Ride On (27 page)

Aesop was sitting down on a stool and tapping his feet. As far as he was concerned, it was kick-to-the-goolies metal he was after hearing. He'd have no problems with that. Dónal looked in to Sparky. They both kind of shrugged at each other. Norman was just keeping out of the way. This wasn't really any of his business.

Jimmy stopped playing and looked up.

‘Well?'

‘Jimmy, smashing guitar playing, but … eh … what was it?' said Dónal. ‘I thought you were going to be giving us some Chieftains.'

‘Nah. A bit different.'

‘Was the second bit classical? Sounded a bit like Richie Blackmore going off or something.'

‘Yep. But not Richie.'

Jimmy smiled at them all.

‘Any more guesses?'

They all looked at each other. No one had a clue.

‘Did you write it yourself?' said Dónal.

‘No. It's Irish though.'

‘Irish? Even the second bit?'

‘Yeah. Lads, I was playing Carolan. Speeded it up, gave it some welly. But it was Carolan.'

‘Caroline who?' said Aesop.

‘You don't know Carolan?'

‘No. Who is she?'

‘Turlough O'Carolan, Aesop. He was a composer. And a harper.'

‘A harper? What's a bleedin' harper?'

‘He played the harp.'

‘Who plays the fuckin' harp?'

‘A lot of people played it in the seventeenth century.'

‘What?! What you just played is that old?'

‘Yeah. Well, I took a few liberties with it … but basically, yeah.'

‘I s'pose the second bit sounded a bit … what was it called?'

‘The second part? That's a piece called “Fanny Power”.'

‘Right, yeah. Women's libber, this bloke, was he?'

‘What? No. No, Jesus, he wrote it for a woman called Fanny Power. Most of his music is named after the people he wrote it for. It's not Fanny as in … fuck sake, Aesop, it's three hundred bleedin' years old …'

‘Jimmy,' said Dónal. ‘Are you telling me you want to do an album of Carolan music? Because …'

‘No. I'm just saying that I wanted to go back as far as I was able. I found some sheet music for Carolan on the web and learned a couple of bits quickly for today. But the album … I want to see what's out there for me to draw on. I want to do an album of Irish music. But a different way. I don't know exactly what it'll sound like yet, but … imagine something like “Dark Side of the Moon”. Except it's Irish. We haven't got a Dark Side, man. I want to write it.'

‘An Irish Dark Side of the Moon,' said Dónal, pursing his lips. He ran a hand through his hair. ‘And would I be right in thinking that there'll be fuck all three-minute songs on it that I can put out there as singles?'

‘You never know,' said Jimmy. ‘But … eh … I doubt it.'

‘I see.'

‘What do you think?'

Dónal walked over to the drumkit and tapped a finger on one of the cymbals a few times. Then he looked up.

‘And what exactly are you trying to do with this album, Jimmy?'

Jimmy put the guitar down onto a stand.

‘I'm … I want to put it all together. Everything from Carolan through Percy fuckin' French, right through to Planxty, The Pogues and Kíla.'

‘Right.'

‘I want to grab it now before it's too late, show the kids who we are before they all disappear up Justin Timberlake's arsehole.'

‘I see. You're going to do all this on one album? Hundreds of years of musical influence and you're going to squeeze it onto a CD?'

‘Eh …' Jimmy went a little bit red. ‘Well, not exactly. I was thinking that this would be an on-going project.'

‘Figures,' said Dónal, wearily.

‘There's just so much out there, man. Everything. The first album will be like an aria. A snapshot of everything we have. That's Dark Side. Then I want to dig a little deeper. Maybe do an album of Carolan stuff. Look up the old ballads. Rework some
sean nós
pieces. Pipe music. Stuff from all over the country, y'know? The whole lot, mixed up. Aesop there playing a Lambeg drum over a slow air from West Cork, that kind of thing, y'know? And then get into full Celtic rock for a bit and see where that goes.'

‘But Jimmy, okay so you seem to be having some kind of identity crisis, but you're talking about music that's …
old
. What about looking forward?'

