How did Long Miles evolve from college friends to a rising reggae-rock band. What influenced their musical journey and sound. How did their college experience shape their musical career. What challenges did they face in developing their unique style.
The Origins of Long Miles: From High School to College
Long Miles, a reggae-rock band with roots in Philadelphia, began their musical journey long before they set foot on the College of Charleston campus. The band’s core members – John Shields, Sam Morgan, Brett Haenn, and James McNally – had already established a musical connection in high school, writing original tunes and performing at local parties. Their early success, including winning a battle of the bands, set the stage for their future endeavors.
In a pivotal decision that would shape their musical careers, the four friends chose to attend the College of Charleston together. This move allowed them to maintain their musical partnership while pursuing higher education. As Shields recalls, “We’d already played together in high school, writing original tunes and playing parties. We won a battle of the bands before we applied to college. Sam and Brett had already applied to CofC, and James and I weren’t quite sure what we wanted to do. Ultimately, we decided to stick together.”
Dorm Room Beginnings: Crafting Their Sound
The transition from high school to college proved to be a catalyst for Long Miles’ musical development. The band members found themselves living and rehearsing in a four-room suite at McAlister Hall, creating an ideal environment for honing their craft. This close-knit living arrangement allowed them to refine their technique, songwriting, and on-stage performance.
During their freshman year, the band’s productivity soared. Shields explains, “Throughout that first year, we wrote and recorded 12 songs in the dorm. Looking back on it, the quality isn’t that great, but we thought it was spectacular at the time. We enjoyed a little bit of success with it, and people responded well to it.” This period of intense creativity laid the foundation for their future success.
The Evolution of Roles Within the Band
As Long Miles continued to develop their sound, the members naturally fell into specific roles that complemented their strengths. John Shields emerged as the lead vocalist and primary lyricist, while Sam Morgan and James McNally contributed additional ideas for song arrangements. This collaborative approach to songwriting allowed the band to create a diverse and dynamic sound that would become their signature.
Building a Fan Base: From Dorm Rooms to Local Venues
Long Miles’ journey from dorm room musicians to local favorites was marked by their dedication to live performances. The band secured a weekly gig at O’Malley’s, a popular venue on King Street, where they played unplugged sets of covers and originals. This regular exposure helped them build a loyal following among their peers.
Shields fondly remembers this period of growth: “It was great because all of our friends in the dorm would come out and have fun. They’d tell their friends and bring them out, and we started developing a little following.” This grassroots approach to building their fan base proved effective, as word of mouth spread and their popularity in the Charleston club scene continued to grow throughout 2011.
Expanding the Lineup: New Members and New Sounds
As Long Miles’ reputation grew, so did their lineup. Adam Williams, a College of Charleston graduate, began sitting in with the band at O’Malley’s and other shows before officially joining as their drummer. Williams’ versatility and experience playing with other local acts like Wadata brought a new dimension to Long Miles’ sound.
The most recent addition to the band is Ross Bogan, a talented organist and pianist who joined during his senior year at the College of Charleston. Bogan’s keyboard skills, honed through his work with other local bands like Wadata and Weigh Station, further expanded Long Miles’ sonic palette.
The Impact of New Members on Long Miles’ Sound
The addition of Williams and Bogan allowed Long Miles to explore new musical territories. Shields acknowledges the band’s evolving sound, stating, “The band’s sound is still evolving. We’re still trying to find our main style. We definitely incorporate a lot of styles.” This willingness to experiment and incorporate diverse influences has become a hallmark of Long Miles’ music.
Musical Influences: From Hip-Hop to Reggae
Long Miles’ sound is a melting pot of various musical influences, reflecting the diverse tastes of its members. The band’s Philadelphia roots shine through in their appreciation for the hip-hop/blues feel of G. Love. However, their musical palette extends far beyond a single genre.
Shields cites reggae legends like Jimmy Cliff as a significant influence, along with jam band giants Umphrey’s McGee. The band’s exposure to hip-hop and reggae during their formative years played a crucial role in shaping their sound. As they continued to evolve, Long Miles also drew inspiration from the jam band scene, pushing them to experiment with unconventional song structures and improvisation.
The Reggae-Rock Movement
While Long Miles acknowledges the influence of the reggae-rock movement on their music, they’re careful not to pigeonhole themselves into a single subgenre. Shields explains, “We are influenced by the reggae/rock movement going on, but I don’t think we’re stuck in that subgenre. We can play with that feel, but we can do other things.” This versatility allows Long Miles to appeal to a wide range of listeners while maintaining their unique identity.
The College Experience: Balancing Education and Music
One of the unique aspects of Long Miles’ journey is how they’ve integrated their musical aspirations with their academic pursuits. All four original band members developed an interest in the inner workings of the music industry and the process of producing music. This curiosity led them to enroll in media classes and study marketing on campus, providing them with valuable skills that would prove useful in their musical careers.
A particularly influential experience for Shields and Morgan was attending the College of Charleston’s School of the Arts’ introduction to music management course. The class, taught by Mark Bryan of Hootie and the Blowfish fame, provided practical insights into the music industry. Shields reflects on the impact of this course, saying, “Mark’s class was very helpful. Classes like that encouraged all of us to stay in school and wait until we earned our degrees before making some sort of a big move as a band.”
The Value of Education in a Musical Career
The band’s decision to prioritize their education alongside their musical pursuits demonstrates a level of maturity and foresight that sets them apart from many young bands. By gaining a comprehensive understanding of the music industry through their studies, Long Miles has positioned themselves for long-term success in a notoriously challenging field.
