Roddy Doyle: The Commitments

— AN’ DON’T FORGET NEW ORLEANS — THE HOME O’ THE BLUES —

OH YEAH —

WE’RE COMIN’ HOME —

All The Commitments could see now after the front rows was hands in the air, clapping, and a few women on boyfriends’ backs. Outspan grinned. Derek laughed. This was great.

— THE NIGH’ TRAIN —

CARRIES ME HOME —

THE NIGH’ TRAIN —

CARRIES ME HOME —

SHO’ NUFF IT DOES —

Jimmy looked at Dave from Eejit. He was smiling.

Deco and the girls chugged while The Commitments brought the train around for the home stretch.

Deco broke away from the girls.

He growled: —STARTIN’ OFF IN CONNOLLY —

Screams, roars and whistles.

— MOVIN’ ON OU’ TO KILLESTER —

Everyone jumped in time, including Dave from Eejit. And Jimmy.

— HARMONSTOWN RAHENY —

AN’ DON’T FORGET KILBARRACK — THE HOME O’ THE BLUES —

HOWTH JUNCTION BAYSIDE —

GOIN’ HOME —

THEN ON OU’ TO SUTTON WHERE THE SNOBBY BASTARDS LIVE —

OH YEAH —

OH YEAH —

The crowd sang with Deco.

— NIGH’ TRAIN —

COMIN’ HOME FROM THE BOOZER —

NIGH’ TRAIN —

COMIN’ HOME FROM THE COMMITMENTS —

NIGH’ TRAIN —

GETTIN’ SICK ON THE BLOKE BESIDE YEH —

NIGH’ TRAIN —

BUT IT DOESN’T MATTER COS HE’S ASLEEP —

NIGH’ TRAIN —

CARRIES ME HOME —

NIGH’ TRAIN —

CARRIES ME HOME —

NIGH’ TRAIN —

TO ME GAFF —

NIGH’ TRAIN —

CARRIES ME HOME —

OH YEAH —

OH YEAH —

Then The Commitments did it all over again. There wasn’t time for an encore but it didn’t matter.

The Commitments were delighted with themselves.

— You’re professionals, Brothers and Sisters, said Joey The Lips. — You ooze soul.

— That’s a lovely thing to say, Joey. You ooze soul too. — I blush.

Dave from Eejit came over to the platform.

— Great show, said Dave.

— Thanks, pal, said Mickah.

— Very visual, said Dave.

— Didn’t sound bad either, did it? said Mickah.

— It sounded great, said Dave. — Ladies, wonderful. Amazing.

— Thanks very much, said Natalie.

— Yeah, said Bernie, — thanks.

— See now, said Natalie. — We’re wonderful.

— Amaaazing, said Imelda.

Dave went over to Jimmy.

— Can we talk, em?

— Jimmy.

— Jimmy, right. Can we talk? Over here, yeah?

They went into a far corner. Hot Press came with them.

— Did yeh like tha’, Dave? Jimmy asked.

— Great, terrific. — Great.

— They’re not bad at all, sure they’re not, Dave? said Jimmy. — They need a bit o’ polishin’ maybe.

— No, no, said Dave. — That’d ruin them. Leave them as they are. Raw, you know.

— Fair enough. Wha’ever yeh say. You’re the expert.

— The senior citizen. The trumpet, yeah? He’s a terrific idea.

— That’s Joey The Lips Fagan.

— Yeah.

— He played with James Brown.

— Right.

— Among others.

— The ladies too. — Great visuals.

Jimmy nearly laughed. He hid behind his glass. Then he asked Dave a question.

— Would yeh be interested in us, Dave?

— Yeah, right. Definitely.

Jimmy held his glass to his chest. He knew it would rattle if he put it on the table.

Dave continued.

— We release singles only. At the moment. We’re small, and happy that way, yeah? We’re not in it for the lucre, yeah? You heard the Reality Margins single? Trigger Married Silver and Now They’re Making Ponies? From the Fanning session?

