Hurricane Season

 

2020

~ 1 ~

May Fielding was driving on the Pacific Coast Highway, heading north. The car she was driving in was a Mustang convertible, which had, ever since she could remember, been the car of her dreams. 

The person she was going to see was the very same person who had given her that Mustang, more than four years earlier.

May was from the south. Northern Louisiana. She was a freelance writer with good relationships with half a dozen music publications. Her most important client was Rolling Stone. Not only did they pay the best, but they also provided her with access to some of the biggest names in the music business.

May was in her mid-thirties, still young by human standards but old enough to have seen the last decades of the great bands and singer-songwriters. Ryan Gamble, whom she had not seen in over a year and a half, was one of them. Riding high, on a wave of ten platinum albums and six world tours. Ryan had suddenly dropped out of sight. May figured, having been summoned to his estate in Malibu, today would be the day she would find out why.

It was a warm late June day, so she had her top down and her windows all opened, she was listening to one of Ryan’s earlier albums, Footsteps In The Dark. She was amazed at how well the songs held together even after ten years. The band he had assembled, which he had lured away from highly lucrative sessions gigs, had been moulded by Ryan’s genius into one of the most cohesive units in rock history. He paid them more than twice what they could make doing session work and still had millions left over from airplay, album sales, TV appearances and the virtually endless tour he was on.

Life with Ryan was a musician’s wet dream. He wrote all the songs, was a very patient teacher as they learned their parts, allowed them as much innovation as they could muster and never had an unkind word to say to anyone. The press loved him because he was an All-American boy, with no bad habits or kinks. There was nothing to do with Ryan except say good things about him.

Ryan was a native Californian who had started adult life after getting his English degree from UCLA and as a poet of some local note. Unfortunately, poets were way down at the bottom of the food chain, income-wise. So instead of opting for a life of poverty and ‘other jobs’ to earn a living, he bought a pawn shop Gibson six-string, and taught himself a large number of basic chords. Then using his poetic gift he crafted lyrics which he then started to sing and record onto a small tape recorder. The real surprise was that Ryan discovered he had quite a good voice. 

Still living at home, and constantly fighting off offers to enter his father’s construction business, he spent hours that turned into days that turned into weeks and several months learning how to coordinate his playing with his singing. The lyrics were the easy part. They seemed to pour out of him effortlessly. 

A year later, almost, he had managed to get himself a set at a downtown folk club. That night proved to be the major turning point in Ryan’s life because sitting at a table in the corner was a young agent named Jerry Jacobson. Jerry offered to buy Ryan a drink and one thing led to another, as these things often did. Three months later, Ryan was working steadily all around the LA area and his agent, Jerry, was willing to invest a few grand in studio time for young Ryan to demo half a dozen songs that were quite well received in all the venues where he played. 

Three months later, Ryan and Ray were sitting in the offices of a man named Clifford Carlton, who was the sole owner of a small record label called Circus. He also owned a music publishing company. And so a one-album deal was forged. Jerry helped Ryan put a small band together and in the biggest studio Ryan had ever been in, they laid down ten tracks that formed an album called Chasing Shadows. 

The album took off slowly but thanks to the Herculean efforts of Jerry and Cliff Carlton, the investment started to show a substantial return. Ryan would have been the first to admit that they were all making it up as they went along. But they were pushing forward. The gigs grew larger until one day the dam broke and Ray had managed to get Ryan an opening gig at the LA Coliseum.

The result was a massive success and Ryan spent two years touring with Don Henley of the Eagles, who was actually one of Ryan’s idols, set he was given to open every show.

Then a strange thing happened. Cliff Carlton had a massive heart attack and passed away within days of it.  Jerry and Ryan were basically a well-known semi-successful act without a label. 

After that and with a demo reel of thirty-four very good songs, Jerry managed to get Ryan signed to Columbia Records. And that was when the money and the gigs and the world-class band and ten albums worth of platinum-level success really began. 

May Fielding was a very young journalist at the time, eager to make her mark and cement her place in the pantheon when Ryan seduced her. Not physically, because Ryan was a true gentleman, but by inviting her to follow and report on his first headlining tour, giving her complete access.

After a solid year and a half of this, Ryan then invited her to live at his newly purchased Malibu estate and write the book she had been building. The book, entitled Life with Ryan, was an instant bestseller, and earned May a substantial contract with Simon and Schuster.

Ten years, five bios and countless articles later, May was completing the circle, much wealthier, much more famous and secure in her profession and genuinely curious to see her old friend, who had essentially disappeared after his sixth world tour.

The gate to Ryan’s estate opened automatically and she drove her Mustang up the long driveway to the large white estate house. 

Ryan was sitting on the front steps with a bottle of wine and two glasses beside him. He got to his feet as she got out of the car and walked toward the front of the house. He took her up in his arms and gave her a huge hug.

“You haven’t aged a day, my darling, “ Ryan said.

“You always did know exactly what to say.” May said. As she looked at him she could see that whatever was going on in his life at the moment had aged him. He was sporting a full beard and the dark circles under his blue eyes were even more pronounced.

“You grew some facial hair. Very dignified.”

Ryan just smiled and when he did, May felt the years apart just melt away. “There’s a reason for that, and I will tell you all about it.”

He led her to the front steps where they sat down. He opened the wine and poured out two glasses. “Here’s to your next book,” Ryan said.

“I’ll always drink to that.” May replied. “I don’t suppose you have a title in mind.”

“Not just yet. But I do have a plot line and I think you’re gonna like it.”

They sat on the front steps and drank the entire bottle of wine, just like the old days, and Ryan told her what was on his mind. And when he had finished May just smiled and shook her head and said. “I’m all yours Ryan, for as long as it takes.”

~ 2 ~

The only help Ryan had around the house was an older Mexican woman named Rosa Sanchez, who did all the cooking and supervised the house cleaning and gardening crews that came in once a week. So Ryan was free to do whatever he wanted. He had a large music room, in its own building out in the backyard, with several guitars, a piano, a very expensive-looking violin and a compact 24-track mixing board. 

The only thing that Ryan didn’t have anymore was a singing voice.

A year and a half earlier he was diagnosed with inoperable nodes. But at his core, Ryan was a songwriter and kept on doing just that. His speaking voice was just fine. But his vocal range was severely limited and that was more than enough to put him out of the performing business. 

The mystery of his sudden disappearance was exactly that. But as Ryan explained it to May, it was really all about figuring out how to move forward, and he didn’t want any distractions. May understood that, because it lined up pretty much with her writing style. She was not much of a write-as-you-go writer. She talked and listened and recorded and looked around and took a lot of pictures, then she would go into isolation and slam everything together.

As they sat in the studio, Ryan started to play some of the stuff he was working on lately. He had incorporated an AI voice program which allowed him to place his voice into the songs. The voice, being an artificial creation, lacked the human quality of a real voice and anything remotely resembling emotion, but Ryan explained he was only using it to make sure the lyric lines would all track. From that point of view, he considered it an invaluable tool.

 May listened to several tracks like she was listening to poetry, set to beautifully arranged music. Ryan’s talent had, in her opinion, grown considerably. Some of the stories he was telling in these rough tracks were serious and sad, but not depressing. Others were bright and up-tempo. All were well-crafted and simple.

After playing several tracks Ryan leaned back in his chair and looked at his old friend. 

“I have about forty tracks that I consider to be pretty decent.” Ryan said. “James Crawford has found a kid in Kansas City that he thinks the world of. He suggested that I head out there, and check him out and I’d like you to come with me. Because if he is even close to what James was telling me, then hopefully I can see a place for all these songs I’ve been writing.”

James had been the lead guitar player and arranger in Ryan’s band for ten solid years. They were true blood brothers.

“What I want to do,” Ryan continued, “Is hire you to both help me do this and write the book later, Then I want to build that person into another me. They would have their own identity, voice and personality. But the stories would be mine.”

May took a long sip of her wine. “Do you think a person like that exists, Ryan?”

“I honestly don’t know, May.” Ryan replied. “But James and I have been close for a long time, I trust his judgement without question. The reason I grew the beard is so we can travel anonymously and be just another couple there to see him perform. I also have a great deal of respect for your ear and your ability to see people for who they are.”

May had no comeback for that. It was just the kind of adventure that she was craving, and she didn’t realize it until it was handed to her on a silver platter.

They talked for quite a while and decided on a rough plan of action. They then jumped into Ryan’s Jeep and headed out for dinner. They drove into Malibu and The Waves Cafe, which was just south of Pepperdine University. Ryan liked the Cafe because the food was great and the place was filled with college students who didn’t know who the hell he was. He was just some bearded old guy in a big Jeep.

~ 3 ~

May stayed over in one of the guest rooms of Ryan’s house and the next day she headed back to LA to clean up a few things and get herself ready for a road trip. 

After May left that morning, Ryan drove into Malibu and picked up the contracts he had had his lawyer, Jason Tighe, make up for him. He had agreed to pay May $2500 a week for as long as it took. She would retain the rights to any book she would write about the project, and she would agree to absolute confidentially for the duration of the trip and until the kid in Kansas City, or wherever, was signed to Ryan’s company.

