Дэвид Митчелл - Utopia Avenue

‘Hi. Mind if I disturb you?’

‘You’re welcome. Just mind the roaches.’

Gene Clark peers down to examine the squashed bugs. ‘There but for the grace of God.’ Jasper’s unsure what a normal response might be so he shrugs and hopes for the best. The visitor is dressed in a fuchsia shirt, loose mauve string tie, green trousers and gleaming Anello and Davide boots. He pulls a chair out. ‘Just wanted to say, I really dig your LP. Your guitar playing’s out of this world. Did you teach yourself?’

‘I had a Brazilian teacher for a while. Mostly, I taught myself. In a long continuum of rooms.’

The singer looks as if Jasper’s answer was strange. ‘You taught yourself good. When I heard “Darkroom”, I thought, “ How in hell did Pink Floyd get Eric Clapton to play with ’em? ” It’s great.’

That’s a compliment , Jasper realises. Give one back. ‘Thank you. The album you made with the Gosdin Brothers is a banquet. “Echoes” is remarkable. That uphill F major seventh is ingenious.’

‘So that’s an F major seventh?’ Gene Clark taps ash. ‘I call it “F demented”. I liked how the album turned out. Too bad it sold shit. It came out the same time as my old band released their Younger Than Yesterday LP and it vanished down a hole …’

Jasper guesses that it’s his turn to speak. ‘Are you touring?’

‘Just a few dates, here in Holland and Belgium. They dig me here. Enough for a promoter to fly me over, anyway.’

‘I thought you quit the Byrds because of a fear of flying?’

Gene Clark stubs out his cigarette. ‘I quit the Byrds ’cause I was tired of flying. Tired of that life, of the screams, of the faces, of the fame. So I quit. Fame moulds itself onto your face. Then it moulds your face. Fame brings you immunity from the usual rules. That’s why the law doesn’t like us. If a freak with a guitar doesn’t have to abide by the rules of the great and the good, why should anyone? Problem is, if fame is a drug, it’s hard to kick.’

‘But you did kick it, Mr Clark,’ says Jasper. ‘You walked away from the American Beatles.’

Gene Clark examines the callous on his hand. ‘I did. And guess what? Now it’s gone, I want it back. How do I earn a living, without fame? Playing coffee houses for beer money won’t cut it. I miss being someone. When I had fame, fame was killing me. Now it’s gone, anonymity is killing me.’

Shocking Blue’s ‘Lucy Brown Is Back In Town’ wafts down the corridor. The saxophone solo’s great. The song itself is not.

‘We’ll give you a home in Utopia Avenue,’ says Jasper.

Gene Clark flashes his smile as if Jasper was joking. ‘Am I life’s greatest fool? Is all pop just a fad? Do we all get replaced by some new Johnny Thunder and the Thunderclaps after X many years? Or could we still be in this game when we’re sixty-four? Who can tell?’

‘Time,’ says Jasper.

The last chords of the recorded ‘Mona Lisa Sings The Blues’ die away and the assistant producer holds up a Dutch sign saying ‘APPLAUS’. The audience obliges. Jasper recognises Sam Verwey, his old busking partner and classmate at the art college. Verwey gives him a double thumbs-up. The band is ushered over to a sofa alongside Henk Teuling. The presenter of Fenklup is a walrus of a man dressed like a civil servant. Addressing the camera, he speaks scholarly Dutch as if to atone for the show’s hippie visuals. ‘The British band Utopia Avenue, playing “The Darkroom” and “Mona Lisa Sings The Blues”. Their guitarist Jasper de Zoet is “half Dutch” – and a scion of the famous de Zoet shipping family. Am I correct?’

‘Mostly,’ replies Jasper. ‘Shall we speak in English?’

‘Naturally.’ Henk Teuling gives a magnanimous smile and indicates Elf. ‘Why don’t you introduce this lovely lady first?’

‘This is Elf,’ says Jasper, ‘who wrote “Mona Lisa”.’

Elf gives a cool wave at the camera and makes a valiant stab at ‘ Goodag, Nederlands .’

Members of the audience shout, ‘We love you, Elf!’

