Jam Tops, the Fonz and the Pursuit of Cool Page 8

  Nonetheless, Kev was an old hand at smoking and had been ‘doing it’ for at least six months so he had clearly earned the right to play ‘Smoking Sensei’ to his sibling’s ‘Gordy san’. In fact, most uncharacteristically, Kev was extremely willing to be of assistance - after all, nothing could be better than spending an afternoon watching his annoying little brother turning green and puking his guts up on the patio (needless to say, both Alan and Barb were out). Happily Kev (like ‘Lampwick’ to Gordy’s naive little ‘Pinnochio’) proffered his meagre pack of ten No.6 and Gordy tentatively took one.

  “Watch me,” Kev said proudly. “Then do exactly the same.”

  “Okay,” said Gordy, looking on keenly as his brother took out a cigarette for himself and lit it. He puffed it a couple of times until the end was glowing hot and then took a huge, long drag, breathing sharply in through his mouth and sucking the large quantity of smoke deep down into his lungs. He held it there for a couple of seconds and then pursed his lips and breathed it out in a long bluey grey plume - blowing a couple of fairly impressive smoke rings at the end - just to prove what an expert smoker he really was (in his eagerness to show off, Kev had actually inhaled much more smoke than intended and was desperate to cough but he fought against it, although his eyes did water somewhat, which he hoped his brother wouldn’t notice).

  “Now you try,” Kev croaked.

  Gordy lit the cigarette on the third try, once he’d worked out (with a bit of Kev’s help) that he had to suck it a bit in order to make it light. Then, as previously demonstrated by his brother, Gordy took an almighty drag then breathed in sharply through his mouth, forcing the smoke down into his unsuspecting lungs. Meanwhile, Kev looked on with delicious anticipation, waiting for the explosive coughing fit that was surely about to follow - possibly with a bit of sick too if he was really lucky - that would make it an even better story to relate to his mates.

  But no explosion came. There was no coughing, no green face, no vomiting, nothing. It was all very disappointing for Kev.

  Gordy held the smoke in his lungs for a couple of seconds and then just blew it out as if he’d been doing it all his life. It seemed as if he was a natural.

  “Doesn’t taste very nice does it?” He said.

  “Er, no. Don’t suppose it does really”, said Kev, still reeling with shock and bitter disappointment.

  “It’s alright though, I suppose”, continued Gordy, who went onto smoke the entire cigarette right down to the butt, although by this time Kev had lost interest and wandered off despondently, chuntering under his breath as he went. But Gordy didn’t mind because he was now officially a smoker and well on the way to becoming cool, which was excellent. Also, it meant that he had found something on The Cool List that not only could he mark down as ‘achieved’ but also something he was seemingly good at. Who would have thought it, Gordy Brewer - a natural born smoker - and that in itself, to Gordy at least, was exceptionally cool.

  That incident had happened over a week ago and since then Gordy had smoked several more cigarettes and was actually getting quite adept at it - although he still didn’t much care for the taste and he was still yet to master walking and smoking at the same time. He had tried it on several occasions but it just made him feel a bit woozy. But he was definitely making progress and was determined to persevere as he could almost sense the needle on the ‘Cool-o-meter’ rising with each cigarette he smoked.

  Gordy finished the cigarette - stolen from Kev’s packet the night before - and went back into the shop, taking his sunglasses off and putting his normal specs back on. For the time being, Gordy had partially abandoned his sunglasses regime as wearing them indoors just wasn’t practical (and because he could see sod all), so now he only wore them outside in the daylight. Also, since seeing that Reactolite Rapide advert on the telly he was secretly holding out for a pair of those - which would give him the best of both worlds - a pair of cool shades when outside and a pair of stylish and cool specs inside.

  Anyway, when he got back inside he found Daisy still flicking through albums and making notes and obviously having a wonderful time.

  “What are you doing?” Gordy asked.

  “I’m making a list for you,” she replied.

  “A list? For me? Why?”

  “To teach you about music of course.”