‘But I am looking forward, Dónal! This whole thing is just the start. Because Irish music is going to change and it's going to change right fucking now. I want to nail down something of what we have first and then get started on what's coming.'

‘What's coming?'

‘Look around man. The country is full of Africans and Poles and fuckin' Romanians! Their kids are going to be Irish but their families won't have forgotten where they came from, no more than the Irish did in America. Irish music twenty years from now is going to have African beats and Romanian gypsy tunes and … eh … Polish stuff all over it. It's going to be fucking great, and I want in on it. But first I want to be able to hold me head up and say I know where
I
came from before I see where I'm going. This is what I want to do man. Sorry, but “Meatloaf's Underpants” is not me any more. If it ever was. No offence Aesop.'

‘Don't give a fuck,' said Aesop, waving a hand absently. ‘But c'mere, what about me new band of sexy trad musicians? Were you just saying that to get me to shut up?'

‘No man. We should do that. The name is fucking stupid, but the rest of the plan makes sense. Doesn't it Dónal?'

‘What? Oh, yeah … I s'pose. It's not a … but lads we're a bit busy here talking about The Grove, y'know? I mean, one minute this bollocks hasn't got a single song in his head, and now he's got a twenty-year vocation lined up in front of him. Fuck sake, can we focus a bit?'

‘Sorry Dónal,' said Jimmy. ‘But what do you think? Just in general, like.'

‘I … Jimmy, this is all a bit sudden, right? Look, just … describe the next album for me, will you? Can you do that?'

‘Irish influence. No set structure. I'm not writing songs necessarily, I'm writing … well, call it a concept album if you like.'

‘But will it have something on it I can bloody
sell
, Jimmy? You're the one who hates it when bands start taking themselves too seriously. Remember what you said about that Radiohead album?'

‘I know. Dónal, I've got something here, I promise. People are going to dig it.'

Dónal stood up and looked in at Sparky again. Sparky might have given a little nod, but it was hard to see him properly in the dark of the control room. Dónal sighed and turned back to Jimmy.

‘Look, I'll make a deal with you Jimmy. Right?'

‘Right.'

‘First of all, Senturion are going to tell you piss off with this idea. That's a given. We're losing out there. So it's just us, unless you write this thing and suddenly everyone thinks it's the new “Tubular Bells”. But assuming that's not going to happen, we're back to square one and trying to market you as a totally different kind of band after the tour. Ye bastard. So I'll agree to do it on two conditions, right? First of all, never mind Justin Timberlake, there's to be no disappearing up your own arsehole, right? Promise me you'll take a step back if me and Sparky ever tell you it's not working.'

‘Right.'

‘Right. And the second thing is, you're to promise me you'll keep one eye on the balance sheet in here, okay? We're just talking about a one-off with Sin Bin on this next album you want to do. I'm saying nothing about recording Lithuanian banjo music down the line, so don't be getting distracted by all that shite for the moment. Give me Dark Side of the Moon and we'll go from there. If it falls on its arse, then you need to promise me here and now that you'll make me a proper rock record afterwards. Okay? A real album with songs. They don't have to be about teenagers in love, but I need to be able to sell them to someone or else we're all fucked.'

‘No problem.'

‘Deal?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Really?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Jaysis, you agreed to that very quick.'

‘It was easy, Dónal,' said Jimmy smiling. ‘Wait till you see the album I'm going to write. I'm going to blow everyone away. It's going to be huge. It's going to be the biggest fucking thing that's ever happened.'

‘Well good. Glad to hear it. Right. Well we'll see.'

‘Aesop?' said Jimmy.

‘Yeah?'

‘You cool with all this?'

‘Well I'm only half following you, to be honest. But if your new stuff sounds like what you were playing earlier, then I'm cool with it. Can we go and eat now before I chew the arm off this chair? If there's more to talk about, can we do it over food?'

‘Dónal?' said Jimmy.

‘Sure. Why not?'

‘Okay. Let's go, then.'

Aesop jumped up suddenly, laughing, and ran to get his coat.

‘Jaysis, man, you can't be that hungry,' said Jimmy, looking over at him.

‘What? Oh I am. But it's not that. I just thought of something brilliant.'

‘What?'