Ryan then drove back home. He wrote Rosa a big cheque and told her that he would be gone for at least a week and that she should use the money to take a trip home to Ensenada to see her family. 

Ryan’s net worth was in the low three hundred millions, having sold his entire catalogue to Columbia. He discounted the purchase price by 15% based on Columbia’s agreement that any new material that Ryan would create, would be his own property to do with as he saw fit. Jason Tighe, who Ryan had nicknamed Tiger J, did a masterful job of negotiating the deal. All Ryan had to do was sign the right papers.

Ryan had no idea what to do with all his money, so he hired a financial manager and stock trader named Tommy Kim who was the grand nephew of the famous singer Andy Kim. Tommy got him sorted out and invested in a whole lot of green initiatives that the Democratic government in Washington was very big on developing.  

Tommy took care of all the money, so again, all Ryan had to do was keep writing songs.

~ 4 ~

Ryan didn’t like flying so three days later, he picked May up at her apartment in Santa Monica in a Mercedes Coupe. Four hours later they were on the Mojave Freeway to heading into Barstow. They were both amazed a just how quickly the city turned into desert once you got out of the confines of LA. They picked up a pizza at a place called Red Baron, and ate it at a highway rest stop and continued on their way.

There was nobody they wanted to see in Las Vegas, but they stopped there anyway, got a hotel room and then just wandered around the Strip. After a while, they just went to their room and watched a movie on TV, because they figured that about an hour and a half of Las Vegas would do them for the rest of their lives.

The next morning they coffeed and bageled up and headed mostly east and a little north to Kansas. They got as far as Denver when they decided to call it quits for the day. They found a nice seafood restaurant and then crashed out early. It had been a while between road trips for both of them and even two days in they were starting to feel the grind. Fortunately, they only had one more day to go before they reached their destination, which was Kansas City.

~ 5 ~ 

James Crawford was from Kansas City. He was also one of the few people in the world who knew about Ryan’s loss of voice. 

In between the breakup of the band and the resumption of his session work in LA, he flew home a few times to visit his folks. While he was there he was out for beers one night with some of his old friends and saw a kid named Johnny Rice who had a day job in his dad’s recording studio. Johnny was playing at one of the smaller local clubs. He was just doing covers on an old acoustic guitar, but he was a half decent player and his voice, according to James, whose opinion Ryan trusted 100%, gave him the makings of a real deal entertainer.

Ryan and May rolled into Kansas City at about five that afternoon and got themselves registered at the Intercontinental Kansas City, which was only a short walk from the club where they could see Johnny Rice. They went out for dinner and wandered around the downtown core until they got tired and headed back to their room.

Next morning at the hotel, May called the Crawdad studio and arranged for a half hour sit down with Del Crawford who was only too happy to receive them, They walked into the studio at around four that afternoon. The place looked old and used but it was neat and tidy and all three studios were active. 

Del Crawford, James’ dad, a thin man who looked to be in his early fifties walked out of the front office and greeted them. Almost immediately Ryan could see the family resemblance. They shook hands warmly, and Del invited him into his office. He offered them some coffee, which they accepted, and then they all sat down.

“You know, James tells me you were the best boss he ever had,” Del said to Ryan.

“Well James is one of a kind. You treat them well or someone else gobbles them up.”

“Ain’t it the truth. So what brings you to Kansas City?”

“Well,” Ryan said. “A couple of reasons. I’ve decided to step back from performing. The last dozen years have been very good to me and I’m really interested in paying things forward. James told me about a kid you have working for you, Johnny Rice.”

“We do indeed. assistant engineer, but if you’ve been talking to James about him, you know that engineering’s not where his heart is.”

“What can you tell me about him?” Ryan asked.

“He’s a farm boy. His folks run about 2500 acres, mostly corn, down between here and Topeka, just outside a whistle stop called Lawrence. Johnny just showed up one day in response to an engineer trainee ad that I had posted. High school diploma, beat up old acoustic Les Paul. A great looking kid, real polite and eager to learn. So I took him on. Once he had learned the basics he started showing up after hours to work in the small studio. Mostly just to figure out how his voice sounded on tape. Knows a bunch of Dylan, Springsteen and Jackson Brown songs. Has a great ear. And a versatile voice. I imagine with the right guidance he could break through for sure. I advised him to keep on practicing and learning chords, after hours of course. He’s been with me for about two years now. On his visits home, James has been helping him out. Last Christmas, he bought Johnny a new Martin acoustic. Johnny’s a pretty good player. He’s got a great ear and an outstanding vocal range. If he was in Nashville or LA right about now, he’d be in the game for sure. 

“Sounds like you have nothing but good things to say about him.” May said.

Del just shrugged his shoulders. ”Well, it is what it is ma’am. He’s a good kid, with a lot of drive and, in my opinion, a good deal of raw talent.”

They talked for a few more minutes and then left the studio. As they walked up the street to the hotel, May said. “Call me a cynic but this kid sounds a little too good to be true.”

“Or maybe it’s just good karma,” Ryan replied.

“Well, there’s always that.”

They had dinner at a vegetarian place called Café Gratitude Kansas City, because May was a sort of vegetarian and Ryan was a carnivore, but curious about what those kinds of places were all about. They talked about all sorts of things and May diligently recorded all the conversations because she never knew what she might need for reference later on. 

“A lot of this,” Ryan told her, “Is gonna depend on the voice this kid has. To do justice to any of the stuff I’ve written so far, he’s gonna need a good vocal range and he’s gonna have to have enough presence to cut through some of the arrangements I have in mind. They’re a little larger than a four-piece band.”

“Well that’s a change for you.”

“We grow, we change. I’ve had a lot of time over the past year and a half to think about the kind of sound I want to have. Most of my thinking took me to places slightly bigger than your average, or even above average troop of rockers.”

“Well, that certainly makes a lot of sense, these days. But then again you always were pretty market savvy.”

“So much of the stuff I hear these days is orchestrated all to hell. The problem a lot of it is that it lacks anything remotely resembling a point of view. If you were to add some attitude to it, you might have something. But most of it all sounds like really high-priced bubble gum.”

“That’s what the audience is buying these days Ryan.”

“Yeah, well sure. They embrace it because that’s all there is. I’ll bet if you sat them down, the literate ones at least, and asked them what they really want to hear, their answers would surprise you. I was quite possibly one of the last of the really big meaningful acts out there. And I’m not saying that as an ego thing, May. It’s just that things have changed. It feels like the whole industry has run out of gas. The only bands that are really reaching people are the same ones that have been doing it for decades. Everything else is just an evening’s entertainment at best. If we can take a kid like this Johnny Rice, or somebody like him, and give him the kind of material that everybody used to love, I can’t see how that fails.”

May thought about all of that for quite a while, because she was a thoughtful person. “Well, Ryan, there’s a lot to what you said. I just hope you’re right.”

“Right or wrong, it’s how we play it out. ‘Cause it’s the only way to find out for sure. Either way, you get the epic success or the epic fail book to write, and buy yourself a new Mustang.”

They chuckled about that while Ryan forced himself through a salad with something called kale in it, which kind of ran counter to everything he believed about food.

~ 6 ~

Three hours later they were sitting in a darkened room that had about twenty small round tables. Across the back wall was a long bar. The place was called Ted’s East because it was on the Missouri side of Kansas City. The stage was small. Only about twenty-five feet across, with a large chalkboard on which someone had written Johnny Rice’s name in a large flowing script. In front of the chalkboard was a stool and two mikes. One for voice and the other, lower, for guitar.

May and Ryan were sitting off to the side with bottles of beer and a bowl of pretzels and they watched as the place slowly started to fill up mostly with beer drinkers. Two pretty waitresses moved around through the tables with speed and grace. Lots of laughter was heard from every corner of the room. These were people who were out to have a good time, and the very much appeared that Ted’s East was their choice for it. 

Ten minutes later, the place was full. Ryan looked around to see that there were also a number of people sitting and standing at the bar. 

Just then, a young man, who looked to be in his mid twenties, walked onto the stage. His guitar was slung over his shoulder and he was carrying a bottle of water He was dressed in jeans, loafers with no socks and an untucked burgundy dress shirt. He took a sip of the water, and then placed it on the floor beside the mike stand. He then sat down on the stool. and adjusted the microphones. He was a good looking kid with light brown hair that was well-cut. He also had a diamond stud in his left ear and deep blue eyes.

“Good evening. My name is Johnny Rice, and I’m here to sing you some songs.” 

With that, the crowd started to applaud. Johnny waited several seconds until the room quieted down and then began to play.

May took a couple of pictures of him, as he started to play the chords to a familiar Dylan song. Ryan watched his hands as they moved deftly in tempo, but without ever looking rushed.

