Emmett Evans carried his instruments with him everywhere. Even in college, he'd slide a harp into his pocket before he left home in the morning. You just never knew when an opportunity to play might come up. In the years since he'd graduated, as his dreams of pro wrestling faded away and he slipped into the routine of work and family, music had become even more important. He'd play anything, with anyone, and if nothing else came up he'd carry his trumpet and harmonica into the local live music bars and ask if he could sit in. That led him to a few paid gigs with different bands, and if Clarissa wasn't thrilled about him being out every night, she didn't mind the extra cash he brought home to supplement his meagre social worker's income.
Mel's band was the latest in a string of these gigs. The watered-down R&B covers were a bit stale, but Mel himself was decent enough, the vibe was laid back, and the work was regular. It would do till he found something better. Emmett didn't exactly know what he wanted musically, but he preferred the new blues-rock sound over the soul and R&B hits he usually got pegged into and he thought it might be exciting to learn original songs – songs he hadn't played a thousand times before.
Of course he'd heard of Luke Clarkston. Emmett knew everyone in the Philly music scene, even though he hadn't grown up there – he'd moved to town for college and then just stayed – and had played with most of them at one time or another. Luke had been part of the scene, in a variety of different bands, at least since Emmett graduated, a good eight years back. Their paths hadn't crossed but Emmett always meant to look up Luke's latest band some day and ask if he could sit in.
And then Luke just showed up one night looking for him. That was a surprise, but gratifying. Emmett had liked Leo when they worked together, many years before, so his introduction set them off on a good footing. Luke himself was younger than Emmett expected; more boyish and long-haired, kind of a pretty hippy type on the surface. But he was friendly and polite, the minimum Emmett looked for in an employer, and at times he seemed to turn on a little charm, like he really wanted Emmett to like him, which was a bit flattering.
It was only the next day, when they played live together for the first time, that Emmett was sure of him. Luke's songs were different, full of fire and passion and driving rock beats with lots of room to bring in a trumpet line or a refrain on the harp. Generally, when he joined a band on stage, Emmett didn't like to grandstand – it tended to annoy the band's leader, who likely was or would be his boss. But from the beginning, Luke encouraged him to explore; he'd settle the rest of his band into a groove and give Emmett a smile and nod that told him he was free to show off what he could do.
Emmett had a blast that night; it was everything he'd hoped for. The music felt fresh and exciting – new to him but with a base in electric blues or jazz; not so different that he couldn't keep up, couldn't find rhythms and techniques from his past and apply them. And Luke – who had seemed so slight and diffident the night before – turned into a firebrand onstage. Not just confident but hypnotic, magnetic; playful and mischievous at one moment, a prowling powerhouse the next. Emmett could see him reading the room, feeding off the crowd to fuel the band's energy, and control the flow of the show. So young to be commanding a room so skillfully; he'd obviously been doing this for years.
After the last set, Emmett stayed behind for a couple of drinks with the band – he'd have some explaining to do with Clarissa later – and heard about Luke's plans for his next album.
“We're booked at the studio for two weeks starting next Tuesday.” The adrenaline drained, Luke had already transformed back to that mellow, amiable kid he'd seemed to Emmett the night before. “I got a bunch of songs ready but there's a couple I always wanted to add horns to. Never thought about harp but I could see that workin' in a few places too.”
Emmett made no effort to hide his eagerness. “You want me to come in for a couple of days?”
“Yeah but I don't wanna waste studio time figuring out your parts. Can you meet us a bit beforehand? I know you got another gig but maybe during the day…?”
“How about right after work? Say around five-thirty?”
Luke stared at him, then broke into a grin. “Man, you work for a living? Like, nine-to-five?”
“Yeah.” Emmett wondered if that made him seem uncommitted. “I mean, I can still – ”
“Huh, a real grown-up with a job, I never knew one of those before,” Luke said, but he sounded more impressed than mocking.
They settled on a time a couple of days later when, Luke assured them all, Eddie would be back and able to join them. Emmett didn't know who Eddie was but he got the address of their practice space and showed up twenty minutes early, instrument case in hand, ready to go.
Luke was easy to work with. He knew what he had in mind for the songs they were working on – a horn solo here, a bit of added texture there, a longer line at the end of one song – but was open to input and gave quick feedback, letting Emmett know what he liked or didn't like. They worked out Emmett's parts over the course of a few days, and a week or so later Emmett met him at the studio.
