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LITTLE BOY BLUE

M Brooke, M. Brooke Jnr and R. Russell

Concept: M Brooke Jnr

Script: R. Russell

All legal actions against M. Brooke, please.

Being the dramatisation of one possible explanation of the happenings that occurred during the last day of life for Brian Jones, the driving force behind the creation and initial success of the Rolling Stones.

THE FACTS:

Brian was born 28th of February, 1942. Sacked from the Stones 9th of June, 1969. Died less than a month later on the 3rd of July, 1969. Aged 27.

Self-penned epitaph: "Please don't judge me too harshly" read on the occasion of his funeral by the rector of the church in which Brian sang as a choirboy.

THE CHARACTERS:

Brian Jones

VOICES OFF:

Robert Johnson (A dead blues singer/guitarist)

Anna (girlfriend)

Pan (A Greek God)

Mick (A former friend)

Keith (Another former friend)

A NOTE RE SET CONSTRUCTION AND LIGHTING:

The back wall of the set should allow the silhouetting of the "voices off" characters. When these parts are spoken, the foreground should darken, a spotlight from below should fall on Brian and the silhouetted form of the other character should appear, larger than life, behind him.

Part of the back wall of the set needs also to be paper-thin and easily torn, to allow the "voices off" to appear on stage as required. Various effects are required and are described in the script.

THE SCENE:

Dark Stage. Spotlight falls on an empty bed, centrestage; a record player is stage-left. Telephone to left of bed. Walls are decorated with two tastefully framed oil paintings of English rural scenes and an Indian style wall hanging depicting the 'tree of life'. One wardrobe and a chest of drawers stage right. Bottles of drink rest upon the chest of drawers. Door far stage right, window stage-left.

Brian Jones enters through door, carrying a record: Robert Johnson's 'King of the Delta Blues'. Brian is dressed in pinstripe suit trousers and a lace-fronted shirt. Moves to record player and places record onto the turntable. There is a guitar on the floor next to bed, which he moves towards.

Brian: Got myself set up here. Some little helpers to keep up the energy (reaches into pocket, pulling out a handful of coloured capsules) and some good listening.

(Starts record playing and moves toward bed. Reaches down and picks up an acoustic guitar from the floor before sitting on the bed.)

Right on. Robert Johnson. The real stuff. What a talent. Cats like Johnson and, of course, Elmore

James...hmmm...yeah,yeah man and Muddy Waters. Hmmmm. But that Johnson cat was like years before...he just blows me away. No, they owe it all to that Johnson cat! They say that he made a deal with the devil. Went down to those crossroads and waited...for....midnight...when Lucifer himself sat down beside him and taught him how to really play the blues. Taught him how to bend those notes just so. That's the fuckin' story, man. And when I listen to his music...man, and this is 1938 we are talking about! Like, this is possessed! I listen and I believe!

(Pauses reflectively)

But it's not really like that. You have to be patient and just practise. Cut out all of the distractions and just put in the effort. There's no magic in any of this. Hell, this is 1969...we don't believe in fairy tales any more.

I tell you, though, all of these cats made me think, man. These black guys were singing and playing with an intensity that blows...(noise off) ...did you hear that? Like someone moved behind me. (Looks around room) No, nothing. Yeah, these black cats... You can close your eyes and see the sweat on their brows and the blood on their callused fingers. You can smell the heat of their bodies. You can feel their pain. If you listen closely then you can imagine being there, in the deep south or in Chicago...Mere pop records are empty. No feeling. The blues is a passion, man, like the beating of the human heart. Some days I just lie here wishing that I were fuckin' black. So that I could see and feel the world just that much more intensely.

(Noise off, like an acoustic guitar tuning up)

Who's there, come on, quit playin' around. (Looks

around again, to no avail.) Shit! What...I heard that...that was a guitar, man.

I must be going mad. Anyway, I was saying, those black guys, well I'm pissin' in the wind. The fuckin' fact is that I am very white and have more money than I need, man. And I can't help thinking that my success is due to 'borrowing' from these black blues guys.

Somedays I sit here in this house with my swimming pool and beautiful chick...my money, my drugs... and I convince myself that this is what I deserve.

Then on other days I just feel like a common thief.

Yeah, well, be that as it may, these cats really got me thinking about what I wanted from life and, sure, inspired me to play this thing.

(Strums chord and pauses, reflecting)

Yeah, well I would have to say that Alexis Korner had a bit to do with it, later on...he gave me an opportunity...which I deserved, may I add, and he's offering to help even now, bless him. He was there at the start and he's still here, man. OK, what happened was always going to happen. I wasn't in London for the laughs, man. Yeah, would've happened anyway, I know. May have been different but, inevitably, it would have happened. In a way it was destined that Mick and Keith would see me playing that night, yeah the Ealing Club it was, and...well, they were simply amazed to see what I could do...I was doing exactly what they wanted to do. But they weren't. I was! They were impressed.