“When you're lost in the rain in Juarez

And it's Eastertime too

And your gravity fails

And negativity don't pull you through

Don't put on any airs

When you're down on Rue Morgue Avenue

They got some hungry women there

And they really make a mess outa you.

Now if you see Saint Annie

Please tell her thanks a lot

I cannot move

My fingers are all in a knot

I don't have the strength

To get up and take another shot

And my best friend, my doctor

Won't even say what it is I've got…

Ryan was a huge fan of Bob Dylan. They had crossed paths a couple of times and he was impressed by the versatility of his voice and the scope of his imagination. But listening to this twenty-something-year-old sing this great song with such a level of clarity, passion and reverence simply blew him away.

He touched May on the shoulder and she looked at him dumbfounded. Then she smiled. She knew what Ryan was thinking because she was thinking the exact same thing.

Johnny moved effortlessly, and to huge rounds of applause, through a collection of songs that showcased, not just his passion but his vocal range and his skill as a picker as well. He was careful, or at least that’s what it seemed to feel like to Ryan, to choose songs that were really designed to be sung with only acoustic guitar accompaniment. His choices varied in tempos and after an hour he had put on a complete showcase of his singing and playing skills. And after that same hour, Ryan was absolutely convinced that this kid could actualize the vision that he had been forming for the past year and a half.

It was obvious that Johnny Rice was well-liked and appreciated by this crowd of hearty midwesterners. And why not, Ryan thought, he had way more raw talent than any one person was entitled to have. And the vocal versatility he demonstrated made him nothing short of a beautiful canvas for Ryan to paint on.

After the set was over, Johnny appeared at the bar where the bartender opened a bottle of beer for him. He chatted briefly with a couple of the patrons as he took a stool at the end of the bar. As soon as Ryan was comfortable that Johnny was sitting there with no one talking to him, he walked over.

“Hi, there Johnny. I just wanted to compliment you on your set. It was really something special.”

Johnny just stared at him. “Thanks. I don’t recognize you. Are you from out of town?”

“Yeah. I live in California. I used to be in the business. Retired about a year and a half ago. Ryan Gamble.” Ryan said and held out his hand which Johnny took absently. 

“Ryan Gamble? The Ryan Gamble?”

“Yeah. I was wondering if you would like to join us. I’d like to talk to you about something.”

Johnny was stunned. It took a lot to force himself to snap out of it and slide off the stool. “Sure Mr. Gamble.” 

“Please, just Ryan.”

They walked across the room to the table where May was sitting. She had a third chair brought over by one of the waitresses. When they were all sitting down, Ryan said. “This is May Fielding. An old friend.”

“Please to meet you Johnny. Your set was amazing.” May said. 

“Thank you, ma’am. You…you write for Rolling Stone. I’ve been reading your pieces for a few years now.”

Johnny took a deep breath. He was having a lot of trouble believing what was happening.

“May and I drove out from LA to see you, Johnny. A mutual friend put me onto you. Said you were bound for glory.”

“You came all the way from LA just to see me?” 

“Yeah, and we both really loved what we saw.”

Johnny was not quite sure how to react. So he took a deep breath and said. “So what happens next?”

“That all depends on you, my friend.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Is there anything tying you to Kansas City. You know family obligations. That sort of thing.”

“Just my job over at Crawdad…Oh wait. James Crawford. He was in your band. Did he tell you about me?”

Ryan nodded. “He sure did, and it was high praise indeed.”

“James is an amazing player. I’m starting to understand now.”

“I was sidelined with a nodes problem.” Ryan said. “I can still sing, but I don’t anywhere near the vocal range I used to. So I started to think about another way to move forward. And a big part of that involved finding someone like yourself.”

“You want me to replace you?” Johnny could hardly believe he was asking that question.

“No, Johnny. I want to make you your own brand. I have been home writing songs for the past year and a half and have enough material for a couple of albums and an entire show. All I need is someone like you to front the band. It will all be in your name. I’ll just be the songwriter and producer. I will find you good management and get you out on the road, and my friend May here will chronicle it all and write a book about it.”

Johnny just stared at Ryan for a long while. There were a million thoughts cascading through his head. “This is unreal.”

“No Johnny, this is as real as it gets. All you have to do is sing my songs the way you sang the songs in your set tonight.”

“Wow. that’s a whole lot to take in.” Johnny said. “What about my job and where will I live? I assume I have to come to California.”

“You can live at my place until you get established. I‘ve got a very large house in Malibu with a full demo studio.”

They talked through the details for another twenty minutes or so and then it was time for Johnny to do his second set. But by the time he got to his feet, they had agreed that they would meet the next day and get everything organized.

Ryan and May stayed for the second set and it was even better than the first. Johnny knew a lot of great songs and seemed to have an intuitive grasp of putting the songs across while still making them his own. In Ryan’s’s experience that was a genuine rarity.’

At the end of the evening, they all shook hands and May and Ryan walked back to the hotel.

“You really do have a horseshoe up your ass, Ryan Gamble.” May said.

“I can’t disagree with you there darlin’.’’

“My only question is are you absolutely sure about this?”

“I’m absolutely sure I want to play it out and see what happens. I’ve got a real good feeling about this kid.”

~ 7~ 

The next day, May went out to shoot some pictures of Kansas City, and Ryan went back to the studio to talk to Del Crawford who was thrilled to death for young Johnny and was more than happy to let Ryan and May take him back to LA. 

“It’s not very often that someone from the boondocks gets a shot like this. I’m not sure what exactly is motivating you, but I do know you will have a hard-working kid with real talent and an ego the size of a peanut.”

Later that afternoon, they had Johnny all packed. One large suitcase and his guitar. He had been renting a room in a house that James Crawford owned, so there would be no landlord hassles.

They headed west on 70 and then south for about ten miles on Route 59, where they came to a large farm. They pulled in and Ryan and May were introduced to the Rice family which consisted of his mom, Ophelia, his dad, Jarrett, and his two older brothers, Martin and Davis. There was a huge spread on the large table on the porch and they all sat down to eat. Ryan explained what was happening and promised Johnny’s parents that he would make sure that he was safe. At the very least Ryan promised them, their boy would have a career in music one way or another.

Ryan was asked why he was doing this and he answered honestly. “When I lost my vocal range, I was pretty depressed for a time. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I could contribute to someone else’s success. It’s not totally altruistic though because Johnny and I will be working as a team. This is not at all uncommon in the music business. With what I know and with what Johnny brings to the party in terms of playing and singing, I think we can actually have a really good chance at success. It’s always a gamble, but it’s one I can well afford to make and I’m willing to do my level best to make it all happen.”

Johnny’s parents both sensed that Ryan’s motives were pure and though they would definitely miss their youngest son, they were overjoyed that he was being given this opportunity.

Two hours later they were back on the road. And two days later they pulled into Ryan’s estate.

“I’m gonna live here?” Johnny said.

“Yep. Home sweet home.” Ryan replied.

All the way back, May sat in the centre of the backseat and recorded every scrap of conversation between the young man and her good friend. Ryan casually got Johnny to tell his entire life story. It wasn’t a long one because Kansas City was the farthest away from home that Johnny had ever been. What struck both Ryan and May was Johnny’s genuine passion for music. He had taught himself to play on a Sears Les Paul guitar he got for his fourteenth birthday. After he left school and started working at the studio it was, in fact, James Crawford who gave Johnny his Martin for Christmas one year. While he was home in between tours, James taught Johnny a number of chords, as well as giving him a little coaching so that Johnny could learn to stretch his vocal range. Johnny was a natural and James was convinced that the young man could really go somewhere, once he had a little more performing experience. It was, in fact, James who got him the gig at Ted’s East.

May could feel that they would make an incredible team. She was every bit as pumped as they were, although she worked really hard to keep it all in her head.

Just as soon as she got home to Santa Monica, she took a shower, ordered some takeout, transcribed all her recordings and started to write the first draft of the first part of her story, which was unusual for her. But this was exciting and she didn’t want to lose a single detail.

The working title she gave it was Hurricane Season. After she typed the words, she stared at them for the better part of five minutes.  She then opened up her email and sent the name to Ryan.

Her dinner showed up at the door and she opened it all up and ate while she read everything over.

Ryan took Johnny on a tour of the mansion and showed him the studio which was a separate building off to the side of the pool. Johnny was, to say the least, wide-eyed with wonder.

“You must have made a hell of a lot of money over the course of your career.”

“Ryan nodded. “We did well. The opportunities are more limited these days. The Internet-based music sites pay fuck all for the most part. There were quite a few of us who sold off our catalogues before all that crap hit the fan.”

“Yeah, I kinda kept my eye on things since I was about eighteen. That was probably why I didn’t come out here sooner and try to do something.”

“Well, you’re here now, and I have the machinery in place that will allow us to at least make a good go of things. Why don’t you go get yourself squared away. I’ll take you into town for dinner. Normally we can eat here but my cook Rosa is down in Mexico visiting her family for the rest of the week. So we’ll just have to rough it.”

