To give you some idea how seriously I took it, that\u2019s what I called my first solo album. Syph was there early, so I assumed \u2013 rightly \u2013 he was clean. Syph wanted to drive and I wanted to walk. I did. Friday night, seven twenty, sitting opposite the 1965<\/em> in my family Sedan. An hour later, because I was a nice guy (she said), the female barista told me Syph had given her $20 \u2013 before I arrived in 1965<\/em> \u2013 to pretend to beg me to give Syph her number. So Long, Whale-Bum To give you some idea how seriously I took it, that\u2019s what I called my first solo album. The public, if such a noble beast still exists, agreed with my low opinion of myself-as-a-musical-entity. If we\u2019re counting individuals, there are only three-hundred-and-three of them to blame for my desire to record a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":270,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[373,371],"tags":[375],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\n
\n The public, if such a noble beast still exists, agreed with my low opinion of myself-as-a-musical-entity. If we\u2019re counting individuals, there are only three-hundred-and-three of them to blame for my desire to record a follow-up.
\n This time I would do it right<\/em>. No more computers. Proper songs with proper sadness in them, or improper sadness \u2013 which was what Syph had always done.
\n His deep regret at not having been unfaithful more often: great song.
\n His huge self-disgust after a sudden moment of innocence: great song.
\n Loath as I was to admit this, and sloth as I was to dial his number, eventually I had to say the words, \u2018Can we meet?\u2019
\n After Syph had said, \u2018Who are you again?\u2019 about five times more than was funny, he said sure why not old times partner saddle cowboy gold yee-hah four o\u2019clock coffee bar 1965 you\u2019re paying remember.
\n I said, \u2018Thank you.\u2019
\n I was fifty years-old \u2013 I said Thank you a lot. Gratitude was the presiding emotion at the feast of my survival. Thank you, maple tree. Thank you, news anchor. Thank you, twitter followers.
\n And more than thank you to wife and children. Praises of self-abasement from a point down in the weave of the lowest rug. I am a worm of perpetual naughtiness, and ye are my gods of Balance and Checks. Ye determine my Wakings and control my Late Afternoons. Without ye, I would be three hundred words of querulous obituary, some ashes in a cookie jar and about a quarter of a million Canadian dollars of second-hand studio equipment.<\/p>\n
\n \u2018You look,\u2019 he said, \u2018like you always did.\u2019
\n \u2018You look like shit,\u2019 I said, knowing he\u2019d appreciate an honest expression of jealousy.
\n It had taken me years to become accustomed to his teeth. Although he\u2019d explained that \u2018normal teeth just don\u2019t look normal on a cinema screen \u2013 they look like a gothic castle seen from below\u2019 I always took more than two glances at them.
\n Syph\u2019s Hollywood entr\u00e9<\/em> hadn\u2019t led to a substantial main course. He was a reliable psychopathic villain in a horror movie franchise that had its up-till-now-final outing three years previously.
\n The teeth had glowed out in warehouses where water dripped and splashed, chains clinked and clanked, and unexplained BOOMs took place every time the viewer near-relaxed.
\n \u2018I like to eat<\/em>,\u2019 was his character\u2019s catchphrase. \u2018You hungry?\u2019
\n And I hated to think new listeners would drag that voice back to our recorded output as okay<\/em>. We had been about more than schlock, or I hoped we had. Tenderness was, at many points, attempted if not achieved.
\n \u2018I\u2019ll have two double espressos,\u2019 said Syph.
\n I ordered them, and one for me.
\n \u2018And something sweet.\u2019
\n I knew I\u2019d get the wrong thing, as I surveyed the organic pastries and artisanal biscuits and oh-fuck-it cakes.
\n The coffee bar was called 1965<\/em> and every picture on the wall was of Miles Davis, in that year. The music was period.
\n \u2018What would you recommend?\u2019 I asked the female barista, pale-faced, black-haired. I could tell she\u2019d recognized Syph. \u2018For him,\u2019 I said.
\n \u2018I\u2019d recommend her ass,\u2019 said the male barista.
\n \u2018Sorry about that,\u2019 said the female barista. \u2018But, yes, I\u2019d recommend my ass.\u2019
\n \u2018I\u2019ll have the croissant<\/em>,\u2019 I said, half-Frenchly. \u2018And a chocolate brownie.\u2019
\n \u2018Were those double entendres<\/em>?\u2019 said the male barista. \u2018Because, if they were, they were un peu<\/em> lame.\u2019
\n \u2018They were a food order, sir,\u2019 I said, unsure why I was calling him sir<\/em>, as if I was Frasier.
\n \u2018I\u2019ll bring them over,\u2019 said the female.
\n \u2018No, please, let me,\u2019 said the male.
