'Chaos. Pandemonium. Life in the fastest lane on the fastest highway. People going crazy. Losing their brains in front of you. It all happened so quick. Nobody really excepted it or knew what to do once it happened. Would I do it all again? Easily baby. We were a smash.'
PART THREE -- The Hottest Thing In The Cosmos
Sir Zigmond (Ziggy) Parker was every bit the curious character his notoriety claimed. Multiple earrings dangling from either ear, several silver rings on fingers shimmering under the lights, and sunglasses covering eyes that hadn't been seen publicly in decades.
'You produced the Asteroids' first album, correct?' The interviewer asked from his clipboard.
'I produced all their albums, love. All the real ones. None of them rubbish bootlegs or demo tapes. The real McCoys.'
'Describe what it was like during those first recordings.'
'Hmmmm. Love to.'
A quick flick of the wrist and Ziggy Parker had not only lit a cigarette in his own mouth, but ignited one in the mouth of the interviewer... who spat it out and as professionally as possible asked Ziggy to continue.
'Well I'd been mostly a session keyboardist at Sterling Records. Co-produced some jazz cuts. These Comet boys came in for ten days and I happened to be their engineer. Stroke of luck that was. They were raw, man. Like the smell of a fish market. But they had a sound. An energy. A talent. You can tell, love. I've been in studios over fifty years and you can always tell. None of em knew a blasted thing about cutting an LP and the producer hired by Sterling company was a total boot licker. Tried to push them into becoming the next Rolling Stones. I knew that wasn't their sound. That was music of the past, Comet and the Asteroids was to be music of the future. Good sessions and, I got to know them. Played keyboards on "Starstruck". Yeah, that was me. Eventually I offered to produce the blasted thing. Best offer I ever made.'
Sir Ziggy laughed and shook his head, a gateway of forgotten treasures having revealed themselves to him once again.
'The first album "Tomorrow's Child" was a massive hit.' Confirmed the interviewer.
'Yes. Yes it was... though not at first. The tour is where it really got wild. At first it was supposed to be just North America and England. I wasn't even supposed to come along. Comet insisted I do. He reworked some of his songs just to get my keyboard in there. Twenty dates in we were a front page sensation. Suddenly we got rebooked on the fly into the biggest venues available. Hundreds of fans waited outside for us. At the hotel. At the gig. The afterparties. Met my first wife at one of those. And there was Calvin fucking Comet in the center of it all. He'd completely transformed from the inverted young man I'd met that first day in the studio. Now he was a star. He was free to be out there. To be his true self. The costumes became more elaborate. He became more sexual. He wore makeup. The spectacle matched the music. But the music never suffered, love. Not then. The band followed his lead. We were from outer space, love. Nobody was like us. And certainly nobody was like him.'
***
The car stops. Doors open and slam. Can't pretend to be asleep any longer.
'Steckland wake up! We're here!'
'Slept the whole damn trip. C'mon Steck, you lazy sack of bones. Grab your things.'
I gather my papers before my father or my sister can touch them. Without words I escape the car and enter the bitter frigid cold. The wind is a knife slicing through any protective warmth I have.
'The house is just up here. I hope there's something warm on the stove for us.' Laurie commented, leading the way.
I trail far behind them, my mind spinning around other things outside of this moment. Part of me walks up this driveway surrounded by snow and cold, but most of me does not.
(xxx) -- Three
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