‘The head on your Da when I go on the telly playing the Lambeg drum. I must get meself a Rangers jersey.'

‘Now you're just taking the piss,' said Aesop, looking down at his plate.

‘I'm not,' said Norman.

‘It's ten o'clock in the morning!'

‘I know. Eat up now before it gets cold, boy.'

‘In the name of all that's holy, Norman, who eats fish for breakfast?'

‘Half the planet does, Aesop.'

‘Half what planet? The Planet of the fuckin' Mermaids?'

‘Aesop, why do you think the Yanks are having heart attacks all over the gaff? It's because they have a kilo of pancakes first thing in the morning before they wobble out to work.'

‘I'd murder a pancake right now. This … it's still got its skin on and everything, look.'

‘Just pull it off and eat up the flesh. It's all protein. The rice is fresh made and everything'

‘Good fuck. Do I look like Shiggy to you? What ever happened to a bowl of poxy cornflakes?'

‘Cornflakes are only shite. And anyway, I've seen the way you pour fistfuls of sugar on them.'

‘But Norman …'

‘Will you shush up whinging and let me listen to the news? That's what you call a healthy breakfast there.'

Aesop frowned down at his plate and poked the fish in the head with his fork for a minute. He looked up at Norman again.

‘If it was healthy, it'd still be swimming around in the bleedin' sea, wouldn't it?'

‘Aesop …'

‘Poor little fuck. You frying the bollocks off him at this hour of the morning.'

‘He's grilled.'

‘Look at him. He's all sad.'

‘He's dead, Aesop. Eat him up like a good man, will you? And let me alone for five minutes to hear the headlines, just.'

Norman turned the radio up and left Aesop to his muttering.

‘Fish … all I wanted was a bit of toast … boiled egg, even … smelly all day now I'll be, watch … probably choke on a bone as well … fucker keeps hiding the salt … poxy green tea … Charlie Bird me bollix …'

Once they were done eating and everything was cleared away, Norman sat down opposite Aesop at the kitchen table.

‘Listen Aesop, me and Dónal were talking last night. There's been no news of your stalker now in a long time. No dead flowers through the letterbox or wetting the bed on you, or even a message or anything. We think she's probably going to leave you alone. I talked to Garda Ní Mhurchú this morning as well. She reckons the same thing. If the girl was really obsessed, she'd still be hounding us. It was probably just some young one that got a bit carried away with herself and now she's after copping on.'

‘So we're done? You being me bodyguard?'

‘No. I wouldn't say that. I'm still going to be around, but there's no need for me to be with you every minute of the day, like.'

‘Oh thank Jaysis. Well, that'll do for starters.'

‘There's new deadbolt locks on all the windows and doors in this place, and the new alarm was put in while you were in London. You'll be grand in the house, once you're careful about who you open the door to. Of course, that won't matter much if you bring every girl you meet back here to …'

‘Haven't done that in weeks, man. No interest.'

‘Yeah. Well, anyway, the story now is that I'll be with you a lot of the time when you're out and about, but I don't need to shadow you when you're with Jimmy or whatever, okay?'

‘Grand.'

‘But I still need to know where you are. You have me on speed dial on your phone, right? And the panic button next to your bed and in the hall will have the Guards here in five minutes as well.'

‘It's all very exciting, isn't it?'

‘Don't be messing now, Aesop. All we're doing is easing you back into your normal life. As normal as that is, anyway. And no walking down dark alleys or through parks on your own.'

‘Jesus … what about hanging around playgrounds?'

‘Just listen to me. This is important, okay? Make sure I always know where you are. And Jimmy too, just so as we can be sure. Keep an eye out when you're on your own, especially at night, and just try not to be … y'know … fuckin' stupid. In general, like.'

‘I'll do me best. So you're not sleeping here any more?'

‘I will sometimes, probably. For a little while anyway. But we'll try it out tonight. I'm meeting Trish this afternoon. I'll be with her for the day and I'll be staying in hers tonight.'

‘Rumpy pumpy?'