  Gordy didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, we’ve got this music shop all to ourselves and we’ve got all these great records to choose from and all the time in the world to listen to them. So I thought we’d start in some sort of order - to see exactly what you like.”

  “Oh.” Said Gordy, slightly impressed.

  “I thought we could choose a different style of music every day, starting with Rock ‘n’ Roll - which was sort of when music began - or at least proper music anyway. Then we could make a note of what you like and don’t like and sort of build from there. What do you think?” Daisy was clearly excited and had obviously put a lot of thought into the idea.

  “Er, yeah. Sounds great. Sure,” said Gordy. “Good idea.”

  “Good. Let’s get started then shall we?”

  “Um, okay. Who’s up first then?”

  “The King of Rock ‘n’ Roll himself. Elvis Aaron Presley!” grinned Daisy, clearly relishing her role as teacher and sounding worryingly like Tony Blackburn.

  “Oh,” said Gordy, frankly a little scared by his new friend’s slightly over-the-top enthusiasm. “Good.”

  ***

  As it turned out, Gordy liked Elvis. He liked Buddy Holly, too, and Bill Haley, Little Richard, The Big Bopper, Eddie Cochrane, Danny & The Juniors, Fats Domino, Jerry Lee Lewis as well as records by many more Rock ‘n’ Roll artists. He also really liked Daisy’s idea of listening to a different style of music everyday and his knowledge and appreciation of music started to grow steadily as each day passed.

  Also, by some strange coincidence, did the number of customers that frequented Bailey’s Bandstand.

  On Monday they made a good start.

  Genre: Rock ‘n’Roll. Customers: Three (and only two of those were Gordy’s mum and nan). The other customer was a middle-aged Teddy Boy who bought the soundtrack to That’ll Be The Day. Both Gordy and Daisy were a little bit intimidated by him at first but after he’d paid he said “Nice sounds, kids” and he immediately went up in their estimation.

  On Tuesday they listened to Jazz and Gordy discovered the likes of Miles Davies, Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, John Coltrane and Stan Getz as well as classics by Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday and Nina Simone.

  Genre: Jazz. Customers: Five (none of them any relation of Gordy’s - although one was Trevor). However, all four of the ‘proper’ customers were under sixty and keen Jazz fans who mentioned that they had heard the music playing as they passed by the shop and just had to come in and buy it.

  Wednesday was a boiling hot Summer’s day so they threw open the front door to let some much needed air and light into the shop and stuck on some Folk Rock - which really seemed to go well with the weather. They cranked up the volume on the brand new Thorn Ultra Stereogram with the rosewood case that sat on display close to the front door and played records by Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, The Mamas & The Papas, Crosby, Stills and Nash, The Lovin’ Spoonful and Simon and Garfunkel.

  Genre: Folk Rock. Customers: Fifteen (yes, fifteen - and only two of those were over the age of sixty and none of them were related to or, indeed, friendly with, Gordy). It was more customers in one day than Bailey’s Bandstand had seen in at least ten years and it had not even been a Saturday, which in Bradley Town Centre was traditionally the busiest day of the week by far. In addition to that the majority of those fifteen customers bought records in the Folk Rock genre and most of those the very record that Gordy and Daisy happened to be playing at the time. It was amazing.

  Gordy and Daisy realised that whatever music they
played seemed to have a direct impact on which kind of record the customers bought. So on Saturday they decided to test the theory.

  For one day only, they were going to abandon the plan of playing just one style of music and instead play a different style every hour. They would also leave the door open so that as many people as possible could hear what was being played.

  As it turned out, Saturday was another gloriously hot day and the Town Centre was packed with potential punters.

  At 9 o’clock sharp, Gordy opened the front door of Bailey’s Bandstand and Daisy put the first stack of singles onto the Thorn Ultra.

  As an opening gambit they had decided to go with some sixties pop from America which Daisy had convinced Gordy was ‘feel-good’ music and wouldn’t be too heavy for first thing on a Saturday morning. For the first hour they played hits by The Shangri-Las, The Ronnettes, The Marvelettes, The Chiffons and The Crystals and sure enough customers came in and bought them - they also tended to browse and buy other records in other genres whilst they were there.