 The next week, they took things slow. Ryan gave Johnny a binder that contained about 100 pages. It was what Ryan considered to be the best of his new material. He explained that as he got to know Johnny’s voice a little better he would probably make adjustments. But for now, he just wanted Johnny to get familiar with the themes he was writing about and get a feel for the cadence of the words on the page. 

They would then choose ten lyrics and figure out the best way for Johnny to present them vocally. After that, he would bring in James Crawford and they would go into the studio and start putting a couple of songs together. He would let Johnny choose the ones that he felt the most comfortable with. Ryan had never really worked collaboratively in quite this way before, so he was kind of making it up as he went along.

Once they got comfortable in the studio together, with James helping out, they would call May and she would come and watch the process and maybe even add a few bits of advice. Ryan knew that May had been in a local band before getting into journalism, so she would understand what was going on. Not only that, it was essential for her chronicling. 

Ryan had thought about bringing the whole band in but he was afraid that Johnny would find that quite intimidating. Better to start small and add pieces as they went along.

Johnny, on the other hand, took to the process with a real workmanlike attitude. He never questioned anything Ryan asked him to do and he was one of the quickest studies Ryan had ever met. He seemed to have a highly developed instinct for cadence and rhythm and, most especially, drama and passion.

This made Ryan’s job a lot easier, because he didn’t have to teach by example, which he really wasn’t capable of. Johnny understood the nuances that Ryan wanted to put into the delivery of the lyrics. Johnny even surprised him with a few suggestions that Ryan thought were quite solid.

Johnny had chosen three songs. The first one was a ballad called ‘Outrun The Wind’. They talked about the meaning of the song, which Ryan explained was simply about obsession, but not in a harmful or negative way. As they worked through it, Ryan conducted Johnny on his acoustic guitar. He was absolutely astonished at how quickly Johnny was able to establish a chord progression, even making slight variations in tempo as the song progressed and got a little more powerful.

AFTER THE FALL

There are roads that we ride

To take us far from the pain inside

There are mountains that we climb

To seek penance for our crimes

There are lovers we have known

Blown away with the seeds we've sown

There are dreams that will never come true

And there is nothing we can do

It’s just a broken heart but you can tell

Though I might try I don’t wear it well

It’s just an empty achin’ in my soul

Cryin’ to be free, beggin’ to be whole

You can run

But don’t you lose your light

Livin’ day by day

Dyin’ night by night

Don’t get caught

With your back up against the wall

‘Cause too many go that way

And too many never return

After the fall

There are nights when I pine

For the love that’s no longer mine

My heart is heavy as a stone

And this pain won’t leave me alone

And at the end of the lonely night

I wake afraid of the morning light

Too scared to dream, helpless to try

And way too tired of wondering why

It’s just a broken heart but it will mend

And you can be sure it won’t happen again

It’s just an empty achin’ deep inside in my soul

Cryin’ to be free, beggin’ to be whole

You can run

But don’t you lose your light

Just give it time 

And time will make things right

Don’t give in to the forces

That make you feel small

‘Cause too many go that way

And too many never return

After the fall

Ryan made notes all the way through the rough sing-through and they talked about it for a good ten minutes. Then Ryan sat back and let Johnny play and sing the song. At the end, he was in complete awe of the kid sitting across from him.

“Are you sure you’re only twenty-five?” Ryan asked

Johnny laughed. “I’ve been told I have a very old soul.”

‘You know, I’ve been dreading this day, ever since I saw you in KC. I kept thinking, and May did as well, that you can’t be real. That when we got back here and started to work with the original material it would become a serious uphill climb. But Johnny, I have to tell you, I have never been so happy to be dead wrong.”

“You’re giving me a once-in-a-lifetime shot here, Ryan. I thought it best to bring my A Game. Besides, these lyrics are so pure that they’re actually a joy to sing.”

Ryan put Johnny in the recording area of the studio and set up a mike for his guitar and one for his voice. Then they recorded the song. 

They listened back to it a couple of times and both made suggestions which Johnny incorporated almost seamlessly. His musical memory was astonishing. At the end of a couple of hours, they were done. They listened three or four more times and could find nothing they would want to change. Only a couple of times in Ryan’s career had he ever been able to finish a complete song that quickly. If this was indicative of the work process between himself and this kid from Kansas, well that would be the earthly equivalent of dying and going to heaven.

That night he called James, who was waiting to do some guitar fills at a studio in Hollywood. 

“James. I just wanted to thank you for putting me on to young Johnny Rice.”

“He’s the real deal eh, Ry?”

“He’s all that and a massive bag of chips.”

“So I guess the band will be getting back together pretty soon.”

“Yeah. But I want you first. Give us a week to put some of the tunes together.”

Ryan loved working with James Crawford because he would play lead or rhythm and didn’t have any issues about it. He also had a great orchestral sense and could help Ryan and Johnny turn the songs into real onstage material.

“I want to put an album’s worth of stuff together and then get him into a couple of local clubs with you backing him up.”

“Sure enough, my brother. Just call me when you’re ready.”

~ 8 ~

May decided to bring a video camera with her when she came out to Ryan’s to hear the work they were doing. It was three days later and they had already completed six songs. James Crawford had arrived a day earlier and the three men were already hard at work filling out the guitar parts. Ryan played base, Johnny was on his acoustic guitar and James was filling in riffs with his Stratocaster. Ryan had programmed his drum machine for all of the various tempos and they would add that for real later.

May sat on a stool with wheels or simply walked around the room recording each of the men as they worked. She then set up her video camera on Johnny as they would go through the entire demo.

There was a real magic in the air, as the four of them worked away. The time flew by.

By this time Rosa had returned from her holiday in Mexico, and brought her niece, Maria, who with just a year younger than Johnny. Maria helped out with the cleaning and cooking. She spoke very good English because she had been raised in Tijuana and had gone to college in San Diego. She quite literally fell in love with Johnny, as he sang the songs Ryan was teaching him. They spent a lot of time together and though Johnny didn’t believe in love at first sight or anything like it, he couldn’t deny his attraction to the beautiful Mexican girl. Her long dark hair her deep brown eyes and most of all her laughter and the way she made the English language sound so romantic.

One of Ryan’s main concerns was that Johnny would have no one his own age to hang out with. So he had talked to Rosa and asked her to bring one of her many nieces or nephews back with her. In Ryan’s opinion, she had made the perfect choice.

At dinner that night they talked about a lot of things and May brought up the idea of going beyond home movies and making an actual documentary film on everything that was happening. She argued that it could be a great way to build word of mouth via the Internet. They could film it in segments and create a series that would culminate in the launch of Johnny’s first tour.

After dinner, Ryan sat down on the steps of the pool with Johnny. 

“So you heard what May said at dinner. What do you think?”

Johnny said nothing for quite a while. “I really like the way things are going and I know that sooner or later the word needs to get out there into the world.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll be honest with you. This is all scarin’ the shit out of me.”

“I can understand that,” Ryan said. “Trouble is the world has changed. The price of entry into the higher end of any area of entertainment has gone way up. Under normal circumstances, you’d still be playing in that coffee house in KC. But it’s a whole different ball game out here.”

Johnny just looked Ryan square in the eye. “I didn’t say we shouldn’t do it. I just find it all a bit frightening. I mean, what if we fall on our faces?”

“First of all,” Ryan said, “I don’t think that will happen. Secondly, we can always re-tool. I got into this fully intending to use the talent you have and the skills I have to make something special. Hell, Johnny. Just go listen to the fuckin’ demos we’ve made. We’re already there. The rest of it is all just playing the game by the rules that exist these days.”

Ryan put his around around Johnny’s shoulder. “I know this is a lot for you to wrap your head around. But it’s all just a game. If we lose, which I don’t think we will, it certainly won’t be because we didn’t give it our best shot. and we can always figure out a new way forward. This is the music business. It’s like trying to herd cats most of the time.”

Johnny sat quietly for almost a whole minute. Then he turned to Ryan and smiled. “You’re right. Let’s go get this thing.”

The two men exchanged a man hug. And that was the end of that conversation.

The next day Ryan contacted a videographer who he had worked with on a number of his own videos. His name was Valentin Cruz, a Mexican American, who he had met through his former record label. Valentin and Ryan had become good friends over the years, and he showed up the next day, in a Chevy pickup with a small trailer hooked up to it.

The thing Ryan liked most about Valentin for this project was that he was pretty much a solo act. He shot the video, did the voice recordings and all the editing himself from a small studio in East LA. He would, in fact, be the only person on the set, and he was as adept at setup shooting as he was comfortable roaming around with his camera and mike.

Valentin was a couple of years older than Ryan. He had started his career in film and television as an actor in one of the many telenovela series that Mexico had become famous for. But after a few years of that, he grew tired of the breakneck pace of having to shoot more than 50 one-hour episodes in the space of a few months. During his off-camera time, he started chatting with the crews and found out a lot about what each job in the crew consisted of. Eventually, after a brief affair with one of the female directors he worked with, she opened the door for him to direct. And that was all he needed. Having been an actor he had a high degree of empathy for them and managed to coax, as opposed to pull, great performances out of them. 