(Stretches to reach a bottle on the chest of draws. Unscrews the top and takes a swig.)

Hell, why wouldn't they have been impressed! They were just nothing, man. Mick being ever so careful with his "career" in Economics and Keith just pissing around, doing whatever a technical school boy can do to make his way in life. Do you realise that his mum was still ironing his shirts, for God's sake!

(Getting angry) Hey, listen, they were still living at home when I had a family, a band and a name!. This is '62, man. Yeah, fucking nineteen sixty-two. I was the cat who got the band together. I found the gigs, I did the deal with Gomelsky...damn them! Then again with Andrew...yes,Andrew Loog Oldham. My deal! My band! My fuckin' band!

Now Andrew, he knew, instinctively, that we were the perfect antidote for the Beatles. Yeah, and I had faith in our concept. I knew that we were heading for the top...but it was a lucky break, really, finding someone like Andrew, who had the energy and vision to really push us along.

You know, I was getting a bit keen by that stage because I had, like, responsibilities and, well, needed the money. Andrew did the business for us.

When you think about how this all fell into place...sit back and take the last seven years in...it take my breath away. Like an invisible hand reaching down and putting all of the pieces into place.

And then I look again and find all of the pieces stacking up against me! Now that pisses me off!

(Takes a swig from the bottle.)

There was no question about it...I was the leader! I got the band together and I kept it together, too. Without me they were like lost sheep. No idea. Just no fucking idea at all. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

(The telephone rings and Brian puts the bottle down before reaching for it.)

Brian here. Hello? Ah, John... I've been trying to reach you all day. Not bad. Good. And yourself? Look, I'll come straight to the point, man. I'm

thinking of getting a band together. Yeah, that's right...Oh those cocksuckers will get theirs, don't worry about that...Yes, that's the way I'm looking at it...ah ha...well, I'm talking to some of the cats from the Yardbirds, and Jimi could get involved at some point...yes! Some surprises are in store, man! And it is looking good. Alexis offered me something, too. Nah, I don't think so. Nice to get the offer, though. Yeah, sure. Fantastic. Why don't you come around and have a chat? Next week is OK? Yes. Sure, I'll let you know exactly. Thanks John.

(Puts the phone down and rises, searching room for a hat. Finds suitable woman's item in wardrobe. Starts to swallow pills as he walks back towards bed.)

Brian you fool, where have you put that drink?

(Returns to bed, reaches down to find bottle. Locates it, finally, on top of chest of drawers. Takes swig. Pauses to take a breath, has difficulty. Wheezes asthmatically.)

God, damned asthma. I am really sick of this...

Let me tell you something...I'm from Cheltenham. You know it? Yes, that's right. Gloucestershire. Spring water spa town; a very genteel place. Not from London like Mick and Keith. Not from bloody Dartford. No, and I didn't bump into them on a train station, either! Can you imagine those two bumping into each other after years apart? Knew each other as kids! Then they just run into each other at Dartford Railway Station. Yes, just like that. And Mick has these R&B records under his arm...Keith says, like, "Hey man, nice to see you...and where did you get those fuckin' records?" Talk about fate! Unreal.

(Takes another swig from bottle.)

Me? I had to leave to prove myself. My problem was, uh, that I couldn't expand musically by staying in pleasant old Cheltenham. My parents had plans for me, university, a nice safe profession. But no, I had discovered jazz, then the blues and...well, that was it, man. I had to get my shit together and conquer fucking London. (Laughs) I wanted to prove myself. I had to force myself to take those risks. I wanted so badly to make it as a musician. And I did it, too.

I was a professional musician when Mick and Keith first saw me playing slide like Elmore. I had already proved that I could cut it with the best on the scene. But I wanted more than that...there was a future here, a popular future. I really think that I was the only one who recognised that...(pauses to take another drink)...that we could be as big as the Beatles or anyone. Andrew saw it as well but I knew before then. My vision kept the band together. Charlie would never have joined without me leading the band. Bill had better gigs to go to, he could have played with better paying bands. No, they hung around because I made them stay. I drove them to stay. I inspired them.

Voice off: Mick Jagger:

What a lot of fuckin' shit, Brian!

Brian: Wha...? What the...did you hear Mick then?

Jesus Christ, I am going fucking mad! There is no-one else here, Brian. No-one.

Where was I? Oh, yes, and I was the musician in the band. I was the one who could play anything. Mellotron. Harp. The brass on "We Love You" was mine. Guitar, sitar...hey, the sitar made "Paint It Black", didn't it? And Piano. Even dulcimer! Check out "Lady Jane". Here...let me play you something...

(Searches for single. Removes 'King of the Delta Blues' and puts 'Paint It Black' on the turntable.)

