1969 Story

[uphollandlatic]

I've been attending a U3A Creative Writing course. Each month we are given a theme to write about. March 2024's theme was The Architect. Below is my story. I'd be delighted if anybody reads it and gives me some feedback.

The Architect
By John Baxter

Background
In 1969 Pink Floyd were in a state of transition from a medium sized underground band who had a decent following in London to taking the first steps on the road to becoming the enormous behemoth of their later years. They had lost, Syd Barrett, their main songwriter, guitarist and singer in 1968. He was replaced by David Gilmour a friend of both Roger Waters and Syd Barrett from their Cambridge days. For a very short time they tried to exist as a five-piece band, but it was soon clear this would never work. They were going out for a fee of £250 per night and the majority of their gigs were on the student university circuit. Now, rather bravely, they decided to embark on their own self-promoted tour of Britain starting at The Royal Festival Hall, London on 14th April and ending back in London at The Royal Albert Hall on June 26th. For this tour they created two suites of music ‘The Man’ and ‘The Journey’. These two conceptual pieces constituted some material that was already in their repertoire and some new material that had been created for the soundtrack they had been commissioned to write for the film More directed by Barbet Schroeder. The soundtrack album (their third album) was released on 13th June 1969.

This story has a basis in fact. Three members of Pink Floyd Roger Waters, Rick Wright and Nick Mason met whilst studying architecture at the Regent Street Polytechnic (now the University of Westminster). Pink Floyd were at the Free Trade Hall, Manchester, on 22nd June (I was there aged 16 and bootlegged it from row C). Nick Mason did break a drum mallet (my friend David’s older brother grabbed it off the stage as we left and handed it over saying, “Here you are, kid.” David has it to this day). The following day they were involved in mixing their next album, which was released on 7th November 1969. On Tuesday 23rd June they did play in Oxford and the final show at The Royal Albert Hall on 26th June did feature the Central Ealing Amateur Choir, conducted by Norman Smith, who had been their producer for their first two albums. The choir joined them for the ‘Celestial Voices’ piece that came at the end of ‘The Journey’. I’ve simply tried to imagine life on the road.

Free Trade Hall, Manchester
Sunday 22nd June 1969, 10pm.
The sounds crashed and swirled around him in a climactic surge and then slowly died away. At once there was an explosion of applause and cheering from the three thousand assembled fans who’d all paid between twelve and six to fifteen bob for the experience. Roger walked forward to the microphone. Through the lights and the smoke he couldn’t actually make out any discernible figure among the crowd it was a sea of black shapes. The other members of the band were also now walking towards the front of the stage. Nick, drummer, and Dave, guitarist, came down on his right whilst Rick, keyboard player, made his diffident way on the left. All were smiling and waving. It had been a good show. The sound effect tapes had all worked well and came in on cue. The Azimuth Co-Ordinator, their own gadget designed to send sound out to speakers placed around the hall, had given the audience the sense that they were totally immersed in the music.

Roger, who always assumed the role of MC at gigs, said, “Thank you, thank you, bye-bye,” then turned away from the microphone, picked his way between the amplifiers, cables and assorted equipment that lay strewn around the stage and sought the refuge of the backstage area and the dressing rooms. Someone handed him a bottle of beer; he took a long swig from it wiping his mouth with his sleeve before fishing in his pocket for a packet of cigarettes. His band mates were also holding bottles of beer whilst chatting and laughing with the friends who had come to join them in a post-show party. Soon the air was thick with the smoke from cigarettes which may or may not have been tobacco.

On the stage, roadies, Pete Watts and Alan Stiles, were already beginning the process of unplugging and striking the equipment. Cables were carefully coiled and taped to prevent them tangling. Amplifiers turned off so that they could cool before being moved. Guitars were placed into metal framed flight cases ready to be packed into the van waiting by the portcullis metal door that allowed access to the stage. To speed the process up the hall management had found a dozen young men to act as lifters and shifters. Soon a steady procession was underway as the job of loading the van began. There was a science behind loading a van. Each item had to go on in a certain order or else it wouldn’t all fit. It was a large 3D jigsaw puzzle. The roadies had practised and practised loading up trying different configurations to find the most efficient way and now they could perform the task almost blindfold.

Backstage the gathering was beginning to break up. Hands were being shaken and hugs exchanged. Eventually the only ones left were the four band members and the manager.
“That was great, boys” Steve, the manager, said, “The sound was fantastic.”
“Where are we tomorrow?” asked Rick.
“You’re in the studio, then Oxford on Tuesday and then the big one, The Royal Albert Hall, on Thursday,” replied Steve, “We’ve got that community choir coming in early Thursday morning to rehearse with you, Norman has agreed to come and conduct them, and I’ve got clearance to use the Hall’s pipe organ.” Rick smiled at the thought of climbing the steps up to the awe-inspiring organ whose pipes seemed to reach to heaven itself above the banks of black and white keys, organ stops and pedals.

The door to the band room opened and Pete walked in, “Van’s loaded,” he said as he grabbed himself the remaining sandwiches and sausage rolls from the plate on the table. “We’re getting going. Do you want to meet at The Blue Boar or get on home?” The band exchanged glances with each other, “Sorry mate,” said Roger, “I think we should just get home. Can you restring my guitar before the Oxford show?” Pete nodded, “Anything else need doing? Dave, I’ll do your guitars also before Tuesday. Nick, is that bass drum pedal still sticking?” Nick nodded. “I’ll fiddle with that as well.”
“Thanks,” said Nick, “Could you buy me some mallets too please I broke a couple tonight.”
“Ok. Right, we’re off. See you Tuesday in Oxford. What time can we get in?”
Steve looked quickly at a sheaf of papers in a folder that he carried everywhere with him, “We’re booked in from midday.”

“Right,” said Pete, “Soundcheck at two-thirty. Cheers.” So-saying he turned on his heel and went out to join Alan waiting by the van chatting to the lads who had helped them load it. Thanking everyone and giving them all a ten bob note for their pains Pete climbed into the passenger seat as Alan was to drive the first part of the two-hundred-mile journey back to London. The two wolfed down the sandwiches and sausage rolls and shared the contents of a flask of coffee. Soon Pete was asleep. His turn to drive would come in a couple of hours or so somewhere around Birmingham.

Now it was the band’s turn to leave. They had invested in an old classic car so that they could travel in style. Steve was going to drive. Roger got into the passenger seat, Nick, Dave and Rick sat in the back. “Do you know the way, Steve?” asked Nick from the gloom of the back seat. Steve replied, “A580 out of Manchester, M6 as far as it goes. Then it’s through Sutton Coldfield around Birmingham to the M1 and home.”
“Good,” said Nick “I can go to sleep then.”
“I wonder if there was anybody bootlegging the show?” asked Steve.
“I thought I could see someone holding a mic about three rows back in front of me,” replied Rick, “The quality will be poor though – nothing to worry about.”

Being mid-summer, the night sky was still quite light even though it was nearly midnight. Steve threaded the car out through the streets of Manchester following the signs that gave directions to Liverpool and the A580. Roger stared through the windscreen at the lights of the oncoming cars, “Dave, is it your stuff we’re doing tomorrow?”
Dave murmured in his sleep that it was. Roger continued, “Anybody seen Melody Maker or NME? Did they review ‘More’ this week?” Steve replied that he had heard they’d reviewed it, but he hadn’t seen anything yet. However, initial sales were encouraging he’d been told.

Roger stretched out his long legs as far as he could. Studio mixing tomorrow another gig on Wednesday and then The Albert Hall on Thursday. He rolled up his coat into a makeshift cushion and as he drifted off to sleep, he thought this was better than being an architect.