The Akustik Recording Studio, once they'd found it, was hardly more than a sound booth, hardly more than one of those "serve-yourself" photo closets John frequented to send snapshots home to Cynthia. Quietly sequestered at 57 Kirchenallee, behind the railway station, The Akustik was seriously ramshackle.
Paul poked around the meagre establishment, pulling at the thick, musty curtains that were supposed to dampen the sounds from the terminal. The fabric reeked of mould and threatened to disintegrate in his hand. He doubted that the draperies enhanced the sound quality one iota, and on the down side, they made him cough.
"It's lousy - this place," he said.
"Some recordin' studio you've got here, John!" Ringo poked at the stained, broken acoustic wall panels.
"I've been in larger jowlers, haven't I?" Wally stretched out his arms in the close confines, just to see if he could.
"You have larger jowlers," Ringo punned, pinching Wally's cheeks to George's amusement.
"Get off, Ringo!" Wally shoved him away with a grin.
"He'd love to son." John was busy arranging the amps. "But it's all too cramped in here for that, isn't it?"
"It's not bad...in a way." George mirrored John's enthusiasm. "Sort of like singin' in the shower lots of reverb, y'know."
"You heard the man," John nodded. "There's reverb in here. It's fuggin' ideal - this studio."
"Oh yeah, right," Ringo snorted, pretending to look the place over as if he were deciding to purchase it. "I'm comin' here for all me recordin' needs from now on. No EMI or RCA for me, as it were. From now on, it's The Akustik or nothin' at all."
"Yeah, we're done with those large studios, aren't we?" Johnny Guitar's eyes twinkled.
"Yeah," Lu agreed.
"Love it here," Paul smiled.
"You are ready?" The German attendant knew very little English, but he knew that he had a schedule to keep.
"Yerrokay...in two." Ringo made some final adjustments.
"Y'see, Mr. Recorder Man," John flashed an imbecile's grin in the attendant's direction, "it's taken a while in here, as it were. It's just that we're not used to all this elbow room, y'know."
"Five minutes," the bewildered man said. "We record then." And without waiting for assent, he disappeared.
Wally stepped up to the microphone and adjusted the height. "'Summertime' - test one two, one, two, two, two..."
John tested his own mike. "The Beatles do Gershwin!" he said.
"I'm no Beatle, Lennon," Ringo yelled from the side cubicle where his drums had been placed.
"All right. The Beatles and Ringo do Gershwin," John corrected loudly.
"I'm not a..." Wally began, but John was ready this time.
"Comin' to you live from the fabulous Akustik in fabulous Hamburgy-berg," John cut him off, "Lu Walters sings 'Summertime.' Instrumentals and vocal accompaniment provided by that ever-popular, fab quartet, John, Paul, George, and Ringo. How's that?"
"Might do," Ringo shouted.
"Sounds good..." Paul agreed. "It's got potential."
"I think y'er all daft, that's what I think." Johnny Guitar squeezed into a rusted, metal folding chair. He settled in.
Lu glanced at his watch and then cleared his throat a few times before launching into the first song.
They recorded "Summer Song" with only a few hitches,
and "Fever" didn't go badly, but "Summertime"
was another story. Generally one of Lu Walter's favourites and
a showcase for his vocal range, the song was today his undoing.
The harder he tried to remember the words, the more they eluded
him. They recorded the number five, six, seven times.
Ringo, sequestered in his separate cubicle, was having trouble
hearing the rhythm and getting into the phrasing without being
a physical part of the group. His drumming thudded unimaginatively
from the disconnected space.
He wrinkled his nose at the playback. "That wasn't me, was it?" "Yeah, that's you," George grinned. "It was him, wasn't it, John?" "Giddyup, Black Bess, only a few more miles, I guess!" John teased, drumming out horse hooves with his fingers on the wall.
Paul stomped his feet while John whinnied, "Sounds a bit like Custer's last stand, Ringo!"
"Ah, bollocks, all o'ya!" Ringo waved them off. "What do you bunch know?"
"So how's it goin' lads?" Allan strode in, ready for the short trip back to The Kaiserkeller.
John grabbed Wally's arm and looked at his watch. "We haven't even recorded the first one yet! You're back too soon, that's how it's goin'."
"Haven't recorded the first one yet!" Allan exploded. "It's fuggin' four o'clock! You're all due at The 'Keller in less than an hour...or have you forgotten there's a real world outside, and you've got a job to go to, as it were. Get on with it! Shite!" He shook his head in annoyance.
