The Commitments

  —Dirty talk is dirty talk, said Natalie.

  —Here here, said Billy Mooney. —Thank God.

  —Soul is sex, Jimmy summarized.

  —Well done, Jimmy, said Deco.

  —Imelda, said Jimmy. —You’re a woman o’ the world.

  —Don’t answer him, ’melda, said Bernie.

  Jimmy went on. —You’ve had sexual intercert, haven’t yeh?

  —Good Jaysis! Rabbitte!

  —O’ course she has, a good-lookin’ girl like tha’.

  —Don’t answer him.

  But Imelda wanted to answer.

  —Well, yeah —— I have, yeah. ——So wha’?

  There were cheers and blushes.

  —Was it one o’ them multiple ones, ’melda? Outspan asked. —I seen a yoke abou’ them on Channel 4. They sounded deadly.

  Derek looked at Imelda.

  —Are yeh serious?

  He was disappointed in Imelda.

  Deco tapped Imelda’s shoulder.

  —We could make beautiful music, Honey.

  —I’d bite your bollix off yeh if yeh went near me, yeh spotty fuck, yeh.

  There were cheers.

  Imelda ducked her shoulder away from Deco’s fingers.

  —I might enjoy tha’, said Deco.

  —I’d make ear-rings ou’ o’ them, said Imelda.

  —You’re as bad as they are, ’melda, said Bernie.

  —Ah, fuck off, Bernie, will yeh.

  —I thought we said slaggin’ complexions was barred, said Jimmy. —Apologise.

  —There’s no need.

  —There is.

  ——Sorry.

  —That’s okay.

  —Spotty.

  —Ah here!

  Deco grabbed Imelda’s shoulders. Bernie was up quick and grabbed his ears.

  —Get your hands off o’ her, YOU.

  —As a glasses wearer, said James, —I’d advise you to carry ou’ Bernie’s instructions. Yeh might need glasses yourself some day and a workin’ set of ears will come in handy.

  —That’s a doctor gave yeh tha’ advice, remember.

  Deco took the advice. Bernie gave him his ears back. Imelda blew him a kiss and gave him the fingers.

  —Annyway, Imelda, said Jimmy. —Did yeh enjoy it?

  —It was alrigh’, said Imelda.

  More cheers and blushes.

  —This lady is the queen of soul, said Joey The Lips.

  —Wha’ ’re you the queen of? Imelda said back.

  —Then you agree with us, Jimmy asked Imelda.

  —It’s oney music, said Imelda.

  —No way, ’melda. Soul isn’t only music. Soul——

  —That’s alrigh’ for the blackies, Jimmy. —They’ve got bigger gooters than us.

  —Speak for yourself, pal.

  —Go on, Jimmy. ——At least we know tha’ Imelda docs the business.

  —Fuck off, you, said Imelda, but she grinned.

  Everyone grinned.

  —Yeh said somethin’ about a double-edged sword, said James.

  —I s’pose the other side is sex too, said Derek.

  —Arse bandit country if it’s the other side, said Outspan.

  —I’m goin’ home if it is, said Dean.

  —Brothers, Sisters, said Joey The Lips. —Let Brother Jimmy speak. Tell us about the other side of the sword, Jimmy.

  They were quiet.

  —The first side is sex, righ’, said Jimmy. —An’ the second one is ——REVOLUTION!

  Cheers and clenched fists.

  Jimmy went on.

  —Soul is the politics o’ the people.

  —Yeeoow!

  —Righ’ on, Jimmy.

  —Our people. ——Soul is the rhythm o’ sex. It’s the rhythm o’ the factory too. The workin’ man’s rhythm. Sex an’ factory.

  —Not the factory I’m in, said Natalie. —There isn’t much rhythm in guttin’ fish.

  She was pleased with the laughter.

  —Musical mackerel, wha’.

  ——Harmonious herring.

  —Johnny Ray, said Dean, and then he roared: —JOHNNY RAY!

  —Okay ——Take it easy, said Jimmy.

  —Cuntish cod, said Deco.

  ——Politics. ——Party politics, said Jimmy, —means nothin’ to the workin’ people. Nothin’. ——Fuck all. Soul is the politics o’ the people.

  —Start talkin’ abou’ ridin’ again, Jimmy. You’re gettin’ borin’.

  —Politics ——ridin’, said Jimmy. —It’s the same thing.

  —Brother Jimmy speaks the truth, said Joey The Lips.