This was just a novelty track! But I could see something here that made it great. It was in my head and all I had to do was express it through the right instrument. Hear the sitar, man? Well I sat down and figured out how to play the sitar in, what? About a day! Took about the same time to get a nice blueswailing sound out of the harp. Look, I could be sounding boastful about all this but, you see, to me it just had to be done. It was, after all, the main thing in my life.

No, it was the only thing in my life. Well, to tell the truth, I had Pat, my chick at the time. And my

son, Julian. Jesus, that was a sore point at the time. A conflict of interests arose in this regard!

But music was my motivation. No, perhaps music was merely the vehicle for my desires. Fuck, I don't know. I wanted fame and fortune. The whole pop-star thing. I knew that the Rolling Stones...my Rolling Stones...was the way to achieve my ambition. I was destined, it was just so obvious.

Hmmm....thinking way back now, to Cheltenham, I started quite young, with music, I mean. I was no child prodigy, don't misunderstand. I was just interested in music. Sure...my mother is a piano teacher, I guess that has got to be a factor. Then again, my father is an aeronautical engineer...does that sort of thing 'rub off' onto children? Maybe it lacks a bit of colour and emotional involvement! Perhaps I could have been an itinerant rhythm and blues aeronautical engineer if I had taken any interest at all! Still, it takes all kinds...

Where was I? Yeah, that bloody band...look, I don't mean to tar all of them with the same brush. I really have no gripe with Charlie or Bill. Charlie's a lovely guy and, well, Bill's just plain old Bill Perks. No, you know who I really mean. When things fell apart for me, with the drug busts and all that, I found out who my friends were. I was getting hammered all the time and some of the band were just laughing at me...Part of the trouble was that I was never allowed to write...my stuff was never good enough to be even considered.

Voice off: Mick: That's just shit, you little man. You had

your chance and you blew it!

Brian: No way, man! I was the one giving our songs some

colour, some orchestration and bloody distinctiveness! Yet you were unable to appreciate what my talent meant. Just watch what happens now, without me!

(Takes a swig from bottle.)

You know, there was a time when Mick, Keith and I shared a grotty little flat. We literally starved together in Chelsea. And we were the best of friends...unlike now...Mick had his studies so would be gone during the day, leaving Keith and I playing our guitars all day long...because we wanted to, and because we had nothing else to do! Except that I would go out and steal some food when I could or, on those infrequent occasions when I had a job, I'd rob the till for that little bit extra...but, point is, when Keith and I played it was fantastic. We got our style down, two guitars working as one. We had an amazing understanding. Just practice, I know. We certainly had no pact with the devil! Or I didn't anyway!

Then Keith sort of gradually drifted away. Andrew had a lot to do with it, I think. Somehow he figured to cut me out...he saw something in Mick and Keith, decided that they could be the songwriters...well, in a way they have turned out just fine...a good songwriting team and...well I found myself cut out. That's when I started to get the cold shoulder. Like I wasn't really there. Like, man, I even named the fucking band!

I can write, man. My scene is just different. Music should express feeling, should evoke some emotional responses and, importantly, move forward. One step at a time. The music expands as you learn, as you experience. Trite, crass lyrics may earn money but is that really how you get satisfaction?

Yes, together they worked, step by step, to cut me out of my own band. I started the band. I named the band. They owe me more than respect. They owe me everything.

Voice off: Keith: Brian, we owe you nothing. You are paid out.

You fucked up and that's all there is to it!

Brian: OK, so I was out of my brain a lot of the time. Who wasn't? I can get it together, anyway, you know. This is the real point...they could have said, 'C'mon, Brian, we'll help you get back on course, man. You can have some time. We're your brothers'. Instead of, 'You're out, man'.

So why did they do it? We were just starting to make some decent money...of course, that's one reason straight up! Just sheer fucking greed. They did it with the songwriting: they cut me right out of that. I'm the one with the talent, man. Yet they worked against me, drove me away.

No, the reasons are deep. Keith stole Anita from me, back in Morocco. Took my fucking girlfriend! We were never the same after that, as you can imagine. Not the ideal way to preserve a friendship, is it, Keith? You fuckin' cunt! Where are you now? (Looks around room) Not here now, are you? Not that Keith cared about our friendship. Outwardly, anyway. If he feels any guilt then it would be here (places hand on heart) and that's stone, anyway.

No, I should have cut them years ago and got back to the roots. We strayed too far, lost track. You know, this is really an ideal opportunity for me to get back on course.

But nothing can replace all of those years. All of that hard work, the grafting...Man, we went through some amazing shit. But the band stayed together. The problem, man, was that I thought they were my friends...

No, more than that...they were my brothers, man. What we lived through, the poverty, the cold and starvation...they were like family. We just digged to play, you know. What we went through was the blues...our education. Paid our dues.

Then they fuckin' steal my band. Shit. I need something.

(Searches chest of draws, looking for hash.)

Did they think I was stupid? I probably was to be fooled for so long... shit, where is the hash?

(Finds photograph of himself and Anita Pallenberg.)