"It's my fault, Al," Wally shrugged sheepishly. "I'm just bleedin' nervous in front of this inhuman machine! Give me an audience, and I'm totally in control. But this thingy, here... I dunno. It comes on - I turn off."
Allan had his soft side. He was an easy mark for anyone with a genuine hard luck story. His anger immediately abated.
"C'mon, Wally!" He led the kid over to the microphone. "Just concentrate and relax. You know the song. You've got it down pat." He adjusted the mike a little and gave Wally a slap on the back.
"I'll be the audience, right? Just look over at me and sing the fuggin' song the way y'always do. C'mon. Off you go!"
And with Allan in the studio, watching him perform, Wally delivered "Summertime" as if he were working The Kaiserkeller on a Saturday night. The recording was almost perfect.
"You are happy this time?" The German technician searched each face. "Yeah right, thrilled." Allan spoke for them. "Let's just get on with it. We'll take nine copies. You can do that, right?"
"Yes." The man nodded and made notes on a clipboard. "Nine. I can do this."
"And now Ringo and I'd like to record a couple of other numbers as well," Wally piped up, encouraged by his success.
"Half four, Wally, half four!" Allan slapped his watch. "The Kaiserkeller, remember? Koschmider and his band of merry men?" "Bastards all!" Wally's lips tightened.
"Round two with that lot we can't afford." George rubbed his right bicep.
"We could always use that warm-up recordin' of 'Fever' for side B, couldn't we?" Paul asked.
"Or that next to last take of 'September Song,'" George suggested.
"I suppose we'll have to settle for one o'those," Ringo shrugged. "Regardless of what I said earlier, I'm not really up for another round with Koschmider' s Panzers."
"Yeah," John lit a cigarette, "there's shag-all hope of us survivin' another bout with that group. Especially if Rory's not in the mix."
Allan pushed for a timely departure. "You still have to load the gear and transport it all back, y'know."
"All right," Wally conceded. "'Fever' it is."
But the end result was not what they'd anticipated, and the five of them grumbled all the way back to the club. Wally and Ringo were perturbed that the pressing had been done on a 78-rpm commercial recording rather than on the traditional 45-rpm vocal disc. John was highly insulted that the B-side was not "Fever" at all, but a sales promotional for leather handbags and shoes. And The Beatles - who'd wanted to record a number of their own backed by Ringo - were frustrated that they'd lost the opportunity. They were already badgering Allan for a repeat performance.
"Not listenin', not fuggin' listenin'! You had yer chance!" Allan began to sing the Welsh national anthem to himself. He drove like a madman, weaving in and out of traffic and checking his watch every few minutes.
"But we worked out a coupla songs with Ring, and we'd really like to... " Paul began.
"Not hearin' you, McCartney!" Allan sang even louder.
"And Ringo wants to record with us as well," George yelled over the song, tapping Allan on the shoulder as he talked.
"Wales! Wales! Fav'rite land of Wales!" Allan's lovely tenor filled the bus.
"We want Ring! We want Ring!" John, Paul, and George chanted to the beat.
"All here... and all out!" Allan announced, slowing the vehicle to a stop in front of The Kaiserkeller. "Out, all o'ya!"
John refused to budge as the others scrambled. "Listen Al, we... "
"Shirrup, Lennon!" Allan banged on the roof. "Get us to Hamburg, Al! We want to play The Kaiserkeller, Al! We need to cut a record, Al! We want Ringo, Al! Try bein' satisfied for once! Try givin' it a fuggin' rest!"
John brushed by, carrying his Ric and the Art College's amplifier. But Allan knew the boy would have the last word.
"You're only postponin' the inevitable, aren't you?" John snipped from the sidewalk.
"Consider it postponed."
"But we... "
"...will talk about Ringo once you've done what you came
to do." "I'll remember that," John wagged a finger.
And Allan knew he would.
All events in this chapter happened exactly as they are portrayed with the exception of these points:
Barry Miles mentions that Stu was present during the recording, but Allan does not mention Stu attending at all. Furthermore, Clayson and Sutcliffe do not mention Stu's presence at The Akustik in Backbeat.
Bill Harry says that Johnny Guitar and Ty Brian were there as well and sang on "Summertime." Barry Miles only mentions Johnny Guitar attending. For certain, we know that the six young men included in this chapter were definitely present.
The conversations are conjecture.