Read Chapter One
OVERTURE:
FLITTIN’ IN TO ROCK ON THE BAY
by Margot Danvers
Nobody likes a stubborn, independent woman.
I’m not shaking my ass to be famous.
Bonnie Raitt
She has the most intense blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Catherine Jurieux is not an easy person to outstare. I have been warned that she’s not very welcoming to journalists; thankfully, I’ve been able to convince her I come as a friend. The fact that she happened to spot my copy of Camus’ The Stranger as I pulled out my notebook clearly helped. Now, seated on the grass of Alamo Square on a cool spring day, we have reached something of an understanding.
I should come clean from the start and confess that I’m a fan of The Sweet Pills. I haven’t been this excited about an assignment since I was sent to speak to Aretha Franklin at Soul Together last summer.
Even set beside someone like Aretha, The Sweet Pills are remarkable. With six top five singles (and two number ones) and a string of successful albums, they have risen to the very top of what otherwise seems an exclusively male preserve – the world of the arena-filling band who compose their own songs and set their own agenda. I catch them in the middle of their short tour of the States, the morning after they have flown into San Francisco. They will play Winterland tonight; they had originally been intending to use The Fillmore, but advance word on the new album, Quintessential, generated such interest that the venue was quickly switched to accommodate the extra numbers. With their current single still hanging on in the top ten (it reached number one in their native UK, where their chart record is even more impressive) and Quintessential in the top five on both sides of the Atlantic, they show no signs of going away. And who would want them to?
Although the UK is home to this rock phenomenon, Catherine (pronounced Cat-ereen, I’m reminded as soon as I open my mouth) Jurieux is French, of course, and her song-writing partner, lead vocalist Yeşim (Yeshim) Forbes-Williams is half-Turkish. With drummer Zuleika (Zoo-leeka – always called Zee) Dennison coming originally from Kingston, Jamaica, it’s left to the two remaining members, Penelope Mott and Audrey Warner, to keep The Sweet Pills properly anchored in the old tradition of The British Invasion.
Audrey in particular is difficult to miss; tall-ish, with short, dark-auburn hair, she talks non-stop and peppers her conversation with references that mean nothing to me (something called The Goons) and some that do (the Batman TV show and The Girl From U.N.C.L.E., both of which she clearly misses). I remember her manic energy from the one time I saw The Sweet Pills play, two years ago at Forest Hills, but there seems a slightly nervy edge to it today, as if she’s putting it on. Possibly to distract me, as we’re one Pill down.
Yeşim Forbes-Williams has been absent from nearly all of the press conferences on this tour, and even more notably, the photos. Her performances on stage, according to reports, have been as remarkable as ever, but once the gigs are over she seems to vanish. And she’s not here today.
If I’m disappointed, I’m certainly not alone; we have with us two youngsters from Reno, Lauren Inglehart and Virginia Brook, who won a competition to spend a day with their idols. The competition was overseen by Sam Burns, the Pills’ US manager, but I gather the idea was Catherine’s—she wanted to have a chance to meet some American fans, and Lauren and Virginia run a Sweet Pills fan club back in the Biggest Little City. But although the two girls (both 17; Virginia’s father hovers in the background) are excited to meet Catherine and the others, their first question is ‘Where’s Yeşim?’ Catherine does not look pleased but she assures them Yeşim will be along later.
Penelope Mott looks a little uncomfortable at this. She’s as quiet in this gathering as she is unobtrusive on stage, but close-up, dazzlingly pretty, with shining grey-green eyes and long, straight dark hair. When I approach her, her smile is warm and transforms her face; she insists I call her Penny (though Audrey will refer to her as ‘Peneloap’ on several occasions. Everyone calls Catherine ‘Cat’, but I’m a little too much in awe to take that step).
Penny is the bass player, of course, and her work is particularly noticeable on Quintessential, but she tends to deflect questions about her own playing by talking about the accomplishments of the others; Audrey’s gift for bright melodies and humorous lyrics (the title of this article comes from something Audrey said), Catherine’s intelligence and dedication, Zee’s instinct for experimentation while staying on the beat. Penny doesn’t mention Yeşim at this point.