\n \u2018I\u2019ll wait,\u2019 I said. \u2018I don\u2019t trust you bitches.\u2019
\n \u2018Oh, now<\/em> he\u2019s getting it,\u2019 said the male.
\n \u2018It just takes a while to access to my inner Bear, these days.\u2019
\n As they made the coffee, I looked at the tattoos of the baristas. Hers were of minor characters from Neil Gaiman\u2019s Sandman, his were of crossed blunderbusses firing sperm.
\n The espressos were poured.
\n \u2018And this is my phone number,\u2019 said the female. \u2018If you don\u2019t give it to him, you are insecure in a fundamental way.\u2019
\n \u2018Because I am, and not because I\u2019m not,\u2019 I said, \u2018I will.\u2019 (Even I was confused by that.)
\n And I did.
\n Syph looked at it as if it were a new movie script with his catchphrase in, hashtag resignation.
\n \u2018She isn\u2019t even cute<\/em>,\u2019 he said.
\n \u2018I heard<\/em> that,\u2019 the female said.
\n \u2018Knew you were listening,\u2019 said Syph.
\n \u2018Show some respect,\u2019 said the male.
\n \u2018You make a pass, you take your chance,\u2019 said Syph, as if it actually rhymed and was a thing people said to other people. Young people, male and female.
\n \u2018It wasn\u2019t a pass,\u2019 wailed the girl. I guessed it was fake wailing. I guessed she was faking crying to cover over real hurt. I\u2019d seen this in both my sons. \u2018It wasn\u2019t a pass, you asshole \u2013 it was my grandmother\u2019s<\/em> number.\u2019
\n \u2018It was<\/em>,\u2019 said Syph, Mr Disbelief.
\n Need I say, everyone in the place was now listening? The bearded guys and bangled girls. Some were, I later confirmed, status updating and tweeting.
\n \u2018Okay, then,\u2019 said Syph, picking his phone up from the flyers on the table. I saw the face of Charles Mingus, revealed. \u2018Let\u2019s just check if your grandmother\u2019s home.\u2019
\n He dialled, as the female said. \u2018No! No! Don\u2019t.\u2019 And he smirked as the phone in her back pocket began to chirrup whip-poor-will noises.
\n \u2018You bastard<\/em>,\u2019 the female said.
\n \u2018I\u2019ll pick you up at seven thirty on Friday,\u2019 said Syph. \u2018Of course you\u2019re cute \u2013 I just wanted to see if you had passion, too.\u2019
\n \u2018Fuck you,\u2019 she said, smiling.
\n \u2018And wear a miniskirt,\u2019 said Syph, looking around at his audience.
\n \u2018Where we going then?\u2019 she asked.
\n \u2018To jail,\u2019 I said, attempting to break the mood. If I wasn\u2019t careful, the audience would start applauding as if they\u2019d just witnessed an interactive po-mo rom-com shot reality TV stylee. Unfriends<\/em>.
\n \u2018We\u2019ll go and visit my grandmother,\u2019 said Syph.
\n \u2018All hail!\u2019 cried the male barista. \u2018That was a double entendre, if I ever heard one.\u2019
\n \u2018I wish I was in Japan,\u2019 I said. \u2018You\u2019d never get this shit from a sushi chef \u2013 or a geisha.\u2019
\n \u2018We should\u2019ve met in Japan,\u2019 Syph said, his voice halfway between room and table level. \u2018How is Esther?\u2019
\n \u2018She\u2019s fine,\u2019 I said. \u2018Seen Mono?\u2019
\n \u2018Last week,\u2019 said Syph. \u2018Or do I mean year?\u2019
\n \u2018Drink up. I want to go somewhere we\u2019re not the center of attention.\u2019
\n \u2018How about Madison Square Gardens?\u2019 asked Syph. \u2018I seem to remember we were pretty much ignored last time we played there.\u2019
\n I remembered.
\n \u2018We did suck,\u2019 I said.
\n \u2018In an interesting<\/em> way.\u2019
\n \u2018In a self-indulgent and you-insisting-on-us-only-playing-the-new-album way.\u2019
\n \u2018Hey!\u2019 said Syph, \u2018\u201cI am the man, I suffered, I was there.\u201d\u2019
\n \u2018Whitman,\u2019 said the male barista.
\n \u2018Now really fuck off,\u2019 I said.
\n \u2018You forgot your food,\u2019 the female said, as she put two plates on our table.
\n \u2018\u201cI feel hungry,\u201d\u2019 quoted Syph, and looked at her.
\n \u2018It\u2019s the first three albums,\u2019 she said, \u2018not that awful Hollywood shit.\u2019
\n \u2018You wooon\u2019d me, my dee-yah,\u2019 said Syph, the old fake Brit accent in which he always referred to his acting. Half James Mason, half Hugh Grant apologizing for the Divine Brown incident.
\n \u2018And she wants to see your torture room,\u2019 shouted the male barista.