Recording and Releasing Music: From EPs to Full-Length Albums
Long Miles’ recording journey began during their sophomore year when they worked with studio engineer Chris DiBeneditto at Philadelphonic Studios. This collaboration resulted in the release of a six-song mini-album titled “A Philadelphonic EP” in December 2010. This early recording experience provided the band with valuable studio time and helped them refine their sound.
As the band continued to grow and evolve, they set their sights on creating a full-length album. In 2012, Long Miles launched a successful Kickstarter campaign to fund the recording of their debut album, “Shades.” The band chose to work with acclaimed studio producer Rick Beato at Black Dog Sound in Atlanta, a decision that would significantly impact the quality and sound of their record.
The Making of “Shades”
The recording process for “Shades” was a transformative experience for Long Miles. Shields speaks highly of the experience, saying, “I think the sound of this new album is tight and lively. Rick worked fast and serious, and it turned out better than we’d hoped for.” The 10-song collection showcases the band’s growth and maturity, featuring a sound that leans more towards modern reggae-rock than their earlier, more eclectic style.
The album’s cohesive sound is characterized by syncopated reggae and ska beats, drawing comparisons to post-311 and Sublime rock styles. However, Long Miles maintains that their sound is not limited to a single subgenre, emphasizing their ability to adapt and experiment with different musical styles.
The Future of Long Miles: Navigating Post-Graduation Challenges
As the members of Long Miles approach graduation, they find themselves at a crossroads. The band must decide whether to pursue traditional careers or fully commit to their musical aspirations. This decision is made more complex by the relationships they’ve built and the success they’ve achieved during their time at the College of Charleston.
The band’s experience in Mark Bryan’s music management class has encouraged them to consider waiting until after graduation to make any significant moves as a band. This approach allows them to complete their education while continuing to develop their sound and fan base.
Balancing Passion and Practicality
The challenge facing Long Miles is one that many young musicians encounter: how to balance their passion for music with the practical considerations of building a sustainable career. Their decision to pursue education alongside their musical development has provided them with a safety net and additional skills that could prove valuable in navigating the music industry.
As they look to the future, Long Miles must weigh the potential of their musical career against the security of more traditional paths. Their journey from dorm room jam sessions to releasing a professionally produced album demonstrates their commitment and potential, but the road ahead remains uncertain.
The Long Miles Sound: A Fusion of Influences and Experiences
Long Miles’ musical style is a testament to their diverse influences and experiences. From their early days playing high school parties to their current status as an up-and-coming reggae-rock band, their sound has continually evolved. The band’s ability to incorporate elements of hip-hop, reggae, jam band, and rock into their music sets them apart in a crowded musical landscape.
Shields describes the band’s approach to music, saying, “We definitely incorporate a lot of styles. Coming out of Philadelphia, the hip-hop/blues feel of G. Love was a big influence on us. We were listening to hip-hop and reggae a lot. I personally really liked Jimmy Cliff and Umphrey’s McGee, too.” This eclectic mix of influences is evident in their music, creating a sound that is both familiar and uniquely their own.
The Role of Collaboration in Shaping Long Miles’ Sound
The collaborative nature of Long Miles’ songwriting process has played a crucial role in developing their distinctive sound. With each member bringing their own musical preferences and skills to the table, the band has created a dynamic and versatile style that continues to evolve. The addition of new members like Adam Williams and Ross Bogan has further expanded their sonic palette, allowing them to explore new rhythms and textures in their music.
As Long Miles continues to refine their sound, they remain committed to pushing boundaries and avoiding musical stagnation. This dedication to growth and experimentation bodes well for their future, suggesting that the band’s best work may still be ahead of them.
Long Miles’ Impact on the Charleston Music Scene
Throughout their college years, Long Miles has become an integral part of the Charleston music scene. Their regular performances at local venues like O’Malley’s have not only helped them build a loyal fan base but have also contributed to the city’s vibrant live music culture. As college students themselves, Long Miles has been uniquely positioned to connect with and inspire their peers, fostering a new generation of music enthusiasts in Charleston.
The band’s success story – from dorm room jam sessions to professionally recorded albums – serves as an inspiration to other aspiring musicians in the area. Their ability to balance academic pursuits with their musical passion demonstrates that it’s possible to pursue creative endeavors while still prioritizing education.
Collaborations and Connections
Long Miles’ involvement in the local music scene extends beyond their own performances. Through their collaborations with other local musicians and their participation in the College of Charleston’s music programs, they have helped to strengthen the connections within Charleston’s musical community. These relationships have not only enriched their own music but have also contributed to the overall growth and diversity of the city’s music scene.
As they prepare to graduate and potentially move on to the next phase of their musical journey, Long Miles leaves behind a legacy of hard work, creativity, and community engagement. Their story serves as a testament to the nurturing environment that Charleston provides for young musicians and the potential for success that exists within the city’s thriving music scene.
Long Miles graduate from the school of reggae-rock
Posted inFeatures, Music+Clubs
by
T. Ballard Lesemann
Four years ago, John Shields was a new kid in town, an 18-year-old transplant from suburban Philly eager to get rolling with a budding band. Nowadays, with almost four years of school under his belt, Shields is at a turning point. After graduation, he could pursue a standard day job and move into a sturdy career. Or he can follow a different path with his bandmates in the Long Miles.
“We’d already played together in high school, writing original tunes and playing parties,” Shields says of his pals — bassist Sam Morgan and guitarists Brett Haenn and James McNally. “We won a battle of the bands before we applied to college. Sam and Brett had already applied to CofC, and James and I weren’t quite sure what we wanted to do. Ultimately, we decided to stick together.