After five years of directing telenovelas and music videos, he was contacted by a production company in LA that specialized in music videos and docs.

This is where he first met Ryan. The two men hit it off instantly and Valentin quickly became part of the crew travelling around the world with the band, creating performance videos which Ryan preferred to the concept type. By the time Ryan had done ten albums he had a very valuable catalogue, mainly because his songs were quite accessible. But, thanks to Valentin, he also had a large video record of his performances, which were great promotional tools when the bulk of the music business moved online. Ryan was convinced that this enabled him to stay relevant even though the tech all around him was changing.

By this time, Ryan had done ten albums, the last three digitally, and he had a very valuable catalogue. The money he made from the advertising business up to that point more than compensated for the shit money that the music streaming services paid. As all this was happening, Valentin had developed the reputation of the go-to director for live-action in the music business. 

And even though he was quite in demand, he never forgot the friend who really made his reputation.  

Valentin wasn’t quite sure what had happened to Ryan, and when he called, which he did periodically, Ryan simply told him that he was moving into a new phase and that as soon as he was ready, Valentin should get his gear together and open up his schedule, which Valentin was more than happy to do, because most of the work he was doing these days kind of made him sad. A lot of the music was very contrived and without style or personality, let alone message value.

After the introductions, Ryan and Johnny sat Valentin down in the sound studio and Ryan played the six songs they had already recorded. Valentin looked over at Johnny. “You’re going to make this job very easy, young man.”

Johnny just smiled because he was starting to understand that with all the right machinery in place, he could see his career really taking off.

They spent the next couple of days working with Valentin while he set up his lighting and blocked out the shots he wanted to use. His main objective was to capture the spontaneous nature of music coming together, He would then break it all up with a series of separate interviews with the players as the band grew to its full size. 

Valentin and Ryan had made a handshake agreement on a daily rate for Valentin’s work. Later, before anything was submitted for broadcast, they would have their lawyers create a mutually beneficial contract. Ryan wasn’t worried at all about Valentin, because he was as natural a filmmaker as Ryan was a songwriter. He was certain that whatever Valentin produced would be world-class and make a great add-on to an intro package for Johnny when the time came. And once they were up and running, Valentin would design and shoot all the videos and any concert footage they would want.

~ 9 ~

Over the next six weeks, they recorded twenty six songs. Valentin's vision was not to cover everything but just the first few go rounds and the final few, interspersed with interviews about how things were going and what they were trying to achieve with each song they put together.

It was getting close to Christmas so Ryan sent Johnny home to spend some time with his family. He gave Johnny a rough cut of several of the songs to play for his parents and his brothers. 

Ryan took the tapes down to the city and started the process of adding all the parts he wanted to add, which included, horns, violin, and background vocals and baselines that were better thought out than his own. When Johnny returned to LA he got to meet the entire band which now consisted of a drummer named Cyrus Wilhelm, a female bass player named Sally Lyle, a slide guitar player, Joel Tyree two background singers Gloria Soames and Tina Farrell a violinist named Katrina Whelan and two older black horn players, Freddie and Phil Robinson, who were also brothers.

May also showed up for the final mixing and told Ryan flat out that this was some of the best new music she had heard in a long time.

The final voice recording was nearly flawless, because Johnny had spent most of the holidays with his guitar memorizing all the lyrics and playing the songs for his family.

Once all the bed tracks were done Ryan and an engineer at Blue Note Studios, Mickey Reynolds, would spent about three or four weeks mixing everything down. 

Valentin only spent half a day filming at Blue Note, and told Ryan he had more than enough to create a killer one hour video to accompany the release of the first album and as promotion for the singles they would release. He wasn’t sure when a tour would be organized but they had come this far and really wanted to be ready.

Ryan had leased a Jeep for Johnny to drive. And then he left him at the Malibu house with Maria and Rosa. But before he left, he brought Johnny into his office and they sat down together. 

On Ryan’s desk was a small stack of videos. As Johnny looked through them he saw that they were all performance videos from some of the biggest names in the business The Rolling Stones, Talking Heads, Queen, The Eagles, Jackson Browne, The Band, Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell.

“I want you to watch all these videos while I’m down in the city. I want to especially pay attention to how these people move about on the stage, and how they relate to the players in their bands. Right now, you have got the vocal performance down pat. What you need to work on is selling your physical presence on the stage. Some of this stuff, especially the Stones and Queen will be a little over the top. But watch how the lead singers move and how they relate to the players around them. This isn’t a showcase for Johnny Rice. This a band performance and you are the lead singer. Do you understand what I’m saying, John?” 

Johnny didn’t say anything for the better part of a minute. Then he looked up at Ryan. “I didn’t see any of your videos in this pile.”

“That’s because my band was all about me. This band is all about the songs, the band and the singer. You will get famous, John. They’ll know who you are. We just don’t have to stick it in front of them every night. The Eagles are probably your best bet, because that was a band that was starless and made it huge. But I want you to watch it all so you can form your own on-stage style. Also when I get back we’ll talk about wardrobe. Watch Dylan. The man is a snazzy dresser.” Ryan took a deep breath. “So that’s your homework assignment.”

Johnny just smiled, because as homework went, this was gonna be a lot of fun. From the very first moment that he agreed to come to LA, Johnny felt he was in very good and capable hands. 

That night as Johnny sat down with Rosa and Maria for dinner Johnny updated them on everything that had been going on. He also told them that he thought that everything so far had gone very well.

“You know, Johnny,” Rosa said. “When people really know what they are doing, things always go smoothly.”

 “Well, we still have to take this out into the world, Rosa.” Then he dug into his enchilada. He wasn’t worried about that either.

Over the next week, one of the things that Johnny had learned about LA was that there’s no way to get anywhere in a hurry. There seemed to be traffic everywhere, so he was just happy to drive to the beach and sit with his lyric sheets and watch the surfers while he sang the songs to himself.

In the evenings he and Maria watched all the videos that Ryan had given him to watch. Maria, it turned out, had very good taste in clothing and she saw very clearly the things that Johnny could incorporate into his wardrobe.

One day, they drove down into Pacific Palisades had checked out some of the second-hand clothing stores there. Ryan had given Johnny a credit card so he and Maria picked out a couple of outfits that they both thought looked pretty OK.

When they got back Maria took some pictures of Johnny in the outfits with his guitar and they sent them to Ryan, who was still in the studio mixing down all the tracks.

Ryan sent back a whole line of thumbs up. Johnny told him that he and Maria had picked the stuff out themselves. More thumbs. Maria was delighted with the praise from Ryan and so excited that she threw her arms around Johnny’s neck and kissed him. And that was the beginning of Johnny’s west coast romance. Ole.

~ 10 ~

Jerry Jacobson arrived at Ryan’s house three days after Ryan had completed the mixes. Jerry had been Ryan’s agent/manager back in the day, before Ryan actually became someone. He had built Ryan the same way that Ryan was building Johnny Rice and he knew exactly what was going on. He was also one of the most well-connected music people in America. the tentacles of Double J Enterprises stretched far and wide and cut across radio, TV, film, and Internet. If there was anyone on the planet who could launch a brand new voice it was Jerry. 

The thing about Jerry that was so deceptive was that he wasn’t all three-piece suits and big diamond pinkie rings. Jerry was about as humble looking as anyone you’d ever want to meet who was driving a Rolls Royce. Jerry wore denim shirts, jeans and loafers with no socks. The only ring he wore was a simple gold wedding band. Jerry was about five ten and in pretty good shape for a guy who spent as much time on the phone as he did. His hair was long, but not too long. He had a round cherubic face with piercing dark eyes. Jerry was camouflage incarnate. But sit him down in a room with any bunch of corporate assholes in the country and he would have them for lunch. 

Jerry took very good care of Ryan when he was representing him. He put him on the map and then drew a Treasure Island around it. They both got rich, and then, when Ryan’s nodes started screaming, Jerry put him onto the best ear, nose, and throat guy in the country. After the diagnosis was complete, Jerry and Ryan parted company. But Jerry insisted on having first right of refusal for anything that Ryan decided to do with his formidable songwriting and musical skills. 

So today, Jerry was here to see what was up.

Jerry entered the house without knocking, knowing that everyone was probably out in the studio. “Rosa!!!” he shouted and Rosa came dashing out of the kitchen. “Señor Jerry. It’s been too long.”

“I’ll say. I have missed your cooking like you would not believe.” And he gave her a big warm hug.

“Where’s the gang?” Jerry asked.

“Where else?”

“So…some enchiladas to go, Rosa?”

“Si. Come and see me before you leave.”

Jerry wandered through the house, which he knew like the back of his hand, out into the backyard and across to the studio where Ryan, James and Johnny were waiting.”

Jerry walked in with his arms opened wide. Ryan walked toward him.
“Amigo.” They shouted simultaneously and hugged each other.  

