Heartbreaker — Chapter One: 2003
Alex started the DVD and settled back in her chair with a beer. The image on the screen showed a field full of people in the evening, mostly long-haired, some in denim, others in long, printed skirts, some in T-shirts, others in cheesecloth tops. Many were barefoot; grubby toes sinking into soft earth as they waited expectantly, chants and shouts rippling through the crowd. At the fringes where fires burned, patchouli oil vied with wood smoke for supremacy and small groups gathered around the flames in an attempt to stave off the darkness, the threat of cold playing around bare flesh, for just a little while longer.
The camera framed what was little more than a raised platform, the focus of attention. As dusk settled, the road crew set up gear quickly and efficiently, the practised choreography of the men in black conjuring a wall of sound out of the gloomy depths.
With the lighting rig yet to be turned on, the activity on stage was shadow play. Alex made out the band moving quietly and without fuss to their spots. The crowd saw them too and thundered encouragement, eager for the show to begin. Paul Scott got behind his drum kit and tested cymbals and pedals. Colin Carson plugged in his guitar and took up his position near the drum riser. Three tall figures, two wearing guitars that they plugged in when they were in position, strode out further towards the front of the stage. Andy Airey, the singer, was centre stage with bass player Tom Watson to his right and lead guitarist Johnny Burns to the left.
They looked at each other and despite the poor light Alex could have sworn she saw them grin. Then Paul Scott rapped his sticks together to the count of four, the lights flashed on and the crowd roared as the band crashed in, bass, rhythm guitar and drums pounding out a hermetic pile-driving riff. Johnny Burns’s guitar screamed into life, pouring notes as sweet as the Devil’s lies into the depths of the night skies, spurring bodies into motion as the crowd began to dance. Right on cue, one of the best blues wailers in the business opened his throat and let out a primal scream that pierced the heavens as Andy Airey, delighted by the ecstatic greeting they’d received, launched heart and soul into the first number.
Alex put her beer down; she had chills, the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end. This was the earliest available footage of Heartbreaker, showing the band just as they were breaking big. There were live albums available and they were powerful, raw, but seeing them play, even on screen, was something else. It took little effort for her to imagine herself there, dancing in the moonlight, the heady scent of a summer’s night in her nostrils, head filled with rhythm and riff. No wonder they’d grown to be so successful. They were incredible, even at this distance. It had to be nearer thirty than twenty years since this gig had been filmed, despite which she reckoned they could give a number of today’s so-called supergroups a run for their money.
She watched, rapt, for the next two and a half hours as the band ran through their set, throwing in blues and rock ‘n’ roll standards alongside their own material, then played a series of encores. They seemed reluctant to leave the stage; the crowd was certainly reluctant to let them go. As the final number came to an end, credits rolled over images of a band that had played its heart out, musicians slick with sweat and wreathed in smiles. It ended with a shot of Johnny Burns, one hand on the neck of his guitar, the other punching the air in a salute to the crowd.
Alex punched the button on the remote, then sat back in her chair and stared at the blank screen. She had been a fan of Heartbreaker for as long as she could remember, but felt like she was discovering them all over again every time she watched the footage of the Robson’s Farm gig. She felt a familiar pang of regret that she had never seen them play live. Wondered not for the first time if the fabled lost tapes were real and if they would ever turn up. Stirring herself, she straightened the room and turned off lamps and equipment, then headed for bed. She had a busy day ahead of her. In the morning she was jumping on a train to London to attend a job interview, an interview she really wanted to be successful in. If she landed the job, she would be working with Johnny Burns on a book about his life, his music and Heartbreaker.
The camera framed what was little more than a raised platform, the focus of attention. As dusk settled, the road crew set up gear quickly and efficiently, the practised choreography of the men in black conjuring a wall of sound out of the gloomy depths.
With the lighting rig yet to be turned on, the activity on stage was shadow play. Alex made out the band moving quietly and without fuss to their spots. The crowd saw them too and thundered encouragement, eager for the show to begin. Paul Scott got behind his drum kit and tested cymbals and pedals. Colin Carson plugged in his guitar and took up his position near the drum riser. Three tall figures, two wearing guitars that they plugged in when they were in position, strode out further towards the front of the stage. Andy Airey, the singer, was centre stage with bass player Tom Watson to his right and lead guitarist Johnny Burns to the left.
They looked at each other and despite the poor light Alex could have sworn she saw them grin. Then Paul Scott rapped his sticks together to the count of four, the lights flashed on and the crowd roared as the band crashed in, bass, rhythm guitar and drums pounding out a hermetic pile-driving riff. Johnny Burns’s guitar screamed into life, pouring notes as sweet as the Devil’s lies into the depths of the night skies, spurring bodies into motion as the crowd began to dance. Right on cue, one of the best blues wailers in the business opened his throat and let out a primal scream that pierced the heavens as Andy Airey, delighted by the ecstatic greeting they’d received, launched heart and soul into the first number.
Alex put her beer down; she had chills, the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end. This was the earliest available footage of Heartbreaker, showing the band just as they were breaking big. There were live albums available and they were powerful, raw, but seeing them play, even on screen, was something else. It took little effort for her to imagine herself there, dancing in the moonlight, the heady scent of a summer’s night in her nostrils, head filled with rhythm and riff. No wonder they’d grown to be so successful. They were incredible, even at this distance. It had to be nearer thirty than twenty years since this gig had been filmed, despite which she reckoned they could give a number of today’s so-called supergroups a run for their money.
She watched, rapt, for the next two and a half hours as the band ran through their set, throwing in blues and rock ‘n’ roll standards alongside their own material, then played a series of encores. They seemed reluctant to leave the stage; the crowd was certainly reluctant to let them go. As the final number came to an end, credits rolled over images of a band that had played its heart out, musicians slick with sweat and wreathed in smiles. It ended with a shot of Johnny Burns, one hand on the neck of his guitar, the other punching the air in a salute to the crowd.
Alex punched the button on the remote, then sat back in her chair and stared at the blank screen. She had been a fan of Heartbreaker for as long as she could remember, but felt like she was discovering them all over again every time she watched the footage of the Robson’s Farm gig. She felt a familiar pang of regret that she had never seen them play live. Wondered not for the first time if the fabled lost tapes were real and if they would ever turn up. Stirring herself, she straightened the room and turned off lamps and equipment, then headed for bed. She had a busy day ahead of her. In the morning she was jumping on a train to London to attend a job interview, an interview she really wanted to be successful in. If she landed the job, she would be working with Johnny Burns on a book about his life, his music and Heartbreaker.
Buy Heartbreaker
Heartbreaker by Julie Morrigan is available for purchase now from Amazon UK, Amazon US and Smashwords.