By this time the foundation tracks for their songs had already been laid, so Emmett only had to layer his pieces on top. When he was finished, Luke paid him at a very fair rate and said he'd be in touch soon. Emmett would have loved to stay and see more of the recording process but he didn't want to push his luck so he shook hands with Luke and the rest of the guys and headed home, wondering if he'd hear from Luke again.
A month or two later, he did. The album was in final production, scheduled for release in the new year, and the record company was sending Luke out on a real tour to promote it. Luke wanted Emmett to join the band.
***
Of course there were complications. Sometimes it seemed like Emmett's life was always complicated. To start with he had to sell Clarissa on the idea that he'd be away for four months at least. Luke had said something that sounded like “maybe six” but Emmett didn't think it was worth mentioning that possibility. Understandably, Clarissa didn't like the idea of being home alone with the boys for such a long time, and when Emmett asked his mother to help out, she immediately sided with Clarissa.
When that struggle was finally won – he told them both how much money Luke had offered, and promised to come home any time he had more than a three-day break in the schedule – Emmett had to talk to Mel about quitting his band. That was only a bit easier, as it turned out that Mel was somewhat jealous of Luke's success and bitter about losing one of his own to the competition. Privately, Emmett thought that Luke hardly considered Mel a rival – Luke probably never considered Mel at all – but he didn't like to burn bridges so tried to make it sound like a purely economic decision.
Then there was his day job. Emmett worked as a counsellor at a state-run training school for boys; he'd been there for years, had a good schedule and liked the kids, so he hesitated to give up the position. Clarissa would never have allowed it anyway. After a bit of scrambling, Emmett made a deal with another social worker, a substitute at the home who was looking for full-time hours and happy to take on Emmett's shifts for a few months. The managers didn't like it, of course, but Emmett turned on the charm and talked them around.
Meanwhile, the tour was planned for early the next year, and in the interim Luke's manager booked a bunch of gigs in the tri-state area so the guys could start working together and gel as a band. Rehearsals started immediately.
Emmett kept his head down at first, playing it safe while he scoped out the situation. This whole venture was far more big-time than anything he'd been part of yet, so he was excited and a little nervous, not wanting to blow his chances.
The other guys were friendly enough. Having another brother in the band was promising, though Gordon's background was very different from Emmett's. It was easy to pick up again with Leo, and Pete’s chaotic energy could be appealing, but Emmett was a bit wary of the older instrument tech, Art, who had an aggressive edge and often seemed to be on the verge of an explosion. Eddie turned out to be a sharply-dressed, hip-looking white kid, about Luke's age, who played guitar and was apparently some kind of musical mastermind. He and Luke were tight, often conferring together on arrangements and solos, and everyone accepted him as Luke's second in command.
The first time they met, at a rehearsal, Eddie looked Emmett up and down and gave an admiring whistle. “You didn't tell me the new guy was an actual mountain of a man,” he said to Luke with a raised eyebrow, then turned back to give Emmett a welcoming clap on the shoulder.
The next day, when Emmett walked into the room, Luke looked up and said, “Here comes the mountain,” and from then on, Mountain was how he was known.
Emmett didn't mind that. He knew he was a big man, and he had no quarrel with people pointing it out. In other bands, he'd generally been expected to play a de facto bouncer role, helping to keep unruly crowds under control or protecting the lead guys when someone rushed the stage. With Luke being so young and lean, it made sense he'd want the same thing. Emmett always tried to keep an even temper and not overuse his disproportionate size and strength in conflicts. In his youth he’d been quicker to act, but these days he valued his self-control.
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They spent the next few months rehearsing and playing live, and every day Emmett grew more sure he'd made the right choice. This kid was the real deal. Luke had an almost startling conviction, an absolute clarity in his vision and faith in his songs that made you forget he was only twenty-three. He had things he wanted to say with his music, and he meant to say them. As easy-going as he could be over a beer or hanging out at the end of a show, Luke ruled over the band's work with ruthless precision.
“This is not a democracy,” he'd say occasionally, somehow taking the edge off his words with a self-deprecating laugh. “I been in those bands before and they ain't for me. This is my band. It's gotta sound like I want it to.”
The only voice Luke deferred to when it came to his music was Eddie's, and even then only occasionally. The two of them would argue and debate during practices, trying out one idea after another, sometimes appealing to the others, who mostly just waited around for the two of them to come to a decision. Emmett liked it when Luke asked his opinion, and did his best to provide good advice. But oddly, even though Eddie seemed to be at all the rehearsals, he only joined them onstage once in a while.