”
The four friends to Charleston at the same time. All are due to graduate in May.
The Long Miles guys initially resided and rehearsed in a four-room suite at McAlister Hall. They became a solid team, refining their technique, songwriting, and on-stage performance along the way.
“Throughout that first year, we wrote and recorded 12 songs in the dorm,” Shields says. “Looking back on it, the quality isn’t that great, but we thought it was spectacular at the time. We enjoyed a little bit of success with it, and people responded well to it.”
During their freshmen year, Shields emerged as the lead vocalist and lyricist. Morgan and McNally provided additional ideas for song arrangements
“I think we came across as best friends on stage,” Shields says. “You could tell that we’ve been living and playing together for years.”
During their freshman year, the foursome picked up a weekly gig at King Street venue O’Malley’s, playing unplugged sets of covers and originals.
They tightened up even more during their sophomore year, recorded with studio engineer Chris DiBeneditto (G. Love) at Philadelphonic Studios, and a released six-song mini album titled A Philadelphonic EP in Dec. 2010. Their popularity in the club scene grew even more throughout 2011.
“It was great because all of our friends in the dorm would come out and have fun,” Shields says. “They’d tell their friends and bring them out, and we started developing a little following.”
Drummer Adam Williams, a CofC grad from 2010, started sitting in at O’Malley’s and at other shows, eventually signing on as an official member. Williams also keeps time with funk band Wadata and a few Charleston-based projects. The most recent enlistment is former Plainfield Project organist/pianist Ross Bogan, who’s currently in his senior year at CofC. Bogan plays with Wadata, Weigh Station, and others as well.
“The band’s sound is still evolving,” Shields says. “We’re still trying to find our main style.
We definitely incorporate a lot of styles. Coming out of Philadelphia, the hip-hop/blues feel of G. Love was a big influence on us. We were listing to hip-hop and reggae a lot. I personally really liked Jimmy Cliff and Umphrey’s McGee, too. Adam has the ability to play all sorts of music and rhythms, which allows us to expand. We got more in to the jam scene along the way, and we tried to get away from the standard formulas.”
All four of the original bandmates developed an interest in the inner workings of the music industry and the process of producing music. They enrolled in media classes and studied marketing on campus. Shields and Morgan attended CofC’s School of the Arts’ introduction to music management course taught by Mark Bryan, the lead guitarist of Hootie and the Blowfish and head of the Chucktown Music Group.
“Mark’s class was very helpful,” Shields says. “Classes like that encouraged all of us to stay in school and wait until we earned our degrees before making a some sort of a big move as a band.
”
Last year, Long Miles raised funds through a Kickstarter campaign to record with acclaimed studio man Rick Beato at Black Dog Sound in Atlanta. The 10-song collection, Shades, hits the street this week.
“I think the sound of this new album is tight and lively,” Shields says. “Rick worked fast and serious, and it turned out better than we’d hoped for.”
Rhythmically, the songs on Shades sound more like a modern reggae/rock band than a funky jam band or hip-hop hybrid. Syncopated reggae/ska beats are consistent throughout the songs on Shades. It fits in well with the post 311/Sublime side of rock.
“We had all always listened to reggae, especially Bob Marley’s album Burnin’,” Shields says. “We are influenced by the reggae/rock movement going on, but I don’t think we’re stuck in that subgenre. We can play with that feel, but we can do other things, too.”
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Tagged: Local Bands, Long Miles, Music Farm
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Miles Davis | National Endowment for the Arts
Miles Davis was arguably the most influential jazz musician in the post-World War II period, being at the forefront of changes in the genre for more than 40 years.
Born into a middle-class family, Davis started on the trumpet at age 13. His first professional music job came when he joined the Eddie Randall band in St. Louis in 1941. In the fall of 1944 Davis took a scholarship to attend the Juilliard School, a convenient passport to New York. It didn’t take him long to immerse himself in the New York scene and he began working 52nd Street gigs alongside Charlie Parker in 1945. Soon, Davis found work with Coleman Hawkins and the big bands of Billy Eckstine and Benny Carter.
During the late 1940s, a number of musical contemporaries began to meet and jam regularly at the small apartment of arranger-pianist Gil Evans. Among them were saxophonists Gerry Mulligan and Lee Konitz, and pianist John Lewis. Out of this group of musicians, Davis formed the nonet to record his first major musical statement, Birth of the Cool. In addition to the standard piano, bass, and drums rhythm section, Davis’ nonet horn section used French horn and tuba along with trombone and alto and baritone saxophones, lending the band a unique harmonic sound.
In 1955, Davis assembled his first important band with John Coltrane, Red Garland, Paul Chambers, and Philly Joe Jones, adding Cannonball Adderley in 1958. By this time Davis, influenced by George Russell‘s theories, had begun playing in modes rather than standard chord changes, which led to his most famous album (and the all-time biggest-selling jazz album), Kind of Blue, in 1959. Davis also continued an important musical partnership with Gil Evans, recording four releases in five years: Miles Ahead, Porgy and Bess, Sketches of Spain, and Quiet Nights.
In 1964, Davis assembled a new band of younger musicians, which became known as his second great quintet. This included Herbie Hancock, Tony Williams, Ron Carter, and Wayne Shorter. By this time, the Miles Davis Quintet was recording mostly originals, with all the band members contributing memorable tunes. Davis’ horn playing also changed, increasing the spacing of notes to create more suspense in the music.
