When a Man Loves a Woman, words and music by C. Lewis/A. Wright, © 1966 Pronto Music Inc./Quinvy Music Publishing Company; and Knock on Wood, words and music by Eddie Floyd/Steve Cropper, © 1966 East Publishers Inc., reproduced by kind permission of Warner Bros Music Limited.

Superbad, words and music by James Brown, © 1970 Crited Music; Get Up, I Feel Like Being a Sex Machine, words and music by James Brown/Bobby Byrd/Ronald L. Lenhoff, © 1970 Dynatone Publishing Co.; and It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World, words and music by James Brown/Betty Mewsome, © 1966 Dynatone Publishing Co., reproduced by kind permission of Intersong Music Limited.

Out of Sight, words and music by James Brown, and Night Train, words and music by Washington/Simpkins/Forrest, reproduced by kind permission of Carlin Music Corp.

Walking in the Rain, words and music by Spector/Mann/Weil, © 1964 Screen Gems-EMI Music Inc., USA, sub-published by Screen Gems-EMI Music Ltd, London WC2H OLD. Reproduced by permission.

I’ll Feel a Whole Lot Better, words and music by Gene Clark, © 1965

Lakeview Music Publishing Co. Limited, 19/20 Poland Street, London W1V 3DD. International Copyright Secured. All Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.

Reach Out I’ll Be There, words by B. Holland. L. Dozier, E. Holland, ©1966 Jobete Music Co., Inc, JOBETE MUSIC (UK) LTD. All Rights Reserved. Used by Permission. International Copyright Secured.

What Becomes of the Broken Hearted?, words by P. Riser, J. Dean, W. Weatherspoon, © 1966 Jobete Music Co., Inc, JOBETE MUSIC (UK) LTD. All Rights Reserved. Used by Permission. International Copyright Secured.

Chain Gang, words and music by Sam Cooke, reprinted by permission of ABKCO Music Ltd.

–We’ll ask Jimmy, said Outspan.—Jimmy’ll know.

Jimmy Rabbitte knew his music. He knew his stuff alright. You’d never see Jimmy coming home from town without a new album or a 12-inch or at least a 7-inch single. Jimmy ate Melody Maker and the NME every week and Hot Press every two weeks. He listened to Dave Fanning and John Peel. He even read his sisters’ Jackie when there was no one looking. So Jimmy knew his stuff.

The last time Outspan had flicked through Jimmy’s records he’d seen names like Microdisney, Eddie and the Hot Rods, Otis Redding, The Screaming Blue Messiahs, Scraping Foetus off the Wheel (—Foetus, said Outspan.—That’s the little young fella inside the woman, isn’t it?

–Yeah, said Jimmy.

–Aah, that’s fuckin’ horrible, tha’ is.); groups Outspan had never heard of, never mind heard. Jimmy even had albums by Frank Sinatra and The Monkees.

So when Outspan and Derek decided, while Ray was out in the jacks, that their group needed a new direction they both thought of Jimmy. Jimmy knew what was what. Jimmy knew what was new, what was new but wouldn’t be for long and what was going to be new. Jimmy had Relax before anyone had heard of Frankie Goes to Hollywood and he’d started slagging them months before anyone realized that they were no good. Jimmy knew his music.

Outspan, Derek and Ray’s group, And And And, was three days old; Ray on the Casio and his little sister’s glockenspiel, Outspan on his brother’s acoustic guitar, Derek on nothing yet but the bass guitar as soon as he’d the money saved.

–Will we tell Ray? Derek asked.

–Abou’ Jimmy? Outspan asked back.

–Yeah.

–Better not. Yet annyway.

Outspan was trying to work his thumb in under a sticker, This Guitar Kills Fascists, his brother, an awful hippy, had put on it.

–There’s the flush, he said.—He’s comin’ back. We’ll see Jimmy later.

They were in Derek’s bedroom.

Ray came back in.

–I was thinkin’ there, he said.—I think maybe we should have an exclamation mark, yeh know, after the second And in the name.

–Wha’?

–It’d be And And exclamation mark, righ’?—And. It’d look deadly on the posters.

Outspan said nothing while he imagined it.

–What’s an explanation mark? said Derek.

–Yeh know, said Ray.

He drew a big one in the air.

–Oh yeah, said Derek.—An’ where d’yeh want to put it again?

–And And, He drew another one.—And.

–Is it not supposed to go at the end?—It should go up his arse, said Outspan, picking away at the sticker.

Jimmy was already there when Outspan and Derek got to the Pub.

–How’s it goin’, said Jimmy.

–Howyeh, Jim, said Outspan.

–Howayeh, said Derek.

They got stools and formed a little semicircle at the bar.

–Been ridin’ annythin’ since I seen yis last? Jimmy asked them.

–No way, said Outspan.—We’ve been much too busy for tha’ sort o’ thing. Isn’t tha’ righ’?

–Yeah, that’s righ’, said Derek.

–Puttin’ the finishin’ touches to your album? said Jimmy.

–Puttin’ the finishin’ touches to our name, said Outspan.

–Wha’ are yis now?

–And And exclamation mark, righ’?—And, said Derek.

Jimmy grinned a sneer.

–Fuck, fuck, exclamation mark, me. I bet I know who thought o’ tha’.

–There’ll be a little face on the dot, righ’, Outspan explained.

–An’ yeh know the line on the top of it? That’s the dot’s fringe.

–Black an’ whi’e or colour?

–Don’t know.

–It’s been done before, Jimmy was happy to tell them.—Ska. Madness, The Specials. Little black an’ whi’e men.—I told yis, he hasn’t a clue.

–Yeah, said Outspan.

–He owns the synth though, said Derek.

–Does he call tha’ fuckin’ yoke a synth? said Jimmy.

–Annyway, no one uses them annymore. It’s back to basics.

–Just as well, said Outspan.—Cos we’ve fuck all else.

–Wha’ tracks are yis doin’? Jimmy asked.

–Tha’ one, Masters and Servants.

–Depeche Mode?

–Yeah.

Outspan was embarrassed. He didn’t know why. He didn’t mind the song. But Jimmy had a face on him.

–It’s good, tha’, said Derek.—The words are good, yeh know—good.

–It’s just fuckin’ art school stuff, said Jimmy.

That was the killer argument, Outspan knew, although he didn’t know what it meant.

Derek did.

–Hang on, Jimmy, he said.—That’s not fair now. The Beatles went to art school.

–That’s different.

–Me hole it is, said Derek.—An’ Roxy Music went to art school an’ you have all their albums, so yeh can fuck off with yourself.