(Mad) : 19-21

SCENE 19: Still Leeds

Backstage at the gig – enter New Order, with the latest member Gillian Gilbert

Stephen Morris
A cracking gig that one, well play’d people

Peter Hook
You too Stephen, a blinder as always

Gillian Gilbert
I fuck’d up the middle eight on Sunrise

Bernard Sumner
Gill, when the story of this gig is told
I’ll dare say nobody would have noticed

Stephen Morris
Who’d a thought Yorkshire could be so much fun

Bernard Sumner
The provinces are allowed to be cool
I mean, look at ancient Rome – in her streets
Were ever any culture stalwarts born?
Martial was born in Calatayud,
Ovid Sulmona, Horace Venosa
& Juvenal, Volscian Aquinum

Peter Hook
Fer fucks sake! wheres the fuckin rider gone

Gillian Gilbert
Somebody must have let the Mondays in

Peter Hook
Fuckin Tony, he’s such a massive cunt
The maudlin Mondays another mistake,
He misses The Smiths, but picks up this mob
Of reprobates, one more first grade fuck-up

Bernard Sumner
Apart from them tanking the fucking beers
I don’t mind ‘em, I kinda quite like ‘em
They pull’d off the support act with aplomb
It was mad, a total mess, but buzzing,
There’s something unpretentious in the air
When stalk they stages in their shuffleshoes

Peter Hook
What the fuck are you on about, Bernard
They’re just a high pitch’d clatter of clicks & chirps
With caterwauling feigning proper song

Stephen Morris
Is that not just the sound of northern angst
Releas’d in rage from substandard housing
Perspiring pent-up frustrations away

Enter Tony Wilson with the Paul & Shaun Ryder holding carrier bags full of alcohol

Peter Hook
What happed to all the fucking booze, Tony

Tony Wilson
Worry not, your rider’s reinstated
Along with French champagne to celebrate
A wonderful performance

Shaun Ryder
Sorry guys
We got carried away after the gig

Peter Hook
You’re just a bunch of fucking hooligans

Bernard Sumner
Steady on Hooky, there’s no worries lads
By the way I enjoy’d your performance
Such a band of authentic anarchists
To be fair, & you right warm’d up the crowd
Our following’s fervently devoted
But never have I seen them take support
As how they’ve done tonight

Gillian Gilbert
Yeah, well done lads

Tony Wilson
{opening champagne}
A great night for Factory all round
Pass the cups about, then, lets do a a toast

Paul Ryder
This was, y’know, just our fifth proper gig
& playing it thro’ New Order’s PA
With proper foldback made the Monday’s feel
We were charlie big potato pop stars

Tony Wilson
Indeed – the establish’d flavour of things
Welcomes the Happy Mondays to the fold
I’m sure you’ll do us proud, & so a toast
To the future of Factory records

Stephen Morris
& all who fuckin sail in her

Tony Wilson
Ready
To the future

All
The future

Shaun Ryder
Nice one Tone

Bernard Sumner
Mister Manchester’s making things happen

Gillian Gilbert
Most high, most mighty, most puissant Ceasar

Peter Hook
Thou quoit of quality, quibblings & quotes
Encovering the dolmen of our days

Tony Wilson
I thank you for that praise, I try my best
& so, the brethren Ryders, Paul & Shaun
As you now parley with our patronage
Shall fame’s fonticulus to torrent flow

Tony Wilson

You are the way forwards, you’re the new thing,
& if fresh fashions are a thing to watch
Your image is you don’t have an image

Paul Ryder
Who we are is unemulatable
But make it look easy, like anyone
Can do what we are doing, but they can’t
Arseing about we’ve turn’d to an artforms
& made some cracking numbers on the way

Tony Wilson
Why don’t we try to record one of them
Or two, of course, there must be a b-side

Shaun Ryder
What do you mean

Tony Wilson
Lets book a studio
Mike Pickering wants to record you boys

Paul Ryder
We’re not ready for owt like that Tony

Shaun Ryder
Shut up Paul, of course we are ready, Tone

Tony Wilson
Great, there’s nothing like praxis to perfect
One’s art, one’s craft, you’ll learn a lot with Mike
& maybe make some money for us all

Paul Ryder
We’re buzzin that you lot believe in us

Bernard Sumner
We like to deal out opportunities
To bands all other labels dare not touch