Jesus, Anita, we had something. We could have had so much more. That fucking...he and his rubberlipped wanker friend...do they want my soul as well? Fuck them both! I'm taking control now. I'm in charge and that's the way it will stay! Hmmm. Still can't find that fuckin' hash...

(Phone rings.)

Wha...not again. Where's that phone? Shit... Hello, Brian here...Oh, Charlie, hi man. Sorry? Oh.. Look, yeah, I know... it's not your fault, don't worry about it. The whole thing is between those two shits and me...yeah, I know...ha, ha. The Conspirators. Me? No, no problem, I feel fine. Hey, Charlie, I think I've got a band together...can't say too much because this will be a hell of a band with some real musicians. Can't say any more until I know for sure, you know...shit, yeah...ha, ha, ha...yeah, man, could even be an opening for an experienced drummer! Ha, ha...ah, yeah...sure Charlie. Look I really appreciate you ringing like this but, seriously, man...I'm OK. Fine. Yeah, look I'll see you soon enough. Great. See you then, Charlie.

You know, boring he may be but there's something decent about that guy. You know how goddamn faithful he's been to his wife? Ha...what an interesting choice of words! Faithfull! Marianne where are you now? Hmmm. Mick was so...stupid. Really treated her badly. Although I suppose I shouldn't talk...I'm worse than any of them! Ha! But at least I don't have that insane urge to be up myself...the way he prances around hobnobbing...pretending that he's a 'gentleman'! Ha! Fucking airs and graces. Sheer pretence. Affectation. I suppose we had to

expect it...he's always had that side to him. Always using, looking to get what he can. You saw how he took my stage presence and copied it so shamelessly...it was so funny, at the time, I am just trying to pull the chicks, nothing false to it at all, and he picks up on it and then camps it up! Keith and I used to send him up something awful. Didn't seem to bother him, though! In fact he just got worse! I think this was Andrew's idea, to attract all sexes equally...man, did Mick ever get into that!

At least I can say that I am not a complete slut.

(Continues searching through drawers, looks around room, finds something to drink and pauses, looking pensive.)

I really should never have left Cheltenham. There is something so much calmer, safer and more...homelike about that place. When I go back the house seems to...it welcomes me...I should ring my parents. I should tell them that it is all coming together. I should let them know about my plans. But I can't. I guess that I have too many fears, man. Too many doubts. This has got to come together, though. This is going to surpass everything I've done before. Then they'll see. Everyone will see what I have done!

This is a nice house, too. A.A. Milne lived here. You know, I can feel the presence of Christopher Robin here...he's lurking in the shadows...there! (Spins around.) See him! Look, in the corner..ha, ha, ha, ha...just Winnie the Pooh. My mistake.

Where's that drink? Hey, anyone seen my bottle?

Voice Off: Robert Johnson: I ain't seen nothin' like a bottle outta you, man, since you ain't got no bottle.

Brian: Wha...shit! Who's there?

Voice Off: RJ: You know me, man. I'm a man of wealth and taste...

Brian: No...

Voice Off: RJ: Well, ah ain't tha man hisself but I sure do know him well. I know you, too, Brian.

Brian: You...who are you? Where are you?

Voice Off: RJ: Ah'm dead, of course. Dead since murdered way back in '38. My music's still alive, man. But ah'm quite dead enough, thank you.

Brian: Dead? I can't talk to the dead. Since '38? Murdered? Shit. Where's that damned bottle.

Voice Off: RJ: You sure have played real nice music, man. Ah've been listenin' for such a long, long time...ha, ha, ha...Real nice of you guys to have such sympathy for my friend. He is real appreciative.

Brian: Who are you? I don't believe this shit, man. You are alive! Here in this room! Somewhere in this fucking room. Somewhere...

Voice Off: RJ: Ah'm Robert Johnson. Ah died in nineteen thirty-eight and ah'm here to help you, man.

Brian: Robert Johnson is dead! You cannot be talking to me now, you are dead, long dead!

Voice Off: RJ: Tha's what ah've been tellin' you, man. Long dead. Now lissen up, Brian. I want to help you. I'm here to ansa your questions.

Brian: This is not real. I'm going mad. Jesus.

Voice Off: RJ: Careful with your language, Brian. My man may be listenin'.

Brian: You mean...him?

Voice Off: RJ: The man hisself. Who else? You know the story, man. You know how I got where ah am. It ain't no bad place, either. We've got some great guys here now and some really hot players lined up to come. We could get quite a band together, anytime. Hey, you beaten your woman lately?

Brian: What? I..I never really thought...wait on, what was it you wrote? (sings) "Me and the devil were walkin' side by side/ gonna beat my woman 'til I get satisfied"...What was that all about, then?

Voice Off: RJ: Ain't no big thing, Brian. Ah useda do it all of tha time. Never hurt me none, man! Hell, I bet that they enjoyed it as well! What do you think, man?