In 1968, Davis again changed direction, leading the way for electric jazz with the release of In a Silent Way. By the 1969 release of Bitches Brew, as he deepened the electronic elements and rock rhythms of his music, the transformation was complete. By the mid- 1970s, following the debilitating effects of a 1972 auto accident, Davis went into semi-retirement. He returned to the scene in 1980 and resumed touring in 1981, attracting newer fans. From then to 1991, Davis remained vital and popular, receiving the Grammy Lifetime Acheivement Award in 1990.
Selected Discography
Birth of the Cool, Capitol, 1949-50
Kind of Blue, Columbia, 1959
The Complete Live at the Plugged Nickel, Columbia, 1965
Bitches Brew, Columbia, 1969
Amandla, Warner Brothers, 1989
The Green Mile – soundtracks and music from the movie
Old Alabama
B.B. and Group
1:00
I Can’t Give You Anything But Love
Billie Holiday
3:27
Cheek To Cheek
Fred Astaire
2:38
Did You Ever See A Dream Walking
Gene Austin
2:52
Charmaine
Guy Lombardo and His Royal Canadians
2:24
An Offense To The Heart
Thomas Newman
1:09
Billy-Be-Frigged
Thomas Newman
2:09
Boogeyman
Thomas Newman
3:27
Boy’s Eye
Thomas Newman
0:55
Briar Ridge
Thomas Newman
0:43
Cigar Box
Thomas Newman
1:51
Circus Mouse
Thomas Newman
1:29
Coffee On The Mile
Thomas Newman
5:12
Coffey’s Hands
Thomas Newman
1:59
Condemned Man
Thomas Newman
1:34
Danger Of Hell
Thomas Newman
2:28
Done Tom Turkey
Thomas Newman
1:01
Foolishment
Thomas Newman
1:50
L’Homme Mauvais
Thomas Newman
2:22
Limp Noodle
Thomas Newman
1:04
Monster Big
Thomas Newman
1:51
Morphine & Cola
Thomas Newman
2:57
Night Journey
Thomas Newman
2:12
No Exceptions
Thomas Newman
0:58
Now Long Gone
Thomas Newman
1:08
Punishment
Thomas Newman
1:52
Red Over Green
Thomas Newman
2:58
Scared Of The Dark
Thomas Newman
1:04
Shine My Knob
Thomas Newman
0:54
That’s The Deal
Thomas Newman
1:38
The Bad Death Of Eduard Delacroix
Thomas Newman
3:49
The Green Mile
Thomas Newman
3:39
The Mouse On The Mile
Thomas Newman
1:31
The Two Dead Girls
Thomas Newman
3:02
Trapingus Parish
Thomas Newman
0:52
Two Run Throughs
Thomas Newman
1:19
Wild Bill
Thomas Newman
1:16
Read Eleven Miles online, Eloise-Litres, page 4
Chapter 7.
Time of epiphany
Well, first of all, I can say in my defense that I was young and stupid. Yes, that’s exactly what I’ll say. Of course, you will not believe me, but this is some kind of excuse, but an excuse.
I know some of you will surely say that I was pathetic even when I lost everything I could gain during the long years of struggle. Yes, I was incredibly pathetic, but nothing has changed now, believe me. To be on the verge of clouding your mind, to see what others do not see, is difficult, it drives you even more crazy.
Just the other day I was remembering what was wrong with that fat strange dwarf that I saw in my mind. And every time his image came out even more vague than before, as if his owner did not allow me to make his portrait. I remember that the suit on him was cracking at the seams, I heard how his fat ass was about to fall out of his pants. I remember that the dog was kind of strange, it reeked of carrion and swamp rot. I remember the eyes of this boar in human clothes, or it would be better to say: his only eye, so terrible, empty, but all-seeing.
One thing I know for sure, I’m ready to shoot myself to prove my case: the fat freak, and now I clearly see something ugly in front of me, although I’m not too sure of the veracity of my vision, was not a person. If you dig into your memory, and it’s not so bad, damn it, you can dig up interesting details …
Which I instantly forget.
***
Voices hummed in my head, my temples throbbed as if invisible fingers were pressing on them. Brandon felt stuck between space and time, suspended in the middle of a chasm that separates space from reality. What the hell is wrong with him?
Face burned. It seemed to the captain as if he were falling off a cliff into an endless abyss, and then landing abruptly on the snow frozen into ice. The awakening was terrible, the sticky fear made its way under the frozen clothes, spreading over the back, ears, arms. He was drowning in this fear, the most terrible of all that could be. Fear without cause, without beginning, but with one end: trembling in the whole body and the desire to get rid of the pressure.
Open eyes did not see anything, darkness enveloped not only the mind, but the whole being of the man. For a while, he did not believe that he was alive at all. When his gaze was weakly focused on something pinkish-white flashing before his eyes, Brandon winced, immediately looking to the side. White snow with sparks and flashes crashed with a blinding light into tense pupils, cutting the brain into several parts with pain.
– Fuck you! Brandon howled, covering his eyes with trembling icy palms. His face flared up at the touch, as if dozens of needles had been thrust under his skin at once. He must have lain in the cold for too long, like a corpse. Brandon had no doubt that he was in danger of frostbite if nothing was done.
Are you okay? – He heard a nasty female squeak above his ear. “Darling, he woke up. Darling!
– Are you awake? – There was another one. The same nasty, but deeper.
– I thought he was dead!
Understanding nothing, Captain Winter slowly sat down, bent over, and half-opened his eyes, observing the owners of the voices from under half-closed eyelids.
He was not even surprised to see those very young mothers who recently (an hour ago, two, ten?) greeted him in pre-French. Yes, exactly, they are. The fur coats are the same, he would not confuse them with anything.
