[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

tin. It went directly from the pressing room to the cut-out bins.
"What happened?" Shane Billiken had demanded of his personal manager. He
kneaded his Paul Revere hat in nervous fingers.
"Look at it this way, Shane, baby, you made music history. Nobody's ever
shipped tin before."
"You swore we'd go platinum overnight. I'd settle for gold. But tin!"
"Don't blame me, blame those shaggy-headed Brit pansies."
And Shane Billiken did. He held a bitter news conference, fired his band, and
spent the early sixties bouncing around in restaurant dishwasher jobs. He was
a poet with a broken heart.
It was in 1968 that Shane noticed the world was changing. The Beatles had gone
psychedelic. Everyone was into astrology. And Zen. And higher consciousness.
Especially the groupies. It was the Age of Aquarius.
Shane Billiken bought a stack of used books on mysticism at a head shop and
decided that maybe he'd get in on the action. He worked carnivals and private
parties in the beginning. It was a good life, and gradually he forgot his
bitterness. Even the slump in the late seventies, when everyone suddenly
decided the sixties were passe, was not so tough. Shane had put a lot of his
money into stocks. He did well.
Then came the eighties. Suddenly the fifties and sixties were hot again. Old
rockers were crawling out of the woodwork, working the nostalgia circuit. And
Shane Billiken, energized from attending a Righteous Brothers reunion concert,
returned to his Southern California home and dug out his old Ovation guitar.
Standing in front of the mirror, his ax hanging off one shoulder, and
strumming an old I-VI-IV-V-I chord progression, he noticed that his
pushing-fifty face had gotten puffy. He put on a pair of wraparound sunglasses
Page 26
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
to see if it would take the curse off him, and lo and behold, he made a
wonderful discovery.
He looked almost exactly like the great Roy Orbison. Especially when he combed
his hair into a kind of Julius Caesar pageboy-bang effect.
Shane experimented with a few bars of "Only the Lonely," and inspiration hit
him. The woods were full of Elvis Presley impersonators living off the bones
of the King. Hell, almost every overweight singer who could curl his lip was
cashing in. Why not Shane Billiken?
He convinced the owner of an Agoura discotheque to book him for a weekend as
Roy Orbit Sun. Both nights sold out in advance, and Shane Billiken knew he had
found his way at last.
The night of his first set, he waited for the warm-up act to finish. He was
sweating so had, even his Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses were beading up.
"Relax," said the club manager. "You're gonna be dynamite. You sound just like
the guy."
"I haven't done this in a few years. Are my shades on straight?"
"You'll do fine. In fact, there are a couple of suits in the front row. Look
like talent scouts to me. What are you gonna open with?"
" 'Running Scared,' " said Shane Billiken, his teeth chattering.
"Good choice," said the manager. "Fitting."
"Then I'm gonna seque into 'Blue Angel,' shift up to 'Ooby Dooby,' and then do
'Oh, Pretty Woman.' "
"If you hit, I'm gonna want you to play every weekend for the next three
months."
"If I hit, you'll have to talk to my agent about that."
"You told me you didn't have an agent."
"If I hit, I'm getting one."
"Don't get too big for your britches, pal. Try not to forget I'm the guy who's
giving you your big break." Shane Billiken was about to say something when the
MC announced the world premiere of the hottest performer since the fifties,
Roy Orbit Sun, and Shane Billiken clumped out on the stage.
He fired up a rocking rendition of "Running Scared," forgot the words midway
through the soulful "Blue Angel," and switched over to "Crying Over You,"
which he was saving for the first encore. The crowd was with him from the
third bar of "Crying Over You."
Unfortunately, so were the two suits who happened to be sitting in the front
row. They jumped onstage and tried to hand Shane Billiken an official-looking
envelope.
"It's over," one of them said.
"I'm saving that one for the second set," Shane Billiken hissed as he launched
into an improvised guitar solo. "And I don't do requests. So get off the
stage. "
"We represent Roy Orbison. The original. And this is a cease-and-desist order.
You can change acts right now, or you can see us in court."
"But, but-"
"Better decide fast, friend," the other man said.
"Screw you," snarled Shane Billiken. And then he was singing "Crryyiiiing
Oooover Yooouuuuuu."
One of the suits snapped his fingers and a pair of plainclothes cops hustled
Shane Billiken off the stage to a chorus of boos and catcalls.
Shane Billiken barely made bail that night. At the trial, faced with a battery
of high-powered lawyers, his own attorney suggested that he plead no contest.
Shane Billiken reluctantly agreed, and they made him sign a paper in which he
promised that he would never steal Roy Orbison's act again.
Once more Shane Billiken's career in music had hit a brick wall.
If anything, he grew more embittered. A zillion Elvis Presley impersonators
were making individual fortunes and everyone knew that any warbler with a bay
window and a spit curl could impersonate the King. But mimicking Roy Orbison,
with his high, haunting bel canto tenor-that took skill.
For a time, Shane Billiken flirted with the idea of having Roy the Boy
Page 27
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
whacked. He went so far as to initiate contact with a hit man. But at the last
minute he chickened out. It was too risky. Besides, how long could Orbison go
on? Almost all of his contemporaries were dropping like flies from drugs or
booze or some damn thing. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

zanotowane.pl

doc.pisz.pl

pdf.pisz.pl

kajaszek.htw.pl