Peter Hook

I’ve got to give some credit, tho, Paul
First glance you’re a shambling bunch of scallies
Set to kick out shit from the audience
But semi-tones of ambrosian modes
Betray, I’ll admit, thy musicality

Paul Ryder
Mate, I know we’ve got off on the wrong foot
You don’t exactly climb a lingam peak
To sing our praises, perhaps that might change
If I finally deliver thee this

Peter Hook
What’s that – is that my hand writing – it is
But, this is from Spain, years ago

Paul Ryder
I know
Well, I used to work for the Post Office
& was a Joy Division fan, like most
When I saw your name sign’d on this postcard
Instead of leaving with your mam & dad
I dropp’d it in my pocket, anyway
Sorry

Peter Hook
Fer fucks sake

Bernard Sumner
That’s some funny shit

Paul Ryder
Guess we’re family, now, or summat, right?

Tony Wilson
Indeed we are Paul, Hooky forgive him
Magnaminous are the master-minded

Paul Ryder
I quit my job, no more red-finger’d dawns
Hauling bags of bills upon my back
Round the rainy streets of Little Hulton
I’m on the dole full time until the day
We break the charts like you guys do so well

Shaun Ryder
The dole is like a starving artist’s grant
We can drink, get stoned, listen to music
& more importantly make new music

Tony Wilson
There is nothing at all wrong with the dole
When life’s intuitive object is art
The dole allows you to be somewhat free
& pious to a purpose driven life
So embrace thy style’s elasticity
Bear the burden of consideration
& form those dancey anthems, boys be bold
In ev’ry endeavor, your enemy
Is only time, these days with age shall be
Like Duncan’s murder on a Tudor Stage
Unreal, but more than real, thine avatars
Remember’d on the interwinding gyre
That penetrates existence, & reflects
All that goes on with slivers of silver

Shaun Ryder
You what

Bernard Sumner
Boys, all that Tony’s saying there
Is get yer heads down, work, & then one day
You’ll be as famous as…

Shaun Ryder
New Order

Gillian Gilbert
Hah

Paul Ryder
We’d love to be as well known as you lot

Bernard Sumner
Give it time, for ev’ry star a zenith


SCENE 20: Florence

Ian Brown & John Squire are sleeping rough with guitars & sleeping bags on the slopes by the Piazzale Michaelangelo

John Squire
Tis sound being away with you Ian

Ian Brown
You too, mate, for fair forever freindships
Are something special in these fractious times

John Squire
Do you remember the first time we met

Ian Brown
No, not really

John Squire
It was in the sandpit
At nurs’ry, I remember it clearly

Ian Brown
What did I say

John Squire
I don’t remember that
Probably something like, ‘let’s form a group
In twenty years & take over the world

Ian Brown
The world… each region wears its own merits
But some are rocks while others priceless gems
This is a sight to stir the ancient soul
There’s Ponte Vecchio bridging the Arno
The Duomo rising from a rooftop sea
Florence flowing to those lazy foothills
Of this most fabl’d portion Appennine
I’m glad you brought us here, my friend, its, its

John Squire
Spectacular, right, art’s Tuscan cradle
With sunshine fill’d, its Falernian wine
Inspir’d Raphael, Michaelangelo
Vellini, Donatello, Orcagna
Let’s check out the Uffizi tomorrow

Ian Brown
That’s the gallery, right,

John Squire
Yeah

Ian Brown
No problem
I think its cool we’re gonna spend our dole
Inspecting Italian works of art

John Squire

The life of an English bohemian
Should always spend a space in Italy

Ian Brown
Its true, this week or so we’ve been down here
Has clear’d my mind, a watershed of sorts,
It’s like, a reset, don’t you feel it, John

John Squire
I do, yeah, I mean, its time we grew up
Mastery roots in juvenilia
The songs we sing are good, but not classics

Ian Brown
What about Adored?

