A full bar, a crowded night, a rainy end to winter. The approach of spring. And past the opened red doors of a brimming pub, sounds of a full band pours into the streets. Calling out. Drawing in.
No more the solo guitar (though on occasion, it still happens), but a full set with bassist, drums and a violinist with Dewi's in town, is behind him. And the acoustic has been traded it for an acoustic-electric hybrid. A blue guitar that looks like the traditional acoustic, but with pickups and a vocal range that fills the remaining cracks and spaces in Davy's air.
It's a slow, melodic song. Davydd's voice in harmony with Dewi's, Dewi holding his red violin idle for the moment. Davydd taking the lead, middle range. Dewi taking the higher tenor harmonic line.
"...See the blue honey tree in the garden...
(honey tree...)
...There's only one kind of fruit on its branches...
(honey tree...)"
The sound deepens and grows, the bass and drum finally easing in. It builds. And with it, likewise, the energy. Even if it were quiet enough to hold a conversation, it's doubtful any'd be doing it...
"...When my lover came to me in the moonlight...
(glory be)...
A golden bird came alive on the branches of the tree...
Honey. Honey tree...
In the morning when the wind blew freely through the door...
...All the fruit lay low in the sunlight on the floor...
And my lover never came to the garden anymore...
But the feather I will always keep with me...
Honey tree..."
It's a busy night is an understatement. Poor Mary's been run off her feet tonight, but her spirits have been consistently high. That's likely why Kelly hired this one -- her incessant smile.
The Guiness has been flowing all night with no end in sight. Out to the tables, her tray crowded with glasses and bottles... back in to the bar, her tray nearly brimming over with empties... it has been non-stop. All the while, she moves with a spring in her step and a grin on her face, cheerily welcoming each new face she sees.
But then she hears the voices singing, joining in with the music, and for the first time all night, she actually stops in her tracks. She hasn't picked up the empties just yet.
Mary turns back toward the performers as she holds her tray against her chest, listening to the growing song. She stands toward the back of the room, her brown eyes intent on Davydd, only switching to look at Dewi every now and then.
Resting her weight on one foot, she watches and listens, letting the music wash over her... the empties and beers can wait a few moments. This is more important.
Is there any doubt but when the Welsh sing, the world stops to listen? There's an energy to it, a sweetness to it, an earthy quality to it. He sings, and the air seems to feel it. Add on Dewi, Steven and Bonnie Charlie Parker (drums), and It's become a phenonmenon, this.
And good for Kelly's business, to be sure. Davydd's solo and occasional performances have turned to weekly events, with a growing, and sometimes rotating cast of musical characters. Every Thursday and Friday nights. Count on a packed audience.
The song becomes a duet between electrified acoustic and the wail of the red violin. Sweet. And bittersweet.
The song ends loudly, where it began softly. Came in like a lamb, leaving like a lion, blending with the sound of whistles and applause when its done.
Done? Nah, merely changing...
Something recognizable this time. The Beatles. I'm Only Sleeping. Only with gusto, mate. Violin and all. "When I wake up early in the morning, lift my head, I'm still yawning. When I'm in the middle of a dream, stay in bed, float upstream. Please don't wake me, no don't shake me, leave me where I am. I'm only sleeping..."
Heather buzzes by you, the auburn-haired darlin, "Woops! Pardon me, dearie, Guinness behind ya! Verrah fragile!" she has a nasally British accent, clearly from the southside. Wearing the standard uniform of Kelly's Girls. "He's on tonight, ain't 'e..." she nods to Davydd smiling. "Hmm... had no idea he was that bloody cute. What is it about a man an' music..."
She's nearly hypnotized by it all. It happens nearly every week, but usually she's not in the middle of the room...thankfully she's more toward the back. But when Heather brushes by, Mary snaps back to reality, blushing profusely.
Hoping that her dark brown locks hide her burning cheeks, she busies herself, gathering empties onto her tray quickly, trying to get caught up. "Aye... he's really good. Brings in a great crowd, he does. It's amazing how someone can have so much talent..." she comments back with a smile, slipping past the tables that Heather serves to get all the 'dead soldiers' from her tables.
Taking a few orders along the way, she heads back to the bar, passing by Heather again to comment, "Kelly's done well having him here, y'know. He's such a good guy, too.."
