"But Ozzy makes good music," Jake had protested. "He has a good voice, good lyrics, and he had one of the best guitar players in the world."
"Until that little aircraft incident," Matt had said solemnly, actually genuflecting as the memory was invoked. Matt had taken the death of Randy Rhodes four months before very hard. Part of it had been his worship of Ozzy's guitar player-who really was one of the best in the business. A bigger part, however, had undoubtedly been the circumstances of the death. Rhodes had been in an aircraft that their tour bus driver had stolen from a hanger to joyride in. They buzzed the tour bus a couple of times and then the plane had struck it, spinning it into a house. All inside had been smashed to pieces and burned beyond recognition. None of the news stories said so, but Jake was pretty sure that alcohol and/or cocaine had been involved. After all, how fucked up do you have to be before riding in a small plane with an unlicensed tour bus driver starts to seem like a good idea? The problem with Matt was that he could clearly see himself doing exactly what Randy Rhodes had done. If he were drunk enough and someone suggested buzzing the tour bus with a stolen plane, Matt would be the first aboard.
"Yes, yes," Bailey had said, waving his hands at what he saw as the irrelevancy of it all. "Ozzy and Rhodes were good. I'm not saying they weren't. But my point is, that they didn't have to be. With Ozzy's reputation being what it is-the bat biting, the urination on the Alamo-people would buy his albums even if they sucked. It's his image they're in love with, not his music."
Jake, who was a music consumer as well as a musician, didn't agree with this image over quality argument. He didn't agree with it at all. He bought Ozzy Osbourne albums because he liked the music, not because Ozzy had once took a piss on the Alamo or bitten the head off a bat. But the National Records executives all believed that image was the important thing. This was especially true now that MTV was up and running and gaining popularity across the country. Shaver had told once told Jake-over a few lines of his infamous Bolivian flake-that he, Shaver, was concerned about this new trend towards image and looks. For the first time in music history, the A&R departments were starting to worry about what musicians looked like on camera instead of merely what they sounded like.
"Well?" Acardio asked when Jake had looked at the front cover art for almost thirty seconds.
"It's uh... very good photography," he finally said.
"I thought so too," Acardio told him. "We really do have the best graphic arts department here at National."
Jake flipped the album cover over to look at the back. Here, taking up the upper half of the space, was a group photograph of the band. Darren and Coop were sitting cross-legged in the foreground. Standing behind them were Matt, Bill, and Jake. All were dressed in their standard uniform of tattered and torn jeans and T-shirts. Matt was wearing dark shades. Jake had a two-day growth of stubble. Coop was holding a set of drumsticks in his hand. Darren had a cigarette in his mouth. None of them were smiling. The picture looked very natural, almost candid. It wasn't. Prior to the shoot, make-up artists had carefully applied coloring to their face, hair-stylists had gone to work on their manes, and wardrobe specialists had picked out their clothing. It had taken the better part of six hours to get the shot taken.
Below the picture was a listing of the band members and their roles. Darren Appleman-bass guitar, vocals; John "Coop" Cooper-percussion, vocals; Matt Tisdale-lead guitar, vocals; Bill "Nerdly" Archer-Piano, vocals; and finally, listed last due to his position in the picture, Jake Kingsley-lead vocals, rhythm guitar, acoustic guitar.
"I still think you boys should have listened to us about the name changes," Acardio said sadly. "Having stylish names helps with the band image. Look what it's doing for U2."
Jake bit back several nasty replies and simply shrugged. Jake and Matt had both gone around and around with Acardio, Bailey, and even Shaver on the subject of their names. Acardio was of the opinion that calling Coop Coop and calling Bill Nerdly was very hip, and that no one gave enough of a shit about bassists to have to change Darren Appleman's handle, but that the names Matt Tisdale and Jake Kingsley were just not interesting enough.
"It's what we do here in Hollywood," Bailey-who was the driving force behind the name-change effort-told them. "Why live with a plain name when you can change it to something that reflects your style and your outlook?" He'd looked at Matt, pursing his lips and thinking. "How about Rajin Storm?" he'd asked. "That's a good name for a guitarist of your caliber."
"Raging Storm?" Matt had asked, his eyes wide. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"
"Not Raging Storm," Bailey had said. "Rajin Storm!" He'd then spelled it out, as if that would change Matt's mind. "And you," he'd turned to Jake while Matt was still trying to process Rajin Storm. "I think something like... oh... say JD King."
"JD King?" Jake had repeated.
"Right," Bailey said. "King is a simple name with powerful connotations. Invokes images of Elvis and shit like that. And JD is short, sweet, manly, and the fans will speculate endlessly on what it actually stands for. It's also an abbreviation for a popular alcoholic beverage." He looked up at the ceiling as an inspiration assaulted him. "Shit, maybe we can even get the Jack Daniels people to sign some sort of endorsement deal with you. We can say that your parents named you after their favorite booze and introduced you to drinking it at a young age. We can have you drink JD on stage! Holy shit, this is great. Eventually we can have them sponsor a tour and then..."
"Wait a minute," Jake said, holding up his hand. He was still calm but it was an effort. "You're suggesting that I lie and tell the public that my parents named me after a brand of whiskey? That they used to give me whiskey when I was young?"
"It's nothing against your parents, Jake. This is show business. You give the people what they want to hear."
Jake was shaking his head. "I refuse to dishonor my parents-who were goddamn good parents I might add-just so you can shape my image to your liking."
"Okay, okay," Bailey said, rolling his eyes a little at the naiveté of this young punk. "We'll keep the parents thing out of it. We'll say that..."
"We'll say that my name is Jake Kingsley," Jake said. "That's what we'll say. It may not be the most image-enhancing name in the world, but it's the one I was given, the one I like, the one I'm proud of, and I'm going to keep it."
"Fuckin-A," Matt put in. "I'm Matt Goddamn Tisdale and that ain't gonna change either. That's what Heritage knows me as, and that's what I'm gonna play under." He shook his head in disgust. "Rajin fuckin Storm. Holy shit, Bailey. What fuckin' world do you live in?"
This had of course pissed Bailey off and caused him to complain to both the National Records higher-ups and their agent, Shaver. It was implied that they were putting their entire recording contract in jeopardy by not going along with the name changes but they held firm. By that point in the process, the album was already in production and neither Jake nor Matt thought they would cancel the whole thing over a Rajin Storm and a JD King. They were right. Though the pressure remained for the next few weeks, eventually Bailey and Acardio accepted that their artists were serious about keeping their Christian names for publicity and dropped the subject. Acardio's dig was the first time the subject had been mentioned in weeks.
Jake didn't take the bait. Instead he pointed to the portion of the cover below the picture and below the track listings. It was the part labeled: Special thanks to: He knew that he had never been asked who he would like to thank. He was pretty sure none of the other band members had been asked either.