Over the next few weeks & months you can read about a group of young men who decided in the early 1980’s to try and make an impact, and for one night only. You can follow the lives of: The Sultans of Soul.

by Ravi Mangat
Writer

[Earlier chapters: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7]

When Detective Harris saw the Ford Cortina turn around and head back towards the garage, he decided he wasn’t going to follow any longer. After all, there was a particularly good documentary about the life of a cockroach that he wanted to watch and he had already missed it once.

Ramesh was apologising as the guys pulled up outside the garage. He was sure he must have dropped his keys and as his roommate Jagpal was probably out at the disco, then there was nothing to do but go back and re-trace his steps. As the guys stepped out of the car, Jas instantly told them to keep quiet. “Listen”, he said placing a finger to his lips. For a few seconds there was nothing, but then they all heard it at once. There was the sound of music coming from the garage. “I switched everything off. I’m sure of it”.

They walked slowly down the alley running by the side of the garage. They could see that the door had been forced open. “Maybe we should call the police”, whispered Ramesh.

Ashok was quick to respond. “No. No police”. He pushed the door slightly more ajar and the three of them peered inside.

There was a black man in his late forties, dancing in the garage whilst singing along to the song, ‘Baby, I Need Your Loving’, by the Four Tops. They watched for a few seconds, almost in amazement at the sheer audacity of someone who would break in and then play a few records. Bernie reached a crescendo as the song came to a finish and the three guys burst into the garage.

“What do you think you’re doing?” asked Ashok.

“Who are you?” said Raj.

“What do you want?” added Ramesh.

Bernie was surprised to see the guys but he didn’t let it show. On the outside, he remained as cool as he always did. He lived by the motto that life was too short to panic all the time.

Of course that motto hadn’t really helped him hold down a steady job in the last four years, but at least it was a motto. Not many people could say that they had a motto.
“You surprised me”, he said casually.

“We surprised you? Excuse me, but what do you think you’re doing breaking in here?” Ashok asked.

“Oh now, breaking in is quite an accusation. The door was open”.

“Well maybe the police would like to know how you happened to find the door open”, said Ramesh, forgetting what Ashok had said about the police. Ashok shot him a cursed glance and Ramesh winced.

“Hold on fellas”, Bernie held up his hands. “I was just passing by and heard you guys playing some music. I was curious that’s all”.

“Curious enough to pick the lock”, Ashok was adamant.

“Who are you anyway?” asked Raj. “You look familiar”.

“The name is Bernie. Bernie Watts. As I said, I was just passing by and heard the music.” He pointed to the pile of records and tapes. “You got quite a collection there”.

Ashok looked around the garage. “Listen Bernie, I’ll cut you some slack. Don’t mess around here again and I won’t call the police”.

Bernie smiled. “I’m sure that the police are the last people that either of us want around here”.

Ashok shifted uncomfortably. “Okay old man, you better make tracks”.

“Old man? Judging by what you guys were doing earlier, I could teach you a thing or two about the music business”.

“You were watching?” Raj asked. “What did you think?”

“What the hell you asking him for?” Ashok was getting frustrated. He picked up Bernie’s jacket and threw it at him. “Don’t push me old man”.

Bernie started to walk away. “Okay, but since he asked me what I thought. I think you guys need a whole lot of practice, some better equipment and someone to put you on the right lines”.

“And what are you? A record producer?” asked Ashok sarcastically.

“There’s no-one knows more about music then me. Especially this kind of stuff”. Bernie pointed to a Temptations album. “Seems to me that you guys need a bit of co-ordination, some sharp suits and maybe, just maybe you could go somewhere”.

“You really think so?” Ramesh was getting interested.

“I don’t believe you two”, Ashok protested. “This guy breaks in and you treat him like some sort of expert.”

“I’ve played with the best of them. Otis, Sam and Bobby”, declared Bernie.

The three guys looked at each other. They glanced back at Bernie who was smiling from ear to ear.

“Do you mean Otis Redding?” asked Raj.

“No. Otis Lifts. Of course I mean Otis Redding.”

“Yeah right”, Ashok dismissed. “And I’ve played with James Brown”.

“Oh really”, said Bernie, “I don’t recall you on any of the road trips”.

“Bernie. I think we’re finding it a little hard to believe that you could have played with anyone famous. I mean, no-one’s heard of Bernie Watts…and if you did all this stuff, why are you breaking into garages for a living?” Raj was genuinely interested in what Bernie was going to say.

Bernie took a deep breath. “America was a wild and crazy place when Otis and Sam broke through. We did crazy things, me crazier than others. I had to leave in a hurry and come back to England”.

“That I can believe”, said Ashok.

“England wasn’t quite at the same stage when I got back. It was just the beginning of the mop-top brigade and apart from a few places that were into their soul, there wasn’t much call for a guy like me.”

“So what did you do?” asked Ramesh.

“What any good soul man does. I drifted. A job here, a job there. I’m used to my share of scams as well”, Bernie glanced at Ashok knowingly.

“But I do know you from somewhere else”, Raj insisted.

“Well I was never on any sleeve covers, but I was on plenty of records. From the high notes to the baritone…Bernie Watts was your man.”

“I can’t believe you guys are buying this load of bull”, Ashok started to escort Bernie out of the garage.

“Soul music”, Bernie said. “Soul music is what you need.”

“What do you mean?” asked Raj.

“You guys are doing too many different things. You like Elvis, but the other two have their own thing. You need to find some common ground”.

“That’s exactly what I said”, Ramesh remarked.

Bernie stopped at the door. “Like I said, you guys just need a bit of moulding”.

“You’ve got some pretty good moves, and your voice had a good feel to it. Maybe you could help us a little”, Raj queried.

“What? Are you mad?” said Ashok.

“Why not? Maybe Bernie’s right. You guys aren’t into Elvis as much as I am, and let’s face it, Ramesh isn’t going to get too far with his Mohammed Rafi”.

“Hey”, started Ramesh. “My Rafi is on a par with anyone”.

“Maybe so, but maybe we should give this a chance. Next to Elvis, Sam Cooke was the next main man”.

Ramesh paused for thought. “Well, those sharp suits would make a change to my kurta. What do you say Ashok?”

Ashok shook his head. “I think I was mad to think this idea could work in the first place”.

Raj walked over to the tape deck and chose a cassette before inserting it into the holder.
The opening strings of ‘My Girl’ swept across the garage. Bernie started singing and his superb voice drifted around the room and brought a smile to the lips of Raj and Ramesh. They joined in the dance steps that Bernie was doing, while Ashok looked on with disdain. However, he couldn’t hold back for long and as he realised that Bernie actually had some rhythm, he joined in.

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This serial is fictional and any similarity with existing groups or individuals is unintentional.
Ravi Mangat is contactable on: rav38man@yahoo.co.uk