"Oh Davy?" Heather laughs. "He's a scream." You go to the bar, she deposits the Guinness with the customary grin. "There ya ah gents," she says to the fellows around one of the large round tables. She passes back by you, wiping hands on her little Union Jack apron. "So anyway... yah, he's good, he doesn't just play around." She blushes a tad, dimples flairing. "Well... he used to play, but he doesn't anymore..." Not since he got The Woman.
The song ends as abruptly as it was written, to loud applause. It's all a hum. An electric buzzing. Musicality on its ears. The energy moves through me. Music from my fingers, over electric pick-ups, to the applause. All the same. One song blending into the next. "I need a drink, Christ... you slave-drivers..." the Welsh accent is a lyrical rattle-and-hum after the music. "Mary," Davydd sings out, staring through the lights to his favorite waitress. "Mary had a little beer, it's head was white as snow..." The crowd roars and the band behind him, chuckling, begins plucking out the children's tune. "...and everywhere that Mary went, the Guinness was sure to go..."
"Yeah, well... he's still easy on the eyes, hm?" Mary comments to Heather as she quickly unloads her tray behind the bar. It's true, she felt a little jealous once The Woman stepped into the picture, but Mary chalked it up as a lesson learned: you snooze, you loose. She was always too shy to approach him in that manner, so...she was the loser. Oh well. Shit happens. He still hangs out and so she gets the pleasure of his company to chat with now and then... and then there's his voice... damn. Nothing but cold showers for her.
Heather gets another shrug from the brunette before the Guiness begins to be poured once more. Then she hears her name... rather loudly...
Her big brown eyes look up, much like a doe caught in the headlights. Did he just do that? He did, and it only makes her blush harder, but Mary takes it in stride. Grinning, she holds up a hand as if to say 'just a minute'. Her tray is quickly loaded up, then she's bouncing out from behind the bar, approaching the performers with full pints of Guiness... all 'on the house', of course. Kelly's arrangements.
Everyone on the stage gets served first, then the last one goes to you. She pauses before you, grinning. There's a shamrock etched into the head of the beverage...that's a well-poured Guiness. "Better?" she asks, grinning big for the crowd and for you. She's always been so good-natured... and usually can take stuff like this in stride. Tonight's no exception. She's a good sport.
"You're an angel," he says into the mike, brightly. Dark green eyes flaring. And now that he's letting his hair grow a bit, it's a dark and true coppery bronze. The lights, the playing, it's hot under the spotlight, and so he's earned his Guinness, paid for it in sweat equity. Course, that's what he gets for wearing the leather coat over the jumper. Well, it was cold outside...
Davydd takes the Guinness, guitar slung back, across his back, and then Mary in one arm. "Alright, the lads an' I," the lads are already standing, putting instruments aside (except Charlie Parker. He's drinking his beer where he sits, behind his kit.), "...are taking a fifteen-minuter," break that is, "... we'll be back. Full night ahead." And off goes the mike.
Davydd lets you go with a wink. "Diolch, darlin'," he says and takes a long swallow. "Say," another swallow, his arm coming up and wiping his brow, "...is there a free table anywhere? Ach, shite, hold this?" Grinning, he hands you his Guinness while he unplugs the guitar and sets it aside in its stand. "Aye...you're a sweetheart. So..." he looks around, peering into the packed house. "I need to park my old bones," old? He looks all of 34.
The angel comment only makes her blush more, causing her to chuckle a bit trying to hide it. "Ach, you kidder... I'm just a waitress tryin' to keep the rabble happy..." Yes, she just called you rabble.
Of course, she was already trying to move away from you when you grabbed for her, yanking her back. She doesn't bother trying to pull away. She just laughs a bit, holding her tray down by her side as she leans against you a bit. "The lot of you deserve a break after that set... incredible, as usual," she compliments with a grin.
At your question, she shakes her head and murmurs, "No tables out here. Though, you could rest in the back. No one else is back there right now, so they wouldn't mind." Even if someone were back there, would they truly mind you taking a breather back there? Not bloody likely.
She adds, "It's packed out there. Not nearly a single -seat- free, let alone a table.."
"Christ in heaven, I should have asked Kelly for a cut of the bar," Davydd winks. (Actually, he's a "silent partner".) And he nods after another swallow, "I'll take you up on it, aye. My fifteen minutes might turn to twenty..."
Or half an hour. It's not like he has to be punctual...
Davydd exhales and downs the pint, "Another pint! Sil vous plais!" Funny, that French was pronounced perfectly. The electric hum, the energy lingers, even though the music has stopped. Replaced now by the conversations that the music had paused.