Shivering from the cold, Brendon thrust his red, swollen hands into his pockets, trying to find his wallet, which was not there. A pack of cigarettes is lying around in the right, a lighter and a telephone in the left, some small debris at the bottom of each, threads, buttons, crumbs. And no trace of the wallet.
“Damn it,” the captain cursed softly, exhaling a puff of thick steam.
The first lanterns were lit overhead. Has it really been that long? What time is it, damn it?
He blinked rapidly so that his vision returned to normal, and raised his head, looking at the chirping mothers. There were no children with them, and it was for the best. Providence is set for calm conversations.
“Hey,” Brandon called to the girls, who no longer even looked in his direction.
– Hey!
Are you okay? Finally one of them asked. These two dolls were exactly the same for the captain, so he didn’t bother which one bothered to inquire about his condition.
“I’m surprised I thought to ask,” he barked, frowning. I almost added “stupid sheep”, but stopped short in time. With a ragged exhalation, the captain continued a little more calmly, although his body gradually began to tremble with rage. And cold. “Look, I… I lost my wallet. You did not see?
Are you implying that one of us stole it? – A painted eyebrow on the face of one of the mothers curved, plump lips pouted with indignation. But it was the maximum of emotions that the girl was capable of. Did you freeze your facial muscles, or what? – Sorry, we didn’t see your wallet.
– Look, I’m just…
– No, what a brat! The second doll squeaked, and Brandon realized how they differed. This second tooth was missing. He says, and a whistle flies out through a hole between his teeth, so nasty yet.
I just want to hit or give a ticket to the dentist. It is better, of course, to embed.
– So, ladies, listen, I didn’t blame anyone. I just asked, and you cackle. – He tried to get up, but his legs could not hold him, almost dropping his body directly into the snow with vomit. – Bitch…
– We know where you live, monsieur. Conduct?
– Here’s another one. I will be escorted by two chicks who can barely lift their bag with a cosmetic bag, – the captain snapped in response, sharply pulling his hand away from the dirty snowdrift. – Have you both seen my dogs either?
“Yes, they are sitting at the entrance,” the whistling doll nonchalantly threw, waving a pen with manicured fingers. We saw them when we were walking back from a walk.
– Are you drunk? We thought you drank, my husband always rolls around like that when he drinks.
“Mine dabbled in drugs,” the one who was missing a tooth chirped again, “well, you know, heroin, morphine, and then he fell and convulsed.
That’s how he died, poor guy. Do you also have an income?
Well, that’s enough, I’ve heard enough.
– This, of course, is very interesting, ladies, – the man quipped, nevertheless rising from the icy pavement and immediately resting his hand on the nearest lamppost, – but I would rather leave you and not hear about the most interesting, no doubt, exciting walk, about your drunken husbands and all the rubbish that you both want to sell me. Thank you very much, goodbye.
Brandon swayed, but controlled himself and the pull of his buttocks to the ground, and with the smallest speed, because a faster one needs strength, he moved away from the disgruntled girls chirping after him.
“Lord, how did they take my brain out, how did they take it out, bitches,” he muttered, looking at his feet, shuffling his boots with snow stuck on them along the frozen sidewalk.
The dim light of the lanterns mixed with the evening twilight, although it was difficult to call it twilight, without really lighting the way to the house, but Brandon was the least of all concerned about this.
Now some questions suddenly began to emerge in his head, delicate, if I may say so, questions that he was afraid to answer. His consciousness suddenly remembered everything: the little man with the dog, and his disappearance, and a strange threat. He also thought about the loss of his wallet, of course, only belatedly. There was no wallet, Brandon left it in the car two days ago and never remembered it again.
Why did you remember now?
Some nonsense. He should not worry about money now, but about his own skin. Maybe this fat man drugged him with something, some fumes, drugs, other rubbish, and he inhaled and sniffed, so he dreamed. In that case, why are there no side effects? No, Brandon, baby, – he thought, while his legs with difficulty carried the body to the entrance, – this cannot be.
The dogs really were waiting at the iron door, wagging their tails amiably, but not taking off. When their owner coped with the distance and reached the pets, they barked joyfully, suddenly starting to get in the way.
Brandon frowned at the dogs, muttered something like a curse and opened the iron door, letting the animals in first, and then went in himself. Just as slowly, he went up to his apartment, unlocked the lock with a key, let the dogs through again, and tumbled in himself.
Everything is in a circle, if you think sensibly and judiciously.
No more cravings for the bottle. The pets disappeared somewhere in the darkness of the apartment, and Brandon, without taking off his shoes, trudged into the kitchen. He was surprised at himself how he had not yet destroyed the whole apartment, which once cost him and Sarah a fortune, but now it is so empty, boring, dull. The captain was ready to sell the hated premises for pennies to the first person he met, even the memory of his wife could not stop him.
When the hand reached for the bottle, a thought shot through my head and was immediately lost in the labyrinths of the mind.
Glancing at the small clock hanging on the wall, Brandon noted that it was almost half past four.
Why does he care so much? He completely forgot, as if someone had mixed up all his thoughts at once and did not let them fall into place. He had to remember something, something important, something that would happen today…
“ Funeral ,” a disgusting voice whispered in his head, making the captain shudder all over.
Funeral.
Brandon drove onto Park Avenue slower than he would have liked. For almost ten minutes he was looking for his formal suit – black trousers and shirt, a tightly tied tie, a luxurious jacket – he polished his shoes, dressed. When I left the house, I remembered that I forgot to at least pretend that I had combed my hair, and, returning to the apartment, I found that I had not left the dogs to eat. Only at five minutes to five did he manage to get into the car and drive out onto the road.