Brian: I never meant to do it, I just get so...

Voice Off: RJ: Angry? Frustrated? Just cain't get no satisfaction? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha...c'mon, man, have a laugh, you need a good laugh! Lissen up, man: I really know what it's like. You're a pretty boy, get the girls. You have your playin' together an' people get jealous. You think ev'ry li'l thing is finally comin' together an' they cut you down. Man, it happened to me, it's happening to you an' it's happ'nin' to Jimi. You just gotta hit out somehow an' those wimmen just know how to piss you off when least you need it...

Brian: Jimi, what about Jimi? What do know about him?

Voice Off: RJ: Ah know ev'rythin' 'bout Mistah Hendrix. But I'm here to set you straight, Mistah Jones.

Brian: This is beginning to piss me right off. Prove that you are Robert Johnson. Tell me about the crossroads, man. Tell me about the delta blues.

Voice Off: RJ: Hell, ah'd rather prove that ah'm Jimi Hendrix, if it's all right by you. Hey, do you realise how old I was when I got m'self done away with? Just twenty- seven, man. Can you imagine that?

Brian: You aren't Hendrix. You can't be Johnson. So who are you?

Voice Off: RJ: Well, Brian, truth is ah'm Robert Johnson an' that other cat, Mistah Hendrix, he just paid ten thousand U.S. dollars to hush up some girl he done bashed in California. Put her right into hospital, man. Deserved it, musta. Wimmen like a man to be, ah, forceful? Is that the word for it, Brian?

Brian: Oh my God! I'm going mad!

Voice Off: RJ: Sure. Now that cat's gone an' confirmed his bookin'. You know what I mean, Brian?

Brian: I won't accept this crap!

Voice Off: RJ: You know how old Jimi is? Twenty-six. Just a year to go, then we will have ourselves one hell of a party! Hey, Brian, how old are you, man? Ha ha...

Brian: This is garbage...listen to me! (turns away, looking around room) I need a drink. Shit. (Picks up empty bottle and pitches it at the wall.) Hey...Johnson... (no response)...I want to ask you...I need to ask you something. This is important, man. Johnson? Answer me! Fuck you! You can't just come and fuck with me like this and then piss off...Johnson...I'm a fuckin' Rolling Stone, man. Shit..

(Brian is hit by an invisible hand, knocked to the ground.)

Voice Off:RJ: How you like that shit, man? Teach you sahm respect!

Brian: I am crazy. I've been through this before. They have locked me up, hospitalised me...I know that I don't always make complete sense...who does? I've fucked up before, I know, but I just want it too much. Can I help it that I have aspirations? Can I help it that I know my destiny? That I want to be something that I should so easily be...have been!...but that they conspire against me to keep me down. I don't even know why! Why me? Why Jimi? Why do they set us up? Why the constant harassment, the drug busts, the little hassles that build up in my head...why not leave me alone, I can sort it out!

Voice Off:Mick: Oh, Brian, it's all a fuckin' conspiracy to

you! Isn't it!

Brian: Mick, I want just a little patience from everyone. A break. Why can't you all just accept that I am different? I have a talent...an artist shouldn't have to conform... everyone is spying on me and they...just...never...leave me...alone!

Female Voice off: Brian! Briiiian! Come on downstairs, Brian!

Brian: (to himself) Ignore, ignore. I don't need this. (Calls out) I'll be down later. Give me a bit more time, OK?

Female Voice off: Brian, we need you. Come down to the party, man.

Brian: I'll be on the phone for a while....(softly) now, where's my directory. I've got it here somewhere. Got to make a call. Let me see. Where would he be right now? (Checks watch.) He left me a note, somewhere. Ah, here's the number. (Finds number, dials)

Ah, hi man. Yeah, I was hoping to speak with Jimi. Yes, yes. I'm Brian Jones. Sure, I'll wait.

Come on, man, where are you?

Jimi, hi there, man. Yeah. How's it going for you? Look, I know...hey, the new band is coming together, man...the whole thing is looking good! Well, if you're keen, sure. Come around when you can and have a bit of a jam. Oh, yes, OK. OK. No problem there. Hey, those cats are cool, man...bring them along!

Ha...well, why not! Huh? Oh, just moping at the moment. Got a bit of a party going but...you know what I'm like...yes, I know, I should try to get involved more...seriously, though, Jimi...I don't want to sound depressed...yeah, exactly...I am depressed...who wouldn't be? I've had my whole fucking life thrown into chaos by a bunch of...look, it's been going on for years. We've talked this through dozens of times, you and me...they had no respect for me, you saw how they treated me, ignored me, criticised me...I know that I should have done something about it. Maybe I should have done to Keith what you did! Yeah, that Linda Keith thing, when she took a fancy to you and set you up with Chas...man, no wonder he was so pissed off! He spends his money on her, puts her up in a hotel and you move in with her...ha...he deserved at least that! And you could say that you owe your success since then to Keith! He financed your big break!

