Crystal
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Crystal PassionChapter 14 free porn video
Both Crystal's and Judy's parents preferred that their daughters be buried rather than cremated so the final moments of the funeral weren't of two coffins sliding inside a furnace and being incinerated. Instead a procession of hearses snaked out of the funeral home and wound through the roads and avenues of Rock Hill to Crystal's final resting place at the Forest Hills Cemetery. I was a mess of sorrow and tears during the whole drive. The brief respite I'd had from my grief by the need to comfort Marianne abandoned me now that there were others, including Crystal's father, who'd taken on the role. It was Andrea who once again shouldered the burden of comforting her sister as we processed towards the cemetery and the already excavated rectangles of soil into which Crystal and Judy would be separately buried.
I knew very little at the time about the conventions and customs associated with funerals and wasn't at all sure what was the right thing to do. I'd seen in movies that someone or other was supposed to throw something into the open grave, so I tossed in a linen handkerchief that Crystal had once given me. However, nobody else followed my gesture and I still regret having lost this small memorandum of Crystal's life.
The funeral wasn't as private as any of us would have liked. How could it have been? All of North and South Carolina, or at least those in the Charlotte metropolitan area, were interested in witnessing the final chapter of the Catawba River Murder (or the River Park Lynching or the English Rock Star Double Homicide). And there were those, I'm sure, who believed that Crystal deserved to die for the sin of being a godless lesbian atheist who shamed the moral rectitude of York County, SC.
There was a modest coterie of photographers who followed the funeral procession all the way from the exit door of the Joseph Armistead & Sons Funeral Home to the Forest Hills Cemetery. Although they kept a respectful distance, I could still hear the distant click of camera shutters as I bent my head down in memoriam. However, not even Polly has suggested that it was the relentless hounding of the press that had brought about Crystal's death. It might have worsened the generally sour atmosphere in the weeks and days that culminated in her tragic murder, but Crystal had escaped press attention sufficiently enough for her murderers and Judy's lynchers to remain unknown, undiscovered and free from the penalty of justice right up to the present day.
My enduring hope is that someone somewhere in Rock Hill or the Charlotte metropolitan area, almost certainly middle-aged and possibly balding, is now feeling sufficient remorse for his role in the rape and murder of the woman Polly Tarantella deems the greatest performer of popular music since at least the 1970s that he will come forward to the Rock Hill PD and hand himself in.
And with the funeral over, there was no longer a reason to remain a moment longer in South Carolina or the United States. So at long last (and after far longer than any of us would have chosen) we could set off for Charlotte Douglas International Airport and fly back to the United Kingdom.
I don't believe a single one of us was sorry to leave America behind.
Not that our arrival at Heathrow was especially auspicious. Or particularly anything much. There were no paparazzi or reporters stalking us on our return. In fact, it was pretty much as we'd hoped. The tensest moment was the wait by the carousel for our luggage after which we strolled unhindered through the green channel and then by Piccadilly Line on the long tube ride home.
It wasn't that our tragic American tour hadn't been news. It just wasn't the sort that would justify a press stake-out or more than a few column inches in the middle pages of a family newspaper. Sure there'd been obituaries for Crystal Passion in the Guardian, the NME, the Wire and Smash Hits, but I got the impression that the tribute writers got their information directly from our label, Gospel Records. There was a brief mention of Crystal Passion's murder on Have I Got News for You in which more effort was expended in explaining to Ian Hislop what a Riot Grrrl was than on any insight into Crystal Passion or her music. It was obvious that what interested the British media wasn't that a couple of almost unknown musicians had been murdered but that it took place in South Carolina which, by virtue of being one of the original Confederate States, was therefore the home of racism, religious bigotry and mind-blowing ignorance and stupidity. There is nothing that the British—in particular, the English—like more than to feel superior to a nation of straw-chewing, cross-burning, negro-lynching hicks.
A few radio plays of our songs, most particularly by the likes of John Peel and Mark Radcliffe, piqued interest in our music and this led to an early peak in our CD sales, which the hurriedly mixed and marketed posthumous fourth album went some way to satisfy. Although I still think The Last Word is the least satisfactory of Crystal Passion's albums, including her first solo acoustic album, it is the biggest selling.
"So, who's still active in the Crystal Passion Band?" our manager, Madeleine Tartt, asked when we met her in a small coffee shop near Paddington Station. I was accompanied by Tomiko and Jacquie while Madeleine had her chunky well-thumbed Filofax ever close at hand.
"Andrea says she won't have anything more to do with the band," I said. "Without Crystal, my sister says there's no point in the band continuing."
"OK," said Madeleine. "Who else is there?"
"Philippa and Bertha have become an item and they're travelling the world together," I said. "I think they might be in India or Armenia or somewhere."
"I don't think Olivia's interested in sticking with the band either," said Jacquie. "Not if Jane's still playing..."
"And are you and Jane still in?" asked Madeleine.