  The second hour they played nothing but Tamla-Motown with exactly the same results, Then after that, Psychedelic Rock, Glam Rock, Disco, Ska, Mod and then, finally, finished with an hour of Punk Rock ending the day in a crescendo of sounds from The Clash, The Skids, The Damned, UK Subs, Sex Pistols, Buzzcocks, Stiff Little Fingers and The Stranglers - and for the first time ever, in the whole history of Bailey’s Bandstand, young people came into the shop in their droves.

  They sold records to mods, rockers, hippies, punks, rude boys (not that Gordy was aware that there was such a thing before the day started) and members of various other tribes as well as those who weren’t affiliated to any clan in particular. Gordy and Daisy served so many customers that they lost count of how many there were. It was truly astonishing. Also, the vast majority of these customers claimed that they didn’t even know the shop existed until that day.

  In the space of just eight and a half hours the shop itself had been transformed from a dull, grey, boring mausoleum into a lively, vibrant place full of fun, fashionable people who were happily singing along to the constant musical soundtrack and tapping their feet to the ever changing beat.

  For Gordy and Daisy it was a magical thing to be a part of as they chatted to the steady stream of hip young trendies who kept coming up to the counter to pay or to ask for a particular record (which, true to Mr. Bailey’s statement of having an eclectic mix available, they invariably had in stock). Amazingly, the majority of these people treated Gordy and Daisy as equals and many commended them on their choice of music. It was like they were suddenly both accepted - it didn’t seem to matter that one of them was a flat-chested ginger or the other was a tubby four-eyes or that they were both only fourteen (nearly fifteen). What mattered was the music and because of it they had been given a certain amount of respect.

  Was that what it was like to be cool? Gordy wondered. If so he wanted to be cool much more than ever.

  At the end of the very busy day, Gordy at last locked the front door and turned over the ‘closed’ sign. It had been brilliant and both he and Daisy had thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Not only that but the cash register was almost overflowing and when Mr. Bailey turned up a few minutes later to pick-up the day’s takings he couldn’t believe his eyes.

  It turned out that Gordy and Daisy had taken more money in just one day than Mr. Bailey ever had before - by an extremely long way. It was nothing short of phenomenal and by way of a thank you he gave them both an extra five pounds in their wages for that day.

  Everything in Gordy’s life suddenly seemed great. He had a great new job (not that he ever thought he’d say that about Bailey’s Bandstand a few weeks ago), a brand new (albeit fairly weird) friend who had introduced him to some great new music and his ascent up the cool ladder had seriously begun in earnest. It all seemed to be going fantastically to plan.

  Then the third seriously bad thing happened which fucked everything right up.

  Chapter Seven

  The next couple of weeks were fantastic and without doubt the happiest of Gordy and Daisy’s young lives. The days passed by in a blissful haze of music and laughter - Daisy even taught Gordy to dance during the rare lulls in customer traffic (which ticked off item Number 11 on The Cool List).

  Daisy was a great dancer, a natural mover with a fantastic sense of rhythm - somehow she just knew what record and what genre of music required which style of dance and Gordy was staggered that there was so many different types.

  Whilst he was being taught to dance he learned about Northern Soul and Reggae and Rhythm and Blues and Surf music and Funk and loads of other stuff that he would never have dreamt of listening to before.

  Daisy had a seemingly encyclopaedic knowledge of music - which she had acquired quite by accident through years of loneliness and solitude with no one else for company except for the DJs of the many radio stations she listened to on her portable transistor radio as her parents spread the word of the Lord through the remote villages of the Dark Continent.

  She had often made friends with the young girls of whichever village they happened to be in at the time and had always enjoyed singing and dancing with them. But, before long, her parents would soon decide to move on somewhere else to find others in need of their unique brand of salvation, and Daisy would find herself alone again with her radio once more.