“What's the deal with Eddie?” Emmett asked Leo curiously, as they waited once again for him and Luke to settle on a key for the current song. “Is he in the band or not?”
“I guess not,” Leo said. “He has his own band now, I guess he doesn't have time for ours as well.”
“But he's always here.”
Leo shrugged. “This is just where he hangs out. Him and Luke, they've always worked together, even when they're in different bands. Eddie did most of the lead guitar on both Luke's records. I think Luke's still hoping he might come on tour with us, but I doubt that's happening.”
“Does Eddie have a record contract too?” Sometimes Emmett thought anything might be possible with these two.
“No.” Leo smiled at him faintly. “I dunno how he feels about that.”
Luke was using this period to try out new songs and arrangements, test set lists, and experiment with the live act before the tour kicked off. As the work went on – developing and arranging in rehearsals, testing out in the live shows – Emmett found his role in the band changing. He held back at first, careful not to overstep, playing only where and when Luke directed him. But as Luke added new songs, or reworked old ones, he seemed to seize on the possibilities that Emmett's instruments opened up, like a boy excited by new toys. He worked closely with Emmett to build them in – filling up rhythm layers with the trumpet, finding spaces for the harp, adding whole new solos. Luke even liked Emmett's voice and had him add the occasional backing vocal when he wasn't playing an instrument.
Encouraged, Emmett put more power into his horn playing, and Luke would respond by trading off lead lines with him, so that Emmett's trumpet soon replaced Eddie's guitar in the harder-edged songs when they played live. In looser, more jazzy pieces, they'd take turns stretching out into solos, Emmett's trumpet following Gordon's piano or Luke's guitar; and in the slowest, moodiest songs, Luke used Emmett's harp to add a kind of melancholy undertone.
For Emmett, it was a revelation. He'd grown up on the standards – the blues, jazz and gospel classics, the soul and R&B hits; they were all part of his muscle memory. But Luke took him to new places, in directions he'd never even considered or thought possible. He was quickly convinced that, whatever people might think about Eddie, Luke was the actual musical genius.
Onstage, Luke gave his full focus to the live experience. At every show, he seemed to size up the crowd and make a personal connection with everyone in it, subtly adjusting his performance each night in mysterious ways that Emmett didn't quite understand but could see the impact of. Luke delivered every song with total conviction, without a hint of irony or reserve. For the deep, intense narrative powerhouses, he'd stand at the mic under a single spot with eyes shut tight and guitar slung behind his back, looking like he'd moved onto another plane of existence. For the more rousing rockers he'd jump around the stage in infinite motion, bouncing from one band member to the next, carrying his mic out into the audience, bounding onto speakers or the top of the piano, pulling the crowd into sing-alongs and chants – brash one moment, goofy or self-mocking the next, always mesmerizing.
At first Emmett assumed that Luke's live persona – the boyish charm and playfulness heightened with sparks of intense emotion – was an act, a performance contrasting with the real-life seriousness he applied to his craft. But no, that was backwards. Those moments on stage, sharing what he felt most deeply, finding communion with a crowd singing his own words back to him, creating a kind of transcendent shared experience – those were what Luke lived for. Everything else was just what he had to do to get there.
***
Emmett's mama always told him he should dress well to be treated well. Emmett had seen enough news through the years to have his doubts about that, but he still agreed that good clothes could be the best armour. He generally wore dress shirts and ties to work, and jackets on stage. One of his first paycheques from Luke went to the purchase of a stylish white suit, followed by dressier shoes, updated glasses, and a nice hat as the cheques went on.
When he'd started performing with Luke's band, he wondered if he might be over-dressed. Pete and Leo leaned toward non-descript white-guy clothes – bell-bottoms or cords with wide-collared button-up shirts – while Luke himself only ever wore jeans and a t-shirt. Gordon had some nice outfits but he was generally hidden behind the piano or keyboard. It was kind of a relief on the nights Eddie joined them, as his modish hats and snazzy suits made Emmett feel relatively staid in comparison.
In any case, there didn’t seem to be any problems with his appearance. Though Luke grew more despotic with the rest of the band as the tour drew closer, and his previously even temper sometimes frayed under the stress, he seemed to give Emmett a lot of leeway. In fact, when Emmett asked about anything not directly related to music – where he should stand on stage, what time he should show up before a gig, which dressing table he should use in the greenroom – Luke seemed reluctant to give him any instructions, usually responding with something along the lines of, “Whatever you want, Mountain.”