  —He speaks through his hole.

  —Soul is dynamic. (—So are you.) —It can’t be caught. It can’t be chained. They could chain the nigger slaves but they couldn’t chain their soul.

  —Their souls didn’t pick the fuckin’ cotton though. Did they now?

  —Good thinkin’.

  —Fuck off a minute. ——Soul is the rhythm o’ the people, Jimmy said again. —The Labour Party doesn’t have soul. Fianna fuckin’ Fail doesn’t have soul. The Workers’ Party ain’t got soul. The Irish people ——no. ——The Dublin people—fuck the rest o’ them. ——The people o’ Dublin, our people, remember need soul. We’ve got soul.

  —Fuckin’ righ’ we have.

  —The Commitments, lads. We’ve got it. ——Soul. God told the Reverend Ed——

  —Ah, fuck off.

  * * *

  They loved Jimmy’s lectures. His policy announcements were good too.

  —What’re they? Derek asked after Jimmy had made one of these announcements.

  —Monkey suits, said Jimmy.

  —No way, Rabbitte.

  —Yes way.

  —No fuckin’ way, Jim. No way.

  —I had one o’ them for me mot’s debs, said Billy. —It was fuckin’ thick. The sleeves were too long, the trunzers were too fuckin’ short, there was a stupid fuckin’ stripe down ——

  —I puked on mine at our debs, remember? said Outspan.

  —Some of it got on mine too, Derek reminded him.

  —Oh, for fuck sake! said Dean. —I’m after rememberin’. ——I forgot to bring mine back. It’s under me bed.

  —When was your debs? Bernie asked him.

  —Two years ago, said Dean.

  They started laughing.

  —Yeh must owe them hundreds, said Outspan.

  —I’d better leave it there so.

  —Jimmy, said James. —Are yeh seriously expectin’ us to deck ourselves out in monkey suits?

  —Yeah. ——Why not?

  —Yeh can go an’ shite, said Billy.

  —Well said.

  —Yis have to look good, said Jimmy. —Neat ——Dignified.

  —What’s fuckin’ dignified abou’ dressin’ up like a jaysis penguin? Outspan asked.

  —I’d be scarleh, said Derek.

  Deco said nothing. He liked the idea.

  —Brothers, Sisters, said Joey The Lips. —We know that soul is sex. And soul is revolution, yes? So now soul is ——Dignity.

  —I don’t understand tha’, said Dean.

  —Soul is lifting yourself up, soul is dusting yourself off, soul is ——

  —What’s he fuckin’ on abou’?

  —Just this, Brother. ——Soul is dignity. ——Dignity, soul. Dignity is respect. ——Self respect. ——Dignity is pride. Dignity, confidence. Dignity, assertion. (Joey The Lips’ upstretched index finger moved in time to his argument. They were glued to it.) —Dignity, integrity. Dignity, elegance. ——Dignity, style.

  The finger stopped.

  —Brothers and Sisters. ——Dignity, dress. ——Dress suits.

  —Dignity fuck dignity off dignity Joey.

  —Dignity slippers, dignity cardigan.

  —Ah, leave Joey alone, said Natalie.

  Joey The Lips laughed with them.

  Then Jimmy handed out photocopies of a picture of Marvin Gaye, in a monkey suit. Tha
t silenced them for a while.

  ——He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? said Imelda.

  —Yeah, said Natalie.

  Joey The Lips looked up from his copy.

  —He’s up there watching, Brothers.

  —Now, said Jimmy when they all had one. —What’s wrong with tha’?

  —Nothin’.

  —He looks grand, doesn’t he?

  ——Yeah.

  —We’ll get good ones. Fitted. ——Okay?

  Outspan looked up.

  —Okay.

  * * *

  One of the best was the night Jimmy gave them their stage names.

  —What’s wrong with our ordin’y names? Dean wanted to know.

  —Nothin’, Dean, said Jimmy. —Nothin’ at all.

  —Well then?

  —Look, said Jimmy. —Take Joey. He’s Joey Fagan, righ’? ——Plain, ordin’ry Joey Fagan. An ordin’ry little bollix.

  —That’s me, Brother, said Joey The Lips. —I’m the Jesus of Ordinary.

  —But when Joey goes on-stage he’s Joey The Lips Fagan.

  —So?

  —He’s not ordin’y up there. He’s special. ——He needs a new name.

  —Soul is dignity, Joey The Lips reminded them.

