Ricman
12-04-2008, 05:40 PM
The Tone Seeking Boys – The First Steps of the Electric Purple Shoes
by Ricman W. Dixon
Chapter One
Introducing the Tone Seeking Boys
“Rock-it, Johnny! Yeah, right on! Go, go, go!” screamed Delvin Marcliff as he came out of a quick fill and caught a 7” splash cymbal with an upward stroke. The deft punctuation to the beat caused Jerry Blayley to jerk his head toward the drum kit with an approving grin. Eager to show his chops, Jerry jumped a full octave on the fretboard of his bass and pulled off a series of descending triplets that underscored the solid rhythm work Marty Sheridan was chugging away with. Kevin Daniels, with the ease of much practice, tapped a few buttons on his synth and took over the lead from Johnny Blayley, Jerry’s twin sibling, just as Johnny’s E string went limp.
“Ah, man!” hollered Johnny stopping and holding out the broken string. “Second one this week!” he moaned.
The band came to a halt, a member at a time, each with a knowing smile passing between one another. “Well, if you weren’t such a hot rocker, your strings would last longer!” laughed Marty. “You break almost as many as I do!” Johnny defended himself. “You’re the only guy I’ve ever seen break every single string at once with one power chord!”
Marty gave him a wry smile, remembering the episode well. It was the opening note to a show they had done, not over a month ago, and the whole band had to suffer the embarrassment of stopping four beats into the first song of the night and wait while Marty changed guitar strings and retuned. “Well, at least we are getting some paying gigs nowadays and can afford broken guitar strings!” Marty said. “It wasn’t that long ago a new set of strings put us back in a major way!”
What Marty said was true. The five chums, fast friends for as long as they could remember, had fulfilled a long-time dream they had shared together by starting a rock and roll band. None of the boys came from privileged backgrounds and the start-up cost of equipment seemed overwhelming to each of them. “Because, if we can’t do our music at least halfway right, it seems as if we aren’t doing our music full justice!” was what Johnny, the band’s unofficial leader, was fond of saying. So, when the idea was first discussed among them about starting up a rock and roll band, the boys knew an adequate PA system was going to be of primary importance.
To that end each of the chums pooled what resources they had and drummed up other work, and over the course of months had accumulated enough money to acquire a modest PA system consisting of a 16 channel board, a power amp, two speakers with stands, two monitors, and 4 microphones. It was used equipment that had come in on a trade at the local music store, The Friendly Musician, but to the boys it was a first-class affair. A homemade snake, courtesy of Delvin’s cousin, rounded out their system.
With the purchase of the system the 5 friends started up their band in earnest. Jerry and Johnny’s house became their regular rehearsal studio. The brothers lived just on the outskirts of town and their home had a large barn on the property that backed up to dense woods. Mr. Blayley gave his blessing to the boys’ band, remembering in his youth how he and 15 of his closest chums had put together a garage swing orchestra and the great fun they had derived from it playing school dances and church ice cream socials. Mrs. Blayley easily fell into the role of band Mother and kept the lads supplied in tuna fish sandwiches and pickles among other delectable treats from her inviting, efficient, kitchen.
From the very start the lads knew their music was going to be something special. Each boy, although still high school age, was a remarkably accomplished musician. And even though their equipment was modest the chums were able to get the most out of it so that the resulting music was indeed something to behold.
After a few months of practice and working up three solid sets of material the boys had started in earnest looking for “gigs” as Jerry slangily liked to call the jobs they found. Their first shows consisted of playing for friends and school mates. Mr. Blayley, who, as mentioned, watched the progress of the boys with keen appreciation, suggested they make use of the large barn they practiced in to put on Friday night dances. “For after all,” he would say, “this nation’s social milieu was built upon the barn dance as a way to bring neighbors and community together.”
The boys liked the idea and many afternoons were spent creating posters and flyers and decorating the barn for their first big show. Each of the chum’s mothers got together and made overflowing trays of finger sandwiches, bowls of snack chips, trays of vegetable sticks, potato salads, and Delvin’s father was thrilled to be able to supply a generous quantity of his particular hobby of homemade sarsaparilla. And the music, needless to say, was gone over and over in practice until each note sparkled and the band was tight and crisp.
