'Ton of strain on the band, Neptune Memories was. All of them but Slice felt abandoned. Even he was rightly pissed. But what a cut, love. What a record. Before that Cal'd just been a rock n' roll star, mere flamboyance and romanticized life. After Neptune, he was a songwriter. And one of the best.'
PART SIX -- Crashing Asteroids
'But that was the end of the band, love. Sadly. At least in that configuration. Galaxy Dantley never played with Calvin again. Banes and him didn't speak for bout a year.'
'Is it true that the initial bad reviews of the album were hard on Comet?'
Sir Ziggy fiddled with one of his many silver rings, a rare moment of not projecting himself as amicable as usual.
'That's puttin' it lightly, love. Real lightly. Since there was never a tour, Calvin just... he disappeared for a few months. None of us knew where he was. Or what he was up to.'
'What do you know of a woman named Sorre?'
'You've been chattin' with Rhodes the Roadie!' Sir Ziggy laughed, joviality restored. 'You poor lad.'
'Did you know her?' The interviewer pressed on.
'Yeah, yeah. Course, love. Lovely girl. They was attached by the hips during those whole sessions. She was good for the atmosphere. And she knew she couldn't sing and never tried it! Sweet, sharp woman, seriously love. Lightning quick wit. She kept him in check too. Calvin. Not an easy chore. Golden Planet had been so wild, so fast, we was all used to the road lifestyle. Drinkin' and drugs, Roadie Rhodes and Calvin especially. She kept him together, at least from excessive levels. Took those photos in the inner jacket of us on 'Golden'! Least what was left of us, hmmm.'
'When did Comet at last reappear?'
'Must've been early '73. I'd just met my second wife. I remember he called the recording studio, Calvin did, asking for me specifically. Explains he'd been out in Holland. Clearin' his head, workin' on new songs. He was frantic and eager. He asked me to get as much of the band together as I could and in a week he'd be back. Tried my best. Two weeks later he shows. Skinny as a rail track. Think he later explained he'd been livin' off skim milk, spinach and bad habits.'
'These must've been the Spaceport to Spaceport sessions.'
'Infamous, love. Infamous. And just as wild as the rumours. Wilder, even. Of the original band only Slice was willin' to come back and he regretted it straight through. Since all we had were session players Calvin took it on himself to recruit a new band durin' recordings. He'd arrive late for tapings with a bunch of random lads. Claimin' he'd seen em play some show, partied with em, sayin' they'd be perfect for this song or that. Some of em could legit play, that's how we found Rich Rocket Hurley. But most were drunken, druggy amateurs just happy to be hangin' with a big rock star. What a mess. Real miracle we even finished the bloody thing.'
'The critics weren't too kind on it either.'
'Easily his worst effort. Sides from all them bloody bootlegs of course. Some of them songs on Spaceport still kick though. Even in the haze, Calvin could write a tune. But so little focus there. To this day I still can't listen to "Bottle Rockets to the Moon". Twelve damn minutes of half in the bag, on the slopes, hardly bein' able to play basic nonsense. Bad memories, love. Worst I'd ever seen him. Little did I know.'
***
One knock on the door. My father. Ignore. Ignore. Back to sleep. Damn papers taking up most of the bed.
Second knock on the door. Female voice. Not as stern. No shape to answer. Ignore. Back to sleep. Explain later. Maybe.
Third knock on the door. Father again. Ignore ignore ignore ignore. One day he'll get it. Maybe.
Fourth knock. Sister Laurie. I can tell because I probably could use a shave and a haircut. She wants to come in. First time anyone's wanted to do that since I got here. First one to call me "Steck". She asks me to come out. Apparently there are presents to be opened.
I explain I didn't get anyone anything this year. She insists she got me covered. I give an empty promise to come out later. Maybe.
A sigh. She leaves. Back to sleep. Too real, too close.
(xxxiii) -- Six
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