By James L Gordon
The main band was called Quintessence. The members
wore cotton pajamas and sandals and were religious
Hindus.
“Why Batman?” asked Chris, of the rambling instrumental
being played at the time.
Eric’s lips creased under the glasses. “Atman. Sanscrit
for individual soul.”
During it a major fight started. The lead singer,
apparently unruffled, continued to the end, when he
spoke softly into the microphone.
“Peace, brothers.”
From the wings appeared an elderly priest in a saffron
robe, who bowed with palms together, murmuring Hindi
into the microphone. Whether it was the shock of hearing
something so out of keeping, or because the management
had managed to regain control, the fighting in the
hall abruptly ceased, though it evidently persisted
outside.
“Shanti, Shanti,” proclaimed the priest, dispensing
heavenly smiles, scooping up air with his palms.
After the current round of gigs had
abated a little,
Sarah asked John to take her to a May Ball.
“Have you heard me say, balls sufficiently describe
themselves?”
“Yes, I have, bear. However, I must point out. You are
playing at one.”He shrugged. “So, why pay all that
money when you can sample one
for free?”
She took his arm. “To be honest, bear, I would rather
you weren’t rushing off to perform or meet some journalist
or something. Just you and me enjoying ourselves?
Yes?”
Thus they came to attend the Jesus May Ball, which
featured Mellow Yellow, plus someone called David
Bowie. The Yellows played a deafening, raucous set, with
two thousand watts worth of Marshall equipment, so
loud you could only have heard them at all clearly five
miles away.
Sarah pulled John across the crowded marquee. As
they started to dance, jerking and moving his arms in the
usual freeform manner, John recognised a Tech
colleague. The other saw them, found his way over.
“Mandy,” said John, recognising the partner as well,
but from a different connection. She was a social worker
who had quite recently moved into a small room on the
top floor at the Labyrinth.
“You know each other?”
John introduced Sarah, then Brian.
“Colleague of mine at the Tech. Also plays in a rock
band.”
“Drummer,” said Brian. He held the neck of a champagne
bottle. He shook back his shock of thick fair hair,
offered the bottle to John, who took it and drank from
it, handed it back.
“I didn’t know you two…..you know…”
“Last minute thing, actually,” said Brian, shouting
above the music. “My date ran out on me, so I asked
Mandy at the last minute. Fancied her for ages,” he said,
grinning disarmingly. She looked up at him, sharply; but
then her look softened, and she put her head on his
shoulder.
“I’m finding the Yellows a bit loud,” said John.
“Thought we’d go and have a look at this Bowie fellow.”
“”Bit folky for me,” said Brian.
“Folky? I wouldn’t have thought so,” said Sarah.
“He’s playing a solo set,” said Mandy.
“I think we’re more in the mood for an ear-
said Brian. He grinned as a new wall of sound hit them
from the Yellows. John pointed towards the Bowie tent
and they started moving away.
“Thought he had a girlfriend already,” said John as
they strolled between the marquees.
“Several I should think. He’s a very attractive man,”
said Sarah.
“Oh he is, is he?”
“Don’t be silly, bear.”
“Nice to see Mandy letting her hair down, anyway.”
Bowie played a twelve-
swelling white blouse with a ruff. John observed how
effeminate he looked, and got a warning look from Sarah.
Not unlike themselves in their Elizabethan mode of
the Purcell Room performance, Bowie was nervous, but
this gave an edge to his singing. A large group of girls
right at the front, kept up a steady barrage of admiring
sighs and expressions of delight throughout.
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© J L Gordon 2009