katherine said.
* * *
That night Raphael struggled vainly to get comfy on the settee though he thought Amy looked even less comfy on her campbed. Turning thoughts over he asked himself how he really felt about Richard’s offer. He had imagined signing to a major record company not to some tin pot business with bands he’d never heard of. But despite Richard’s poor looking office and disregard of personal health going ahead with GMD felt right. No other companies offered to record them. Raphael felt sure the contracts would be checked and proven suitable. Only bound by one album with no advance meant there’d be hardly any debt and freedom to move on in the future provided they recorded the best possible album. Richard had said their basic needs would be met as The Production Annex adjoined Austin’s family home. With GMD, Little Spirit would soon be three plinths higher up the pyramid.
Sunday 27th November 1983
On Sunday morning Barbara stood in the kitchen with Katherine. ‘How would you feel if I stayed an extra night? I can’t face going back yet – not after such a nice time with you.’
‘Don’t you have work tomorrow?’
Barbara looked down. ‘Yeah.’
‘I’d love you to stay,’ Amy said overhearing on her way to the kitchen.
‘I would too,’ Katherine said. ‘But what about work? What will your boss say?’
‘I’m sure it’ll be fine. An extra night with you means more to me than pleasing her.’
‘If that’s true, then you’re welcome to stay.’
Amy said, ‘Phone’s out there if you want to ring Alan.’
Barbara pulled her a face. ‘No thanks.’
‘Mum?’
‘What? It’d be a waste of a call.’ Barbara smiled sadly.
Amy went to the settee where Raphael still lay. ‘Shift yer feet.’ He moved his legs for her but rested them back across her.
Unaware of Katherine and Barbara’s conversation Danny wandered into the kitchen. ‘Is it okay if I phone John, see if he knows any lawyers?’
Katherine nodded. ‘Might sound better coming from a band member.’
Monday 28th November 1983
On Monday Barbara skipped work and Amy skipped lectures. Following an emotional farewell with Katherine, Barbara and Amy travelled to John’s office near Kings Cross. He’d told Danny he knew a lawyer and requested the band’s contracts be dropped off at his office.
‘We’re here to see John Saunders,’
Amy told the receptionist.
‘Is he expecting you?’ the woman asked with polite scepticism.
Before Amy could answer they heard, ‘Amy.’
Spinning round they saw John striding towards them magnificently suited. ‘A man couldn’t ask for a better start to the day.’ He nodded to Amy then said, ‘Barbara, you, look lovely.’
‘We’ve got the documents you asked for,’ Amy said.
‘Great, let’s grab a coffee in my office,’ John said before adding to the receptionist, ‘These ladies are part of Little Spirit’s administration. I told you they’d be signed soon.’
‘Okay,’ she said humouring him.
Amy admired the city views from John’s high-rise oak furnished office. His secretary brought refreshments then left to copy the documents.
‘I’ll pass these to Bernard my lawyer. His colleague is a music lawyer. He’ll tell him what’s what and if the documents are fair I’ll make sure he’s present when the lads sign.’
* * *
After saying farewell the next stop should have been Euston Station for Barbara to catch the Intercity north. But Barbara stopped by The British Library and looked thoughtful. ‘D’you mind if we pop in?’
‘Sure, there’s time,’ Amy said checking her watch but wondering why.
At reception Barbara asked for the national telephone directories. Amy followed but didn’t spot which directory Barbara flipped open.
‘That’s it,’ she said but the book slammed before Amy saw anything.
Arriving at Euston they looked at the departure boards for Carlisle where Barbara would change trains.
‘There’s one in fifteen minutes,’ Amy said.
‘It’s no good. There’s one, in half an hour. That’ll do?’
‘What’s the difference?’ Amy asked as they headed off to buy a ticket.
‘Difference is I’m not going home.’
‘You’re not, since when?’
‘Since the library.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m going to see my mum.’
‘Your mum? You said—’
‘The first train doesn’t stop at Penrith.’
‘But—’
‘I’ve not seen her in twenty-five years.’
Taking Barbara’s arm Amy stopped her. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Who knows.’
‘What do I tell Katherine?’
Barbara sighed. ‘This is very likely a mistake. Don’t tell her anything.’ She put her case down and fished in her handbag for a pen. ‘The phone book suggests they’ve not moved or changed the number. D’you think you could ring me tonight between six and eight?’ Taking Amy’s hand she wrote the number. ‘I’ll know what to tell Katherine then.’