\n People laughed. People tweeted. One young guy, already bald, spat cappuccino on his chinos.
\n \u2018Don\u2019t<\/em> make jokes about his torture room,\u2019 I said. \u2018He\u2019s very insecure about it.\u2019
\n No-one laughed. People tweeted. The bald guy began to mop up.
\n The female barista whispered something in Syph\u2019s ear, and he nodded, twice, three times.
\n \u2018I meant it the second time,\u2019 he said quietly. \u2018You are sweetly beautiful, m\u2019darlin.\u2019\u2019
\n \u2018Thank you,\u2019 she said, and walked away.
\n Miniskirt are go.
\n I sipped my espresso. Syph knocked his two back in two.
\n \u2018So, what did you want to talk about?\u2019
\n \u2018Elsewhere,\u2019 I said.
\n \u2018Are we reforming again?\u2019
\n \u2018Probably,\u2019 I said, but only to fuck with the twittersphere.<\/p>\n
\n We drove to the shore, then sat in his car. It was a make so expensive I didn\u2019t recognize the logo in the middle of the steering wheel. It may have been bespoke.
\n \u2018It\u2019s about songwriting,\u2019 I said, before he asked a second time what?<\/em> \u2018How do you do it?\u2019
\n \u2018All these years,\u2019 Syph said. \u2018And you finally come to ask the Master?\u2019
\n \u2018I\u2019m just curious.\u2019
\n \u2018You\u2019re desperate<\/em>,\u2019 he said. \u2018You stink of curiosity.\u2019
\n \u2018I need to know \u2013 how does it happen, when it happens?\u2019
\n Syph leaned across. A woman walking a poodle went from left to right behind him. The water behind her was an imported-from-Greece blue. \u2018Here\u2019s the secret,\u2019 he said. \u2018No-one has a fucking clue.\u2019
\n \u2018That\u2019s not good enough,\u2019 I said. \u2018I need this.\u2019
\n \u2018A good start,\u2019 Syph said. Close up, he was getting that Mick Jagger pixie-testicle look.
\n \u2018What is?\u2019
\n \u2018Need<\/em>,\u2019 he cried. \u2018Let your need out, rhythmically, melodically. Say what you gotta say.\u2019
\n \u2018But \u2013 \u2019
\n \u2018\u201cA Man Needs a Maid,\u201d\u2019 Syph cooed \u2013 \u2018how embarrassing for Neil to have to write that<\/em>. Imagine him sitting alone on his ranch, faced with that shit<\/em> as the next line to put on top of C, F and G. But it couldn\u2019t be denied. \u201cDon\u2019t be Denied.\u201d It\u2019s all there in his great works. \u201cHelpless\u201d, like the rest of us, before the sounds.\u2019
\n \u2018Is this from an interview?\u2019 I asked. \u2018You\u2019ve said this before \u2013 I\u2019ve read it somewhere.\u2019
\n \u2018Don\u2019t be so cynical,\u2019 he said. \u2018This is the truth. You don\u2019t just go up to the universe, tap it on the shoulder and say, \u201cGive me a song.\u201d Believe me, I\u2019ve tried. I\u2019ve climbed mountains just to beg from the highest point. Doesn\u2019t work. If you don\u2019t have something it will kill you not to say, nothing\u2019s happening.\u2019
\n \u2018What do I<\/em> need to say?\u2019 I asked the question before he did.
\n \u2018Do you need to say anything? You never used to.\u2019
\n \u2018I think I do.\u2019
\n \u2018Think<\/em> means you don\u2019t.\u2019
\n \u2018I want to write one good song.\u2019
\n \u2018The worst songs in the history of the world, my friend, have been scientifically proved to be songs about wanting to write songs. See Van Morrison\u2019s \u201cBang Sessions\u201d for a takedown of that shit. You need to need your need. If you\u2019re too Zen\u2019d out with contentment, then the Muse will not descend.\u2019
\n \u2018You\u2019ve seen the Muse?\u2019 I asked, after a pause to show him I was serious.
\n \u2018She takes many forms, some inhuman.\u2019
\n \u2018She was the girl in the coffee bar?\u2019
\n \u2018Oh no,\u2019 said Syph. \u2018You never see her face, at first \u2013 she\u2019s always looking the opposite direction.\u2019
\n \u2018You never \u2013 \u2019
\n \u2018You sing to get her attention because you know she\u2019s the most beautiful thing ever. Even more beautiful than the last most beautiful thing. But she never turns until the last verse.\u2019
\n \u2018And what does she look like?\u2019
\n \u2018Different every time,\u2019 said Syph. \u2018More beautiful every time.\u2019
\n \u2018This is so unfair,\u2019 I said. \u2018You\u2019re telling me something I absolutely can\u2019t believe.\u2019
\n \u2018Robert Graves was no faker,\u2019 Syph replied. \u2018He knew his shit.\u2019
\n \u2018You know Robert Graves?\u2019
\n \u2018Practically by heart.\u2019
\n \u2018Quote.\u2019
\n \u2018The White Goddess<\/em> or a poem.\u2019
\n \u2018Oh, fuck it. I believe you.\u2019
\n \u2018The Muse is never the wife,\u2019 Syph said. \u2018Structurally, it just isn\u2019t possible. Apologies to Esther.\u2019
\n \u2018No,\u2019 I said, \u2018I\u2019m not going there again.\u2019
\n Miniskirt.
