Дэвид Митчелл - Utopia Avenue

The stylus lifted off and the arm clunked home.

Pigeons cooed in the June trees of Queens Gardens.

‘Shit the bed.’ Dean breathed a long and winding sigh.

‘Wow,’ said Levon. ‘ Wow. It’s an inner travelogue.’

‘I always pegged Ringo as a jammy beggar,’ said Griff, ‘but … how’d he play them drum parts? I do not have a fookin’ clue.’

‘The whole studio’s a meta-instrument,’ said Elf. ‘It’s as if they recorded it on a sixteen-track. But sixteen-tracks don’t exist.’

‘The bass,’ said Dean, ‘is that crisp, it’s like they recorded it last, as an overdub. Is that even possible?’

‘Only if they recorded the other parts to a rhythm track playing inside their heads,’ speculated Elf. ‘Is that possible?’

‘Good job they’ve stopped touring,’ said Dean. ‘They couldn’t play that live in a month o’ Sundays.’

‘Not touring,’ replied Griff, ‘freed ’em up to make this. They thought, Fook it, we’ll record what the hell we want .’

‘Only the Beatles can get away with not touring,’ Levon said. ‘Nobody else. Not even the Stones. Managerial footnote.’

‘Look at this sleeve.’ Elf held it up. ‘The colours, the collage, the way it opens up to reveal the lyrics. It’s stunning.’

‘Our LP should look that classy,’ said Dean.

‘That,’ Levon warned, ‘needs real love from the label.’

‘The lyrics in “Darkroom” are pushing it,’ said Griff, ‘but “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds”? Surely that’s LSD?’

‘What ’bout that stuff ’bout “I’d love to turn yer on” in that last one?’ said Dean. ‘He’s not talking about light switches.’

‘Have the Beatles just killed psychedelia?’ asks Elf. ‘How could anyone possibly top that?’

‘They’ve lit a fuse,’ said Levon. ‘“Darkroom” is perfect for the summer of Sergeant Pepper’s. This settles it, for me. “Darkroom” has to be the first Utopia Avenue single.’

An ice-cream van was playing ‘Oranges and Lemons’. The shimmering chords echoed off the stuccoed Georgian frontages of Queens Gardens. Jasper heard his name.

Everyone was looking at him. ‘What?’

‘I asked,’ said Dean, ‘what yer thought o’ the album.’

‘Why stick labels on the moon? It’s Art.’

Two weeks later, Jasper sees a familiar face in the mirror above the adjacent washbasin. The reflected face belongs to Elf’s dad. ‘Congratulations on the wedding, Mr Holloway.’

‘Ah, Jasper. Enjoying yourself?’

Jasper stops himself saying no but yes would be a lie so he says, ‘The prawn cocktail was excellent.’

For some reason Mr Holloway finds this amusing. ‘These occasions are for, and by, the womenfolk. I never said that.’

Jasper notes that now he shares a secret with Elf’s sister and Elf’s father. ‘Thanks for having your lawyer look at our contracts.’

‘Time will attest to Mr Frankland’s financial probity, but my lawyer assures me you didn’t sign your soul away this time around.’

Jasper attempts a witticism. ‘They come in handy, I’m told.’

Mr Holloway’s reflection frowns. ‘I beg your pardon?’

It fell flat. ‘Um … in folklore and religion, the soul is a useful thing to hang on to. That’s all.’

The roller-towel rattles. ‘Ah.’ The older man’s voice changes timbre. ‘Elf tells me you went to Bishop’s Ely. The top brass at my bank includes a few Old Elysians.’

‘I was only at Ely until I was sixteen. Then I moved to the Netherlands. My father’s Dutch, you see.’

‘How does he feel about you forfeiting the advantages of a top education on a “pop group”?’

Jasper watches Elf’s father dry his hands, finger by finger. ‘My father leaves me to my own devices.’

‘I’ve heard the Dutch are a permissive bunch.’

‘“Indifferent” might be truer than “permissive”.’

Mr Holloway pulls down the towel for the next user. ‘This much I do know. Any candidate for a job at my bank who played in a “band” would be rejected. Whatever school he went to.’

‘So you disapprove of Utopia Avenue?’