‘So I must ask,’ says the host, ‘why are you in a band with three guys? This is very unconventional. Did you apply to join the band? Or did the band invite you?’

‘We … sort of auditioned each other,’ says Elf.

‘People suggest you were hired as a gimmick.’

Elf’s face becomes more complicated. ‘I’m hardly likely to say yes to that, am I? I mean – were you hired as a gimmick?’

‘But an elf is a little magic person with pointy ears. Yet you are not little, not magic, and do not have pointy ears.’

‘It’s a family nickname. My birth certificate names are “Elizabeth Frances”. “El” plus “F” makes “Elf”.’

Henk Teuling takes this in. ‘I see. Do you dig Amsterdam?’

‘I love it. It’s so … improbable. Yet here it is.’

‘Precisely so.’ Henk Teuling turns to Griff. ‘You are …’

Griff’s brow furrows. ‘I’m a fookin’ what?’

‘You are the drummer of Utopia Avenue.’

Griff looks over at the drum-kit, astonished. ‘Holy shit. You’re right. I am the drummer …’

‘And tonight you make your international debut at the Paradiso, here in Amsterdam. What does this show mean to you?’

‘It means I get to be interviewed by Henk Teuling.’

Henk Teuling nods as if considering a line of Immanuel Kant and turns to Dean. ‘You are Dean Moss. A bass guitarist. You wrote a song we did not hear just now entitled “Abandon Hope”. It was released as a second single. It was a flop. Why?’

‘One o’ them mysteries,’ says Dean. ‘Like, who hired yer?’

Henk Teuling smiles illegibly. ‘The British sense of humour. I am an eminent music critic in the Netherlands, and well qualified to present this programme. Which brings us to Utopia Avenue’s LP, Paradise Is the Road to Paradise .’ He shows the camera a copy of their album. ‘Some people say this LP is schizophrenic. How do you respond? Anyone?’

‘How can an LP be schizophrenic?’ asks Dean. ‘That’s like saying, “Your helicopter is manic depressive”.’

‘Yet, in fact, on this album we hear acid rock, folk with acid effects, R&B, folk interludes, passages of jazz. So “schizophrenic” is, in fact, an apt adjective for such inconsistency of style.’

‘Wouldn’t the adjective “eclectic” be more apt?’ asks Elf.

‘But into which category of music,’ Henk Teuling asks the three males, ‘can Utopia Avenue be located? Our viewers at home will be worrying about this question. The category .’

‘Locate it in an eclectic category,’ states Dean.

Jasper’s attention wanders off and finds Sam Verwey, who mimes hanging himself with a noose. A joke . Jasper mimes a smile. He finds he’s looking for Trix.

‘You have a view on this issue, Jasper?’ asks the eminent critic.

‘You’re like a zoologist asking a platypus, “Are you a duck-like otter? Or an otter-like duck? Or an oviparous mammal?” The platypus doesn’t care. The platypus is digging, swimming, hunting, eating, mating, sleeping. Like the platypus, I don’t care. We make music we like. We hope others like it too. That’s it.’

The producer is making a time-up gesture. Henk Teuling addresses the camera. ‘We will finish here. Some people will find the music by these four platypuses unfocused, confusing and too loud. Some people may enjoy it. I will prejudice no one. Next up, making their third appearance on Fenklup with their newest hit, “Jennifer Eccles”, I am proud to present a genuine British pop sensation – the Hollies!’

The black waters of the Singel Canal reflect the street lamps spaced along its curving banks. Pale globes fragment, resolve, fragment, resolve. Jasper crosses the narrow bridge and enters Roomolenstraat, exactly the kind of street that foreigners picture when they think of Amsterdam: brick-paved, with lampposts, tall narrow houses with tall narrow windows, steep gables and flower boxes. Halfway along its modest length, he finds the number he is searching for and a name-plaque atop the brass doorbell: GALAVAZI. Once Jasper’s thumb is on the doorbell, however, his resolve fragments. He’s no master of social etiquette, but he’s pretty sure that normal people telephone before turning up on a doorstep after five years. More than that, if you push this bell, Knock Knock’s return is official. Jasper senses the present bifurcate, right now. Or I could walk away and hope for the best.