London Bone and Other Stories by Moorcock Michael

Author:Moorcock, Michael
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
ISBN: 9781473213302
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2016-06-30T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Two

I HAD TO be straight with Bernie. Until I saw a piece of the stuff in my own hand and got an idea about it for myself, I couldn’t do anything. The only time in my life I’d gone for a gold brick I’d bought it out of respect for the genius running the scam. He deserved what I gave him. Which was a bit less than he was hoping for. Rather than be conned, I would rather throw the money away. I’m like that with everything.

I had my instincts, I told Bernie. I had to go with them. He understood completely and we parted on good terms.

If the famous Lloyd Webber meltdown of ’03 had happened a few months earlier or later I would never have thought again about going into the Bone business, but I was done in by one of those sudden changes of public taste that made the George M. Cohan crash of ’31 seem like a run of The Mousetrap.

Sentimental fascism went out the window. Liberal-humanist contemporary relevance, artistic aspiration, intellectual and moral substance and all that stuff was somehow in demand. It was better than the ’60s. It was one of those splendid moments when the public pulls itself together and tries to grow up. Jones’s Rhyme of the Flying Bomb song-cycle made a glorious comeback. American Angels returned with even more punch.

And Sondheim became a quality brand name. If it wasn’t by Sondheim or based on a tune Sondheim used to hum in the shower, the punters didn’t want to know. Overnight, the public’s product loyalty had changed. And I must admit it had changed for the better. But my investments were in Cats, and Dogs (Lord Webber’s last desperate attempt to squeeze from Thurber what he’d sucked from Eliot), Duce! and Starlight Excess, all of which were now taking a walk down Sunset Boulevard. I couldn’t even get a regular-price ticket for myself at Sunday in the Park, Assassins or Follies. Into the Woods was solid for eighteen months ahead. I saw Passion from the wings and Sweeney Todd from the gods. Five Guys Named Mo crumbled to dust. Phantom closed. Its author claimed sabotage.

‘Quality will out, Ray,’ says Bernie next time I see him at the Lou. ‘You’ve got to grant the public that. You just have to give it time.’

‘Fuck the public,’ I said, with some feeling. ‘They’re just nostalgic for quality at the moment. Next year it’ll be something else. Meanwhile I’m bloody ruined. You couldn’t drum a couple of oncers on my entire stock. Even my E.N.O. side-bets have died. Covent Garden’s a disaster. The weather in Milan didn’t help. That’s where Cecilia Bartoli caught her cold. I was lucky to be offered half-price for the Rossinis without her. And I know what I’d do if I could get a varda at bloody Simon Rattle.’

‘So you won’t be able to come in on the Bone deal?’ said Bernie, returning to his own main point of interest.

‘I said I was ruined,’ I told him, ‘not wiped out.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.