“Say!” exclaimed Marty, from his perch atop a tall ladder as he was hanging crepe streamers across the barn, “this is going to be all up to the nines!”
“You said it!” agreed Delvin as he paused from gluing little squares of aluminum foil on a large beach ball that would serve as a mirror ball for the show, “I didn’t know being in a band would be so much fun!” Kevin didn’t have a comment to add as he was industriously sweeping out the main part of the barn floor, but the look on his face told all that he was as content as the rest over the progress they were making toward their big show.
Johnny and Jerry, for their part, had been working on building a stage for the band to perform upon with scrap lumber donated by Mr. Jenkins, the lumberyard owner who was a Moose lodge member with all the chum’s fathers. The boys were just finishing putting a final coat of bright purple paint on the stage “because bright colors capture the exuberance of rock and roll!” Jerry explained to his mom as he noticed her unsure look over their choice of wild colors.
At that moment Jerry and Johnny’s Aunt Millicent walked into the barn and stopped, arms akimbo, casting a disapproving look over the whole affair. “Nothing good will come of this nonsense, mark my words!” she spouted, to no one in particular. “This rock and roll thing, as you children call this disparage of noise you produce, will do nothing but land the whole lot of you in a federal penitentiary, you just see if it does not!” And the look she gave the boys defied them to say anything to the contrary.
Aunt Millicent was the twin’s father’s peppery, spinster sister, who had made her home with them ever since her husband had passed when the lobster boat he captained had been attacked by an entire school of great white sharks and one rogue dolphin. Convinced that the family needed her opinions, and the boys her watch care in particular, Aunt Millicent was never at a loss for words.
“I cannot imagine your parents approving of such an undertaking as this!” she exclaimed as she sniffed disdainfully at the purple stage, and rolled her eyes at the now finished mirror ball Marty and Delvin were hanging. “No respectable young lady will be found coming to this dance, as you call it, and therein lies the problem! The morals that will come through the door of this barn you will regret associating with; I have seen it happen before!” and Aunt Millicent wagged a stern finger in the air to emphasize her point.
“Such as when you used to go to Dad’s barn dances when he and his buddies had the swing orchestra?” slyly grinned Johnny. “What kind of morals did you bring to those affairs, aunty?” innocently asked Jerry, while the rest of his comrades stood by on the broad grin.
“Well, the idea!” roared Aunt Millicent as she turned various shades of red, well remembering that she had indeed allowed a young man to kiss her cheek on one of those nights long ago. And at that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the barn without a backward look.
“Whew, she doesn’t like this rock and roll music!” observed Delvin, cleaning up his scissors and glue. “She doesn’t like any music that doesn’t feature a pump organ.” Jerry said. “Playing electric instruments to her is the same as becoming one of those juvenile delinquents you hear so much talk about.”
“Well, we’ll be delinquent come opening night around here if we don’t get busy!” said Johnny. “There’s a lot yet left to do!” And he and his band mates stood back and admired the progress they had made.
“Let’s get those lights mounted up in the rafters.” suggested Marty, squinting skyward. Kevin agreed. “It will look like a real rock and roll show when we get that stage all lit up!” And at that each lad set to carrying boxes of spot lights and rolls of wire Mr. Gaycliff, the town electrician who was a city councilman along with the boy’s fathers, had donated to the event. Marty shinnied out on the beams while Delvin and Kevin stood on ladders handing him up lights and tools to mount them with. Behind Marty, Jerry ran wire along the beams and back to the hayloft of the barn where the boys intended to put the control booth for the lighting. Johnny, with his aptitude for electricity, was sketching out on a paper a diagram for controlling the lighting. “It won’t be anything elaborate,” he observed, “for we don’t have much to work with. But it will be sufficient!”
Before long everything was in place and Johnny threw the switch to open the circuit he had designed. The stage area flooded in light! “Oh, that’s swell!” hollered Kevin as he walked up on the stage and spun in a full circle. “It’s also swell the number you did on your shoes!” laughed Jerry. “That paint wasn’t dry yet!” And the rest of the band joined in the laughter as Kevin ruefully looked down at his purple-smeared shoes and the mess he had made of the paint job on top of the stage.