On the way he was met by lanterns, standing straight, in front, as if they were welcoming him. Cars rushed past, at the crossroads he almost joined the flow of others.
The evening thickened the twilight to purple darkness, the stars lazily scattered across the sky, winking at each other. Brandon tried not to think about anything.
Hits from the 80s were playing on the radio, that suited him. Twice even included Queen, the same “We will rock you” and “Bohemian Rhapsody”, and Brandon felt a little better when he heard familiar rhythms. But then even the music stopped attracting him, his thoughts became gloomier every second. The further he drove, now paralleling Bennett Avenue, the more intense the burning sensation in his chest became.
Death cannot give peace to anyone, and so he suffered, unable to distract himself. Skimming Dyckman Street and heading for the crossing to Marble Hill, he listened to the radio, which was now broadcasting breaking news, and with all his heart he hoped that at least someone would run him down. This did not happen, and he made it to the Henry Hudson Highway without incident.
The car was moving fast, Brandon tried to drive as hard as possible.
Usually, Broadway is full of police at this time, but something told him: no one would stop him, but they would stop him – they would let him go almost immediately, as soon as they saw the badge and certificate. He was right, crowds of people, a stream of cars and not a single cop had time to slow him down. Today is a good day, right, Brandon, baby?
When both Broadway and the next small highway were left behind, and the songs of Boney M were playing on the radio, the Chevrolet entered the Bronx River Parkway. Here the flow of cars has been almost halved, no one in their right mind would take this road home for too long. The headlights caught the Woodland Cemetery sign ahead, the man glanced at his watch: he had been driving for almost forty-five minutes, not bad.
A hearse and several people in black were already waiting at the gate. A tall man in a cassock stood with them. Brandon for some reason unexpectedly regretted that he had hired a priest.
The captain stopped the car at the entrance to the cemetery, reluctantly got out of the cabin, slamming the door sharply.
Those present involuntarily shuddered. One of them, Brandon recognized by his hoarse voice, stepped forward, extended his hand.
– Good evening. Are you Mr Winter?
– I. – He shook the outstretched hand, looked around at everyone standing in the light of two dim lanterns. “Sorry if I’m late, damn traffic.”
– No, you’re on time, everything is ready. Follow us, Mr. Winter.
Four strong men approached the hearse and carefully pulled out the wooden box by its gilded handles. With the box on their shoulders, they moved slowly through the gate to the freshly dug grave. Brandon watched them with bated breath, afraid that someone might stumble and drop the precious wooden box – the coffin with his beloved wife.
The priest stood at the very edge of the grave, clutching a small book with trembling frozen hands, the men carefully lowered the coffin into a gaping hole in the ground, stepped back a few steps, bowing their heads respectfully. They know their stuff, thought the captain. When the holy father began to chant the prayer for the dead, Brandon involuntarily hunched over, slumped under the weight of the spoken words.
“Remember, Lord, in the faith and hope of eternal life, your deceased servant, forgive and forgive all her voluntary and involuntary sins and grant communion and enjoyment of Your blessings,” the priest said quietly, trying to keep the worn little book straight, calming the trembling in his hands. Brandon watched the rare snowflakes fall on the coffin lid and wished he could throw the flower he was holding in his left hand to those tiny white specks on the varnished wood. There were tears in the corners of his eyes, and he did not understand whether it was from the piercing cold or from the pain that had settled deep inside. The Holy Father, who had almost finished the prayer, more than half of which Brandon did not even hear, calmly finished: “Be merciful to her, for there is no person who will live and not sin. May your servant rest in peace in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Amen.
Putting the book away, he pulled a frozen flower out of his belt, bent down and lowered it onto the lid. He whispered something incomprehensible, walked away, slightly bowing his head. Brandon dropped his flower without even looking at the coffin and quickly turned away from the grave, suppressing the urge to cry.
The men who carried the coffin to the grave also threw two flowers each, which the captain noted were lilies.
He did not have the strength to watch how the grave was covered with earth. While the workers diligently wielded shovels, he, along with the funeral organizer, brought bouquets, carefully stacked on the seat in the hearse. The fresh ground was covered with turf, flowers were laid, after the man a small monument of dark green marble was erected. The captain looked at him with a shudder, caught the inscription “To my beloved wife, whose beauty will never fade” and could not stand it, covering his face with his hand.
Hot tears flowed down her cheeks, lay like a coating of salt on her lips.
He felt himself slowly suffocate, realizing what a weight now lay on his shoulders. He just buried his wife, just buried her underground forever, just now his last goodbye got stuck in his throat and couldn’t find a way out. All this time he did not want to believe that Sarah was no more, but now the truth hit him in the face, left a fiery burn on his heart. Yes, she was dead, he saw it clearly, as he saw the gravestone in front of him now.
When the sobs became unbearably loud, the funeral director carefully put his arm around his shoulders and muttered soothingly, gently slapping the captain on the back:
– She’s in a better world. Everything will be fine.
The snow escaping from the clouds slowly covering the sky grew stronger, covering the fresh turf, covering the monument with a white coating.
Chapter 8. The First Night
I’m all fucking scared.
Well, you know, just imagine: one of you gets a whole damn cloud of messages, you relax, you think, okay, these are just acquaintances.
And suddenly you get it – sign it! The fruit of your own drunken imagination sends gifts and messages. Interesting, isn’t it?