The back room is comfortable actually, like a second bar. Stairs going up, leading to Kelly's rooms. He lives above his bar, old-style. Davydd plops down in a chair. He's not tired. No. No in fact he's quite energized. Buzzing. Absolutely buzzing.
There's a grin and a nod for the comment about a cut of the bar. Mary chuckles, saying, "Damned straight. He makes a killing off of this place..." Even being a waitress, she does well enough on the tips and her wages.
Nodding to the request for more Guinness, she's off, heading for the bar. There's a murmur to Heather once she's there. Yeah, I'm off-duty. He wants more Guinness, so I'm going to be busy. Yeah, you get the tips from my table, hon...thanks.
With that, she's following your footsteps up the stairs, not too far behind. Entering the room behind you, she carries two pitchers and glasses on the tray. She knows how much you love the stuff.
Setting the tray down on a table by you, she says with a smile, "Well, what else can I get ya? Or are you all set? I should let you relax... you were workin' pretty hard out there tonight." She stands not too far away from you, bending over the table as she slips the pitchers and glasses off of the tray and onto the tabletop, as though getting ready to leave again.
The jacket comes off, and the jumper beneath it, leaving only a t-shirt, white, showing evidence of body heat. Salt and something that smells like sunlight wafts from him and Davydd kicks back with another exhale and a smile. No, he's not tired.
"No, this'll do me," he leans over, wiggling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "And thank you," he smiles easily, then kicks out a chair for you to join him. He likes you, you know.
"I'm having fun with it, ah, I needed this," a smoke. Bad habit. But it doesn't seem to affect his voice any. A swallow of beer follows an exhale of smoke, smoke billowing from the small and freckled nose like the breath of a dragon. "So how've you been... I'm in every week but we hardly get a chance to talk anymore..."
You used to rub my head when I was drunk and lonely. I never forget a kind deed.
A glance falls on the chair, then slips over to you. The smile brightens a little, then she moves to the chair, straddling it so that she sits backwards in it. Leaning her arms on the back of the chair, she replies, "Thanks. I needed this." To get off her feet. She's been run ragged tonight.
A shrug lifts her shoulders briefly as she replies, "Eh, I'm alright. Been busy with work. I usually just go home afterwards and crash." Kelly's girls work their asses off in this place. If someone actually finds time to grab a break, it's well-deserved. No slackers in this team. "It's eat, sleep, work, eat sleep work...but the bills are paid, y'know? How about you? Life treating you ok?"
Yes, she'd rub your head and make sure you got in a cab alright... when you weren't being too pig-headed and decided you were going to stumble home. But you were never one of those 'troublesome drunks'. You were a friend. Still are...she just doesn't get a chance to hang out with you like she used to. Life does that sometimes.
"Good," comes the rumble, half held in the broad chest. And the smile's easy after, smoke blown away from you. "Life is good. I hadn't planned on making this," eyes gesture to the main pub area, "... a weekly occurrence," he chuckles, then shrugs. "But you know... I enjoy it."
And occasionally his woman is with him. She is lovely. Strawberry blonde hair, red-gold. Tall, very. She damn near beats him there. Nordic, certainly. Model, likely. Dressed, impeccably. Course, some of the girls remember Rose. Elegant Rose. Rose the Bitch. Rose who sang with him on occasion, the voice of an angel she had. But that ended badly, some of the girls whispered. A few others grinned and sighed. They found Davydd on the rebound. His nickname around the lockers is Big Blue.
But his eyes are green...
Davydd stamps out the cigarette and nurses the rest of his Guinness. "So... you going to be a Lifer," Davy's for life. Red eyebrows cock up. "Or do you have a dream you're trying to afford." He seems really interested.
Her head tilts to one side as she says, "You enjoy it... -and- you're good... the crowd enjoys it. Kelly couldn't be happier, and I know his gals just love it when you play. We all know it's going to be a fun night." Good music... and a good view.
She finds herself looking into that green gaze of yours, then blinks and looks into the pitcher of Guinness. Gauging the level of it. Yeah... sure... right.
"Well, me? A dream? Oh, we all have dreams... but I get treated well here. I wanted to be an archeologist, if you can believe it... and that's what I went to school for." Can you picture her dressed in an Indiana Jones' style outfit, digging in pyramids for lost treasure? She even used to have the little thin-framed glasses that hung onto the end of her nose... but she passed those up for a set of contact lenses, with Kelly's help.
