Roddy Doyle: The Commitments

— I phoned his house yesterday. Can yeh believe tha’? I never done ann’thin’ like tha’ before. No way. — His oul’ one — I s’pose it was his oul’ one annyway — answered. I said nothin’. —I just listened.

— Yeh’d want to get a grip on yourself, son. You’re talkin’ like a fuckin’ spacer.

— I know, I fuckin’ know. Do yeh not think I know? — That’s why I’ve left. I never want to have to look at the cunt again. — Want to get him ou’ o’ me life, know wha’ I mean? — I made up me mind durin’ I Thank You. The way he was shovin’ his arse into your women at the front. It was fuckin’ disgustin’. —Annyway I’ve left, so — I’ve left.

— He’s not worth hatin’.

— He fuckin’ is, yeh know.

Jimmy looked at Billy. He’d left alright. There was no point trying to talk him back in. That made Jimmy angry.

— Annyone can play the drums, Billy. — So fuck off.

— Ah, Jimmy!

— Go an’ shite.

— I want me drums.

— After the gig.

— It’s my van, remember.

— We’ll hire a van. No, we’ll buy one. A better one than your scabby van.

Jimmy was going over to the platform but he turned back to Billy.

— A light blue one with The Commitments written on the side in dark blue. An’ Billy The Animal Mooney Is A Bollox on the back, righ’.

Billy said nothing.

When a Man Loves a Woman was over. They were going to do Knock on Wood now.

Jimmy got a drum stick and stood behind a snare drum.

The others watched.

— Righ’, said Jimmy. — Are yis righ’?

— BLAM —

— Come on.

— BLAM —

— James, come on.

— BLAM —

By the end of Knock on Wood Jimmy thought he’d proved his point: anyone could play the drums.

It had been a great gig, Hot Press told Jimmy. Dublin needed something like The Commitments, to get U2 out of its system. He’d be doing a review for the next issue. Then he asked for his two pounds back.

* * *

The Commitments didn’t see Billy again. He didn’t live in Barrytown.

Mickah called for Jimmy on Friday. There was a rehearsal in Joey The Lips’ mother’s garage. When they got to the bus stop Mickah spoke.

— Jimmy, have I ever asked yeh for annythin’?

— Yeah.

Mickah hadn’t banked on that answer.

— When?

— Yeh asked me for a lend o’ me red biro in school. To rule a margin because E.T. said as far as he was concerned your homework wasn’t done till it had a margin.

— Jimmy, said Mickah. — I’m bein’ serious. Now will yeh treat me with a little respect, okay. Now have I ever asked yeh for annythin’?

— No.

— That’s better. — Well, I’m goin’ to ask yeh for somethin’ now.

— I’ve no money.

— Jimmy, said Mickah. — I’m tryin’ me best. But I’m goin’ to have to hit yeh.

He was leaning into Jimmy.

— Wha’ is it? said Jimmy.

— Let me play the drums.

— I was goin’ —

— Let me play the drums.

— Fair enough.

* * *

So Mickah was the new drummer. He even had a name for himself.

— Eh, Washin’ton D.C. Wallace.

The Commitments laughed. It was good.

— The D.C. stands for Dead Cool, said Mickah.

— Oh yeah, said Imelda. — That’s very clever, tha’ is.

They were waiting for Dean and James.

Joey The Lips spoke. — We have lost The Animal, Brothers and Sisters. We’ll miss him. But we have a good man in his place, a city of a man. Washington D.C.

Jimmy took over.

— We’ve had our first crisis, righ’, but we’re over it. We’re still The Commitments. An’ we’re reachin’ our audience. Yeh saw tha’ yourselves on Wednesday.

Jimmy let them remember Wednesday for a bit. It had been a good night.

— We’ll dedicate our first album to Billy.

— We will in our holes, said Outspan.

— Ahh — why not? said Bernie.

— We’d have to pay him.

— Would we?

— Fuck him so.

Joey The Lips went into the house to answer the phone.

Dean arrived while Joey The Lips was gone. He’d had his hair cropped.

— Jaysis, Dean, wha’.

He was wearing his shades.

— Dean, your shirt’s gorgeous.

— Thanks.

Joey The Lips came back.

— Brother James on the telephone, Brothers. He can’t make it. He has a mother of an examination. — Tomorrow.

Joey The Lips had just seen Dean.

— Is the wattage of the bulb too strong for you, Dean?

Outspan and Derek laughed.

— It’s the flowers on his shirt he’s protectin’ his eyes from, said Deco.

— Leave him alone. It’s lovely.

Jimmy clapped his hands.

— Let’s get goin’. —Come on. We’ll keep it short.

— Yeah, said Bernie. — Rehearsals are borin’.

— We need some fresh tunes, said Joey The Lips. He patted Bernie’s shoulder.

— Let’s break Mickah in first, said Jimmy.

— That’s Washin’ton D.C. durin’ office hours, said Mickah.

He was behind the drum. There was only the one.

— Can we call yeh Washah for short? said Outspan.

— Yeh can, said Mickah, — but you’ll get a hidin’ for yourself.

— Washin’ton D.C., said Derek. — That’s a deadly name, Mickah.

Mickah smacked the drum.

— Nothin’ to it.

He smacked it again.

— That’s fuckin’ grand. — Child’s play.

— Try it with both sticks.

He did.

— There. — How was tha’?

— Grand.

— Can we go home now? said Mickah.

Mickah was a good addition. The Commitments liked him and his enthusiasm came at the right time.

They enjoyed his mistakes and his questions. They rehearsed again on Monday night. They wanted Mickah ready for Wednesday.

Mickah took the drum home with him. His da, the only harder man than Mickah in Barrytown, burned the sticks. His ma bought him a new set.

* * *

The Commitments were a revitalized outfit on the third Wednesday of the residency. They all arrived on time. The Commitmentettes had new tights, with little black butterflies behind the ankles. Mickah wore Jimmy’s suit. James had a bottle of Mister Sheen. He polished the piano.

— More elbow grease there, said Outspan.

Jimmy took in the money at the door, one hundred and forty-six pounds. That meant thirteen more people than the week before. And that didn’t include Hot Press and the three others with him he’d let in for nothing.

The Commitments played well.

Outspan and Derek had become very confident. The Commitmentettes were brilliant. They looked great, very glossy, and their sense of humour showed in their stage movements.

They were enjoying themselves.

Mickah tapped and thumped happily on the drum, sometimes using his fingers or his fist, once his forehead. His shoulders jumped as he drummed, way up over his ears.

One thing spoiled Jimmy’s enjoyment: Dean’s solo in Stop in the Name of Love. The Commitmentettes were at their best. They raised their right hands every time they sang STOP. Then they’d spin quickly before they continued with IN THE NAME OF LOVE. Mickah kept his eyes on them and his timing and their timing were perfect.

Dean’s solo was good. It was really good, but it was new. It wasn’t the one he’d always done.

Joey The Lips explained what was wrong with it later.

— Soul solos have corners. They fit into the thump-thump-thump-thump. The solo is part of the song. Are you with me?

— No.

— Strictly speaking, Brother, soul solos aren’t really solos at all.

— Ah, Jaysis, Joey —

— Shhh — There are no gaps in soul. If it doesn’t fit it isn’t used. Soul is community. As Little Richard says, If It Don’t Fit Don’t Force It. Do you understand now?