‘Will you shut up acting the langer? Now, I'm not keen on you being alone the first night I'm not around, so you're to stay in Jimmy's tonight okay? Can you ask him if that's okay? If there's no sign of anyone messing with the door or anything here tomorrow, then maybe you can stay here tomorrow on your own.'

‘Okay. I'll talk to Jimmy this afternoon, then. We're rehearsing at one.'

‘Grand. I'll drop you over before I meet Trish.'

‘There's no need, Norman. I can walk it in ten minutes.'

‘No. I'll drop you over in the van.'

‘But Norman, I'm not …'

‘Will you shut your hole arguing with me? I'll drop you over and I'll talk to you tomorrow afternoon.'

‘Okay, Christ. Well can we go now, then? I like to get there early so as to get warmed up before Jimmy gets in.'

Half an hour later they pulled up outside Sin Bin. Aesop went to get out of the van and Norman held his arm.

‘Are you okay?'

‘What?' said Aesop.

‘Are you all right?'

‘I'm grand. Eh … how are you?'

‘You're okay with me not being around?'

‘I'm very fucking okay with you not being around, Norman. Already looking forward to beans on toast for me tea tonight.'

‘Yeah. Remember what I told you about butter?'

‘I know, I know. Rots your teeth and gives you brain cancer, right?'

‘Gobshite. And you'll keep an eye out?'

‘I'll keep an eye out. Norman, there's a car behind us.'

‘Okay then. Well … be careful, right? Anything happens, or even if you're just worried, give me a call and I'll be there.'

‘Grand. Talk to you tomorrow then.'

‘Right. Seeya.'

‘Eh … tell Trish I said hello.'

Norman shook his head.

‘Maybe I won't bother just yet.'

‘She still arsey?'

‘She says you might be the most unbalanced person she's ever met. And this is coming from a woman that's surrounded by fucking Alzheimers patients all day.'

The car behind them beeped.

‘Well … tell her I'm sorry then? Again, like …'

‘Seeya tomorrow, Aesop,' said Norman. He checked his watch. ‘Go on. I might as well head round to Mam's now for an hour.'

‘Okay cheers, Norman. Watch the trams.'

‘Yeah.'

Aesop watched him pull away and disappear around a corner. He pulled out a smoke to have a think for a minute. That mad fucking tart Norman was going out with had called him again last night. She still wanted to meet him for dinner. Said nothing at all about that previous call where he'd broken the phone off the wall. If she thought he was unbalanced, she wasn't letting on to Aesop. That shit was obviously just for Norman's benefit. She was the one with the problem. She wouldn't leave him alone. Aesop was pretty sure that he'd been right the first time. It had nothing to do with wanting to kill him or anything. She was after a good shagging, so she was. Christ, how could she want it that badly that she'd keep at him and at him? Was Norman saving it for their wedding night or something? Aesop had never come across itchiness like it in his life. It was disgraceful. Very un-ladylike. And it wasn't as though Aesop had been giving her ideas, even. Fuck sake, surely she knew from Norman that Aesop was after Helen? What was her fucking problem?

His life never used to be this complicated. He sighed and stubbed the cigarette out against the wall, flinging the butt into a litterbin with a curse and sniffing at his fingers. Now he couldn't even enjoy a bloody smoke, the fishy fucking taste of everything. He took out his phone. He was going to sort her out now before he did anything else. He'd gotten rid of Norman and now he could do it properly. He went to his logged calls, and pressed her number. He had to talk to her once and for all before he got on with the rest of his day. It was a pain in the arse but … well, what was the worse thing that could happen?

*

Norman had lunch with his Mam and was walking out the door to go back into town when his phone rang.

‘Hello?'

‘Hiya Norman.'

‘Trish! How's it going. I'm at Mam's. I'm just heading in now to meet you.'

‘Oh. Listen Norman, you're not going to believe this. I have to work.'

‘What? Oh no.'

‘Yeah. You remember Nuala?'

‘Eh …'

‘Remember I told you? She's one of the girls.'

‘Oh, your mate, yeah. She's a nurse as well, right?'

‘Yeah. Well she called me and asked me to cover for her. She's after coming down with a cold and she thought she'd be okay to work, but it's been getting worse all morning now and she can't go in.'