Lauren and Virginia make up for that; they are talking to anyone who will listen about Yeşim’s song ‘Sehvetli’ (English meaning: sensual, or lustful), about how much they like it and how none of the radio stations in the country will play it. There’s a certain straining after adulthood in their talk—both of them are quite intelligent enough to know that such a frank exploration of desire (especially coming from a young woman) would never find its way onto the airwaves, but they want us to know they get where the song is coming from. I can see Catherine doesn’t really know how to take this – or where to take it – but Zee steps in and dazzles the two girls with her infectious grin, asks them about their favourite tracks on the album. They look at one another, I think for reassurance—they are nice girls, well brought up, but even though the black population of Reno has doubled over the last decade, this is obviously an unfamiliar experience for them. (I sneak a peek at Virginia’s father, unsure of his reaction, but he is deep in conversation with one of the road crew, more comfortable in male company.)
But no one can refuse to respond to Zee, and within a minute Virginia is enthusing about ‘See The Parade’. Zee mentions that the song was originally a single, especially written by Catherine, for the tour support band The Eventual Wednesdays, but this falls rather flat, even when Zee points out a couple of members of the Wednesdays seated nearby. There is clearly only one band the girls are interested in. (Lauren knows something about The Eventual Wednesdays, but her ‘expertise’ appears to consist mostly of close acquaintance with their lack of chart success.)
Virginia returns to the subject of Yeşim, asking if anyone knows when she’ll be coming. Catherine is a little tight-lipped, but the other three are obviously used to this. Audrey makes a joke (I think it’s a joke) about Yeşim being delayed because she’s doing a photo shoot for Playboy; Catherine is not noticeably amused.
To divert Catherine I try to turn the talk to the new album, contrasting the lovely, relaxed cover shot of the girls on Hellshire Beach (Jamaica) with the record shop cover on their first album (Pop! The Sweet Pills). The entire record echoes that sense of relaxation, whereas the first album was more confrontational, almost defiant. The Sweet Pills have a lot less to prove now, I suggest.
There is the tiniest smile on Catherine’s lips. She points out that Quintessential was written partly while the Pills were on holiday—hence the more ‘tranquille’ ambience, she claims. Talking to her at length for the first time, I’m struck by the thickness of her French accent, which seems slightly at odds with her extensive English vocabulary. French words even crop up now and then, but oddly simple ones, as if dropped in deliberately. She goes on to talk with disarming frankness about the muted reception for the Pills’ fourth album, Spleen et Idéal: ‘It was clear that something would have to change for the next release.’
I have several friends who consider Spleen et Idéal the best Pills album, I tell her. She nods in acknowledgment, not speaking and trying to hide her pleasure. But both that, I say, and other subsequent songs, seem to represent a step back from the idealism, the optimism of ‘Love Letter’, the Pills’ smash hit from two years ago.
She considers before speaking. ‘Le monde…is what it is. Idealism is not always sustainable.’
‘Ah, don’t listen to her,’ counters Audrey, sitting down with a thump. ‘She’s the biggest softie alive. Well,’ she pauses, ‘except maybe Penny. Oh, and Zee. Oh, and then there’s…’ She rattles off the names of (I assume) some friends and relatives.
Catherine gives Audrey a kind of fond grimace. Audrey gives her a spontaneous squeeze around the shoulders. ‘Nowadays, she even relaxes for half an hour every other Sunday!’
Catherine looks mildly uncomfortable and shifts her shoulders to shrug Audrey off. She leans towards me. ‘Pense tu…do you think there is a lack of passion in this new album? Is it…too relaxed?’
I hesitate. I know, from reports and from what I’ve seen, that she prizes honesty. The new album is not my favourite of theirs, but it does have a warmth and lightness that is very easy to take.
But I’m saved from having to answer by the sudden arrival of some more people; a woman and a young man. Both of them come straight towards Catherine, and the woman crouches and speaks quietly. She is black, perhaps forty, smartly-dressed, with a penetrating stare that some-how makes me sit up straighter when she glances at me.
Catherine asks the woman a question. The young man, who I think I recognise as a member of the Wednesdays, stands slightly to one side, his lips pressed together.
As if drawn by instinct, both Penny and Zee approach, bringing with them the girls from Reno. Catherine stands up and looks at her watch.
‘What’s happened?’ asks Penny. She looks from Catherine to the other woman. Catherine says nothing, so Penny focuses her attention on the black woman. But it is Zee who asks: ‘Leah..?’
In contrast to the somewhat defiant set to her features when she spoke to Catherine, the woman named Leah seems slightly abashed facing Penny and Zee. She stumbles a little over the opening of her sentence. ‘I can’t find Yeşim.’
There is a moment of silence before Audrey shrugs and says: ‘Still got four hours before we need to be at Winterland. She’ll turn up.’
‘After how she was last night?’ asks Zee.
‘She’s never…’ Penny begins, then stops. ‘She wouldn’t miss a show. She just wouldn’t.’