“Guess who gets to re-paint that part!” smiled Johnny as Kevin jumped to the ground.
“Oh, I don’t mind doing that!” said Kevin. “But cleaning these shoes off will be the what-for!” and he grimaced as he took them off.
While Kevin was applying a rag soaked in turpentine to his shoes, the rest of the boys “took five” over by their equipment. “You know something?” said Marty, taking a bite out of one the sandwiches Mrs. Blayley had brought over. “We need a name for our band!” The rest of the boys looked dumbfounded. They had been so busy getting ready for their show they had totally forgotten about what they would be known as!
“That’s right!” said Johnny, a little miffed at himself for not thinking of the fact sooner. “In the eyes of the public, a name is second in importance only to the music itself!”
“Well, anybody have any suggestions?” ventured Jerry as the group sat in silence for awhile. “Nope!” said Marty, with a scowl upon his countenance. Delvin started to say something, and then sat back without a word. “Gee!” said Johnny. “Picking a name isn’t easy!”
About that moment Kevin walked up from cleaning his shoes. They still had a hint of purple on them in spite of his best efforts to get all the paint off.
Johnny suddenly had a look of inspiration come over his face. “We can call ourselves the Purple Shoes!” he exclaimed. “The ELECTRIC Purple Shoes!” chimed in Jerry. “JOHNNY’S Electric Purple Shoes!” hollered Delvin. “JEPS for short!” Marty said, a look of awe in his eyes. “I LIKE IT!” Kevin said looking down at his shoes. “Now I can wear these and it will look like it was on purpose!”
Johnny looked a little embarrassed. “Are you sure that name is OK? I mean, we all are equal in this you know! Calling it Johnny’s…” “Hey!” came from Marty, cutting Johnny off mid-sentence. “It has a nice ring to it. And besides, you – being the lead guitarist and lead vocalist – it gives kind of a personality to the group. We’re all OK with it!” and the rest of the chums nodded their agreement. “Well, OK.” said Johnny. “But that doesn’t mean I make all the decisions! It’s one for all around here!”
by Ricman W. Dixon
Chapter One
Introducing the Tone Seeking Boys
“Rock-it, Johnny! Yeah, right on! Go, go, go!” screamed Delvin Marcliff as he came out of a quick fill and caught a 7” splash cymbal with an upward stroke. The deft punctuation to the beat caused Jerry Blayley to jerk his head toward the drum kit with an approving grin. Eager to show his chops, Jerry jumped a full octave on the fretboard of his bass and pulled off a series of descending triplets that underscored the solid rhythm work Marty Sheridan was chugging away with. Kevin Daniels, with the ease of much practice, tapped a few buttons on his synth and took over the lead from Johnny Blayley, Jerry’s twin sibling, just as Johnny’s E string went limp.
“Ah, man!” hollered Johnny stopping and holding out the broken string. “Second one this week!” he moaned.
The band came to a halt, a member at a time, each with a knowing smile passing between one another. “Well, if you weren’t such a hot rocker, your strings would last longer!” laughed Marty. “You break almost as many as I do!” Johnny defended himself. “You’re the only guy I’ve ever seen break every single string at once with one power chord!”
Marty gave him a wry smile, remembering the episode well. It was the opening note to a show they had done, not over a month ago, and the whole band had to suffer the embarrassment of stopping four beats into the first song of the night and wait while Marty changed guitar strings and retuned. “Well, at least we are getting some paying gigs nowadays and can afford broken guitar strings!” Marty said. “It wasn’t that long ago a new set of strings put us back in a major way!”
What Marty said was true. The five chums, fast friends for as long as they could remember, had fulfilled a long-time dream they had shared together by starting a rock and roll band. None of the boys came from privileged backgrounds and the start-up cost of equipment seemed overwhelming to each of them. “Because, if we can’t do our music at least halfway right, it seems as if we aren’t doing our music full justice!” was what Johnny, the band’s unofficial leader, was fond of saying. So, when the idea was first discussed among them about starting up a rock and roll band, the boys knew an adequate PA system was going to be of primary importance.