‘I’m Elf’s father. The band harms her prospects – and what about the occupational hazards? What if that bottle at Brighton had hit Elf? Scars may suit a chap, but they disfigure a girl.’

‘The worst clubs have cages to protect the performers.’

‘Was that meant to reassure me?’

‘Well –’ a trick question? ‘– yes.’

Mr Holloway’s stab of a laugh echoes off the walls. ‘To top it all, this so-called “underground culture” is awash with drugs.’

‘Drugs are everywhere. Statistically, a fifth of the wedding guests are taking Valium. Then we have tobacco, alcohol—’

‘Are you being wilfully dim with me?’

‘I don’t know how to be wilfully dim, Mr Holloway.’

The bank manager frowns as if a column of figures won’t add up. ‘ Illegal drugs. Drugs that – that “hook” you and … make you jump off buildings, and so forth.’

‘Do you mean LSD, specifically?’

‘According to The Times, there’s an epidemic.’

‘That’s a lurid word. People choose to use recreational drugs. Some of your employees may even use them.’

‘I assure you they do not !’ His voice goes up.

‘How do you know?’ Jasper’s stays low.

‘Because none of them are “junkies”!’

‘You enjoy a glass of wine, but you’re not an alcoholic. The same is true with drugs. It’s the pattern of consumption that does the damage. Heroin’s an exception, however. Heroin’s awful.’

A toilet cistern goes drip , drip , drip . Mr Holloway clasps his head. Exasperation ? ‘I’ve heard your song, “Darkroom”. The lyrics are … Well, are you admitting that the song is drawn from …’

Jasper knows not to guess the end of other people’s sentences.

‘… personal experiences of … drug-taking?’

‘“Darkroom” was inspired by a young German photographer I met. She had a darkroom. Psychotropic drugs and I wouldn’t mix well. I’ve a condition that LSD might well inflame. Amphetamines aren’t as dangerous, but I’d drop notes, fluff lyrics and so forth if I took them. I’m afraid I’m really rather straight.’

Mr Holloway narrows his eyes, glances around the Gents and looks back. ‘And, um … Elf?’ He’s sweating.

‘Elf’s the same.’

‘Ah.’ Mr Holloway nods. ‘You are a strange fish, young man. But I’m glad we had this talk.’

‘If I am a strange fish, I am an honest strange fish.’

The door bangs open and Griff wafts in, backwards. His hair is askew, his scar is livid and his tie is tied around his head. ‘King Griff’ll be back,’ he tells at least two laughing women, ‘once he’s sunk the Bismarck .’ The door swings shut. ‘Eh up, Zooto. Dean thought you’d flown off with Puff the Magic Dragon.’

Mr Holloway gapes at Griff. Dismay ?

Mr Holloway looks back at Jasper. Anger ?

Mr Holloway storms out. Who knows ?

‘What’s up with him?’ asks Griff. ‘It’s a wedding, not a funeral.’

Utopia Avenue start their slot with ‘Any Way The Wind Blows’. Elf sings and plays her acoustic guitar; Griff limits himself to brush-work, except for the point in the song when he got hit with the bottle at Brighton Poly – when he thumps on his bass drum, spins a stick in the air and catches it like a bandleader. The second song is Elf’s new song-in-progress, ‘Mona Lisa Sings The Blues’. She plays it on the piano. Dean complements her bass keys while Jasper noodles a solo in the middle. The women listen closely to the lyrics, which are changing with every rehearsal. Griff takes up his sticks for a beefy ‘I Put A Spell On You’ with Dean on vocals and Elf vamping on piano. Some of the younger guests begin dancing so the band stretch it out. Jasper plays a saxophonic solo on his Stratocaster. Looking up, he sees the bride and groom dancing. If I was better at envy, I’d envy those two: they have their families and they have each other. Bea is dancing, too, with a tall dark handsome student, though she looks at Jasper, who hands the solo to Dean, who plays a slapping bass run. Clive and Miranda Holloway stay seated. Jasper wishes he could read Elf’s father’s expression. He’s placed his hand on his wife’s, so maybe he’s calm again. Music connects. The Glossops are sitting in their chairs with their arms folded, stiff and visibly disgusted even to Jasper. Music can’t connect everyone …