‘Pas normalement, aucun…’ mutters Catherine. Audrey stands up. ‘So, what..? Do we look for her? Where?’
A few quick questions establish that Yeşim has been missing for only 40 minutes and is probably accompanied by Nick Hiller, one of The Eventual Wednesdays. The discussion then turns to likely destinations. There is some talk of where she might go for various substances, but Penny is adamant that Yeşim would be careful, this close to a show. The others, especially Catherine, seem less certain. They decide to start from the hotel, the nearby Grove Inn, and try cafés and bars in the area. Penny is still convinced Yeşim will be there for the show.
There is talk of splitting up but in the end we all go together, about a dozen of us. The woman called Leah walks beside Zee, and seems quickly to forget her slight embarrassment over ‘losing’ Yeşim as she engages Zee in what becomes a fairly heated conversation. Penny tells me Leah is a literature Professor, formerly of New York’s E.S.U. but now living in England while researching. Penny is not certain of the exact nature of the research, but from the fragments I catch, Leah is clearly highly politically motivated—and Zee much less so.
I’m awarded custody of the Reno girls as we turn into Divisadero Street; Virginia’s father apparently has a small errand to run and will join us later at the arena. Virginia is excited at the thought of meeting Yeşim, but Lauren is cooler, pointing out that no one really seems to know where to look. Virginia is easy to read but I don’t feel I quite have the measure of Lauren yet; she seems to anticipate disappointment at every turn, and it seems as if she carefully controls her enthusiasm whenever one of the Pills speaks to her. Her favourite album, it turns out, is the third (Go Lightly), and everything since has suffered in comparison she says, though she admits to liking ‘Noir et Blanc’, the current chart hit. She’s read reviews of some of the shows leading up to tonight and is worried about the seeming lack of material from Go Lightly. Neither she nor Virginia expect to be able to see The Sweet Pills again for quite a while, and while Virginia, I suspect, will love whatever she is offered at Winterland, Lauren is clearly anxious that she will be let down.
Our search continues. Penny becomes slightly concerned that the girls are not getting ‘their money’s worth’ and joins us to chat as we walk. She sidesteps Lauren’s questions about song-writing and instead regales us with stories about her encounters and friendships with other stars of the rock stratosphere—The Beatles, of course, but also Brian Jones, Dusty Spring-field, the Small Faces, Jimi Hendrix… Her own part in these stories is always small; she seems intent not on boasting, but on providing a dazzling display for her guests.
The streets turn (as the English would say) chilly. The sun won’t set until it’s almost time for the show, but the light is waning slowly. We stop at a café, and Catherine buys everyone coffee. We sit; the conversation is desultory, as the Pills are obviously distracted. Two hours to show time.
Yeşim was at the soundcheck, Penny reminds everyone. Zee nods encouragingly. ‘She’s never missed a show,’ admits Audrey.
‘Not so far,’ says Catherine. It’s hard to tell if it’s a statement of faith, or a warning.
Penny offers to go back to the Grove Inn to see if Yeşim has returned. The idea is approved, with Zee accompanying her; the rest of us will wait by the arena, looking in a few more bars on the way. Before she leaves, Penny says; ‘I bet we’ll see her at Winterland!’
Our search on the way to the arena proves fruitless, and even Audrey’s energy seems at a low ebb by the time the big white block looms over us. There are more than a few people hanging about, but something of the mood of our group seems to communicate itself, and people look without approaching too close. We scan the crowds around us in our turn, but see nothing to give us any hope.
One man breaks away from the throng and comes towards Catherine, clutching a notebook, but Audrey heads him off. They exchange a few words, and he retreats.
Audrey comes back. ‘Press?’ enquires Catherine. Audrey nods, and Catherine looks towards the man, her lips compressed. Audrey shakes her head, a warning. ‘I spoke to him at the hotel. A “Zuleika-Who?” type.’
Catherine simply nods, and turns away. I’m about to ask the meaning of what Audrey’s just said, but there’s a minor commotion in the crowd, and Penny and Zee appear, a tall man in their wake. They scan our group as they approach, and both girls bear up bravely at what they see. As they near us, Penny gestures at the man behind them.
‘Nick hasn’t seen her for about two hours. She went off somewhere on Stanyan Street, with some, um…chap she met.’
