AT 29 (44 page)

“When was the last time you jammed?”

“London, two months ago.”

“No playing for fun?” Everyone nodded. Jimmy nudged Cindy. “When's the last time they went into Manhattan?”

The ten musicians looked up and, Kate, Rebellion's lead singer, stepped forward. “Never!”

Miles McCabe did not like it when Cindy told him Blossom Records would be picking up the tab for two limos to take the bands into Manhattan. His irritation was mitigated when she added that they would be staying at Jimmy's apartment for two nights at no cost to the label. This, she explained soothingly, would give her time to show
Jimmy what she had. There was nothing for the bands to do until he had some ideas. She avoided saying they needed a break. While she was clearing things with the boss, Jimmy was on the phone to Sonny, seeking his recommendation for a decent Indian restaurant.

“Upper East Side,” Sonny said, without hesitation. “Pricey, but the food backs it up.”

Jimmy jotted down the address, added his apartment building and gave the slip of paper to Kate. “Relax, hit the sights, do some clubs and come back ready to play.”

“Will do,” she said, smiling with anticipation.

Back on the phone, Jimmy asked Sonny to come to the studio the next afternoon. Then he went into the sound booth and spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the night listening to the masters. Cindy stayed for a while, but soon realized there was little she could add. She pointed out her concerns then left him alone.

The two songs that stymied Cindy were the cornerstones. After several listens, Jimmy decided they weren't bad, but he understood why she was keen to make them better. They would be the draws on each album. They had to deliver. He listened intently to each one over and over, trying to catch the problems. Both bands had a similar sound, but the differences were clear enough to a listener. He concentrated his attention on the instrumentation because that's what troubled Cindy. It was obvious that these were self-taught garage bands. Certainly, some training was noticeable, probably the same piano or horn instruction he took when he was in elementary school. Still, the pure sound that met his ears was unmistakably self-directed and original.

The vocals were excellent, but too strong. Kate, so eager to hit the Manhattan scene, was good. He decided to focus on the song that still needed work from her group. Cindy said this was Rebellion's debut album, although a pair of unheralded singles had been released during Daisy's tenure. Kate wasn't with Rebellion back then. The song had catchy riffs. The rough sound screeching from Kate's lungs overpowered the lyrics and even drowned out parts of the guitar work. Janis Joplin could get away with this, but not this band, at least not yet, because he heard real promise in the girl's unique voice. She needed songs written exclusively to promote her powerful lungs. This song was a good start, but only if the instrumentation could be synched with Kate's voice. The problem was the blend. During the first run he thought he caught a timing flaw. When he played it again he was certain. The new bass player was either unable or unwilling to carry his parts in synch with the others. The bass was throwing the tempo off just enough to trap the lead a fraction of a beat behind. The song was okay, but it could be better. “Cindy, you've got good ears,” he said, to the empty room. He made some notes and turned his attention to Weak Knees.

This was a more veteran ensemble with a plenty of live experience covering top 100 hits on London's club circuit. He never heard them live, but he'd read a few clips in the trades. Generally, they were well regarded although they'd never released anything of their own. The issue with this group's song was simpler. As a veteran performer, Jimmy understood that live play before an audience was different from careful instrumentation in a studio. This song simply needed to be re-recorded under the careful direction of an expert. He was confident that he could help Weak Knees tamp down its instrumentation, geared in their minds for a live audience, and play with stricter discipline.

Two days later, he sensed a refreshed attitude, “How'd it go?

“Nice apartment,” the keyboardist answered.

“Finally, decent food,” echoed Kate.

Cindy took a position in the corner, content to let Jimmy run the show. Sonny came ready to jam. He fiddled with the controls on his amp. When he was finished Jimmy introduced him and launched into his plan.

“Sonny's going to sit in, nothing too demanding, just enough to find a groove. Then we'll try a few twists on the songs.”

Rebellion's bass player, Eugene, protested, “You mean all of us?”

“We're all musicians.” Jimmy anticipated some push back.

“We've never played together. I don't know their style and they don't know ours.” Eugene looked around for support.

