“You can leave that, it’s fine.” The voice was deep, regal, in a crisp and clean Queen’s English.
Click.
Hi Oscar. I didn’t hear you come in.
Of course not, not over the banging of our fine platters and cutlery. Was it your intent to scare away the wild animals, sir?
Not at all. My apologies, I didn’t mean any disrespect. I was trying to be helpful.
Helpful would be not chipping the plates on which master Darin prefers his lunch. Helpful would be leaving them for those of us who are professional.
I am sorry. Really. It was with the best intentions. If I had known–
You’d what, sir? You’d have sat there like a lump of coal and waited for someone to start you up?
I’m not sure what that means, honestly.
Don’t let Oscar razz you like that.
Darin strode smoothly across the room and took a seat, throwing his feet up on the table. As his eyes locked onto Oscar he wore a tickled look on his face. A tumbler filled with brown liquid and two ice cubes occupied his hands.
Just trying to have a bit of fun, Master Darin.
Oscar turned to face me with a big, uncontainable smile. I liked the look of the man so completely taken with himself over his own joke, and wondered how often it happened with so few visitors to tease.
You know he never calls me Master Darin. Only in front of people here for the first time. He gets a kick out of it.
I like to have my fun too, sir.
And it was no reproach from my end, Oscar.
Much appreciated, sir.
Now get these dishes out of here.
Right away.
After Oscar left Darin turned to me with a smile.
I’d be lost without that man.
The age difference… I wonder if he doesn’t somehow serve as a father figure for you over here?
Does it seem that way to you?
A little. The power dynamic is backwards, but he seems to look out for you, making sure you get exercise, taking care of you.
Never really thought about it like that.
But you think of everything.
That’s right. He smiled, as if he’d gotten the better of me.
Why didn’t you make it to your father’s funeral?
He didn’t deserve my presence.
So you two had a falling-out at some point?
I realized early on that he wasn’t who I thought he was, and that everything he was supposed to stand for he didn’t. When he passed I didn’t feel a lot of anything for him. There was a sense of sadness for the loss of something, but it wasn’t him. Instead I mourned the completeness of the fading away. I was more saddened by the finality of it than anything related to him specifically as a person or his relationship to me. It had been years since we’d spoken. When I got the news it was a strange sensation, because I knew I should be upset but I wasn’t. It was all cognitive and nothing in the gut, like hearing about someone dying on the news. You feel bad that a life has been lost, but you don’t have any connection to the person. Maybe there’s compassion for the deceased’s family, but you personally don’t have a visceral reaction. I knew I should be feeling something because society, or our culture or whatever, dictates that I should be devastated by it. But I wasn’t, and it was the strangest couple of weeks.
So you didn’t go to the funeral because he didn’t mean anything to you?
Yeah. Exactly. It’d be like going to the funeral service of someone you don’t even know, but just showing up because a life has disappeared.
But it wasn’t just any life, it was your father.
He hadn’t been a father for a long time. Certainly not a mentor. And so he wasn’t anything.
But he was the man responsible for introducing you to the piano and getting you involved in music. I’m having a hard time understanding how, or really why, he didn’t mean anything if there was no single event.
Let me explain it this way. It’s like having a person in your life who you’re told you should feel a connection to, but because you don’t agree with his views on life, with the decisions he’s made, you don’t identify with him. In the same way you choose your friends because you share common views…
But we don’t choose our family, they simply are and we love them for that reason.
Well again, maybe this is another way the living man’s dilemma plays into my life. Hundreds of years ago you felt loyalty toward your family because it helped you survive. Guaranteed alliances. Help when you needed it, available without conditions. You’re born into the world with at least a few people always having your back. But from an early age I didn’t need help from my family, so I could choose whether or not to have them in my life. As I got older and I couldn’t identify with my father, I stopped caring whether or not he was part of my present.
How did your mother take the fact that you didn’t attend? Didn’t you want to be there for her?
I was there for her. I didn’t attend the funeral, I never set foot in the church and I didn’t see him set in the ground, but I stayed with my mother for a couple months in the house I grew up in, to look after her.
So you did travel back to Michigan?
Of course. My family needed me. My mother was lost.
Did she understand why you didn’t attend?
I told her I was too upset.
And that was good enough? Did she not understand how you felt about him?
We never spoke about it.
Forgive me for asking, but was there abuse?
My father never touched me. At times he was overbearing, and he made us push ourselves in everything we did, but I can’t hold a grudge for that because those traits are what got me to where I am now.
I’d like to know why you didn’t have a good relationship with your father.
You don’t need to. That’s familial shit, it’s not important for why you’re here.
Which is why?
So we can talk. You have a reputation for being someone who understands, and I need you to write a story that’ll help people understand me.