  —What’s dignified abou’ a stupid name like The fuckin’ Lips?

  —I bleed, said Joey The Lips.

  —Sorry, Joey. Nothin’ personal.

  Joey The Lips smiled.

  —It’s part o’ the image, said Jimmy. —Like James Brown is the Godfather of Soul.

  —He’s still just James Brown though.

  —Sometimes he’s James Mr Please Please Please Brown.

  ——Is he? said Outspan. —Sounds thick though, doesn’t it?

  —Ours won’t, said Jimmy.

  He took out his notebook.

  —I’ve been doin’ some thinkin’ abou’ it.

  —Oh fuck!

  —Listen. ——Okay, we already have Joey The Lips Fagan, righ’. Now ——James, you’ll be James The Soul Surgeon Clifford.

  There were cheers and a short burst of clapping.

  —Is tha’ okay? Jimmy asked.

  —I like it, said James.

  He liked it alright. He was delighted.

  —The Soul Surgeon performs transplants on the old piano, he said.

  —That’s it, said Jimmy. —That’s the type o’ thing. Everyone in the group becomes a personality.

  —Go on, Jimmy.

  They were getting excited.

  —Derek.

  —Yes, Jimmy?

  —You’re Derek The Meatman Scully.

  They laughed.

  —Wha’ the fuck’s tha’ abou’? Derek asked.

  He was disappointed.

  —Are you fuckin’ slaggin’ me?

  —You’re a butcher, said Jimmy.

  —I know I’m a fuckin’ butcher.

  —Yeh play the bass like a butcher, said Jimmy.

  —Fuckin’ thanks!

  —It’s a compliment, it’s a compliment. ——Yeh wield the axe, ——know wha’t I mean?

  —I’ll wield your bollix if yeh don’t think of a better name.

  —Hang on. —You’ll like this. ——Over in America, righ’, d’yeh know wha’ meat is?

  —The same as it is here.

  —’cept there’s more of it.

  —No, listen, said Jimmy. —Meat is slang for your langer.

  There were cheers and screams.

  —That’s fuckin’ disgustin’, said Natalie.

  —Hang on a minute, said Derek. —Is Meatman the American way o’ sayin’ Langerman?

  —Yeah.

  —Why not call him Langerman then?

  —Or Dickhead, said Deco.

  —Fuck off, you, said Derek.

  He wasn’t happy at all.

  —Listen, he said.

  This wasn’t going to be easy, especially with the girls there.

  —There’s nothin’ special abou’ my langer.

  —YEEOOW, DEREK!

  —Gerrup, Derek, yeh boy yeh!

  —A bit of quiet please, Brothers, said Joey The Lips.

  —It’s the image, said Jimmy. ——Annyway, nobody’ll know wha’ the name stands for till we break it in the States.

  —It’s a good name, said Joey The Lips. —Every band needs its Meatman.

  ——I don’t know, said Derek. —Me ma would kill me if she knew I was called after me gooter.

  —She won’t know.

  —I’ll tell her, said Outspan.

  —Fuck off.

  —Righ’, said Jimmy. —Next ——Deco.

  —Can I be Meatman too, Jimmy?

  —No, said Jimmy. —You’re Declan Blanketman Cuffe.

  —That’s a rapid name, said Outspan.

  —Politics an’ sex, said Jimmy. —Wha’ d’yeh think, Deco?

  —Yeah, said Deco.

  —Billy.

  —Howyeh.

  —Billy The Animal Mooney.

  —Ah deadly! Animal. ——Thanks, Jimmy.

  —No sweat. ——Okay, Dean next. ——Dean.

  Dean sat up.

  —You’re Dean Good Times Fay.

  Cheers.

  —That’s grand, said Dean.

  —Wha’ abou’ us? said Imelda.

  —Hang on, said Jimmy. ——Outspan, we can’t call yeh Outspan.

  —Why not?

  —It’s racialist.

  —WHA’!

  —It’s racialist. ——South African oranges.

  —That’s fuckin’ crazy, Jimmy, said Billy.

  —It’s me jaysis name, said Outspan.

  —Not your real name.

  —Even me oul’ one calls me Outspan.

  —No she doesn’t, said Derek.

  —Fuck off you or I’ll trounce yeh.

  —I saw a thing on telly, said Dean. —It said they make black prisoners, righ’, pick the oranges.

  —I don’t make annyone pick fuckin’ oranges! said Outspan.

  —Soul has no skin colour, Brothers and Sisters, said Joey The Lips.