But I want to ask you something, seriously, something that's bothering me a bit...you have a bit of a grounding in voodoo, I know that you have some beliefs...and they aren't very Christian! Ha ha...yes, yes...Voodoo Chile! Sure! Look, we only dabbled! What the Stones did was contrived, we had little else but sales potential in mind! Listen, we just wanted to keep our image intact...but it was all Mick and Keith anyway. Fuck the music, we want the money. Sure, we all need the money! But what I want to know, why I rang, it's about Robert Johnson, man. I know the story, man, but...it just doesn't sit well with me...you know? That delta blues mystique, I suppose...yeah, sure, tell me if I'm out of my mind but--seriously--did that cat really sell his soul to the Devil? (phone line drops out) Hello? Jimi? Are you there? Shit.

(Brian redials and the phone is answered)

Jimi? Sorry, man, we got cut off. Did you hear my last...yeah, tell me about Johnson...What? Is that right? ...I wouldn't know...I've seen things in North Africa, man, that blew my mind. I really believe that we are weak, our minds are not allowed to strengthen, man. We protect ourselves from the other side and that stunts us, restricts our growth. We are really just children.

Oh, yeah, sure...not a problem...don't let me hold you up...sure, Jimi. We'll have a jam as soon as you get back...good luck, Jimi. Bye.

Female Voice off: Brian, what are you doing. Come downstairs, darling. We're all down near the pool. Maybe you'd like a dip in the pool?

Brian: Yes, Anna. I have to make a couple of phone calls and then I'll change. Be down soon.

Voice off:Great. Come down when you can, Brian.

Brian: Hmmm. The Rites of Pan Festival, Jajouka. That night

really shook me up. I've got a tape here...somewhere...(gets up, searches room for tape, loads it into player)...ah...here we are...(plays "The Master Musicians of Jajouka")...

Yeah, Morocco...Brion Gysin, it was. Took me to the village of Jajouka while I was in Morocco for a bit of rest. Brion was quite excited about the local musicians and...well, I was only there for one night but the effect is with me always. The actual festival is a week long...wow, listen to that...this music just takes you away, doesn't it? Yeah, a week long but, anyhow, I had missed it. Truth is, man, there's no way that I could endure the psychic strain of the whole deal, anyway.

Hey, Johnson, (Brian looks up to the ceiling...pauses, then looks down to the floor) you should be listening to this, man. A cat like you could understand.

Ha...yeah, where was I? OK, so I took a local engineer and some gear along with me on Brion's recommendation and this is what I taped...it's totally unreal...I've played it forwards, backwards, slowed it down...absolutely brilliant stuff. Flutes, drums...I put it all together when I got back to London, got some links together and made this finished tape.

Voice Off: Robert Johnson: Has someone got your goat, Brian?

Brian: Johnson! You're back! I wanted to ask you...

Voice Off: RJ: No time, Brian. You have to go for a swim, soon. Didn't Anna tell you that?

Brian: Wha..? Oh yes. But...

Voice Off: RJ: C'mon, man, tell me all 'bout that there goat down in Jajouka.

Brian: Well, yes, there was a goat. We, that's Brion, the engineer and I were sitting, watching the musicians just in front of us, a few feet away. Well, some of them brought this goat along to be eaten and they were off in the shadows, with a knife. I remember the knife glinting. Look, Johnson, this is hardly necessary...

Voice Off: RJ: Say it, Mistah Jones, the goat was you and, later that day...what happened?

Brian: Ahh. The goat was eaten. We all ate its liver on shish-kebab sticks. The goat was me. I jumped up when I realised this...everyone could see its long blonde fringe that fell right over its eyes...it was clearly me! Fuck you, why bring this up? Why, Johnson? Tell me why!

Voice Off: RJ: Hey, man, ah know why you are so fucked up. You are weak, man. Your head ain't strong enough. You have this flaw that bothers you so...that puts you onto this guilt trip. Yeah! Ah see it when you talk about your parents, ah see it when you beat on your wimmen.

Ah sense it, man, when ah see you dressed in women's clothes. You have a softer, sensitive side that...that really pisses you off!

Brian: Why can't you leave me alone? What have I done?

Voice Off: RJ: Yeah, man. You cain't be yourself because your ambition, your goddamn pride, bottles the real Brian Jones up. Then, when you are all twisted up and angry you hit out at your woman because you cain't handle her womanliness...she is what you cannot be...

Brian: It's not like that at all. I know what I want and I can have anything that I desire. Are you hearing me, Johnson? I am in control!

Johnson?

Fuck you, Johnson. I just want a drink, man. (Looks around room, finds a bottle and takes a long drink.)

I really don't understand why. Fuck. I should ring my mother and let her know that everything's OK. Actually I think I should visit my parents tomorrow and have a really good chat. Things are looking up and I'm getting it together.

Has another long swig at the bottle.

