I’s decision to go solo caught the press by surprise and Rod was
overwhelmed by requests for interviews from Rolling Stone,
Circus, Creem and all manner of major news magazines. I
refused every one.
“There’s no better publicity than no publicity,” I stated. “Keeps
‘em curious.”
The former members of Golden Fingers were not equally silent.
Spike, once I’s closest friend, was now his most vocal
opponent.
“It may have been I that was the star of the band,” he told
Rolling Stone, “but it was I, meaning me, that got the
band going in the first place. That ungrateful bastard had no right
to do what he did.”
Harsh words even came from the keyboard playing Osgood, “I joined
the band to support Spike. I never even liked I.” Harsh words
indeed, coming from the normally meek Osgood.
I did not let the negative press affect him. “It’s just sour
grapes,” he told Rod. The fans are all that count, and they are as
faithful as can be.
“Tell you what,” said I. “Throw them a bone. Put out a press
release that I’ve got a new solo album in the works. That should
silence the naysayers.”
“But you don’t have any such thing,” protested Rod.
“You know that and I know that, but they don’t know that,” claimed
I. “But like I said, keeps ‘em curious.”
Rod left to work on that, and I considered his options. He could
rely on the older group material, or he could release a solo album
and really bring in an even larger audience, with him playing
everything. On tour, he could use a band, but would rotate among
all the instruments. That day, he started writing his first solo
album.
During the next month, I wrote and laid down the basic tracks for
twelve new songs. When it came time to record, Rod hired some
session musicians to fill out the arrangements.
During the first recording session, it was clear that it just
wasn’t going to work. The session players weren’t getting into the
groove, and I kept firing them, one by one, until no one was left
in the studio besides him and Rod.
“Now what are we going to do?” asked Rod. “There’s no one left in
town that wants to play with you. You’re all on your own!”
“That’s not a problem, Rod,” I explained. “I can multi-track
everything and it will truly be a solo album. It’s not like it’s
the first time anyone’s done it. But it will be the best
time!”
I’s recent attitude towards others was not reflected in the care
his gave his music. He carefully laid down track after track after
track of licks, fills, rolls, solos, riffs and everything else
musical. He overlaid vocals on top of vocals, brought in every horn
he had mastered, and even included a clarinet feature. In two
months of extraordinary effort, I had completed his greatest work,
perhaps the greatest work of all time for anyone: The Real
Golden Fingers.
Sales were through the roof, and the album was still weeks from
release. Advance copies to reviewers were in agreement; this was
easily the finest recorded moment of all time.
Only a few months after Golden Fingers successful world tour, I was
on the road again, but this time, he was the only star.
The arrangement was this: Rod had hired stage musicians, but I
insisted that they not share the stage. They would be set up off
stage, but with their amplifiers on the stage. A full ensemble of
additional instruments was at I’s command. It was an effort to
faithfully replicate every sound on the new album. I even brought
in a twenty piece orchestra, again, sequestered off stage. Every
empty instrument space had its own spotlight, and there were
runways built into the audience so that I could share his greatness
with the crowd at an intimate level.
The arena on opening night was beyond capacity. Press and cameras
packed the first rows, the equipment for the worldwide simulcast
was in place, and I was backstage.
Rod was amazed at the success, “You're really big time now,
I.”
“Yeah, I never realized how much that band could hold back my full
potential.” He looked out from the wings. “Imagine, just me on the
stage and those people are just gonna eat it up.”
“It your biggest show ever, tonight,” Rod said. “If this one's
a success you're home free. Your album has already sold nearly
a million copies and it's still two weeks from release. Capture
this one tonight and we'll ship gold!”
I held up his hand, “You can depend on these golden fingers for
sure.” He reached into his pocket and with a magician’s flourish,
produce some M&Ms. “Like one?” He popped a couple into his
mouth.
“No, thanks.” Rod held up his hand in a stop motion. “I'm
trying to diet.”
I seemed surprised. “You? Diet? I thought you were
underweight.”
“It's a new thing I'm trying,” Rod explained. “If I diet
now, I won't have to diet if I get fat later. Some old doctor
told me about it. Says he read it somewhere.”
I was perplexed. “Sounds crazy. Who is he?”
“His name is Orson,” Rod revealed.
I’s eyes widened. “Dr. David Orson? From California?”
“Yeah, that's right,” Rod confirmed. “Why? Do you know
him?”
“I sure do,” replied I. “He delivered me!”
It was Rod’s turn to be confused. “Where to? Did he used to be a
cab driver?”
I couldn’t believe Rod’s dimwittedness. “Come on now. He’s a
doctor. What are you thinking?”
Rod mulled over I’s statement before the light bulb flashed.
“Oh!”
I let it slide. “Sure you don't want an M&M? Melts in your
mouth.”
Rod defensively replied, “Yeah, I know all that garbage. I do watch
TV, you know.” Finally, he relented. “O.K., I guess I'll fudge
on my diet.”
I warned, “Better watch it. Those things are habit-forming.”
Rod assured him, “I'll watch my step.” He took a glance at his
watch and extended a second warning. “You're due on stage in a
few minutes.”
I replied, “I'm up. Although I gotta piss first.”
Rod glanced again at his watch, worriedly. “Save it for the stage.
It'll set them on their ear to do something like that out
there.”
I wasn’t so sure that was a great idea. “Naw. My dad always said
‘When natures calls, don't refuse it.’”
Rod took yet another glance at his watch. “Make it quick. Two
minutes to show time.”
Without warning, calliope music began to play, and two clowns
suddenly began marching in front of Rod and I. One of the clowns
was carrying a sign that read 2 minutes to show time! The
“2” was in a big red circle, and there was a picture of an animated
hot dog and a bag of popcorn marching in their own parade.