“James. So good to see you, man,” Jerry said looking at James who walked over and shook hands. 

Johnny was standing by the mixing board, watching all this happen. Then Jerry turned to him. “So you’re the kid from Kansas?”

“Johnny walked over and extended his hand which Jerry took and shook vigorously. “Johnny Rice, sir.” 

“Jerry turned to Ryan. “Wow, he’s polite.” Then he turned back to Johnny. “Just call me Jerry, unless I get pissed off at you for any reason. Then you may call me your highness.”

“Yes sir, Jerry.”

“Good. You’ll get the hang of it.”

Jerry turned to Ryan again. “So what have you got for me, my friend?”

“Well, for starters there’s twenty eight mixes. So a whole show and a couple of albums. There’s probably a dozen singles. And we have the band back together with the addition of a couple of horns, slide and violin”

“What’s it called, this thing you’ve put together?” Jerry asked.

“Right now we’re calling it Hurricane Season. Which will probably be the title of the first album.”

Jerry looked around the room. “Hurricane Season? I like it. Is there a song that goes with the name?”

“Not yet. I’m workin’ on it. The name came from May Fielding. She’s gonna write the book.”

“Wow. You are fuckin’ invested.”

“What the hell else would I do with all that money you made me?” Ryan said.

Everybody sat down in various places. Then Jerry turned to Johnny. “So what’s your story, kid?”

Johnny thought about it for a few seconds. “Ummm. Grew up on a farm in Kansas, went to KC and got a job working in the studio that James’s dad owns, and started singing a lot of the songs I liked. Dylan, Jackson Brown, Eagles, Springsteen. Then James bought me a decent guitar and got me a gig at a small club on the east side of KC. Then I met Ryan and May and they dragged me out here.”

Jerry looked over at Ryan who nodded slightly. “Hell of a story. Talk about comin’ outta nowhere. So how do you feel about everything that’s happened to you so far?”

“Well, the songs are amazing. Everybody I’ve met has been terrific. This is a big deal for me, and I’m workin’ real hard not to mess it up.”

Jerry just smiled. “Works for me.” Then he turned to Ryan.”Crank it up. Let’s see what you’ve got.” 

They played the entire tape and Jerry made notes on a little iPad he pulled out of his shoulder bag. About two hours later when the songs were done, Jerry got very pensive.

“How well do you know these songs, kid?” he said to Johnny. 

“Like the back of my hand, sir, er, Jerry.”

“Hmmmm”. Jerry said. “Well, this is definitely something. Can you make me a copy that I can play in the car while I’m driving back to the city? I’ll sign any non-disclosure you’ve got on your desk.”

Ryan walked over to his desk and brought back a non-disclosure form. And three CDs.

Jerry signed the non-disclosure. “Give me a couple days to noodle this. Right off the top I can see a lot of activity, for both the songs and the band. But first things first. Let me think on it.”

Jerry got up. He wasn’t the kind of guy to waste time shooting the shit. He turned to Johnny. “I like your voice, kid. I like it a lot.” And with that he was gone leaving the three of them standing in the studio.

“What the hell just happened?” Johnny asked.

“You passed the audition.” Ryan said. Let’s go have a drink to celebrate.”

“So are we celebrating?” Johnny asked.

“We’ll see, my friend.” Ryan said.

As Jerry was driving back into LA he was playing the songs. He really liked them. And he could see where things were going. But there was something, some little thing, way in the back of his head. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. But he knew if he thought about it enough, it would eventually come to him. Or maybe he was just being paranoid, or even worse, sentimental.

~ 11 ~

They were sitting at a table in the backyard of the big house. May arrived around 6 PM and they all had a big Mexican dinner along with a couple bottles of tequila which they were still working on.

Ryan hadn’t said anything after Jerry had left. But in the middle of their dinner he got a phone call. 

When he came back to the table he said, “That was Jerry.  He wants to meet up tomorrow and put a management deal together.”

“What do you mean by a management deal?” Johnny asked feeling pretty much like the greenhorn in the group.”

“Jerry,” Ryan said, “Is a manager. Well, he’s really a management conglomerate. He’s got a finger in every entertainment pie in pretty much all of North America, some of Europe, Asia and Australia too. He’s going to use his clout to open up a lot of doors, and help us get a tour organized. He will also help put us online, into all the music sites so the tunes we have recorded can start making some money. But mostly it’s PR which will be the key to selling out live shows everywhere we go. He will get us booked onto TV talk shows and music podcasts, the whole nine yards.”

Johnny was a bit overwhelmed by all of this. He had been so busy learning the songs that he hadn’t thought about the actual mechanics of getting out there and performing and how that would work. So he made up his mind to start listening carefully to everything that Ryan, James and May were saying, because these people knew their way around the modern music world and all he was was a kid from Kansas with a good voice. He was a long, long way from stardom, and the more they talked about everything that had to happen, the closer to it he felt. All he could do going forward was anything and everything that was asked of him.

That night he talked to Maria about it all. She agreed with his plan to just do what he was asked to do and do it as well as he could. “At the end of the day, Johnny, that’s all you really can do.”

~ 12 ~

“As anyone in the music business will tell you,” May wrote, in the opening chapter of her book on the band appropriately Titled ‘Hurricane Season’ the first year is always the hardest. 

   For Johnny Rice, a twenty-four-year-old kid from Kansas, and the band’s lead singer, it was like living on another planet. The ride he was taken on, by his mentor Ryan Gamble, was fast and furious. It was the kind of pace that everyone in and associated with the band was used to. But Johnny was not. But this is not a story about failure. It’s a story about determination, drive and passion. And it was all of those things and more that carried Johnny through the tsunami that is the modern music business.”

Jerry Jacobson pulled every string he could and got the band on tour with a older band called Foreigner, one of the most resilient of the upcoming bands of the eighties and nineties. Their fan base was strong, predominantly female and they were coming down the home stretch of their storied careers. When they heard some of the songs from Hurricane Season, they saw a lot of their younger selves in them. They also knew that Ryan Gamble was behind it and now that the story of Ryan’s sudden departure from the scene had become public, they were filled with admiration at the project he had created. It touched a nerve in all the members of the band because it was something that many performers dreamt about doing after their days on the stage were done.

The tour would last three months and the last three concerts, which would be Foreigner’s last, at the Hollywood Bowl, would documented by Valentin and a crew of six cameramen.
  Jerry had his web people hard at work promoting the band. Three live singles were released and sold through the online distribution channel his company had created. Towards the end of the tour, a live concert video of the band simply entitled Hurricane Season, was sent to promoters in Europe, Scandinavia Britain, Australia and several Asian countries. Deals were made and a touring schedule was put together for the following year.

The other thing that happened was that the record labels came a calling. But Jerry was no fan of the record business. First of all, because the deals they made had historically never been to the advantage of the artists or their management. And secondly, because his company had all the apparatus together to produce, promote and profit from the artists without anyone screwing over anyone else.

Jerry received daily sales tracking reports all throughout the tour and sales and plays, while not spectacular, were all quite healthy. So he had every reason to be optimistic.

After the Foreigner tour ended Ryan and Johnny took some much-needed time off. May moved into Ryan’s estate to finish her book. Johnny took Maria home to Kansas for a few days to meet his family, and then they flew to San Diego, rented a car and drove down to Ensenada to meet Maria’s family.

They were, like a lot of Mexican families, quite musically inclined and Johnny was only too happy to play them a few songs.

Two weeks later, Johnny and Ryan were sitting in Jerry Jacobson’s office in Hollywood. Jerry filled them in on all that was happening and gave Ryan a hefty cheque to cover all of his expenses to date and then some.

What followed was six months of preparation for the headline tour which would, for the first year, take them all over the North American Continent. The songs would be available on every social media site and music and film channel in album form and as singles. Ryan, Johnny and James worked at Ryan’s house to assemble and order the songs on the first album which would be self-titled. Ryan was also actively rewriting some new material that could be incorporated into the follow-up albums and added to the repertoire for the touring show.

Despite Johnny’s fear about being overwhelmed by the entire process, he adapted and thrived in the non-stop business of his day-to-day life. He thought about finding his own place for himself and Maria, but Ryan talked him out of it, insisting that he wait until the tour was done and he had enough money to afford something nice.

“It’s the music business, John.” Ryan said. “And anything can happen at this point.”

~ 13 ~

In Hollywood, Jerry Jacobson was in a meeting with a couple of young guys named Neil and Jonas. They were his IT specialists and though they were no older than Johnny, they were about as experienced as it got in that world.

“The numbers are tilting, Jerry. Not up but down. Not way down but down enough to for us to be sitting here telling you that.” Neil said.

“What do you suppose is causing this?” Jerry asked.

“Not exactly sure.’ Neil said. “The comments are a bit mixed. But the general feeling is that the songs lack sincerity, even though the kid has a great voice and the band backing him is awesome.”

“Yeah. What you’ve got here is a classic inversion.” Jonas said. “Older guy writing songs for a younger guy to sing. He sings them really well with a good deal of soul, but they’re not ringing as true as they could. At least that’s what we’re hearing.”