\n \u2018It was you she wanted, really,\u2019 said Syph. \u2018That was obvious. I can give you her number, or you could turn up on Friday, instead of me.\u2019
\n \u2018I do not<\/em> need to fuck a waitress to write a song.\u2019
\n \u2018You do,\u2019 said Syph. \u2018Or you need to fuck something. Or something needs to fuck you. No fucking, no needing; no needing, no song.\u2019
\n \u2018Is that a syllogism?\u2019
\n \u2018It\u2019s all you\u2019re getting,\u2019 said Syph. \u2018The rest you\u2019ll have to work out for yourself.\u2019
\n He motioned to the passenger door.
\n \u2018What?\u2019 I said.
\n \u2018You wanted to walk,\u2019 he said. \u2018Walk.\u2019<\/p>\n
\n Home.
\n To my wife. And children.
\n Song-less, song-less, song-less.<\/p>\n
\n The female barista stood there ten minutes, looking at her phone, looking gorgeous, before I crossed to her.
\n \u2018He couldn\u2019t make it,\u2019 I said. \u2018He\u2019s really sorry,\u2019 I said.
\n \u2018I saw you parked,\u2019 she said. \u2018Don\u2019t try to be nice.\u2019
\n \u2018He\u2019s always like this,\u2019 I said.
\n \u2018I knew he wouldn\u2019t come. But being stood up by him was at least a story.\u2019
\n A guy I recognized walked up to us.
\n \u2018No show?\u2019 he asked.
\n He was one of the people from the other tables, the tweeters \u2013 following up the hashtag. It was mouth-frappuccino, the already-bald guy.
\n \u2018If you do not leave,\u2019 I said, \u2018I will kill you, you lowlife fucker.\u2019
\n \u2018Can I quote you on that, O Boddhisatva,\u2019 he said.
\n \u2018You can quote my lawyer,\u2019 I said.
\n \u2018That\u2019s Rex,\u2019 said the female, after Rex took his dark jacket and dry-cleaned chinos round the corner. \u2018He asks me out once a full moon.\u2019
\n \u2018I am sorry for my colleague,\u2019 I said. \u2018I mean, for Syph. He\u2019s the world\u2019s biggest asshole.\u2019
\n \u2018But the songs<\/em>,\u2019 she said.
\n \u2018That\u2019s too neat,\u2019 I said, to the universe. \u2018I refuse to have you make it that fucking neat.\u2019
\n \u2018What?\u2019 she asked.
\n \u2018I need a drink,\u2019 I said. \u2018Know anywhere?\u2019
\n We started to walk.
\n \u2018You note,\u2019 she said. \u2018I am not \u2013 I repeat not – wearing a miniskirt.\u2019
\n \u2018I don\u2019t have a torture room,\u2019 I said.
\n \u2018Of course<\/em> you do,\u2019 she said.
\n She was right, I just call it my mind.<\/p>\n
\n We were back on the street, outside the bar full of people her age.
\n \u2018So that was a set-up? You don\u2019t really fancy him?\u2019
\n \u2018Oh, I\u2019ve slept with him already,\u2019 she said. \u2018No exchange of phone numbers took place.\u2019
\n \u2018I see,\u2019 I said. \u2018Then why the $20?\u2019
\n \u2018I think he wanted to be certain. I\u2019m a little random, otherwise.\u2019
\n I began to understand.
\n \u2018And you\u2019re here tonight because.\u2019
\n \u2018I thought he might show. Got nowhere else to be.\u2019
\n \u2018Turn away from me,\u2019 I said. \u2018I\u2019d like to see the back of your head.\u2019
\n She showed me it.
\n Black hair.
\n \u2018Hmm,\u2019 I said, getting nothing, getting nowhere.
\n \u2018You guys are weird,\u2019 she said. \u2018He wanted me to do that, too.\u2019
\n \u2018Give me your phone,\u2019 I said, and \u2013 after some fumbling with my own phone \u2013 dialled Syph\u2019s number.
\n He did pick up, which surprised me.
\n \u2018You fucker,\u2019 I said. \u2018You told me the truth.\u2019
\n \u2018Who is this?\u2019 he said over and over, until it became funny.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"