  It had been a lonely, unsettled existence and Daisy had hoped when they eventually returned to England that she would quickly make permanent friends. But it had proved difficult - mainly because she had the Mad Missionaries for parents and they all cruised around in a psychedelic Bible-bus that stunk to high heaven of marijuana and joss sticks.

  She couldn’t blame people for being wary.

  But then she had met Gordy and suddenly her life had changed.

  Daisy and Gordy even took to spending time together away from Bailey’s Bandstand.

  A lot of the time they’d go up to the local pleasure park and sit on the swings and talk for hours on end, or spin slowly round on the roundabout until both were dizzy, chatting idly about their hopes and dreams for the future or at other times simply nothing at all, content merely to be in each others company.

  They’d laugh and giggle and have a wonderful time. It was just so easy and natural, completely unforced, as if they’d known each other for years.

  Daisy had also become a semi-regular visitor at Gordy’s house, much to the delight of the sniggeringly sarcastic Kev and the slight chagrin of Trevor who often found himself nowadays without a ‘Tonto’ to his ‘Lone Ranger’ or a ‘Starsky’ to his ‘Hutch’ (although fortunately not a ‘Kirk’ to his ‘Uhura’).

  Daisy loved Alan and Barb, too, and Izzie, who simply adored her. Kev she was not so keen on but then neither was Gordy.

  She would sit on the comfy settee in the Brewer living room during the Summer holidays just watching the telly with Gordy - which was a real treat as The Flynn’s didn’t own such a thing.

  In return, Gordy took great pleasure in introducing her to all his favourite shows. She loved Scooby-Doo, Fantasy Island, The Banana Splits, Top Cat, and Happy Days of course, and loads more.

  Television, as it turned out, was absolutely brilliant and she couldn’t believe what she’d been missing for all those years - and Gordy knew everything about it and could answer all of her many questions.

  Through her fresh pair of eyes he managed to once again enjoy the staples of children’s Summer holiday morning programming which had appeared on his TV screen every holiday and half term since time immemorial - featuring all-time classics like Champion The Wonder Horse, The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, Belle and Sebastian, White Horses, The Flashing Blade, Marine Boy, The High Chaparral, Daktari and even the totally mad, ever so slightly scary, The Singing Ringing Tree (in which no one, not even the director seemed to know what the hell was going on - except maybe the creepy little dwa
rf who gave Daisy the willies and terrified her only marginally less than Jaws did Gordy).

  In addition to this wonderful feast of television (with the possible exception of the dwarf) Gordy also took Daisy to the pictures several times (although definitely not on a ‘date’) - once to see Grease (which she adored), once to see National Lampoon’s Animal House (which she thought was hilarious) and once, as a special treat for her fifteenth birthday, to see a re-run of the previous year’s blockbuster hit Star Wars (which totally blew her away - and also helped her at last understand Trevor’s c-3po outfit!).

  Nevertheless, Gordy and Daisy’s friendship grew and if this was a movie, now would be the perfect time for one of those cheesy montages with an uplifting backing track showing the pair of them laughing and dancing and listening to music. There would of course be the obligatory getting to know each other scene as well as the one showing them rubbing shoulders with Bradley’s most happening hipsters whilst doing thriving business at Bailey’s Bandstand. The montage sequence would also show Gordy, with his new found wealth, buying his very own pair of jam tops and slipping on his newly purchased Harrington jacket before lighting up a fag and happily heading off to work of a morning.

  It would show Daisy buying some Brutus jeans and having contact lenses fitted at the opticians and maybe a shot of her admiring her newly fashionable and steadily blossoming figure in a full-length mirror (which she would be doing without the assistance of spectacles) - her boobs having now well and truly sprouted and becoming definitely more obvious and her maturing hips widening nicely to prove she was, at last, becoming a woman.

  Finally, the montage would show Gordy blowing out the candles on his fifteenth birthday cake as a laughing, clapping Daisy looked gleefully on. But then the bouncy backing track would transform into something more melancholy and there would be a shot of a dejected looking Trevor sitting alone dressed as ‘Galen’ from Planet of the Apes, convinced that he had lost his only friend in the world.