Jerry thought about that for a while. And then it occurred to him that that was the very thing that had been niggling away in the back of his mind.

“Sales are OK, Jerry.” Neil said. “But they’re not great relative to the push we’re giving them. Maybe they’ll pick up when the solo tour starts. But if they don’t, you will be behind the eight ball, because this kind of shit spreads like wildfire these days.”

After the guys left his office Jerry sat and thought about things for a good long time. He then played one of the videos of Johnny performing, at the Foreigner concert and just like that, it all crystallized.

Two hours later he was getting out of his car in Malibu. He walked around the back of the house to the studio where Ryan was sitting alone.

He was reviewing some of the video footage that Valentin had shot from the last concerts at the Hollywood Bowl.

When Jerry walked in, he turned around in his chair. “Hey.” He said. “What brings you out here in the middle of the week?”

Jerry went to the small fridge and got himself a can of Diet Coke. He sat down in the other chair beside Ryan.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Jerry asked.

Ryan knew Jerry well enough to know something was on his mind.

“I feel pretty good. A few rough spots to iron out, you know. But overall, I’d say we’re in good shape.”

“What if I told you we weren’t…in good shape.”

“Well, I’d ask for an explanation.”

Jerry took another sip of his Coke. “I was talking to the nerds today, you know Neil and Jonas, and they’re worried.”

“And what exactly are they worried about?”

 “They’re getting a lot of feedback on Johnny, that he doesn’t sound authentic.”

Ryan had way too much respect for Jerry to argue with him. So he calmly said. “Well I can kinda see their point. I’m twelve years older than Johnny with a hell of a lot more miles on the engine. I suppose I might not have the same sorts of insights that a twenty-five year old kid would have. But the performance…

Jerry cut him off. “It’s not about the performance, Ryan. It’s about what the audience feels, and right now, my guys are telling me that this is an issue. And it’s the kind of issue that will only grow as we move along. And if it grows too large, it could blow us out of the fuckin’ water, my friend.”

Ryan was a bit stunned by this.

“I’ve seen this happen a couple of times before.” Jerry said. “It didn’t end well and I kicked myself in the ass all the way out here for not realizing it when it first started to bug me. I was just too fuckin’ excited that this was comin’ together so cleanly. Plus, anybody who had anything to do with this is around our age, so it’s only natural they would love it. I loved it myself.”

“But Johnny’s not a songwriter.” Ryan said. “ At least I don’t think he is. He never gave me any indication that he was.”

“Did you ever actually ask him?”

“No. it never came up. Not even with May. We wanted his voice and his stage presence. So we never asked about anything else.”

“I can’t imagine that someone who can sing like he does wouldn’t have a little stash of his own songs somewhere.”

Ryan leaned forward and looked Jerry in the eye. “Is this a deal breaker?”

“No. Absolutely not, because the songs have a lot of publishing value. That’s already in the works. It’s just if you want to make this act work on stage in front of human beings, there has to be more of him and less of you, Ryan. There just has to be.”

Jerry got to his feet. “Ask Johnny, Ryan. Then get back to me.” Jerry then slapped Ryan on the shoulder and left.

Around dinnertime, Johnny pulled into the house and got out with Maria. When they entered the kitchen, Ryan was standing at the counter with Rosa, eating a taco. 

“Good day?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah, we went down to the ocean and watched the surfers. Good waves today.” Johnny said.

Ryan finished his taco and motioned for Johnny to come with him. They went out the back and sat down at the table beside the pool.

“You know, Johnny, one of the things I never asked you is if you had ever written any of your own songs.”

Johnny looked puzzled. “Ummm. Yeah, but after you approached me, that was the last thing I was going to talk to you about. I mean, you’re Ryan Gamble, and I was almost nobody.”

“So you have written your own songs?”

Well, sort of. I have a lot of lyrics and a few chords for them. I wouldn’t call them songs exactly. Mostly just ideas.”

“Are they fleshed out enough to be whole songs?”

Most of them, yeah. I mean they’re structured lyric wise, and I have some of the chords figured out. But I never actually recorded any of them. Why are you asking me this? Is something happening I should be worried about?”

Ten minutes later, Johnny had the whole story and it scared the shit out of him. 

“Why didn’t you record any of them? I mean, you had a studio and knew how to use it.” Ryan asked.

“I guess I was afraid to. Afraid that they might sound corny and I’d hate them. Afraid of disappointing myself I guess.”

“How many pieces have you written?”

“I’d have to look at my laptop. Probably a hundred and fifty.”

“A hundred and fifty?”

“Maybe more.”

“Can I see them?”

“Sure. You can look at all of them. I printed them out and stuffed them into the bottom of my bag.”

“Tell me something, Johnny. Do you see me as an old man?”

Johnny laughed. “You’re like thirty-seven right? So yeah I guess I do. But not in a, you know, senile old man kind of way. Just old-er.”

~ 14 ~ 

Ryan spent the next few days studying Johnny’s lyrics, trying to understand what made him tick. He saw a lot of his younger self in the thought patterns, and he was impressed with the way Johnny assembled his ideas. Every piece had a solid chorus. Every piece told a little story. Almost every piece ended on a hopeful note. and from the musical scribbles in the margins, he noticed that Johnny was also quite adept at picking the right key to set the song in. and the right tempo for the lyrics to be sung. He was a gifted musician who was too young to know how good he really was.

Ryan and Johnny spent the better part of another week assembling what would be an album. They would worry about the stage show later. There was more than enough good material. But they worked at it together, with Ryan as more of a guiding light than a full partner.

In the third week, James showed up and they demoed the songs that would re-launch Johnny’s career. Johnny knew all the lyrics because they were his, James found it easy to follow along because he understood exactly what Johnny was about. Ryan just sat back and made sure everything sounded clean and tight. They also brought in Valentin to cover it and May sat in the corner taking notes.

In the fourth week, the entire band assembled in the studio in LA and laid down all their parts. 

In the fifth and sixth weeks, the ten songs were mixed down and out of them, three singles were picked.

The new band would be called Johnny Rice & Hurricane Season.

The speed with which everything came together so quickly was testimony to the professionalism of Ryan and James and the fact that Johnny had virtually no learning curve in terms of putting the lyrics across. Once he understood the melody, he was away to the races, as the old expression went.

It was the longest and the shortest six weeks of everyone’s lives but they had managed to put it all together and hopefully, it would strike the listening public as the real deal.

Once the final recordings were done, the huge PR machine of Jerry Jacobson Entertainment swung into action. Starting with a launch party at a large restaurant in Beverley Hills. And the release of the first single. “So Much To Do.”

As the music began to appear online and the PR machine started churning, using Valentin Cruz’s studio footage, the band’s reputation slowly began to build.

Johnny, Ryan, James spent the next three months creating and finishing up  twenty-two more songs to complete the stage show. 

After a month of rehearsals with the whole band, they were ready to hit the road. 

After Jerry heard the songs, he decided that smaller venues that held only several hundred people or a few thousand at most would be a better way to showcase Johnny and the band. The bookers around the country were happy with that arrangement, because from the demos that were sent to them, it was determined that Johnny’s music was not stadium material and to try and make it into that would do a real disservice to the songs and would have created bad word of mouth

The ‘road show’, such as it was, was lugged around in a single semi with two roadies and two more at each destination, and a driver. The lighting was minimal and the show, although it was electric, had a very intimate feel to it, in keeping with Johnny’s songs. The band, was almost quiet and that quiet gave the songs a real ethereal quality that carried them on a velvet cloud. Johnny played acoustic guitar and sometimes simply sat on a stool and sang the songs. It reminded a lot of the people who attended of the early days of Joni Mitchell, James Taylor and Harry Chapin, even early Dylan.

It was definitely a throwback to another era. But according to the nerds at JJE, it was hitting a lot of the right notes and sales, powered by great promotion and good word of mouth, started to grow. Johnny carried the show on his young shoulders like a champion. The US tour lasted several months and then they returned to LA with enough video material to last a year. Radio play and internet album sales were solid. Nothing that would light the world on fire, but there were only a few bands left that could still do that. 

Johnny, James and Ryan decided to release a live double album recorded at the Moody Amphitheatre in Austin Texas. 

At the end of the year on the road, Johnny went home to spend Christmas with his family. He brought with him the book that May Fielding had just had published entitled:  Hurricane Season: Zero to Six Million In No Time Flat.

The six million reflected the number of album sales the first album of Johnny’s tunes had achieved. The second, an album of concert footage, was well on its way to that same mark. They had found the right niche for Johnny to occupy, and, as it turned out it had as much appeal to older music fans as it did to their kids and grandchildren. 

 

Although the entire project did not work out quite the way Ryan Gamble had envisioned it would, he still deemed it a success. And he also realized one very important thing about himself and that was we all have our time to shine. Some have theirs cut short. Others, the really lucky or gifted ones, get to go on seemingly forever. He believed that this was true in almost every profession. So he was very happy to hang it up and turn the management of the band over to James and Johnny. 