To be honest, I kicked my pants the first time I listened. Laugh while you can, I, too, then neighed like dying horse meat. I even had something like a breakdown, it seems. Nervously decided to drink. A glass, no more, but then it somehow happened…
You know, there is a feeling when you seem to have already moved your horses, but your soul is singing, flying, and you are no longer a police captain, but a fucking princess from some snotty drama. There are new, just such fresh thoughts in your head right away, you are at least ready to come up with a new nuclear reactor. Power, strength, some fucking strange emotions. Even the desire to kill, let’s be honest. But this fact fades, damn it, turns pale, as soon as you start doing something. New opportunities simply absorb you, suck you in like a greedy black hole, but you don’t have enough, damn it, not enough, not enough, not enough, you want more.
The energy of the cosmos is buzzing in your head, and you are like this right away: “Doggystyle me in the ass, this is amazing! Yes, I’m ready to leave the horse … “
I got drunk, in short.
***
He returned home only at nine in the evening. It could have been earlier, but sometimes a big city surprises car enthusiasts in the form of traffic jams.
The answering machine beeped softly from the landline phone charging socket, announcing missed calls. The captain sluggishly clicked a red blinking button, the record began to monotonously dictate the data of the first call. Brandon fell into a chair, tiredly throwing his head back, and closed his eyes, trying to be distracted by the voice from the speaker. The first message spoke in the voice of his superior:
« Brendon, you son of a bitch, why didn’t you tell me earlier that it was so bad? I give you a month to recover. But that’s only because you’re doing a great job, you old hound. And because I knew Sarah personally.
.. Cheer up, Winter. Inform me about the funeral, I will definitely come .”
“Yes, yes, Christy, you’re coming,” he muttered under his breath, snorting. He pulled off his tight tie and threw it on the table. – You will come with a bottle, you old bastard, to get me drunk, an unfortunate widower, or whatever else you can think of … In any case, I’m late, it’s already in the ground.
Click, the recording changes to a monotone voice and then revives again. Brandon frowned, threw his jacket on the floor.
« Brandy, hi, this is Lisa. It’s so awful! What happened was so unexpected, I was shocked. Give me a call, I want to talk to you. And by the way… Sarah took something from me the other day, would you like to come in and return it? »
– Selling bitch, – the captain said through his teeth, opening his eyes tiredly and glancing around the kitchen, – only debts are needed, right? My wife didn’t give up on you, you just want to snatch yours, you painted rubbish.
He listened to the remaining five messages reluctantly. Each of them was the same: “Call me, Brandon”, “Brandon, I’m so sorry”, “My condolences, friend.” Bullshit, none of them felt sorry. He saw right through them, and what was revealed to him no longer seemed so attractive. A bunch of hypocrites who don’t care about him, Sarah, the accident. Everyone just wanted to grab a piece of this problem, that’s all.
Brendon reluctantly got up from his chair to turn off his phone, but the last message made him listen to the end.
« Hey man, you know? Sorry for calling so late without warning. I fell asleep at work, can you imagine? – Brandon recognizes Josh’s voice from a thousand different voices. It was as if he was here, in the room, and talking to the captain right now. – The boss almost killed me, but I explained your situation and was forgiven. What am I calling for, actually. Then some man asked you, I didn’t even know what to tell him about you. Somehow, I don’t remember your friends as a fat, smelly pig with a dog that stinks of rotten eggs.
He said you and him are old friends. He asked me to give you some crap at the meeting … Should I come to you somehow, guy? call me dude “.
Brandon felt a shiver run through his body like a living being. Can’t be. It can’t be, right? It was a vision, he drank the night before, at night, in the morning, but who the hell knows, the main thing is that it was just a coming. But Josh is sober and does not take any more psychotropic substances.
– What the hell… It can’t be. The captain slid back into his chair, clutching his head. What did the nasty little man give him? I? Some kind of dagger with the inscription “fumble in your heart”? Maybe he wanted Josh to do it himself?
No more messages .
Silence pressed. It seemed to Brandon that he was about to go crazy, go crazy, go crazy, but no, it was real, for real, very natural and not like a prank. He wanted to relax. When he hastily changed in the room and returned to the kitchen, all he had to do was drink himself into the trash.
You received a message from “Unknown number”.
– Lord, no, wait, no! – He took off, but the speakers had already begun to dictate:
« Three days, Mr Winter. Three days and my little gift to make you decide on my proposal. Don’t be afraid, you should like it. I personally made this present for you, Mr Brandon. You have three days. Wait for guests.”
Brendon darted around the kitchen like a caged bird. He did not have enough air, he had to open the window, but even then the stuffiness seemed to intensify. He stuck his head out through the open sash, exposing his face to the gusty wind and clouds of vile prickly snowflakes, in order to sober up a little, to come to his senses, but this did little to help him. The captain was ready to howl from the oppressive feeling of hatred, despair, but what can you do if there is really no one to be angry with?
He slammed the door shut with force, an unpleasant crack was heard, as if a maple log had burst in the fire of the fireplace.
Brandon grimaced, exhaling.
“Damn you, you filthy stinking bastard,” he muttered, falling into a chair and grabbing the bottle on the table as if it were a saving bough.
Having uncorked the cork from the neck with a dull and dry slap, Brandon reached for a glass, but, almost taking it out, changed his mind and took a sip of cognac right in the bottle. Alcohol immediately scorched the throat, rapidly slipping into the stomach, burning it, turning it inside out. Winter forgot that he did not follow his diet too much, practically did not eat all this time, but it was too late to stop.
