FOUR CAME TOGETHER or THE ROLE OF McKINLEY

The brothership, Skip and Adam, had heard about gnarly workflows goin on in south america. French musicbiz was all `bout streetmarkets, empty jazzclubs and risky absinth eves. Skip eventually gained small money as he robbed Frank Zappas merchandise cashpots. Wintertime in Paris had straightend the plans of the brothers: The tourist packed airport Charles de Gaule.


Adam had pulled his 12-String-Guitar into hand-luggage utilities, the staff stripped down uniforms dancing with Skip in the crowded cockpit. The noisy plane had left european ground – destination La Habana. A few hours later the so called history of board safetyness was passé.


A good laughter in the businness class. Amused McKinley, a fat, cigar smoking italian guy had bumped into that particular flight orgy. Hours of fun dropping coins to the floor. "Can you dig it, folks?", his delirious voice loud as piazza di napoli.


McKinley had gambled with the two fellas in a street café while Steve Mohammad Fitzpatrick and André Borros chatted next to them:

Fitzpee: " ... for the past five years crewness has been dominated by four syllables: Steve-Em-Fizz-Pee!"
(Borros slowly counts the syllables off on his fingers and grins after a while.)
Fitzpee: " ... lemme tell you, we have to get down like cryptonite blowin up the whole peejays!"
Borros: "Hold up! I don`t get whatcha sayin, bra!"
Fitzpee: "I`m not your bra."


Suddenly McKinley had stopped tipping fingers with a knife on the table, when his head turned slowly towards the chat. A coloured guy with a neonmask and the boozed Borros, famous cuban drummerface.


Borros: "What you need is better accomodation and a freakin Korg, bra. Get back on the horse, Steve!"
Fitzpee: "Me is no gymnast, eeez up. We jingled too long in this peejay, for me it`s time to get crewsed, you`re my man in this, trust me!"
Borros: "We both got small accounts from eez streets, let`s take some good tunes and record a 12inch."
McKinley: "Hay! Ciao! Howzid bwoys?" Borros and Fitzpatrick starred at the fat italian geezer sitting next to them.
McKinkley: "What i heard sounds marvellous, big plans on the way, folks?"
Borros painted questionsmarks above Steves head as his masks drenched in total disgust.
McKinley: "Hay, let me introduce to you: Skip and Adam, private material from a planet called europe!"

And so the lonely streetlife was blown away one hot afternoon in the streets of La Habana. The boys from the Carpates got introduced to McKinleys backyardstudio "Rainbowrecocords".

The four charackters standing close to each other in a small run down studio. Yellow carpet and lack of equipment.
Out of a speaker McKinleys voice: "Hay, gigolos, it`s naughty up in here, cause we rented it for little money. You know, the smaller the steps, the smaller a studio."

Skip: "Same conditions as in Brasov, goddamnit! Feels like home, yet!"
Borros: "Ain`t nuttin but a crap thing, if we ain`t grab some lousy instruments, right now."
Skip: "My brother tracks down a 12-String, right, Adam? Well, all i can offer is some technical support and my acrobatical knowledge, fellas."

Adams fingers puzzling his guitar, Steve pulling plugs and cables, Skip humming a ringtone and André hitting on his tiny drumcomputer. On the rundown door a sign says: Proceed, produce – Rainbowrecocords.