Maybe he would write his own book about the whole experience from his point of view. Or maybe he would just hang out and do whatever the hell he wanted to do now, at least until the next idea/obsession came along. 

~ 15 ~

HURRICANE SEASON

by Johnny Rice. 

Produced by Ryan Gamble & James Crawford

SO MUCH TO DO 

So much to do...so little time

So many mountains I’ve yet to climb

So many ups...so many downs

So many people...so little common ground

So many words pass through my pen

So much starting all over again

In a world where nothing ever seems real

It’s hard to touch what you truly feel

So many people I’ve yet to know

So many heartaches yet to lay me low

So much confusion to suffer through

So many broken dreams before one comes true

So much to do in a single life

Too little harmony and too much strife

All we can do is fight the good fight

All we can do is hold onto each other tonight

So much to do...so little time

So many mountains I’ve yet to climb

So much to do...so much to say

I've got the fever and it won't go away

TRY A LITTLE LOVE INSTEAD

When the endless parade of insanity

Starts to eat away at your soul

When all the bad news makes you feel

You're staring down a deep dark hole

When the atmosphere is crowded

With the restless spirits of the dead

Then maybe you will find it's time

To try a little love instead

When your brain is tired of thinking

And your heart feels very small

When the world that you are living in

Doesn't feel like any world at all

When you're too close to believing

All the dark thoughts in your head

Then maybe you will find it's time

To try a little love instead

There are so many roads to happiness

So much pain that needs to be shed

And all you have to do is choose 

To try a little love instead

No darkness lasts forever

No night more than twelve hours long

And the fever that's consuming you

Will only make you strong

Because you know life is worth living

And you're better than all you dread

If only you will find the time

To try a little love instead

RISIN’ AND FALLIN’

I‘ve been risin’

I‘ve  been fallin’

And I got to say

It’s been a long time

Since I heard you callin’

I’ve been dreamin’

About a love I thought was true

Risin’ and fallin’

Every time I look at you

I’ve been risin’

I’ve been tumblin’

And I tell you that there’s

Been a few times

I thought I was crumblin’

It’s been a long night

And my heart doesn’t have a clue

Risin’ and fallin’

Every time I look at you

You walk into the room

In that blue satin dress

I have admit to myself

It causes me great distress

But I’m a fool

And you are never what you seem

Risin’ and a fallin’,

Like a bright star in my dreams

I’ve been risin’

I’ve been fallin’

And I guess we just fell out of love

Without any stallin’

But I still dream about

A love I prayed would stay true

Risin’ and fallin’

Every time I look at yoU

RUNNIN’ TO ME

Somewhere in the middle

Of a broken dream

You feel your heart

Come apart at the seams

Just before the tears

And after the screams

That’s when you come runnin’ to me

You fell into the shadow

Of his clever lies

You never saw through

His thin disguise

Now the fire has turned to ice

In his heart and your eyes

And you come runnin’ to me

You come runnin’ ... You come runnin’

Tryin’ in vain to rise above all the pain

You come runnin’ to me

Here you are again

Standin’ at my door

You wash over me

Like a wave hits the shore

And I’ll get burned again

Like I been burned before

When you come runnin’ to me

Oh the loneliness

In your eyes is for real

Emptiness and pain

Are all you can feel

As you beg for the love

You know I can’t conceal

When you come runnin’ to me

You come runnin’ ... You come runnin’

Broken like a child and it drives me wild

When you come runnin’ to me

I’ll gather you in

And I’ll make it alright

We’ll share a little passion

On a cold dark night

But I know you’ll gone

In the dawn’s early light

When you come runnin’ to me

You come runnin’ ... You come runnin’

It sure ain’t the first time and it won’t be the last

That you come runnin’ to me

DAY BY DAY

You’ve been cryin’

Livin’ without love

You’ve been hurtin’

Deep in your heart

You been wonderin’

If you can be sure of

Any more promises

Made in the dark

You been thinkin’

That you’re not worthy

And that a love like mine

Can never be real

But I know little darlin’

There’s no hurry

It takes a lot of time

For those wounds to heal

So we’ll take it day by day

Hour by hour

Minute by minute

That’s how it will go

Day by day

With a whole lot of

Tender lovin’ care

Until you’re ready

To let your true love show

You can tell me

All those sad stories

About faded rainbows

And tears in the dawn

Cause all those memories

They keep you terrified

About givin’ a part

Of your heart to anyone

But I won’t hurt you

And I’ll never leave you

And darlin’ you can believe

Every word I say

I been waiting

Waiting for way too long

For a love like yours

To finally come my way

AFTER THE FALL

There are roads that we ride

To take us far from the pain inside

There are mountains that we climb

To seek penance for our crimes

There are lovers we have known

Blown away with the seeds we've sown

There are dreams that will never come true

And there is nothing we can do

It’s just a broken heart but you can tell

Though I might try I don’t wear it well

It’s just an empty achin’ in my soul

Cryin’ to be free, beggin’ to be whole

You can run

But don’t you lose your light

Livin’ day by day

Dyin’ night by night

Don’t get caught

With your back up against the wall

‘Cause too many go that way

And too many never return

After the fall

There are nights when I pine

For the love that’s no longer mine

My heart is heavy as a stone

And this pain won’t leave me alone

And at the end of the lonely night

I wake afraid of the morning light

Too scared to dream, helpless to try

And way too tired of wondering why

It’s just a broken heart but it will mend

And you can be sure it won’t happen again

It’s just an empty achin’ deep inside in my soul

Cryin’ to be free, beggin’ to be whole

You can run

But don’t you lose your light

Just give it time 

And time will make things right

Don’t give in to the forces

That make you feel small

‘Cause too many go that way

And too many never return

After the fall

THE HIGHWAY CRIES

One eye on the horizon

One hand on the lady’s breast

One ear fixed on her breathin’

One heart twitchin’ with unrest

She knows you must be goin’ soon

She understands your fate

You’ve long since traded off the silver spoon

For the mystery of the interstate

And the highway cries

Cause it’s time to fly

Kiss the lady goodbye

Roll on until you die

Roll on until you die...

It’s a drifter’s life you’ve chosen

Or has it chosen you

You stare off into the sunrise

Forget the dreams that can’t come true

You know you’ve got all the answers

Stashed away inside your brain

They lead you around like a madman

Nothing to lose and nothing to gain

There will be another woman tonight

Another one night stand

Another empty escapade

In this played out Promised land

But life comes with no guarantees

And no honour to preserve

Lord have mercy on the gypsy souls

Who get just what they deserve

I’LL BE WAITING FOR YOU

I know somebody else

Is takin’ up your time

I know he’s got you hypnotized

With all his lies

But soon you’ll find that one and one

Don’t always make two

And I’ll be waiting

I’ll be waiting for you

It’s a crazy world

Filled with crazy things

It’s a world where even love

Comes with too many strings

So when you find yourself

Looking for love that’s simple and true

I’ll be waiting

I’ll be waiting for you

I’ll be waiting for you

Even in the darkest night

I’ll be waiting for you

To make everything alright

When all your dreams have flown away

Like dreams are bound to do

I’ll be waiting

I’ll be waiting for you

I know someone

Has stolen your fragile heart

It’s just a matter of time

Before he tears it all apart

So when you find yourself all alone

On Heartbreak Avenue

I’ll be waiting

I’ll be waiting for you

     YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE LONELY

I know it hasn’t been easy

He’s always lettin’ you down

Chippin’ away at your heart

Runnin’ your love into the ground

I know that you love him

I know how hard you’ve tried

But now the pain isn’t worth

All the things his money could buy

But you don’t have to be lonely

You don’t have to be blue

You just have to call me and baby

You know I’ll come runnin’ to you

I know that he doesn’t love you

I know he doesn’t care

When you need to count on him

He’s just won’t be there

Sometimes we’re like children

We get carried away by our fears

Dwelling on the empty moment

When love finally disappears

But you don’t have to be lonely

You don’t have to be blue

You just have to call me and baby

You know I’ll come runnin’ to you

Anytime day or night

Darlin’ you know it’s true

You just have to call me and baby

You know  I’ll come runnin’ to you

I’ll say the words you want to hear

And soothe your troubled mind

I’ll whisper new dreams to you

And love you till the end of time

HOLD ON TO ME

Hold on to me

With all your might

I will be your strength

I will be your light

Shinin’ like a beacon

Through the darkest night

So hold on to me

With all your might

Hold on to me

In the moonlight glow

We will fly together

Through the great unknown

Our love will bind us

Through all the highs and lows

So hold onto me

In the moonlight glow

Hold on to me

Come take my hand

And we will live together 

In the Promised Land

I will never let you down

I will always be your man

Hold on to me

Come take my hand

Hold on to me

And never let go

I will be your anchor

When the hurricanes blow

So much chaos around us

That we will never know

If you hold on to me

And never let go

F I N