Wackos to Obliterate: Book Two (Chapter 14)
The “creative three” locked themselves away in Ryuji’s apartment since he had a keyboard, a few other instruments, and some computerized gadgets loaded with software. Being touted as the “musical arranger,” he got Maddie to convince Summit to stock his place with such toys.
Trink stared out the second-story window overlooking the parking lot of the apartment complex. “We could start with a line about the environment like Paul McCartney had done on ‘Good Day, Sunshine.’”
“Taking a walk, feeling good, special day, I’m with you and everything is okay,” Sophie said with a sarcastic smirk on her angular face.
“Why not?” Trink asked.
“Could use some tragic event like a sting operation that destroyed the lives of a number of teenagers who had loads of potential; fucked over by the system,” Ryuji suggested as he played with the touch-screen on his laptop.
“It sounds a little like Brewer and Shipley to me,” Sophie said.
“That’s a real flash from the past. Actually, a little before your time, don’t you think?”
“We get our influences from all time periods; besides, that Beatle song predates them a few years, I’d say,” Sophie said, holding her tablet computer and glancing at an email from Karl.
“Some sort of channeling of the subconscious like Dylan did on ‘It’s All Right Ma’ would be cool,” Ryuji said.
“Well, be my guest. You’re the one that came up with the original idea for our current megahit,” Trink said, watching a couple of L.A. girls dressed in T-shirts, shorts, and flip-flops walk through the parking lot.
“Actually, that was Malcolm.”
“Your roomie?” Sophie asked, looking up from her tablet and sporting the same smirk that she gave Trink earlier.
“Hell, what’re we doing here with you? We should have swept him up and deposited him in this room,” Trink said, still watching the girls in the parking lot.
“This is pretty ludicrous. None of us have the foggiest idea what to write. I can’t even say I have interest in this whole push for legalization. I realize that I enjoy partaking occasionally, but I’ve never had a run-in with the law. I’ve been working in the legal system for the past ten years for Christ’s sake.”
“You have any good insights from drug trials you transcribed?” Trink asked.
“That may be a kernel for some place to go.”
“It don’t bother me …”
Trink interrupted Sophie by saying, “They’re tried as if it’s a crime.”
“It don’t bother me …” she started again.
Trink interrupted again with, “That innocent lives are put on the line.”
Ryuji said, “It don’t bother me …”
“The justice system really is blind,” Sophie completed his line.
Trink sang, “It don’t bother me …”
Ryuji said, “Even though I like to get high.”
By evening, they had a good start on two songs. Ryuji ran the phrases they came up with through some software that helped to depict an underlying melodic structure. For a good part of the afternoon, the three of them enjoyed playing with the musical toys Summit supplied.
“No wonder so many of the songs nowadays sound like they follow a mechanical template,” Sophie said while listening to a loop generated by the software.
“That’s two down, one to go,” Ryuji said.
“Are we going to be incarcerated until we come up with three?” Trink asked.
“How do we let them know we’ve finished: white smoke like when a pope is chosen?” Sophie asked with a warm, friendly smile on her face; much like she often displayed in the early days with the group. Both men were aware of the recent change and smiled in kind.
By weekend, they had four songs roughed out and uploaded the computer-generated recordings for Brad to hear. After another week, the group had them shaped well enough for Chelsea to schedule studio time at Summit. Once recorded, the masters were sent to Brad for tweaking.
“Two are ready, but it’s probably best to hold back ‘Wasted’ and ‘Mardi Gras Taima,’” Brad said in a conference call held after he played around with the songs in his small studio in Neverland.
“’Taima’ is Japanese for marijuana,” Ryuji explained.
“I like the international flavor to the song through the blending of Samba with a J-Pop twist, but I don’t know; it seems a little forced,” Brad said from his wheelchair as he looked at the other four ensconced in L.A.
“What’s wrong with the other one? Wasted not only means being very high, but the waste of so many potential futures enforcing all the senseless regulations,” Sophie said, staring at the camera recording them.
“Don’t you think it’s mostly a regurgitation of ‘It Don’t Bother Me’ and even a little bit of ‘Sensibowl’?”
“Aren’t they all repeating the message you’re trying to promote?” Trink asked.
“If I were you, I’d hold back …” Ryuji started to say, but paused.
Brad waited. “What?” he asked.
“It’s okay, I’m with you. Go for it. By the way, you haven’t congratulated us on making it to Number 1!”
“Also, how is Limey doing without her darling?” Madelyn asked.
After “Sensibowl” was in its second week on top of the charts, Summit released: “It Don’t Bother Me.” They decided the best way to promote it would be to have the group perform on a comedy show syndicated nationally through a major cable network, but also very popular and famous for having a much larger audience through its internet feed. Even though this show’s focus was comedy, most of the programming was a cultural potpourri with new music being showcased regularly. In other words, it was a traditional variety show with a comedy focus.
“I take it, ‘Sensibowl’ is a really big bong hit?” the host of the show asked Trink.
“It’s the biggest ever!” Sophie blurted out.
The skinny, early-middle-aged host, looking a little like a clone of a young Johnny Carsen, faced his in-studio audience, raised his dark eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. “Doesn’t it make you cough? I never can take huge hits without coughing.”
“It depends on lung capacity,” Ryuji said.
“Didn’t someone say lung capacity was a good indication of your libido?” asked the host.
Sophie smiled and said, “Is bigger always better?”
He turned to her sitting the closest to him on the sofa she shared with Ryuji, Trink, and the two Dogs. He leaned toward her from his desk and whispered: “You tell me.”
“I’ll let you know when the royalty checks are finally in the mail.”
“Isn’t that done digitally?” he asked, straightening up and once again looking at his audience.
“What?”
“Doesn’t Summit Records transfer the money digitally, or do they just pay through gold records?” the Carsen knock-off asked, with a sarcastic expression on his face as though he were talking to idiots.
“Don’t know, we haven’t seen any yet,” Trink said.
“Probably it’s being used to pay the legal fees from the last time you played together,” the host said as laughter from the audience erupted.
“We should have learned our lesson then,” Ryuji responded, smiling towards the audience.
“Human relations can be difficult, but your past is off the charts!” the host said, once again addressing the audience more than the band.
Trink shrugged. “Let’s just hope this time we can stay on the charts for a while.”
“Probably the bong hits are a lot mellower than what you were using in the 80s. Didn’t your manager die after digesting milkweed or something?” the Carson copy asked.
“Jimson Weed,” Ryuji said.
“Was his dealer out of town or something? No cocaine available at the time? Town pretty dry this weekend, so I think I’ll just chew on that plant growing along the side of the road.”
Trink replied, “It wasn’t quite like that, but you’re right, things are a lot milder now.”
“No more group sex?”
“Not today anyway,” Sophie said.
“Speak for yourself,” Diamond interrupted.
“I guess that old adage of ‘a band that sleeps together stays together’ wasn’t really true.”
“You can’t live your life on adages,” Ryuji said.
“Well, let’s just say, it don’t bother me, which is the title of the new song you’re about to play, right?”
“Yep,” Trink nodded.
“Isn’t it ungrammatical? I guess you didn’t use a computer when you wrote it. My software always catches such errors pretty quickly.”
“Is it ungrammatical?” Sophie asked, using a head-slapping gesture to sarcastically imply forgetfulness.
The host pretended to be taking a hit from a pipe and replied, “Too many ‘sensibowls,’ eh?”
Links to the previous chapters of Book Two
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Copyright (©) by Kenneth Wayne