John Squire
No, that one’s superb
The rest should on that very level be
Extemporizing legendary songs
The best star’s burn intense to be the best
Let us say if its a little bit shit
Its getting nowhere near the fucking set

Ian Brown
So, what about the band

John Squire
Pete’s good enough
He’s got that poppy, Jean-Jacques Burnel thing

Ian Brown
I just wish he could write his own parts tho,
& he’s City

John Squire
Yeah, but Pete’s one of us
Since we were budding teens under the bridge
But Andy on the other hand

Ian Brown
What mate

John Squire
I mean, he’s great & ev’rything, but, well
I’m getting better all the fucking time
& leaving him behind, I’m thinking now
A lone guitar is all the Roses needs

Ian Brown
Maybe, but I’m not gonna say a word
Loyalty is everything in music
& how much money has his parents spent
On getting us to this point

John Squire
Yeah, I know
I was just saying

Ian Brown
No worries, honesty
Is all we have when all is said & done
To mark us out as subject to virtue

John Squire
We don’t really need to mention Reni

Ian Brown
Hah-hah, sometimes I don’t think he’s human

John Squire
How are them singing lessons coming on

Ian Brown
Oh, Mrs Rhodes, she’s funny, she gets me
Standing at her open window, belting
Acapella versions of old tunes
Like Neil Young’s ‘After the Gold Rush,’ &, ehm
Strawberry Fields Forever – I do that
It’s funny watching all the commuters
Looking for the source

John Squire
Shall we crack the wine
& do a bit of singing, strum some chords

Ian Brown
Don’t normally drink but when its this cheap
It’s rude not to, right… wow that’s delicious

John Squire
You’d pay at least three quid for that back home,
Here its twenty pee – get it down ya neck –
So, shall we have a jam or what, old boy

I have been listening to the sixties
The Beatles, Stones & Byrds, Jimi Hendrix

Ian Brown
Man, I wish I’d heard Jimi earlier
When I was twelve, he’s just astonishing
Its made me realise we are big mouth’d,
Bratty & brash, too much stone, no roses

John Squire
We’ve energy but melodies are lost
In hurricanes of noise, we must progress
I mean a road’s a road, but there were roads
Before the night in thickset country fog
Was Percy Shaw sav’d by reflective light
Beaming a warning from wall-perch’d cat
Upon a band that swerv’d an epic drop
On slamm’d the brakes, from terrifying rush
He felt epiphaneous, invented
Double-studded cat’s eyes to mark the lanes
The same it is for music, those same roads
By legends built; Led Zeppelin, The Doors,
Are sonic highways that might be improved

Ian Brown
I get all that, but how should we translate
This moment we are feeling to those roads

John Squire

Lets play some chords, simply let Italy
Inspire our melodies as if Dante
Went whistling oer these hills, remembering
How felt he after Beatrix did smile
Hmmm – D & G are pretty sunny chords
& nice & gentle vibe

Ian Brown
Yeah that’s good John
{singing melody to Sally Cinnamon}
Ba-ba-ba-bap-bap-bap-ba-ba-ba-baa
Ba-ba-ba-bap-bap-bap-ba-ba-ba-baa

John Squire
Buh-duh-duh-da-da-duh

Ian Brown
Yeah that works mate
Ba-ba-ba-bap-bap-bap-ba-ba-ba-baa
She tastes of cherry-aid

John Squire
Who tastes of cherry aid?

Ian Brown
Well, a woman

John Squire
Yeah, but who is she?

Ian Brown
Eh, let me think now

Alison, Ally, Sally

John Squire
Yeah, Sally
The ‘s’ is nice innit

Ian Brown
Another one
Let’s have another ‘s’ – Sally ‘s’

Sally Summer, Sally Simmer, Sally..

Cinnamon, Sally Cinnamon

John Squire
Yeah, mate
That name sounds great, rolls off the tongue like silk

Ian Brown

Sally Cinnamon – ba-ba-ba-ba-baa
She tastes of cherry-aid

John Squire
Yeah that’s a start
Have some more red wine, lets write this baby…
Mixing omnipotence & innocence
With lyricism full of doe–eye’d bliss
With melodies as pure as choristers
& sung soft spoken with mystical tones

Ian Brown
Let us be the wonders of a wisdom
We’ll call our own, shrug off non-excellence,
Lets make a wish & watch it rush to life

John

They play Sally Cinnamon


SCENE 21: A pub in Manchester

Enter Mini & Bez – Alan the bartender is standing behind the bar

Mini
Here we go, mate, a nice English boozer

Bez
Ah! the Anglo-Saxon sanctuary!
Nice one

Mini
How’s your health

Bez

Tolerable
Still piling fleshy weight upon mi bones
I’d lost about two stone upon the tour

Mini
Two pints of lager mate

Bez
Some crisps as well

Alan
What flavour

Bez
Have you got smoky bacon

Alan
Nah

Bez
Cheese & onion?