Fuck you, Johnson!

Voice Off: Robert Johnson: Oh, pawh li'l ol' white blues player you are. You ain't fit to lick mah ass, boy, let alone fuck me!

Brian: Don't make me suffer. Take me now.

Voice Off: RJ: Suffer? What do you know 'bout suffering? What was it like for you, Mistah Jones, to grow up wi' your nice white family in your nice genteel family home? Does your suffrin' compare with mine? You chose ta leave home and take your chances in London, Mistah Jones. Ah lived and died in the delta, man, and ah sang tha blues b'cause ah had sum blues ta sing. How can you begin to un'stand what it was like for me, a nigger, living in th'south of th'United States way back then?

You are insultin' me, boy. I'll take you nowheres. You ain't worth takin'.

Brian: Don't you think that I understand that? What makes you think that I have no understanding of the racism faced by blacks in the U.S.A. back then...or now, for that matter. I've seen it. I've read about it. I've spoken with blacks. My friend Jimi is a black. I understand what you are saying but don't treat me like a fool, Johnson!

Johnson? Hello...not again! Johnson! You can give it but you can't take it, eh? Well I can't be bothered with all of this talk, man. I have things to do.

(Takes another swig from bottle and heads to wardrobe, looking for a robe. Finds it and goes to chest of draws, looking for swimming costume.)

Why I never can find anything in this house is beyond me. I've...got a...ah-ha! The swimming costume. Now I need a towel and...

Set is bathed in light. Entering from right, with a clattering of hooves and a blowing of pipes, silhouetted against the light is a half-man half horse: The God Pan.

Voice Off: The God Pan: Brian Jones?

Brian: Sorry? Who...? Johnson?

Voice Off: Pan: The Romans called me Faunus. You have met me before although you didn't recognise me at the time.

Brian: I really don't need this...I must need something else. (Searches pockets for barbiturates, retrieves some and pops a handful into mouth.)

Voice Off: Pan: Apollo be praised! Seems you haven't changed at all. I had heard that you were cleaning up your act...

Brian: So what's it matter to you? Anyway, I am getting it together. Getting off the drugs, sorting things out. Soon, I'll have a new band, new ideas and a new direction in my life...

Voice-over: Pan: I had heard nothing but good about you, Brian. Too much of everything...too many women, too much drink..too many pills. I am sorry to hear that you have reformed...however what I see before me gives much hope. Which is not to say that am not glad to hear of your optimism. But...what's wrong with a little excess?

Brian: What are you on about?

Voice Off: Pan: You know,I have seen you before, in Morocco, in fact, and I saw how out of it you were then...I thought that things were going well for you, Brian.

Brian: Ah, Morocco, eh? Let me think...who could you be? You said that the Romans called you, what was it? 'Faun' something?

Voice Off: Pan: Faunus.

Brian: Hmmm. The Romans. So you have visited Italy. When? Recently?

Voice Off: Pan: Ha, ha, ha...Well, not Italy as you know it. I meant the Romans as in the Roman Empire...

Brian: Really? This is intriguing. Why were you in Morocco, then?

Voice Off: Pan: I was invited, of course. They invite me every year.

Brian: Well. You know, I found that whole North African scene fascinating. The G'naoua caught my eye in Marrakesh. Really amazing.

Voice Off: Pan: I know what you mean. A very special people.

Brian: Yes, yes. Descendants of West African slaves...you know, they can heal with their music. Unreal, just amazing stuff, man.

Voice Off: Pan: The power of music is really limitless, Brian. Civilisation has blunted the natural human response to music. We should all get back to the true meaning of these vibrations.

Brian: Absolutely right, man. Everyone can feel that beat and we recognise that it is good but...

Voice Off: Pan: That's as far as it goes.

Brian: We've forgotten about the power. It was, you know, that beat, what became the blues to the black Americans...that West African pulse...that struck me. I could hear a resemblance to what we, the white English R&B bands, were playing. That rhythm and blues feel had spread across the world, man, and there I was hearing it all again. And in what must have been close to its original, West African form.

Voice Off: Pan: I can understand. I felt the same elation the first time I heard the pipes.

Brian: Really? You know, I would have been happy, satisfied, just with what I heard in Marrakesh but for the fact that the recordings that I made were lousy...and I wanted to take a good quality sample back to London.

Voice Off: Pan: Why was that , Brian?

Brian: Well, I had this idea, to integrate this amazing primitive music with the Stone's music. Take rock and roll to a place it had never been...

Voice Off: Pan: Exciting stuff! So, tell me Brian, what led you to Jajouka?

Brian: Ah, well, a friend, Brion Gysin, wanted to help me, you see, and he offered to take me there, to this village called Jajouka. How do you know about Jajouka?

Voice Off: Pan: Oh, I think we have a mutual friend.

Brian: Who's that?

Voice Off: Pan: Well, I do know Brion Gysin, actually. In fact, I know quite a few people down Morocco way. He must have mentioned something.