Do you feel misunderstood?
Definitely. My situation is not normal, there aren’t many people I know who live the way I do.
And you think that’s where the misunderstandings come from?
No, it mainly comes from shitty journalists. Just introduce me back to the public in the way you’re good at. Find an angle and work it. I don’t know if people will connect with a story about a guy who lives a charmed lifestyle but feels misunderstood.
Well, the top of the world can be a lonely place. There’s not room for many people there.
You said it, brother.
People might have sympathy for that. Your body of work has made you a very likeable guy. It’s also pushed you away from people. It’s an interesting thought.
He drained the glass, swung his legs off the table and stood up.
You finally gonna take me up on a drink?
I can’t stomach alcohol right now. It’s getting dark, I should head back to the city. I’d like to come back tomorrow morning, just touch on the music a little bit. Does that work for you?
You’re leaving me already? I feel like we just started.
We started eight hours ago. I need to work tonight. We don’t have a lot of time left, and I want to make sure I use it on the right topics. I need to look at what I’ve got so far.
You can always stay another day. I can have Oscar call the hotel and extend your room. I’ll pay to change your flight.
That’s kind, but I probably need to get back.
Why? The woman on the other end of the phone?
Exactly. She’s counting on me coming back tomorrow, she wouldn’t love it if I stayed another day.
It’s just a day, Chris. A day in a lifetime. That can’t seriously be your concern.
I can play that argument the other way and say we only have so much time, I should get back to spend another day in a lifetime with the person I
love.
You could say that, but you don’t believe it.
Don’t believe what?
Your profession love.
Of course I love her.
Bullshit. You don’t. I can tell. I wasn’t sure this morning, but I see it now. You don’t believe any of that. In fact, you’d like to stay.
I’d like to stay because I think there’s more we could get into.
So Stay.
I can’t.
Why not?
It’s complicated.
How was the chat with your lady friend?
It was fine, other than the fact it was short.
I didn’t rush you off the phone. You were done when I came in, so pardon me but I do not buy your story.
Just go get your drink so we can finish up for the day.
Don’t shoo me out of my own room.
Fine, go whenever you please.
I’m only going because I want to.
However it makes you feel best.
Come on. You’re exiting with me. I’ve no need for a cock tease.
What does that mean?
You’re not sticking around so you might as well leave now. If I come back with a full glass I’ll want to hang out for a while and chat, but you’ll have your eye on the clock and my glass, wondering when I’ll be done so you can have your window of opportunity to politely excuse yourself to go. Then I’ll feel self conscious about how slowly I’m drinking and I’ll rush through it, which is not good. Bourbon takes time. I hate social interactions like that, so let’s call it now while we’re still somewhat ahead.
Works for me.
I stood and gathered my bag and recorder, and followed Darin through the doorway. Without looking to his right he extended an arm to high-five Lennon, making precise contact with the poster and yelping as he did.
I’m feeling a good night ahead.
What do you have planned?
Nothing. I thought I was giving an interview but that’s suddenly been cancelled. I’m a free man tonight, it looks to be a studio evening. Or I could call up some friends and see who’d like to come over.
Any of those friends male?
Not that it’s any of your business, but no.
Thought so.
Don’t get smug.
Not at all. Enjoy your evening. I’ll come back around nine tomorrow morning?
No chance. Make it eleven.
My flight leaves at eight, I have to be at the airport at six. That means leaving here around four thirty or five.
Fine then, ten. We’ll meet in the middle.
Okay, I’ll see you then.
Darin opened the front door for me and hit a switch to turn on the outside lights so I could see my way to the car. Out in the country there was little artificial light save for what streamed out of the windows of the house. A full moon shed a pasty white hue onto the fields bordering the gravel drive, lending an eerie texture to the landscape.
Have fun at the boring Goring.
I stopped a few feet out the door and turned back. It was a childish comment, and one to ignore, but if Darin wanted to antagonize me it could only be because he had something to communicate. And the purpose of the trip was to hear what he had to say.
You think it’s boring?
Without question.
Then why’d you put me there?
Because it’s awfully fucking nice, isn’t it? Especially the garden. I find the foliage there so pleasant. Enjoy.
Grinning, he shut the door.
Click.
Track 9
At the end of the long driveway I found the gate closed. I put the car in park and sat, waiting for Oscar to open it from inside the house. Growing impatient I got out and approached the buzzer, and as I did Darin’s voice came through the speaker.
“Not intentionally trapping you, Chris, but I’ve changed my mind. I’ll be out in a minute. Hold tight.”
I got back in the car and scanned the radio, but the reception where Darin lived was terrible, and I cycled mostly through static. The opening of the passenger door pulled my attention from the continuous loop of digital numbers.
