El & Em: Two hearts, one band, a long slow ride

PART I - Chapter 1

Luke Clarkston signed his first record contract in 1972, when he was twenty-two years old. He'd been writing songs since he was twelve, joined his first band at fifteen, played gigs since high school. Making a record was exactly what he wanted next.

First stop after leaving the record company's office was to find a pay phone and call his best friend Eddie to share the news. Eddie had his own band and played guitar better than Luke; they were always each other's first sounding boards.

"Wow," Eddie said, impressed. "Where are you? Let's celebrate, man."

They met up at their usual spot near Gray's Ferry, bought some beer and headed toward the river. In those days, neither of them had enough money to drink in bars.

"I can't believe I did it," Luke kept repeating. "I mean, I just walked in there with a guitar and played my songs and they bought it!"

Eddie wanted to know all about the contract terms and conditions, but Luke could barely remember the details. "I dunno, man, Jerry took care of all that. He said it was good and I should sign so I signed." Jerry was his manager, a middle-aged man who also ran the local skateboard store, which was how Luke met him.

"Well, what about the money? What kind of advance you get?" Eddie, tall and lithe and always a sharp dresser, fastidiously avoided the mud as they followed dirt paths toward the rail yard on the river's edge.

"Nothin' yet but they say I'll get enough to make the first album. Shit, I can't believe I get to make a record! They're booking me into this studio in North Philly in, like, two weeks."

"Are you doing the singer-songwriter thing? Or with a band?"

"A band, man! I'm making a rock and roll record."

"Who you gonna bring with you?"

"Jerry wants to approve everyone. But you're comin' for sure." Luke had grown up with piano lessons and was teaching himself guitar but he wasn't confident in his playing; he wasn't even really confident in his singing. The only thing he was completely sure of was his song-writing.

"What, you want me to play on your record?" Eddie smirked, pretending surprise.

"Well obviously. And the usual guys I guess - Pete and Leo. Petey's a bit loco but he does a solid bass, and he knows all my songs by now."

A chain link fence surrounded the rail yard. They reached the section where a hole had been made through the links and Luke, who was smaller and scrawnier and never thought about his clothes, slipped through it, then paused and waited for Eddie.

"And Gord Cortez," Luke went on, watching as Eddie carefully pushed back all the broken wires and gingerly stepped through. "Hope he's free. You know I write those piano parts but I can't play 'em."

"He's cool. Classical training I think."

"He's got this jazzy edge, he really knows what I like."

"You think that advance'll be enough to pay everyone?"

"Better be, it's all I got."

Another short path through a few bushes led them to their favourite spot at the edge of the murky grey river, and Luke threw himself down under a tree on the bank. Eddie perched on a stone beside him, handed out the beer, and started rolling a joint.

"You wanna check out Harlow's later?" Eddie asked. "I heard they got a new house band."

"I dunno, I told Sheryl I'd hang around with her tonight," Luke said, still thinking about the upcoming recording session. "Wish I could find some kind of horn player - a sax or trumpet or something." He leaned back on his elbows and stared upwards, trying to catch a glimpse of the city behind them. "Just for a few tracks."