Her head tilts to the other side now, sending chestnut-brown locks to nearly block her visage from sight. A hand quickly moves up and runs through her hair, smoothing it back. "But, I got this job while going through school to help pay for it... and I just never left."
"It's a family, for certain," he nods, he speaks highly of Kelly, a friend of his (a very old friend), and of the girls, all of them are his favorites. There's not a one of you he wouldn't bear, or bounce, on his knee. Some of them he actually did bounce, a fact that used to drive Rose to distraction.
"An archeologist," Davydd murrs, interest there. "You know... I always fancied that. I think it's my love for buried treasure." Then he cackles a laugh and winks. That's Black Jack Davy talking, for certes.
"Ah, well... dreams are to be chased like rabbits, right?" He finishes the first pint with a swallow and a sigh. The pitcher's grabbed, another pint poured. He settles back, grinning, mouth quirking in a slant. "Not that I want to send you packin, darlin, you know you're my favorite," a grin, a wink. Well, you all are. His girls, as much as Kelly's. Like daughters, of a fashion.
"Yeah, it is... I love it here, even if it does leave me just about bagged each night," Mary admits with a chuckle. "Bagged and sore. But it's worth it, I think."
She can't help but laugh at the buried treasure commentary, maybe not fully understanding, but still finding it funny. "Well, you never know, I might just see about getting into it again sometime. I mean, the field doesn't change much over the years, really, so if I don't get out there for another 5 or 10 years, I don't think it's going to make too much difference."
You are rewarded with another blush, a bit deeper this time, as you mention she's your favourite. "Aw, you're just sayin' that... probably because I'm the last one to cut you off in a night.." she replies with a chuckle. She can't help teasing you. She just feels so comfortable around you.
If she weren't technically working, she'd even likely join you with the Guinness.
He laughs, forest eyes shimmering. "Aye, well... you are the last one to cut me off, that's how I know you love me." A pause for a time check. "Aye well... don't give up on dreams, lass. They're the only things worth while." Wait for it! "Well, that and a good shag." He rises a moment later. "I better let you get back, and get my Welsh ass back to the mike before the crowd gets bored and thinks to pick a fight..." It's happened. Hell, he's started one or two in his day. "Could you mind the sweater for me for a while?" Davydd takes up the jacket.
Oooh, a souvenir...
Her big brown eyes focus on her watch for a moment, then she says, "Shit. Yeah, I should get back too. My shift ends in about 30 or so...I should at least try to help the other gals for a bit before that creeps up on me, eh?"
Nodding, she grabs the sweater, looking at it for a moment thoughtfully. Then, without warning, it's wrapped about her waist and tied in the front, like an apron being worn on the wrong side. "There we go... no problem. Anyone spills anything on it, they pay for the cleaning bill," she says with a triumphant grin. She's been known to yank cleaning bills out of drunken customers without much hassle. She's pretty resourceful. Then she stands from her straddled position and grabs the tray.
"I'll see you out there.. let me know if you need anything else tonight..." she says, glancing over her shoulder at you as she grabs the partially finished pitcher.
"Nah, I'm good..."
There's a dear smile, a congenial mouth. The easy spread of affection. "I'll see you after. Or, just give it a toss at Kelly, or whatever..."
Or..whatever. Like... maybe he won't miss it if you were to keep it...?
Davydd downs the remainder of beer and with a growl and a grin, he heads back to the pub...
Dewi's waiting at the stair, plucking at the violin, giving it a tune. The crowd is still swelling, clapping as the real meat of the evening is beginning. The first half, just a warm-up. Prelude. Foreplay. And he takes up the guitar again, plugging it in...
The start is haunting reverb...
And then, Davydd's voice:
"...Sawden awdl, sidan ydiw...
...sem fach, len ar gont wen wiw...
...lleiniau mewn man ymannerch...
...y llwyn sur, llawn yw o serch..."
The Welsh speaking members of the audience, and there are a few, gawk a moment. A few women blush. The song? A Medieval Welsh ode to the vagina, sung as passionately, near a capella, music only ambient in the background. Davydd belts it out, eyes closed, a grin on his face.
"...fforest falch iawn, ddawn ddifrog...
...ffris ffraill, ffwrwr dwygaill deg...
...breisglwyn merch, drud annerch dro...
....berth addwyn, Duw'n borth iddo..."
And he thinks of a woman, and he opens his eyes, and smiles a wicked smile. Too bad she's not here to hear it. The drums kick off a driving beat, and like that, the song changes...
Posted by rowan at June 01, 2003 08:17 PM
