The following morning, it was Mike who was awaken by
Shorty. "Hey Mike! You made it in the paper!" Mike woke up and got up and
went to Shorty, who was at the kitchen table. "Listen to this! ‘At
the Mayor’s fund raiser, the newly formed group called Mike and the Nezband
was playing. The group shook the crowd up with their style of music not
usually played at these fund raisers. The leader, Mike Nesmith was quoted
as saying, ‘I hoped you would enjoy this music, but it doesn’t seem like
you are.’ He played what is called Country rock and rock and roll music,
which the Mayor seemed to have enjoyed. Watch out world, Mike and the Nezband
are coming at us." Shorty looked up and handed me the paper.
"Wow, they even got a picture of us!!" Mike
sat down looking at the photo and the caption underneath. "Mike and the
Nezband performing for the Mayor." Many things rolled around in his mind,
aside from the fact that he performed for the Mayor. He could only have
dreamt of this type of publicity with the Monkees. Well, they were successful
during that time Peter sold his soul, but in the end, only the Monkees
remembered that time. Mr. Zero said after the contract was null and void,
that so was the money and fame.
"Hey Shorty, can I use the phone?" Shorty merely nodded and Mike called the gang up.
"Hello, home of the Monkees." Micky droned.
"Micky? This is Mike!"
"Mike! Hey, hold on." Mike could hear Micky shouting
out, "Hey guys, it’s Mike!!" he heard Davy and peter cry out hi in
the distance. "Hey Mike, how are you?"
"Hey guys, Hi Peter and Davy! I got great news!
I made it to the newspaper! Even got a picture of me! We did our
first gig yesterday and it ended up being for the Mayor! Can you believe
that? I didn’t even know! I’m called Mike and the Nezband.
Don’t think of me as a traitor. My Agent represents a band and she stuck
them on me. If I get famous, then I could actually have anyone play and
still be called Mike and the Nezband."
Hey, that’s just great man! At least it didn’t
take you long Remember your promise to us, okay? First concert you
do, you get us front row seats, right?"
"Right! You guys found a replacement, yet?"
Davy answered, "Yeah, The guy’s okay, but he’s no
Davy Jones, I mean Mike!" the group laughed. (Inside joke). "We even got
a gig out of the deal. So it’s not bad."
Peter talked next. "How’s the weather? People nice over there? Made a lot of friends yet?"
"Well so far the weather is okay. My Agent isn’t
very nice, but she put some money in my wallet. I’d actually like to see
Davy get a date out of her. The group I am currently working with are decent
guys though. And I haven’t really had a chance to make a lot of friends."
Mike hesitated a bit. "Hey Pete?" "Yeah?" "I miss you guys."
Peter smiled at the phone. "We miss you too Mike,
Just remember us when you become famous, throw a few parties for us, and
don’t forget to wear your cap."
"Thanks Peter. Listen I’ll call you guys again,
okay? Bye all." The guys said bye and Mike hung up. He looked around the
place and heard only their good-byes ringing in his ears. A few hours later,
Mike got a call from Sarah. "Mike good news. You and the band have
just gotten three more jobs. One is for a rodeo, up in San Francisco. Are
you up for it? They would love your country rock style to be heard." Mike
took up the offer. He hung up.Davy answered, he was expecting his
new girlfriend, and Mike asked if they could make it to San Francisco,
his treat. Davy immediately said yes. No doubt he was thinking of all the
pretty ladies that he hadn’t dated yet.
Two weeks later, the gang met in San Francisco. A
brief but happy reunion took place. Micky, Davy, and Peter got great seats
which meant that they got to smell the wild animals and got dirt in their
faces. After a brief intermission, Mike and the Nezband got introduced.
"I’d like to take a few moments to say, me and band
think it’s great to be here, where the ways of the country are honored.
So the band and I would like to play a song from a while back. It’s called
‘I walk the line’. I hope you like it as much as we like playing it."
Mike and the Nezband played the song, and till this very day all those
who heard him never heard a better version of it besides Johnny Cash’s
version.
The band went into, "She owns and operates her own
sunshine factory!" Yes for those who remember, it was Sunny Girlfriend.
They played another country song and then they played what started them
off, "You just may be the one." After their first set was over, Mike went
to meet his friends.
It was the hardest walk Mike ever did. For the first
time in his life, people wanted his autograph. Some women ran up and hugged
him, some kissed him. For the women who didn’t have paper, they improvised,
As one woman screamed "Can you sign my arm?!" Mike finally found his way
to his friends just as the bull riding started. Bull riding or a free autograph
from a rising star. Most opted for what they paid for.