During performances, Emmett focused tightly on his work, trying to reflect the most recent changes made in rehearsals while still keeping up with whatever Luke was doing live. He took up a position on the right of the stage, near the back, and concentrated on switching from one instrument to another, stepping up to his mic to add backing vocals when needed, and keeping a close eye on Luke. In those early days, he didn't think about the audience too much; that was Luke's business. Emmett's job was to support Luke and, to a lesser extent, the rest of the band.
The odd time something would go wrong on stage, and Emmett tried to step in where he could. Luke spent a lot of time out in the audience and occasionally Emmett helped to extricate him – the bars didn't have a lot of security, and the crowds were often enthusiastic, rowdy and drunk. Emmett would keep a close eye on the audience and wade in to make space for Luke when it looked like he was in danger of being overwhelmed.
Other times, Luke's long jaunts through the room would create a tangle of mic or guitar cables that threatened to trip him up, or he'd knock over a mic stand or speaker on his way back. The band didn't have much of a crew, just lighting and sound board, and the equipment wrangler backstage. When Art wasn't in sight, Emmett jumped in to untangle the cables or right the equipment. He didn't quite know what to do when young women would rush the stage to force kisses on Luke, who professed to be flattered but really, Emmett suspected, disliked the attacks.
An even bigger problem often loomed after the gig was over, or sometimes beforehand, while the band paused for a drink after sound check, when the volatile Art inevitably succeeded in striking up one of the altercations he seemed to live for. They ranged from shouting matches to knock-down drag-out fights, and could involve anyone from a hapless bar patron or the bartender to another band member or one of the support crew. Emmett grew mighty tired of hauling Art’s sorry ass off of dumbfounded drinkers or his own co-workers. The worst of it was that despite his apparent unpredictability, he often managed to pick moments when neither Luke or Jerry were around to see the chaos. And no one wanted to be a snitch.
But most of this was par for the course as a local bar band, and none of it dampened Emmett's overall excitement.
The album released just before Christmas, and Luke played the whole thing at a special session with the band. Afterward Emmett bought a copy to show Clarissa and the kids, and played it over and over again at home. The band took a break over Christmas, then re-grouped in early 1974 for a few more rehearsals and shows, with the tour scheduled to take off at the beginning of March and last until at least June. In the new year, Luke spent more time stressing over planning and logistics with Jerry, who had taken to dropping in on practices as well as shows now. There was an extended discussion about who would actually be part of the tour, and in the end Jerry and Luke settled on band members – minus Eddie, who declined to join them – plus Jerry, light and sound techs, and Art.
“We can't afford roadies,” Luke advised the band, filling them in before they started rehearsal. “So sorry boys, we're all gonna have to do the loading and unloading.”
They had a real practice space now, with heating and power and even a desk at the back where Jerry worked while the band played.
Art already looked steamed. “You guys better haul your own equipment, man. You know about my back.”
“Yeah, we get it,” Luke said shortly, and Emmett exchanged rolled eyes with Gordie. “You can help Jerry drive.”
“What are we gonna be riding?” Pete asked.
“We got an actual bus this time!” Luke crowed. “Well, ok, it's like one of those short school buses. But a bus. Should be room for all of us plus equipment, but no girlfriends or buddies or, you know, your mom. Keep your baggage light and do laundry on the road.”
At the back of the room, Jerry looked up from the phone call he was on. “Hey, Luke! Looks like your single's finally getting some airplay.”
“Wha-at?” Luke stopped tuning his guitar and stared over at Jerry in amazement. “It is?”
“Well, that's the good news. The bad news is that it's on college radio, which you know no one actually listens to. And also…it's the B-side.”
“What?” Luke said, laughing now. He grinned at Emmett. “The B-side's the worst song on that album.”
“How come they're playing it then?”
Jerry shrugged. “Who knows what college kids like. B-sides I guess. You should be glad; they're your main audience you know.”
“Yeah, fine, I'll make a new set list of B-sides only,” Luke grumbled.
“And by the way,” Jerry added, hanging up. “You guys need a name. I don't know what to put on the contracts.”
Emmett, Gordon and Luke looked at each other, the same idea apparently occurring to all of them simultaneously.
“All right, all right!” Luke said, laughing. “Luke Clarkston and the B-Sides it is.”