Jimmy lied.

— Yeah. — It was very good.

— That was Eejit. — It didn’t get the airplay. They were scared of it, you know. — We sign bands for one single, yeah? No fee, sorry. We pay for the studio time so long as it’s not more than a day, and the producer. We do the package. A good picture cover. You’ve seen the label

— Yeah, said Jimmy.

He wasn’t lying this time.

— It’s good — very nice.

Hot Press spoke. — Dave set up Eejit as a springboard for new bands. The Eejit record is meant to be the first step on the ladder. The idea is that the major labels hear it and if they like you they sign you. The Eejit single is to help you get a proper contract. It gives you a voice.

— That’s right, said Dave.

— Tha’ sounds fair enough, said Jimmy. — That’d be great. Has it worked so far?

— Yes and no, yeah? said Dave. — Reality Margins are before their time.

Hot Press laughed.

Dave explained.

— My little brother plays percussion for Reality Margins, yeah? But you know The Baby Docs?

— Yeah. — Bitin’ the Pillow. — Yeah, it’s good, tha’.

— CBS and Rough Trade are sniffing there, said Dave.

— That’s good, said Jimmy. — I hope it works ou’ okay for them now.

— So, Jimmy, said Dave. — Tell me. — Would The Commitments be interested in recording Night Train for us?

— I’d say they would, yeah, said Jimmy. (And to himself — Yeh fuckin’ budgie, yeh!)

— You don’t know for sure?

— We’re a democratic group, Dave, said Jimmy. — Soul is democracy.

— Right, said Dave. — We could put that on the sleeve.

— Good thinkin’.

— I see a double A-side, said Dave. — Side A, the studio Night Train. The other side A, the live Night Train.

— I like it, said Hot Press.

— I’d buy tha’, said Jimmy.

— It’d get the airplay, said Dave. — It’d sell. It’d chart, yeah? It’s good, unspoilt roots stuff, you know. — Pure. — And very fuckin’ funny.

Jimmy washed his giggles back with the last of his pint.

— Would we have to pay you annythin’, Dave? he asked.

— No, said Dave. — It’s cool. — We’re funded by the Department of Labour, yeah? Youth employment, yeah? They pay me. Any profit goes back into Eejit.

— Go ’way! said Jimmy. — That’s grand.

— I suppose I’m just a hippy, you know, said Dave. — And my parents are rich. — Are The Commitments on the dole?

— Some o’ them.

— That’s good, said Dave. — The Department will like that.

Hot Press laughed.

— We’d have to sign somethin’, wouldn’t we? said Jimmy.

— Right, yeah. A simple, one-off contract, yeah?

— We could do tha’ annytime.

— Right.

— Yeh don’t have one on yeh, I suppose?

— Tomorrow.

— Okay, righ’. —I’ll see if I can talk the group into it. Will we have to meet annyone?

— No.

— No one from Eejit?

— I’m Eejit.

Hot Press laughed again.

— Just yourself?

— Just myself, said Dave.

He pretended to type.

— I’m even the secretary, yeah?

— Fair play to yeh, Dave, said Jimmy.

Jimmy went to the door with them. They said their goodbyes and arranged to meet the next night in The Bailey.

Jimmy took some deep breaths.

That was perfect. The Commitments wouldn’t be tied to a little gobshite label run by hippies. Just the one single (Night Train would be a big hit in Dublin) and the big boys would be queuing up for The Commitments, readies in hand. Jimmy wondered if they should wait a bit before they gave up their jobs.

Jimmy took one more long breath, clapped his hands, rubbed them, and went back inside to tell The Commitments.

But they didn’t exist any more. Somewhere in the quarter of an hour Jimmy had been negotiating with Dave from Eejit, The Commitments had broken up.

Outspan and Derek were the only ones still at the platform. The rest were gone.

Jimmy leaned against the wall.

— Wha’?

— They all fucked off, said Outspan.