In whispered voices as whispering as one could be
with crowds cheering, jeering and laughing, the guys talked to Mike. "Hey,
you were great out there Mike! Everyone really loved your jazzed
up songs!" Peter said.
Mike signed an autograph book that was shoved in
his face and replied, "Thanks Pete. It's just great being out there!"
Peter looked down and then produced his own book of autographs, which
was empty. "I was saving the first page for someone really great, so, Mike?
Would you sign my book?"
"Sure good buddy!" Mike gladly responded.
After the show Mike and the Nezband met Micky,
Davy and Peter for dinner at a restaurant. Everyone had a great time just
getting to know everyone and exchanging stories. The old Monkees
went back to Shorty’s place where they crashed for the night. The following
morning were full of good-byes yet again, but this time it would
be for a bit longer of a time then anyone expected. For a few days later,
Sarah called again.
"Mike, Sarah. I received an offer you just can’t
refuse." She said with a deadpan voice. If she was excited, you couldn’t
tell. "RCA wants to sign you guys after all. Mike and the Nezband’s first
big shot to stardom. You will get $30,000 for the first record, plus a
percentage of the royalties. They really think you have talent. And that
much dough is really great for a new guy. You won’t get any royalties for
the record, but that’s okay. If it sells, you’re looking at concert tours,
and more record deals. So, do you want the deal?"
Mike was jumping up and down full of hope, excitement and pure thrill of the moment. "Do I?!!!" he screamed.
"I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll get the contract
ready. And bring it over. Now about where you live, That will have to change.
Appearance wise, you need to grow a full beard. You will have some
say as to what songs you will sing, but not the final say. If you walk
out at anytime, the contract will be broken and you’ll end up owing for
all studio costs, and Mike, that really adds up. Do you understand?"
Mike took it all in. "They do know that I would like a wider variety of music right?"
"I’ve told them some of the things that you told
me about when we met, so yes. However you must understand that they will
look at trying to place your record in an actual category, right? Soft
hits, or Rock & Roll or Country, Etc."
"Well, yeah, sure of course I know that. I just
don’t want to be stereotyped. You know? But I’ll take it."
"Excellent, I’ll be there as soon as I can with the contracts, but it will be a while."
The following day Mike and his band were going through
some possible songs. Many were things Mike had written, but some
came from the other members. By the end of 5 hours, mike and the band were
only half way done picking which songs weren’t going to be used. The band
went to get some food and Mike was completely alone.
"Man, this record thing is harder than I thought.
Even if I was looking at just my songs, how can I pick the best ones?
Sure I could go with the ones I’ve sung so far, but would that be enough?
Which would be hit singles? Without singles, I can’t get national
publicity." Mike stared at the list of titles, most he knew by heart, since
he wrote them. "Then what about redoing a classic? A song someone
else did? Some big names became big names doing that." Mike sighed out
loud. They needed to figure out the best chances to make the best use of
time. It wasn’t like they were big hits right now, so they didn’t have
priority in the studio.
After about eighty gallons of coffee, the
group brought the possibilities down a double album. Not that they would
get that, but it was better than what they started off with.
The following day, they had the studio for two hours
and what they did in those two hours, was, let’s face it, was nothing.
Disagreements kept popping up, not to mention complaints on the instruments,
how the other sound and much more. Everyone went their own way after their
time was up. Disappointment clouded over Mike, as his star filled
dreams seemed to be disappearing.
"I thought I had it made. I mean, a record deal!"
Mike said to Shorty from across the table. Shorty was taking it all in
quietly. The food I mean. "We couldn’t agree on anything. What would happen
if the producers actually come in and want something?"
"Listen Mike, just take five for a while. You just
need to loosen up a bit. You said that you guys did great at rehearsals
and when you played a gig, right?" Mike took a bite of from his potato.
He nodded. "Well man, there you go! "
"Mike looked at him and asked, "WHAT?"
"It’s simple, don’t you see that what you are going through is typical
famedom? Everyone wants the glory and wants to be heard, but in the
end if you guys go like you are, no one will hear you. What you need to
do is pretend you are at a gig. You wouldn’t argue in front of people,
right? You guys would just play and have fun." Shorty ate some of his lasagna
before continuing. "Knowing this will make or break your dream is what
is clouding your true creativity. Now you see why I haven’t tried
going that route. I just love the moment of playing and hearing just one
girl scream out my name." He said dreamily.
"Uh, Shorty, I think your ex wife just want her ring back," Mike countered.
Shorty laughed and then shrugged, "At least she has to pay to see me."
"You know Shorty, you might have point. We could be putting too much
stress on ourselves." The two men spent the rest of dinner in complete
silence.