Rod was taken aback. “What the hell was that?”
I was similarly affected. “I don't know, but it sure scared the
piss outta me!”
Rod glanced at his watch once again. “Good thing, because you
wouldn't have time now. Just one minute to show time.”
Once again the clown parade appeared, seemingly out of nowhere,
accompanied by the calliope music and carrying a new banner
claiming 1 minute to show time!
Rod yelled out, “Who hired these clowns, anyway?” He looked around
and nobody admitted their guilt. Turning to I, he asked “Are you
ready?”
I was pumped. “Yeah, they're gonna eat it up tonight.” He
picked up his bass and headed for the stage. “Here I go!”
I’s appearance on the stage caused the crowd to go into a roar. I
called for the crowd to quiet down, and he began his own
introduction.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I'm glad you came to see
the World's Greatest Musician” The crowd started in again. I
again called for calm. “I know I deserve your applause, but could
you hold it back for just a minute?” The din finally subsided.
“O.K., tonight's the first show of my new solo tour and
it's gonna be great!” The crowd noise began to swell again. I
yelled out, “Just give me your undivided attention with liberty and
justice for all!”
His booming bass began the song. Those in the first row caught the
full brunt of the deep sonorous experience. After thirty seconds of
bass intro, the brass section began with its intro. The audience
seemed a bit surprised when they saw no additional musicians on the
stage.
I began to sing:
I first picked up my bass guitar at the age of seventeen.
I really wanted to be a star and I was playing clean.
After the first few notes, I could already tell that I'd be
playing steady
'cause only golden fingers could play so heavy.
The crowd began to cheer at the words “Golden Fingers.” The
anticipation, the possibility, that Golden Fingers would now join I
on stage brought the crowd to a frenzy. I kept playing the bass
part until the crowd noise diminished, and the off stage orchestra
began to swell. I began the chorus:
Crowds would gather when I played.
Sometimes so many they even paid.
They hadn't heard music any finer
Than that which came from my golden fingers.
The crowd once again reacted to “Golden Fingers.” Surely now we
would see the legendary group? I had to solo again for a while
before the calmed down.
He continued singing;
I played in my first rock and roll band at the age of
seventeen.
It didn't come off the way I had it planned, and so I split
the scene.
I wrote some songs and I sang some tunes, and I knew that I was
ready
'cause only golden fingers could play so heavy.
The realization began to set in that Golden Fingers would not make
a surprise appearance. The Isaac fans in the front row sat down,
disappointed. He sang the chorus, again.
Crowds would gather when I played.
Sometimes so many they even paid.
They hadn't heard music any finer
Than that which came from my golden fingers.
Then I took an unexpected mellow turn:
But life can't always be heavy;
Sometimes you've got to take it light.
But if I had my way
I'd play those heavy lines all through the night.
I returned to a heavier groove.
And now I've got it made, there ain't a cat alive who
doesn't know who I am
And I play every night doin' my funky jive in a concert or a
jam.
And if I wanted to, with my powerful sound, I could break down the
levee
'cause only golden fingers could play so heavy
Crowds would gather when I played.
Sometimes so many they even paid.
They hadn't heard music any finer
Than that which came from my golden fingers.
The disappointment of an imagined, yet failed appearance by Golden
Fingers had the crowd a bit subdued in their final response to the
new song. I knew he had a big hit on his hands, but this was not
the response he was expecting.
“You’re a bit foolish if you were expecting something else,” he
told the crowd. The crowd murmured, but I went on. “But we’re all
fools, aren’t we?” The crowd warmed a bit at the self-referential
joke. “Well, I’m a special kind of fool!”
A fifties style beat began from the sound system, a piano keyboard
banging out the introduction to I’s next song. I switched to
electric guitar and began wailing. After an extended solo
introduction, he began to sing.
I'm just a rock and roll fool.
Never went to rock and roll school.
Always breaking the rock and roll rules.
When I play my guitar
I become a rock and roll star.
I know that fame and fortune can't be very far.
Jump up, Jump back, give it a chance.
If you know how, get up and dance.
I is my name;
Rock and roll is my game.
They tell me that a crowd like this is so hard to tame.
But I just call to the mass,
"Quit smoking all that grass,"
So that you can witness what has come to pass.
For no apparent reason, I stopped, and the offstage musicians
gradually faded out.
“Did you hear that last lick?” I called out to the crowd, “I
surprised myself with that one. I guess nobody knows how good I
really am. Not even myself!” He resumed singing and playing, after
a leap in the air.
Jump up, jump back, give it a chance
If you know how, get up and dance
So you can call me your rock and roll king.
Playing guitar with that rock and roll ring.
It's something you'll remember, that rock and roll
thing.
Now here's a rockin' goodbye
To get you rock and roll high.
Rock and roll will live 'til I die.
Jump up, jump back, give it a chance
If you know how, get up and dance
I finished up with another blazing solo, then stopped
abruptly.
“Whew! Really burned up my fingers on that one,” he explained.
“Hold it while I go back and get some water.”
I left the stage, and the crowd was puzzled by his behavior. It was
a full five minutes before he returned. Some responded with
“Boooooo” and not a few even gave up their seats and started to
leave.
I moved into the classic Golden Fingers song “A Most Amazing Man”
but the feel with full orchestration and brass did not conquer the
crowd. More boos and hisses arose from the audience. When the
statement of I’s greatness was sung, many in the crowd raised their
rancor even higher. I couldn’t understand why everything had turned
so ugly. If these were fans, he wouldn’t want them either.