“I’m riding with you to London. My mood is set for socializing, but I can’t get anyone to come out. If we drive by an interesting place you can drop me off, or I’ll ride with you until The Goring and find my way from there.”
I reached into the back seat and felt through the main pouch of my bag until my fingers came across the edged metal of my recorder. I pulled it out and set it in a shelf in the dashboard between the steering wheel and main console.
Works for me. We can talk more.
Exactly! And that’s really why you’re here in England, isn’t it? So we can converse.
The gate began to open and I shifted into drive.
Want to know a secret?
The question seemed rhetorical, but I answered anyway. Of course.
I don’t drive stick. Odd, I know, because over here they’re all manual transmissions. That’s why Oscar takes me everywhere. I have one automatic I shipped from the states, but that’s for the racetrack. I’m sure I could learn, but I don’t need to. He stopped and pondered his own statement. Then suddenly he looked over at me. Why all the questions about my family?
I told you already, I want the whole picture. Most of that probably won’t make its way into the article, but if you’re as serious about a biography as I am, it’s important information. These things don’t write themselves, there’s a good amount of planning and preparation, detailing the arc of the story, your story, and figuring out which pieces are relevant.
And how do you know what’s relevant?
By hearing all of it. And then deciding what parts define your life. With your input, of course.
Oh but of course. Wouldn’t want to upset the subject. You seem to know your way out of here already, impressive. I never paid much attention, to be honest I don’t sit up front much.
Would it make you feel better to sit in the back?
A sense of humor, good to know you have one. You’ve come a long way from this morning.
So how much longer do you think you can keep up the rockstar game?
What do you mean?
I mean the whole thing. The touring, the songwriting, the holing yourself up in Mainshead.
I’m not sure I follow your implication, Chris. You seem to think this is a dog and pony show I’m just putting on, and at some point I’ll grow weary of it and stop.
Not exactly. But it seems at some point you might transition away from the rockstar thing and try to lead a life more normal. I talk to a lot of artists who now score films, or produce young bands. You ever think of that?
This is my life, it’s what I do. I’ve always written songs, I don’t see that stopping. Paul McCartney still writes, Paul Simon, Keith Richards, Mick, there are plenty of people with careers spanning decades. Entire lifetimes. Dylan. I see no reason why I can’t do that as well.
Where do you think you got that confidence? To be able to say that you can do whatever you want for as long as you want? Most people, you may not know or realize it, but most people feel like when they’re on a good streak they need to take advantage of it and ride it for as long as possible because they’re so sure it’ll end.
That’s such a shitty way to look at things, though, isn’t it? To think that whatever good you have in your life is transient? Look, your first step needs to be on the path you forever wish to tread. If you start thinking that path is going to run out you’re setting yourself up to be on a path that runs out. You need to live it every day and don’t stop until you’re dead, at which point it doesn’t really matter anymore. I’m going to always do this because I’m going to wake up every day and do it. There’s no deviating from the path. If I started to live my life like it was finite, this success I’ve experienced, then it probably would be. I’d start to make subconscious decisions that would veer me onto a new path, where I’m retired at thirty. But I have n
o intention of getting off the road I’m on, it’s too good to leave.
I only wonder because your songs have always appealed to a certain demographic, namely, young people. And it seems to me that you can only really appeal to that group for a certain amount of time. For everyone, there is a window where it works. My question is, can you write songs whose success isn’t defined by the degree of passion with which you sing them, a degree often marked by youth?
Undoubtedly, yes.
Why?
Because I’m a better fucking musician than ninety-eight percent of the people out there, and I’m certain my songwriting will mature into other areas. And my fans will come with me.
So you expect to mature as a songwriter?
Of course. Past tense means nothing to me. Do you get that? Past tense means nothing. The future is whatever I want it to be.
So it’s safe to say you’ll move away from lines about girls in miniskirts?
Now that’s unfair, you make me sound so juvenile. I don’t think I’ve ever written a line about a miniskirt.
“She served up just desserts, for my sake she wore a mini skirt, when I winked she looked away, hey hey.”
Oh right. But that’s a b-side. You really have listened to them all, haven’t you?
Research.
You loved it.
You’re good. But I’m interested to see where you go.
Why are you being so defeatist?
I’m not being defeatist, Darin, I’m asking you serious questions that most people in your position would think about. You’re ready to embark on a comeback, if I understand your intentions, and I wonder how you plan on re-engaging your audience.
Most people aren’t in my position because most people think like you. It’s awfully fucking pessimistic.
It’s realistic.
Well it’s not realistic for someone to think that at seventeen they can sign a contract with a major label and spend the next five years traveling the world and doing exactly what they love; that seems pretty far-fetched to me. But I did it. So why should I think that anything else isn’t possible.