To that end each of the chums pooled what resources they had and drummed up other work, and over the course of months had accumulated enough money to acquire a modest PA system consisting of a 16 channel board, a power amp, two speakers with stands, two monitors, and 4 microphones. It was used equipment that had come in on a trade at the local music store, The Friendly Musician, but to the boys it was a first-class affair. A homemade snake, courtesy of Delvin’s cousin, rounded out their system.
With the purchase of the system the 5 friends started up their band in earnest. Jerry and Johnny’s house became their regular rehearsal studio. The brothers lived just on the outskirts of town and their home had a large barn on the property that backed up to dense woods. Mr. Blayley gave his blessing to the boys’ band, remembering in his youth how he and 15 of his closest chums had put together a garage swing orchestra and the great fun they had derived from it playing school dances and church ice cream socials. Mrs. Blayley easily fell into the role of band Mother and kept the lads supplied in tuna fish sandwiches and pickles among other delectable treats from her inviting, efficient, kitchen.
From the very start the lads knew their music was going to be something special. Each boy, although still high school age, was a remarkably accomplished musician. And even though their equipment was modest the chums were able to get the most out of it so that the resulting music was indeed something to behold.
After a few months of practice and working up three solid sets of material the boys had started in earnest looking for “gigs” as Jerry slangily liked to call the jobs they found. Their first shows consisted of playing for friends and school mates. Mr. Blayley, who, as mentioned, watched the progress of the boys with keen appreciation, suggested they make use of the large barn they practiced in to put on Friday night dances. “For after all,” he would say, “this nation’s social milieu was built upon the barn dance as a way to bring neighbors and community together.”
The boys liked the idea and many afternoons were spent creating posters and flyers and decorating the barn for their first big show. Each of the chum’s mothers got together and made overflowing trays of finger sandwiches, bowls of snack chips, trays of vegetable sticks, potato salads, and Delvin’s father was thrilled to be able to supply a generous quantity of his particular hobby of homemade sarsaparilla. And the music, needless to say, was gone over and over in practice until each note sparkled and the band was tight and crisp.
“Say!” exclaimed Marty, from his perch atop a tall ladder as he was hanging crepe streamers across the barn, “this is going to be all up to the nines!”
“You said it!” agreed Delvin as he paused from gluing little squares of aluminum foil on a large beach ball that would serve as a mirror ball for the show, “I didn’t know being in a band would be so much fun!” Kevin didn’t have a comment to add as he was industriously sweeping out the main part of the barn floor, but the look on his face told all that he was as content as the rest over the progress they were making toward their big show.
Johnny and Jerry, for their part, had been working on building a stage for the band to perform upon with scrap lumber donated by Mr. Jenkins, the lumberyard owner who was a Moose lodge member with all the chum’s fathers. The boys were just finishing putting a final coat of bright purple paint on the stage “because bright colors capture the exuberance of rock and roll!” Jerry explained to his mom as he noticed her unsure look over their choice of wild colors.
At that moment Jerry and Johnny’s Aunt Millicent walked into the barn and stopped, arms akimbo, casting a disapproving look over the whole affair. “Nothing good will come of this nonsense, mark my words!” she spouted, to no one in particular. “This rock and roll thing, as you children call this disparage of noise you produce, will do nothing but land the whole lot of you in a federal penitentiary, you just see if it does not!” And the look she gave the boys defied them to say anything to the contrary.
Aunt Millicent was the twin’s father’s peppery, spinster sister, who had made her home with them ever since her husband had passed when the lobster boat he captained had been attacked by an entire school of great white sharks and one rogue dolphin. Convinced that the family needed her opinions, and the boys her watch care in particular, Aunt Millicent was never at a loss for words.
“I cannot imagine your parents approving of such an undertaking as this!” she exclaimed as she sniffed disdainfully at the purple stage, and rolled her eyes at the now finished mirror ball Marty and Delvin were hanging. “No respectable young lady will be found coming to this dance, as you call it, and therein lies the problem! The morals that will come through the door of this barn you will regret associating with; I have seen it happen before!” and Aunt Millicent wagged a stern finger in the air to emphasize her point.