“We'll stick to a few standards. This isn't an audition. Just a tune-up.”

Most of the players nodded, unafraid, but the bass player continued his protest. “I'd rather get on with our song that needs work.” He looked at Cindy who kept a poker face. She knew what Jimmy was up to.

“How about the rest of you?” Jimmy asked.

“Let's jam.” One of the drummers banged a tom.

Jimmy lifted the Gibson and took a standing position next to Eugene. Sonny came up behind with his Stratocaster. Together, they tapped their feet, barely making enough sound to allow the others to catch the 2/4 beat. Jimmy hit a heavy G and soon the familiar tones of
Choral Guns
filled the room. The two drummers launched into the beat in unison, drawing in the rest of the musicians, two by two. The opening was rough, as Jimmy expected, with each instrument struggling to find its place, but after a few minutes the flow began to develop. After everyone seemed to get the feel, he slipped the Gibson off his shoulder, placed it on its stand and moved over next to Cindy. Kate, with no instrument skills and no vocals required at the moment, joined them.

He let them play for ten minutes, occasionally giving Sonny a knowing look. The bassist was clearly stressed. On the uptakes he came in late, then once he found the rhythm, he held the notes too long. What was flawed on Rebellion's critical final track became equally evident during the jam.

Jimmy gave a sign to Sonny who came up beside Eugene. He raised his electric and plunged into a heavy solo that the rest of the players drifted behind as they were suppose to do. This rattled Eugene who tried to elevate his role, flicking his fingertips too hard along the four strings of his guitar. Sweat began to appear on his forehead as he fought to keep up with Sonny's ever-quickening pace. After a minute, Jimmy raised his hand and waved the jam off. Everyone stopped, relaxing slightly as they waited. Jimmy approached the bass player.

“You're coming in late.”

“I know, man.”

“Is it the song?”

“I need to hear it a few times to catch it right.”

“Skip it. We'll play something from your album. You pick.”

“
To do
.”

This was one of the filler cuts from Rebellion's album. Jimmy went back to stand by the girls.

“Okay, on three.”

The drummers kicked in on cue. Both keyboards, which had the opening, sounded off the notes, which were supposed to carry a low backing bass. Once again, Eugene came in a fraction of a beat late. Jimmy let it go as Sonny, a quick study, stepped in and hit the proper chords. Even the rough edged singer, Kate, merely a spectator, caught the flaw.

“Pick it up!” She shouted over the din, staring impatiently at Eugene.

After several minutes, Eugene found his strings and settled down just enough not to interfere with the rest of the playing. He still struggled, but with Sonny holding strong at his side, he couldn't disrupt the flow. In time, a rhythm developed, displaying a rapport between the bands, but Jimmy wanted a real groove. He waited.

It came from an unexpected place. Eugene drew confidence from Sonny. Alone, he thrashed at his guitar, but with Sonny easily flying over his strings and covering for his lapses, he began to display some feel, gradually picking up his pieces without error. This strengthened the sound coming from the whole group. They began to pick it up just as Kate demanded earlier, adding more and more energy. From the back, a familiar sound of long ago rose from the drums. Kevin Royce was there, just like the best times when he and Jimmy hit it just right in the basement of Regent Hall.

Within minutes the flow was fluid. Most of the players were totally absorbed, smiling and nodding as the chords came ever faster. Kate and Cindy clapped with the beat while Jimmy shifted his eyes from player to player, gauging which ones to call in for a solo. They were all eager, looking up from their instruments in anticipation as the groove unfolded. When all but one player had a turn controlling the flow, Jimmy pointed at Eugene. At first, the bassist, so unsure of his skills, demurred with a shake of his head, but Sonny urged him on. A few of the others also shouted words of encouragement. Kate came forward, yelling in Eugene's face, ‘Get in there!' until he couldn't avoid his turn. Tentatively, he plucked at his strings, trying to find a chord that fit. The others played on with Sonny backing down just enough to let the low notes carry the studio.

“Let it come,” he encouraged.