  —I don’t even like oranges, said Outspan. ——’cept them satsumas. ——They’re nice.

  —Does soul eat oranges, Joey?

  —Leave Joey alone, Fuckface, said Jimmy. —Listen, ——your name’s Liam, righ’?

  —I fuckin’ know tha’, thanks, said Outspan.

  —It’s not a very soulful name.

  —Aah ——fuckin’ hell! I can’t even have me real name now.

  —Shut up a minute. ——What’s your second name?

  —Wha’ d’yeh mean, like?

  —I’m James Anthony Rabbitte. What’re you?

  —Liam, said Outspan.

  He went scarlet.

  —— Terence Foster.

  —Howyeh, Terence, Imelda waved across at him.

  He was going to tell her to fuck off but he didn’t because he fancied her.

  (Along with Jimmy, Derek, Deco, Billy, James and Dean, Outspan was in love with Imelda.)

  —Righ’, said Jimmy. —You are L. Terence Foster. —Listen to it, said Jimmy. —It sounds great. L. Terence Foster, L. Terence Foster. Doesn’t it sound great?

  —It sounds deadly, said Derek. —Better than bleedin’ Meatman.

  —Swap yeh, said Outspan.

  —No way, said Jimmy.

  —Wha’ abou’ us? said Bernie.

  —Righ’, said Jimmy. —Are yis ready, girls? ——Yis are ——Sonya, Sofia an’ Tanya, The Commitmentettes.

  The girls screamed and then laughed.

  —I bags Sonya, said Imelda.

  —I’m Sofia then, said Natalie. —Sofia Loren.

  —With a head like tha’?

  —Fuck yourself, you.

  —You’ve the arse for it anyway, Nat’lie.

  —Fuck yourself.

  —Wha’ abou’ me? said Bernie.

  —She’d forgotten the last name.

  —You’re Fido, said Deco.


  —Fuck yourself, said Natalie.

  —Fuck yourself, Deco said back at her.

  Natalie spat at his face.

  —Here! Stop tha’, said Jimmy.

  —Hope yeh catch AIDS off it, said Natalie.

  Deco let it go because he was in love with Natalie too.

  —You’re Tanya, Bernie, said Jimmy.

  —Why can’t I be Bernie?

  —It’s the image, Bernie.

  —You’ll always be Bernie to us, Bernie, said James.

  —I must say, Jimmy, said Joey The Lips. —You’ve got a great managerial head on your shoulders.

  —Thanks, Joey, said Jimmy.

  —Brothers, Sisters, said Joey The Lips. —Would you please put your hands together to show your appreciation to Brother James Anthony Rabbitte.

  They clapped, all of them.

  * * *

  Then, after months, they were ready to rehearse.

  Joey The Lips got rid of some of the chairs to make room in the garage. They had the amps, speakers and mikes in position, and Joey The Lips’ mother’s upright piano.

  They stood around feeling excited but stupid, embarrassed, afraid.

  Joey The Lips went around listening to the instruments. He frowned and turned knobs, listened again, nodded and went on to the next instrument. He impressed the others. Here was a man who knew what he was doing.

  Jimmy was lost here. He hadn’t a clue how to get the rehearsal started.

  Joey The Lips took over.

  —Brothers, Sisters. I thank The Lord Jesus for today.

  —Fuck off, Joey.

  —We’ll start with an easy one. Have yaw’l ——

  —Yaw’l! For fuck sake!

  —Have YOU ALL been listening to What Becomes of the Broken Hearted?

  —We sure have, Massa Joey sir boss.

  —Whooee!

  Joey The Lips played the tape for them. They listened, frightened, to Jimmy Ruffin. They could never do that. Only Deco thought he could do better.

  Joey The Lips turned the tape off.

  —Alright, Sisters, let’s have the Ooh ooh oohs at the beginning.

  —God, I’m scarleh, said Imelda.

  —Brother James, would you play the girls in please?

  —Certainly, Joseph, said James.

  Four times James tried to lead the girls but they couldn’t follow.

  —They’re all lookin’ at us, said Bernie.

  —Hurry up, for Jaysis sake, said Deco.

  —No, Declan, said Joey The Lips. —We’re in no rush. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

  —Dublin was though, wha’.

  —A fuckin’ hour.

  This time the girls followed James.

  —UUH — UUH — UUH

  They were shaking. They all heard the shaking in their voices but they didn’t look at anybody and kept going.