He wanted to get drunk, get lost in his own head and drown in non-existence, where there would be nothing else but cognac vapor. His appearance now was especially pathetic, his actions were meaningless, but he considered everything right. In war, absolutely all means are good in the fight against your fear, memory, emotions. Brandon knew that well now.
Cognac completely absorbed his mind, so the captain no longer thought to resist intoxication and lay down on the table, his chest heavily colliding with the tabletop, hearing the dull thud of his body. “As if the corpse was thrown into the trash heap,” for some reason flashed through his head before he switched off.
Woke up a couple of hours later.
He looked around, with difficulty turning his head buzzing with tension, and noticed with displeasure that it was still night, morning had not come, and alcohol did not help to forget for a long time.
“What a curse,” he muttered, moving his slurred tongue with difficulty.
The eyes themselves involuntarily closed from fatigue and intoxication, but Brandon stubbornly tried to raise his eyelids, as if they were filled with lead, in order to see the bottle in the darkness and kiss it again. For some reason, somewhere deep inside, Sarah’s quiet voice immediately sounded, and the captain shuddered, almost screaming. He clearly heard: “Don’t drink so much, darling, do you remember what happened last time?”
Turning around abruptly, Brandon fell from the unstable chair to the floor, dragging the bottle behind him, which he still managed to reach.
The glass storage for alcohol shattered with a quiet clang as soon as it touched the floor, and the dark liquid, the color of which was strongly brewed tea, slowly began to spread over the parquet, turning into an untidy puddle. Brandon lay motionless for a moment. He was afraid to even move for a moment, would he suddenly hear the voice of his beloved, but already dead woman again?
– Brandon – he hears, God, he hears – honey, you promised to me.
“You’re not here,” the captain croaked, closing his eyes so tightly that white flashes flickered under his lowered eyelids. – Get out… get out, you’re not here…
Dear God, he feels steps. He hears of them. Something softly touched his right leg, he felt someone bend down and look, look, look directly at him, bore with an icy and at the same time burning look.
“No, no, God, please, I don’t want to believe it…” he whispered frantically, trying to attribute everything to his now useless state, to drunkenness, to brandy, to fucking brandy and pain.
“Brandon, darling,” something cold lips pressed against his left ear, he felt a strange, vile smell of rotten meat, “I can’t live without you anymore. If you drink some more, we’ll see you. Choose a promise or i .
“I drank a lot, I drank a lot, I drank, I drank… I’m a damn drunkard, I’m an alcoholic, I’m a drunkard, a drunkard, a drunkard,” Brandon muttered, burying his face in the floor and being afraid, madly afraid to open his eyes and see what was waiting for his answer.
The smell became sharper, as if moving around him, enveloping, absorbing, immobilizing. The smell pressed him to the floor like a strong clawed paw of a jaguar presses a weak rabbit to the ground. Brandon did not know prayers, did not believe in anything, denied Heaven, but when the voice sounded right in front of his nose again, whispering into his lips, he could not stand it.
“Beloved, open your eyes,” Sarah’s gentle voice hypnotized the captain, drove him crazy.
– I missed you so much. Don’t you want to see me, love?
“Our father.” A shiver ran through Brandon’s body as he felt his brain refuse to send signals to his tongue. His mouth seemed to be gagged, the captain could not utter a word, no matter how hard he tried.
– Why are you so cruel to me, my love? Something slippery ran down my cheek, leaving a wet trail behind it. Like a dog licked him. A very smelly dog. A dog sitting at the feet of a dwarf during a terrible walk.
“If you exist, Father,” he continued, barely audibly moving his naughty tongue, which every now and then bit his teeth, making it difficult to speak, “holy be… holy be your name. May your kingdom come… Yes…
– In vain you are so, beloved .
He shuddered, involuntarily falling silent. The voice of this something suddenly changed dramatically, ceasing to be gentle and melodious. The mask fell off, and now what she was hiding burst out, wheezing into the very lips of the immobilized Brandon.
The stench intensified with every second, sticky drops, viscous and viscous, were felt on the hands, and hot, vile breath scorched his face. Gathering the last will and strength that he still had left, the captain began to dictate a prayer as loudly as possible, which he had never known:
– May your will be done both on earth and in heaven…
– Don’t you dare do this, – the voice growled menacingly and furiously. Now Brandon knew: no, damn it, anyone but his beloved and so kind Sarah. No, hell, not her.
– … give us our daily bread and forgive our debts …
– You won’t dare! – There was a squeal right in the face. The smell of rotten meat made me feel sick, I wanted to vomit all the shit that had accumulated in this life right at the source of the disgusting smell.
– And lead us not into temptation, Father, but deliver us…
– Shut up, shut up, you won’t dare!
An unpleasant pain flashed on my cheek and then went out, the skin began to itch.
He couldn’t remember the last word, the damn last word. Lord, please, Lord, deliver us…save us…save us… Bitch, damn bitch, I can’t remember them because of you, trash, foul, rubbish. You fucking, fucking Devil, crafty damn, you…
“And don’t lead us into temptation,” he spoke again, but now more confidently, although his body was trembling with unbearable fear, “but deliver us from the evil one!”
It seemed to him that his eardrums were about to burst from the crazy screeching. Winter curled up, feeling his hair get wet, he must have lay down right in the puddle of cognac, which he spilled himself. One of the fragments of the bottle dug into his shoulder, and the captain groaned softly, realizing that he did not even have the strength to scream. The vile smell hit his nose for the last time, Brandon grimaced, writhing on the floor. His stomach could no longer take it, so soon a disgusting bile with the remnants of some food and alcohol joined the puddle of cognac.