"Only if Pebbles keeps it together," said Jacquie, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Jenny Alpha's living with Olivia now," I said. "So, if Olivia's left, then I guess Jenny has too. I don't know where Thelma is, but I don't think she'd be keen to be involved in a Crystal Passion band without Crystal. And I'm pretty sure the same goes for the Harlot."
"So, let's do the sums," said Madeleine, mostly addressing me. "If we assume that you stay in the band, and Jane and Jacquie too, then all we're left with is a trio. What about you, Tomiko? Do you want to work with Pebbles and the two sisters?"
"I'd do anything to keep the memory of Crystal Passion alive," said Tomiko with startling conviction. "It's what she deserves."
"So what we're left with is a rhythm section and a sound engineer," said Madeleine. "Can any of you sing or play guitar?"
I shook my head.
If the three of us were to keep alight the flame of Crystal Passion we'd be more likely to emulate Underworld or Portishead and pursue a career on the dance floor, while I'm sure Madeleine would prefer we followed the examples of Joy Division after Ian Curtis committed suicide or Genesis when Peter Gabriel left (though I don't think Jane would relish being the band's Phil Collins).
"So, what do we do now?" Madeleine wondered. "There's an album to be released and I know that Ben from Gospel records would like some remnant of the Crystal Passion band to be out there to promote the record and even go on tour. But I don't think even Ben would be so enthusiastic if all that appeared on stage was a rhythm section with no lead singer and no lead guitar or indeed any lead instrument whatsoever."
"I don't see why not," sniffed Jacquie. "What about Booker T & the MG's? What about the Shadows without Cliff Richard? What about almost every fucking House and Techno crew you can think of?"
"That's not gonna work, Jacquie," said Madeleine. "The album's got a singer and a guitarist on it. In fact, it's got three singers and two guitars. There's gonna be some pretty pissed-off punters if they go to what they think is a Crystal Passion gig and what they get is the Chemical Brothers."
"There's my friend, Steph," I said.
"Steph?" wondered Madeleine. "Who's she?"
"She can sing and play guitar."
"And where is Steph at the moment, Pebbles?"
"She plays with the Palms, a sort of alt-folk group, but I don't think she's doing anything much at the moment. In fact, I don't think the Palms are active at all these days. It's hard for them to find gigs, especially in London."
"She's untried and untested, Pebbles," said Madeleine. "It'd be a heavy burden for her to take on the role of Crystal Passion. Are you sure she's up to it?"
"I could ask her..."
"Well, we don't have many options left," said Madeleine. "I'm getting the very real impression that if your friend Steph can't rescue Crystal Passion then the band has already played its farewell concert."
I pretty much agree with Madeleine. The last real gig as Crystal Passion—that is with the eponymous band leader—was that first engagement at the Penitence Club where Judy Dildo was the real driving force. What I'd prefer to remember as the final Crystal Passion gig was the first one at the Sisterhood Women's Music Festival where she was accorded so much respect and adulation.
And no way was Steph a replacement for Crystal. The best that Stephanie Dickens could be was a surrogate Crystal Passion: able to do the job but never able to match the real thing.
But Steph was available and, what's more, she was thrilled to accept the offer. It was a huge step forward for her. The Palms weren't really getting anywhere. They hadn't been signed to a record label and I don't think any of their original songs were either especially original or even particularly good. But Steph could definitely sing, even if her voice was more a bluesy mezzo-soprano. She was also an accomplished guitar player, at least as good as Crystal in a technical sense. She could also play piano, but as I was already the band's keyboard player this wasn't the role we wanted for her. And she knew all Crystal's music, especially the songs on her singer-songwriter debut album. However, although I'd known Steph since before going to university she was more my sister's friend than mine. She and Andrea often practiced playing music together in their respective bedrooms: Steph on guitar and vocals and Andrea on the fiddle.
At the time I thought the music they played was flimsy and dreary with absolutely no beat or rhythm, but I'd probably rather enjoy it if I heard it now.
Steph did as well as she could to fill the lead role in the much diminished Crystal Passion band. In fact, she was probably the most professional and dedicated of any of us. I don't think Jane, Jacquie and me really had our heart in the enterprise. Crystal Passion was dead and every time we played one of her songs (and all the songs were hers), what we all heard in our heads was Crystal Passion's voice and Crystal Passion's guitar whereas what we were actually hearing was Steph's voice and guitar.
And there were several occasions I collapsed into tears during rehearsals when I recalled how Crystal used to enthral me with her voice and her enigmatic lyrics and her idiosyncratic tunes.
The final tour of an outfit called the Crystal Passion Band wasn't what I'd call a huge success even though it attracted larger audiences than we'd ever had when Crystal was alive. The quartet we now were was not the ten-piece band that performed on The Last Word. There was no equivalent to Judy's electric guitar or the backing vocals from Thelma and the Harlot. There was none of Olivia's crazy percussion or Andrea's ethereal fiddle or Philippa's soaring saxophone.
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