‘Oh. Okay. Ah well.'

‘I'm really sorry Norman. I'd have told her I can't, but you should have heard her on the phone. She could barely talk. And she covered for me a couple of weeks ago when we … remember you and me …'

‘I do remember. God, of course I do …'

‘I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I swear.'

‘Ah don't be silly. If she's your friend and she's in a fix …'

‘If there was anyone else … but it's such late notice and the weekend and all.'

‘Of course. Listen, don't be worrying about it. Will you be working tomorrow too?'

‘Looks like it. But I'll give you call if Nuala's better, okay? Sorry about this Norman.'

‘Will you stop. It's grand. I'll talk to you tomorrow sure.'

‘Are you sure it's okay?'

‘Trish, it's grand. All right? Go on. Give me a call when you have a minute.'

‘I'll make it up to you, Norman. Promise.'

‘There's no need …'

‘There is. And I will. I know how to make it up to you too, don't I?'

Norman was standing in his driveway on his own. No one was out on the street. His Mam was in the back room with a cup of tea and could no more hear or see him than the man on the moon. But he still went absolutely puce and turned his back on the house. He wasn't used to this sort of talk at all. His jocks suddenly felt tight and uncomfortable.

‘Ah … now …'

‘You just be thinking of me making it up to you, okay? And I'll talk to you tomorrow. And when I see you I'm going to be badly in need of a big Corkman. Do you know where I might find one?'

‘I … I might have an idea …'

‘Well you tell that Corkman that I've got something special for him. Just for him. I think he's going to like it. Okay? Will you do that for me?'

‘Eh … oh … oh … okay. Seeya so.'

‘Seeya. My man.'

Jesus. He was all in a tizzy, the disappointment of not being able to see her for the weekend tempered by the images she was after painting in his head. It took a few seconds to realise that she'd hung up. Norman turned to go back into the house. He might as well. There wasn't much else for him to do was there? His plans were fairly scuppered. But he couldn't go in yet. He'd have to give it five minutes and let the freezing wind do its work. His Mam would call him in to ask him why he was back so soon, and how was he meant to explain to her that his plans had suddenly changed, and him standing there with a big bugle on him.

*

The next day was Saturday, and they were booked into the studio for the whole day. Leet finished up at lunchtime, and then Ryan hung back with The Grove and they carried on from where they'd left off the previous night, showing him the ropes for the tour. Jimmy was pretty relentless, but he tried to make sure the poor bloke wasn't too wrecked by calling regular breaks. There was no point in burning him out. He could have Monday off, when Shiggy was back in work.

Jimmy skipped out with Shiggy in the late afternoon to get some coffee and buns, leaving the others in the studio to listen to some tapes. He hadn't wanted to take from the work at hand for the tour, but he was desperate to know what Shiggy thought of his Irish Dark Side idea. Shiggy played three or four instruments expertly and was no slouch on about another half a dozen. He was also great in the studio. He appreciated how instruments fit together in the ensemble. What sounded good off each other, when a piece needed something extra and when restraint was probably the way to go. Jimmy was essentially going to try and compose a whole work this time, not just write songs, and he was just starting to get an idea of how much he'd told everyone he wanted to bite off. He went over the whole thing for Shiggy as they ambled down the south bank of the Liffey to Jimmy's favourite coffee shop on Wood Quay.

Shiggy didn't say much, but eventually he nodded and looked up at Jimmy.

‘Jimmy, my grandmother is Ainu.'

‘Ainu? What's that?'

Shiggy sighed.

‘Ainu is … rike … eh, different flom Japanese.'

‘What? What do you mean? You're not Japanese?'

‘Yes. But, no, I am Japanese. Now. Of course. But Ainu is rike … you know Indian in America?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Indian is rike Ainu. Ainu was in Japan before Japanese.'

‘Oh. So … and are they still there? I mean, like the Indians living in America have their own, y'know, places where they live and all.'

‘Yes. In Hokkaido. North in Japan. Still there. Have Ainu language, Ainu foods, Ainu clothes …'

‘I thought yis were all just Japanese over there.'

‘Yes. Everybody sink that. But still there.'