The rehearsal studio was icy cool, the air conditioning
cranked up to max.
But his bassist was still concerned for his boss and long-time
friend.
The still handsome face was puffy, and sweat oozed constantly
from a forehead still free from wrinkles. As he sat at the
piano, there seemed a quiet air of desperation about him,
he sipped constantly at coke and seemed very reflective
Normally he didn鈥檛 like to record a tune that had
been a hit for someone else, but the tune was just too good
to ignore.
The band stirred uneasily, it was getting to be a real strain
nowadays, the mood swings getting more erratic, never knowing
if he was going to knuckle down, or just mess about, going
off at a tangent, sometimes lost in a world only he could
see.
But this was big, a satellite audience of millions, the
TV company investing heavily, no day for tantrums or childish
behaviour, taking care of business was the watchword from
The Colonel,鈥 be firm with my boy鈥 he had told
the TV executives,鈥 he鈥檚 had a few problems,
but you know he still has the power, y鈥檃ll just gotta
coax it outa him鈥.
Looking at the stresses on his boss鈥檚 jump suit, the
bassist worried some more, how could his friend have gotten
so out of shape? When he looked at the svelte figure on
the 鈥68 come-back special, a healthy 12 stones, now鈥aybe
19,all sorts of circulatory problems, and this steaming
hot summer wasn鈥檛 helping..It was only June, goddamn,
felt more like the back end of August, he was filled with
a sense of foreboding, it felt like something was coming,
something he was powerless to stop.
An effete looking executive strode over his hands clasped
together,鈥 are we ready to get the show on the road
sir鈥 he obsequiously inquired of the boss,鈥
sure are鈥 was the languid reply.
Getting up from the piano and wrapping a towel around his
neck, the boss led his entourage down a connecting tunnel,
closely shadowed by his closest buddies. In the garage he
struggled to get into the limousine, sweat continued to
pour off him, but the make up girls would prep him, and
later it would seem the sweating was caused by the effort
he put into his music.
The bassist was nervous, some idiot had the idea that he
should hold the mike at the piano for the boss, instead
of a fixed mike. What was the point? Still, maybe when the
video came out, he鈥檇 get even more letters from girls
offering him dates, still he wasn鈥檛 entirely sure.
He hoped the boss wouldn鈥檛 ramble to the audience
tonight, that shit was getting weirder, talking about his
momma, his dead twin, his army days, weird stuff, still
the audience still seemed mesmerised by him, that thankfully
hadn鈥檛 changed much.
鈥淥k, ten minutes to show time鈥, the sound of
the clapper-board was like thunder, the boss was prepped,
and trying to keep cool, his doctor was fussing around and
the sounds of the audience were filtering through, adrenalin
began to pump around the room. The bassist swallowed a downer
to equalise the lift caused by the adrenalin rush, even
after all these years the excitement was still incredible,
the band was tight, it was just the boss occasionally got
a bit unstable nowadays, sometimes it was hard to read him,
hard to figure his mood swings. Still, the bassist knew
there were many who would kill to have a job like his, backing
the greatest entertainer of the century.
And then it was happening, a medley of the old favourites,
the boss holding it together, the band hitting every note
perfectly, the audience, a mixture of grand-mothers, mothers
and teens hypnotised by a legend. Caught up in the moment
few noticed the little distress signs, the high notes covered
by the backing girls and creative cymbal strikes.
At the piano, the bassist sent up a silent prayer, 鈥漊nchained
Melody鈥 required all of 鈥淭he Kings鈥 remaining
strength, one flat note would ruin everything, at rehearsal
it had been touch and go on several takes, but once the
boss decided on a tune, no-one ever could change his mind,
but this tune was incredibly tough, with no room for error
in front of a live audience. Sure the tape could be edited
and sorted prior to transmission, but credibility with an
audience was everything.
And then they were into it, the boss totally consumed by
the tune, halfway through, knowing he was controlling it
perfectly, he turned and gave the audience that famous grin,
then he turned his gaze up at the bassist, and years of
communication were contained in that look, a cosmic message
passed between them, and the bassist knew this was a final
moment, it would never come again.
That evening was the last time they would ever play together,
less than six weeks later the boss was gone, and the world
mourned not just the man and his art, but also a part of
themselves which he had taken with him.