Eugene hit a few more chords then found an old riff that he must have played many times. It was easy to follow and everyone fell in, backing him perfectly from slow to fast and loud to low without a miscue. Jimmy loved it. Sonny gave him a triumphant nod as if to say they'd solved a problem. Eugene beamed with newfound confidence.

Play went on for another ten minutes before Jimmy signaled for a close. He pointed at each player, one by one, saving Eugene and his bass for last as each instrument drifted to silence. The sound was excellent. He wished he'd had the forethought to record the session. You never know when a piece might have its uses, even an impromptu jam like this one.

Three days later, the albums were finished. Each band went into the studio to practice and then record Jimmy's minor changes. Rebellion had only a few uptakes that Eugene had bungled, but now got right with gentle prodding. The group also needed stronger blends to compensate for Kate's dominating voice. Jimmy tried the lead guitarist, shifted to the drummer and finally sat in with his own voice.

Miles planned to put the bands on tour as soon as the albums were released. He listened to the final versions, showing no reaction as the cuts reverberated from the stereo in his office. Cindy made no attempt to hide her relief. She knew she had taken both
groups as far as her skills allowed, but to get the most from them, a special talent was needed. Jimmy, with a little collaboration from Sonny, did the trick.

“Will they sell?” McCabe asked.

“Fickle business,” Jimmy answered. “No guarantees.”

“Have you thought about the marketing?” Cindy asked.

“No money,” McCabe answered flatly, looking morose.

“How are you going to foot the bill for a tour?”

McCabe shook his head. “I'm considering small clubs around here, New York, Jersey Shore, maybe Philly, to keep the costs down.”

“They won't like it,” Jimmy volunteered.

“Too bad. Until they bring in some revenue…”

“No, I mean they need to go home.”

“Too bad again.”

“They have friends, family, a following. They'd be happier. I think it would be better to test the albums in London. It's their turf. Cost you less, too. They'd be in their own homes.”

“I can't take the risk. They need to be managed.”

“Send Cindy. She did it for me for years.”

“Thanks a lot.” Cindy's lips curled into a frown.

“No, I want her in Canada.”

“If you want them to succeed you have to start them in London.”

“We're thin. I don't have anybody to shepherd …” McCabe's voice trailed off.

Exasperated, Jimmy looked at Cindy who was deep in thought.

“How about Ellis?” she suggested, lifting her eyes. “He did as much as I did when you were on the road. I'll bet he'd be okay with it.”

Ellis took the job on several conditions. Noting that his relationship with Jimmy was strained at the moment and, with his own earnings taking a hit because Jimmy hadn't worked in months, he decided to push a separate agenda with Miles. First, he got the tapes from Cindy and listened to the new albums. After deciding they had a chance, he went to Miles with his proposition.

“You convince them to take me on as their agent. I get ten percent of whatever you earn from the albums and the gates.”

“Not out of my pocket you don't.” McCabe had no intention of yielding one cent until he could report top line growth to Myra.

“You cover my expenses in London.”

“No again. If you get ten percent you take it from what I pay them and cover your own expenses, just like any other agent.”

Ellis thought for a moment. “I only make money if the albums sell. No guarantee. Here's what I'll accept. You foot the bill until we know. If they sell, then I pay you back out of my cut. If they don't …”

“We're out of business.” McCabe finished the statement. They shook hands.

It took two weeks for Jimmy to finish work on his new album, lightning speed, given its twelve cuts.
Peg
was the only new song. The rest, he chose from the long list that Daisy refused to release. He was delighted to discover they only required some minor remixing. This left him time to focus on
Peg
, which he intended to be the signature song. Sonny joined in along with a session drummer. It only took three takes.

When the album was finished, he invited McCabe to the studio. The executive listened with keen interest. Most of the songs were little different from the first time he'd heard the masters. He concurred with Jimmy's selections, taking satisfaction that they were the ones he would have chosen. His interest piqued at the opening chords of
Peg
, and grew as the six-minute song continued. Maybe he was a novice, but he knew what he liked. This new song was good, better than
Lulu
. Miles found it hard to contain his excitement.