Nick has very fierce blue eyes under dark, prominent brows. I find his appearance a bit frightening. He grimaces and shrugs in answer to Catherine’s chilly stare, and fixes his eyes on Leah. ‘She was supposed to—’
‘No matter,’ cuts in Zee abruptly. ‘No sense in throwin’ blame about. We all know what she’s like—when she wants somethin’…’
Audrey slips a sisterly arm around Zee’s shoulders, and Zee leans into the embrace. Penny moves closer to Catherine. Nick joins the younger members of The Eventual Wednesdays (and I realise suddenly why he looks familiar), and they announce their plans to go inside and prepare for their set.
Three-quarters of an hour to show time.
And suddenly The Sweet Pills become real to me; real as people, as individuals, as young women who have their own unique trials. These are no longer the images that look out from the press photos, and stride across the stage. It looks so enviable, such a freewheeling existence, but only those who live it can know how it feels from the inside, what it means to be so utterly dependent on just a few others around you. The rest of us will only ever get these brief glimpses, these few naked moments.
Penny and Audrey both look worriedly at Catherine, who is tight-lipped but composed. Zee turns to scan the crowd.
Someone comes towards us, but it is only Virginia’s father, Mike, who is greeted by his daughter with a stumbling recital of our afternoon’s labours. Lauren contrives to look as if she’d rather be somewhere else. Penny leaves Catherine’s side to explain to Mike how to reach the backstage area, so he and the girls can be in place when the show starts.
Virginia practically wails: ‘But where’s Yeşim?’
‘She’ll be here.’ Penny sounds wholly convinced and convincing as she speaks, and it occurs to me that the worry I saw on her face is only for Catherine’s state of mind, not for the ultimate outcome. I draw comfort from this idea, and it seems to me that Audrey and Zee do the same. Catherine lights a cigarette; I was told she had mostly given it up.
Virginia is getting upset, and it is left to Lauren to try to soothe her. Mike tries to get the two girls to go inside, but Virginia is still looking around in desperate hope. Lauren looks rather embarrassed at the display her friend is putting on.
And then Virginia shrieks.
And she is there, coming out of a parting crowd; Yeşim Forbes-Williams. Not so tall as she appears on stage, but still a striking figure with her long black hair and insouciant strut. As she comes close the full force of her beauty still impresses, even though her face is pale and her cheekbones are perhaps a little too prominent, the skin looking stretched. There are dark circles under her even darker eyes.
Virginia has to be restrained from hugging Yeşim, but now it is Mike who holds her, as Lauren seems to have been rendered incapable of action. This girl who has kept her carefully-cultivated distance, this youngster who has affected a maturity beyond her years—now she simply stares, her mouth gaping. I swear she is on the point of tears.
Yeşim stops in front of Catherine but avoids her eyes for the moment and looks at the two girls from Reno. ‘Glad you could be here,’ she says, her Turkish upbringing barely represented by the faintest of accents. ‘We will try to make it a good show.’
Virginia hugs Lauren, who still seems mesmerised by Yeşim’s face. Yeşim gives them a smile almost entirely without warmth and turns to Catherine, fishing out a cigarette and holding it out. Catherine leans unhurriedly and allows Yeşim to touch the two cigarettes together.
Around us, the crowd have become more excited and are pressing closer. The Sweet Pills, all of them, are in their very midst. There is increasing noise; Yeşim’s name is the most often heard.
‘We should get inside,’ says Audrey, ‘or we’ll be calling International Rescue!’ Audrey then tips an imaginary hat and gives an appreciative nod to Penny, who only smiles very slightly and looks away, as if embarrassed at her own vindication.
Yeşim draws her lit cigarette back to her lips. Zee steps in and punches Yeşim lightly on the arm. ‘Don’t do that again.’
Yeşim gives Zee a sidelong look. ‘Do what?’ Her eyes return to Catherine. ‘Did you seriously…?’
Catherine drops her cigarette. She blows out some smoke. ‘Come,’ she says, and turns on her heel, grinding the cigarette out.
Yeşim gives a mild sniff of amusement and follows. Penny beckons to Virginia and Lauren, taking Virginia’s hand and leading them in. Zee follows, with a look at me and a jerk of her head. Leah, who has hovered all this while, hurries after Zee.
As I walk after the others, Audrey turns back to the crowd, and I stop and wait. ‘See you in a little while!’ Audrey bellows—and she waves, pivots and comes running, bundling me along with her, a nervous young woman no longer but a Sweet Pill once again, going to join the others, up there where they work together to create something magical, and where nothing and no one can touch them.
(This article, from April 1969, was intended for the San Francisco Express Times before that paper’s transformation into Good Times; at the request of Catherine Jurieux it was not published, but eventually saw light in the July 1970 issue of the Reno-based Sweet Pills fanzine Pill-Poppers. Reprinted with permission.)