Brian: Yes, Brion is quite well known. Anyway, Brion knew about this powerful ritual music that was, in fact, more amazing than he could ever have described. They worship the goat-god, Pan, you see, and had been playing these pipes...hey, there's a coincidence, you just mentioned pipes...anyway, they had been playing this music since ancient times in ritual worship of their god.

Voice Off:Pan: Ah, Pan. Greek word, meaning 'universal'. Like in Pan-American...flies all over America, I suppose.

Brian: Well they fly just about everywhere, so that's pretty universal.

Voice Off: Pan: Hmmm. Do you know the story of the origin of the pipes, Brian?

Brian: I guess so, something about Classical Greek mythology, the god Pan...I think he chased a nymph or Diana or someone whom he thought was Diana and fell into some reeds.

Voice Off: Pan: That's right. I grasped at the reeds, thinking that I had caught this nymph, Syrinx, in my arms and the confounded girl vanished, leaving me with only the reeds! I sighed, my breath blew through the hollow reeds and, voila, we have the pipes of Pan.

Brian: Wait on...you grasped at the reeds? You?

Voice Off: Pan: Oh, sorry. The Greeks called me Pan. The God Pan. Pleased to meet a Rolling Stone. You guys are living life the way it should be lived!

Brian: Thanks, but I'm an ex-Stone, if you please. So now I'm talking with some hip geezer who thinks he's a Greek god. Where's that drink?

Voice Off: Pan: Hey, Brian, I'm a god, I'm universal by right. You don't get much hipper than to be a god. I'll have a gin and tonic thanks.

Brian: This is not my day. Forget the drink, tell me what brings you to Cotchford Farm!

Voice Off: Pan: Surely you remember the goat, Brian.

Brian: Wha...? In Jajouka?

Voice Off: Pan: That's right.

Brian: So?

Voice Off: Pan: Well, Brian, clearly I'm here for my sacrifice. I expect that sort of thing. I am a Greek god, after all!

Brian: No! This can't be happening! No, this isn't true!

I won't be sacrificed to some pagan deity!

Voice Off: Pan: Calm down, Brian. Before you start slandering me, I'm not here for you, all I want is a simple ceremony and a common dumb animal...any old goat will do! What kind of deity do you think I am?

Brian: You want a goat? Where am I to find a goat at this time of night?

Voice Off: Pan: Look, if it's all too much trouble, fine. I'll take my pipes and go elsewhere. I'll go somewhere I'm appreciated.

Brian: Look, I didn't mean to offend. I am really having a hard time accepting all of this stuff. Sometimes I think that I am going over the edge.

Voice Off: Pan: What can I say? I'm sorry, Brian. I understand now that you are not psychically strong enough. You are a sensitive person, driven by a powerful ambition to succeed. You are inventive and imaginative. However you are flawed by your desire to be complete, to embrace all things with boundless enthusiasm.

Brian: First you tell me that you're a God, now you sound like an astrologer! Go on, tell me about Pisces.

Voice Off: Pan: I can't. I'm a Capricorn, myself. Oh, that cracks me up! (Laughing, he stamps a hoof loudly.)

I wish you well, Brian, though I fear that you will not have the energy to complete your dream.

(The lights dim. Pan exits quietly to the right.)

Brian: Pan? Love me and leave me, like all the rest. I need a drink. (Walks to where bottle was left, drinks) Ahhhh. I really should get it all together. Anna is waiting for me downstairs. Where's that swimming costume?

(Phone rings. Walks to it and answers.)

Hello, Brian speaking. Oh, mother! I meant to ring you. Uh, ha. This is quite late, for you, is everything OK? Look, I'm fine. Anna's downstairs, bit of a party. Oh, just the guy doing some of the renovations, a few friends....Well, Charlie rang me but, no, haven't heard from the others. Ohhh...no, please don't worry. Everything's looking up.

Mother, I'll drive around next week. Sure. I am really happy with what's happening, I just want to tell you all about it. Fine. I'll have to go down to the party, now. How about Tuesday? For lunch? Sure, Anna will be with me...See you then. 'Bye mother.

I feel a lot better about things, now. I guess that I needed to talk this through with someone like you. Must go now.

(Undresses, putting on the swimmers and wrapping himself in a robe. Light returns in a blaze, voices off are heard, calling to Brian: Johnson, Pan, Mick and Keith. The voices are loud, the light is harsh. Hoofbeats are heard, the sounds of a fire, then men shouting, calling for a sacrifice. A goat's head is lowered from above, onto Brian.)

This damned asthma. Better have another drink before I go downstairs...

(Does so, then proceeds out the door. Black screen falls across stage, unlit. Recorded sounds of party, people diving into pool. Shouts are heard, an argument, the sound of running water. The Goat's head is thrust through the black screen and lit. Blood flows from a wound on its neck.)

FINIS39