“Such as when you used to go to Dad’s barn dances when he and his buddies had the swing orchestra?” slyly grinned Johnny. “What kind of morals did you bring to those affairs, aunty?” innocently asked Jerry, while the rest of his comrades stood by on the broad grin.
“Well, the idea!” roared Aunt Millicent as she turned various shades of red, well remembering that she had indeed allowed a young man to kiss her cheek on one of those nights long ago. And at that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the barn without a backward look.
“Whew, she doesn’t like this rock and roll music!” observed Delvin, cleaning up his scissors and glue. “She doesn’t like any music that doesn’t feature a pump organ.” Jerry said. “Playing electric instruments to her is the same as becoming one of those juvenile delinquents you hear so much talk about.”
“Well, we’ll be delinquent come opening night around here if we don’t get busy!” said Johnny. “There’s a lot yet left to do!” And he and his band mates stood back and admired the progress they had made.
“Let’s get those lights mounted up in the rafters.” suggested Marty, squinting skyward. Kevin agreed. “It will look like a real rock and roll show when we get that stage all lit up!” And at that each lad set to carrying boxes of spot lights and rolls of wire Mr. Gaycliff, the town electrician who was a city councilman along with the boy’s fathers, had donated to the event. Marty shinnied out on the beams while Delvin and Kevin stood on ladders handing him up lights and tools to mount them with. Behind Marty, Jerry ran wire along the beams and back to the hayloft of the barn where the boys intended to put the control booth for the lighting. Johnny, with his aptitude for electricity, was sketching out on a paper a diagram for controlling the lighting. “It won’t be anything elaborate,” he observed, “for we don’t have much to work with. But it will be sufficient!”
Before long everything was in place and Johnny threw the switch to open the circuit he had designed. The stage area flooded in light! “Oh, that’s swell!” hollered Kevin as he walked up on the stage and spun in a full circle. “It’s also swell the number you did on your shoes!” laughed Jerry. “That paint wasn’t dry yet!” And the rest of the band joined in the laughter as Kevin ruefully looked down at his purple-smeared shoes and the mess he had made of the paint job on top of the stage.
“Guess who gets to re-paint that part!” smiled Johnny as Kevin jumped to the ground.
“Oh, I don’t mind doing that!” said Kevin. “But cleaning these shoes off will be the what-for!” and he grimaced as he took them off.
While Kevin was applying a rag soaked in turpentine to his shoes, the rest of the boys “took five” over by their equipment. “You know something?” said Marty, taking a bite out of one the sandwiches Mrs. Blayley had brought over. “We need a name for our band!” The rest of the boys looked dumbfounded. They had been so busy getting ready for their show they had totally forgotten about what they would be known as!
“That’s right!” said Johnny, a little miffed at himself for not thinking of the fact sooner. “In the eyes of the public, a name is second in importance only to the music itself!”
“Well, anybody have any suggestions?” ventured Jerry as the group sat in silence for awhile. “Nope!” said Marty, with a scowl upon his countenance. Delvin started to say something, and then sat back without a word. “Gee!” said Johnny. “Picking a name isn’t easy!”
About that moment Kevin walked up from cleaning his shoes. They still had a hint of purple on them in spite of his best efforts to get all the paint off.
Johnny suddenly had a look of inspiration come over his face. “We can call ourselves the Purple Shoes!” he exclaimed. “The ELECTRIC Purple Shoes!” chimed in Jerry. “JOHNNY’S Electric Purple Shoes!” hollered Delvin. “JEPS for short!” Marty said, a look of awe in his eyes. “I LIKE IT!” Kevin said looking down at his shoes. “Now I can wear these and it will look like it was on purpose!”
Johnny looked a little embarrassed. “Are you sure that name is OK? I mean, we all are equal in this you know! Calling it Johnny’s…” “Hey!” came from Marty, cutting Johnny off mid-sentence. “It has a nice ring to it. And besides, you – being the lead guitarist and lead vocalist – it gives kind of a personality to the group. We’re all OK with it!” and the rest of the chums nodded their agreement. “Well, OK.” said Johnny. “But that doesn’t mean I make all the decisions! It’s one for all around here!”