Alan
Yeah

Bez
Three of them

Mini
Ah man, I cannot meet til you meet X

Bez
X? What kind of a name is that? Its daft!

Mini
It’s the nick-name of Shaun Ryder

Bez
That guy

Mini
He’s a font of magical, impish charm
A manic force of nature – just like you
Chaos creating with gusto immense
Great company when we’re getting wasted
He is the leader of the biggest bunch
Of nonsensical twats in town, but then
They’re the only bunch of twats that matter

Bez
I’ve heard of him, cannot really believe
Our paths have never cross’d in all these years

Mini
Fucking off to Africa doesn’t help
While they’ve been making waves with their music

Bez
I’m back now, Mini, & raring to go
Happy to make novel acquaintances
If good they’ll be for life’s evolutions

Alan
Here you go boys

Mini
Cheers

Alan
That’s two pound sixty

Mini
So, after X turns up we’ll soon be off
To Amsterdam & celebrate this day
Delightful, their first single, was releas’d
This very morn on Factory Records

Bez
Nice one – Amsterdam – I’ve never been there

Mini
Very civilized people are the Dutch
I’d live there if it weren’t so fucking dull
But the weed is something else, worth the trip
& makes a petty fortune when I’m home

Enter Shaun & Paul Ryder with goatee beards & spliffs

Shaun Ryder
Alright Mini

Mini
X

Shaun Ryder
Ready for the Dam

Mini
Am I – Paul

Paul Ryder
Mini – who’s this

Mini
This is Bez

Paul Ryder
Alright mate – ya coming to the Dam with us

Bez
Not this time – have a buzz tho, yeah

Shaun Ryder
I’m X

Bez
I’m Bez

Shaun Ryder
Fancy a draw on this

Bez
Too reyt

Alan
Lads, not at the bar, fuck off over there

Paul Ryder
Sorry Alan – a lager & a Smiths
Put that out a minute lads

Bez
Roger that

Shaun Ryder
I‘ve heard about you… lived in a cave, right

Bez
I did yeah, in Morocco

Shaun Ryder
Proper tops that

Paul Ryder
Original hippy in the house

Mini
He’s the genuine article is Bez
You two will get on like a house on fire
As if once parted then made whole again

Shaun Ryder
Rattlin’ on like we should shag each other

Paul Ryder
Alan

Alan
Yeah

Paul Ryder
Can you put this record on

Alan
What is it

Paul Ryder
Its our first fucking single
On Factory Records, one-twenny-nine
Releas’d today – keep it for the juke box

Alan
Its none of that New Wave nonsense is it

Shaun Ryder
Course not mate – support your local artists

Mini
Put the record on Alan

Alan
Alright, alright
If it scares the punters it comes straight off
Here’s your drinks – that’ll be one seventy

Paul Ryder
We’ll pay at the end, mate

Shaun Ryder
Get that tune on

Alan
Fucking hell

Paul Ryder
Just do it will ya… so lads
Lets toast the song Delightful, & success
The Happy Mondays

Shaun Ryder
& our new mate, Bez

They toast

Bez
Oi Shaun, come here… fancy a microdot
You’ll find yersel in the Dam in no time!

Shaun Ryder
Well, well, well, a man after my own heart
Yeah, giz one

Bez
Shaun Ryder
There’s one for your brother too

Shaun Ryder
Nice one
So… can you play anything

Bez
What

Shaun Ryder
Music, instruments, you know, can you play

Bez
Not a note, but I’m right into music
Of ev’ry shade & stripe, I sense great grooves
Within a bar of beats, glyptic ear
The only talent that I’ve won bar one,
Apart from those I’m pretty talentless

Shaun Ryder
What is your other talent

Bez
Being Bez

I’m the best in the world at doing that

Shaun Ryder
You’ll do for me, mate, aye, you’ll do for me

Paul Ryder
Thats our song

Shaun Ryder
On the fuckin’ juke box too

Bez
Sounds good

Shaun & Paul sing & dance along to Delightful – Mini & Bez join in

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