Beats

Kieran Hurley

• Publisher: Oberon Books
• Year: 2013
• Print ISBN: 9781783190379
• eBook ISBN: 9781783195367
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: British Drama
• Index: Literature

In 1994 the Criminal Justice Act effectively outlawed raves, banning public gatherings around amplified music characterised by 'the emission of a succession of repetitive beats.'Featuring a soundtrack from a live DJ and psychedelic 90s-inspired visuals, Beats tells the story of Johnno McCreadie, a teenager living in a small suburban Scottish town at the time of the Act. Beats is an award-winning new play by Kieran Hurley; a coming-of-age story exploring rebellion, apathy, and the irresistible power of gathered youth. Beats was the winner of Critics Awards for Theatre in Scotland, as well as the winner of The Arches Platform 18 Behaviour Award 2012.

 

 

 

 

1.

What do you do when you go out, Johnno?

Where do you go?

I've been hearing stories Johnno, about those boys, and about drugs. Is there something you're not telling me son?

Feral. Out of control.

Unless stronger action is taken by the government these young people will continue to be a danger to themselves and to the rest of society.

It doesn't mean nothing.

It doesn't mean nothing.

It doesn't mean nothing.

It doesn't mean nothing.

It doesn't mean.

It means.

It doesn't mean nothing.

 

 

 

 

2.

Hi

In 1994 the Criminal Justice and Public Order Act made it illegal to have certain gatherings of people around, and this is a quote; ‘music wholly or predominantly characterised by the emission of a succession of repetitive beats.’

I'm Kieran. This is Johnny Whoop. And none of this is real.

In a minute I'm going to tell you a story.

Johnny will be playing music. You are a gathering of people. The music that Johnny will be playing can for the most part be characterised by the emission of a succession of repetitive beats.

But this one isn't really real, so we're ok.

Over there are Jamie and Adam. Jamie will be live mixing some video footage like what you just saw on the screen behind me there, and Adam will control the lights. Johnny will play some music, I'll speak some words. And you'll all fill in the gaps.

This is it. This is all there is.

That's your lot, really.

Which is just as well. Because nobody can arrest your imagination. Yet.

And so when I sit down there, the story will begin.

And I need you to imagine a small town in the Central Belt of Scotland, in the mid-1990s. Livingston, as it happens.

I need you to imagine bitumen pavements.

And dog shit. And ten p mixes.

I need you to imagine John Major's Back to Basics campaign.

I need you to imagine a dreich evening, a row of hedges, in orange sulphur streetlight. A small street lined with pebble-dashed flats.

And I need you to imagine a boy's bedroom. Clothes on the floor. A Super Nintendo games console with the game Zelda on pause. A poster of the band the Stone Roses. On the floor, an empty and broken cassette case of the hit single Ebeneezer Goode by the Shamen. A faint, but noticeable smell of Lynx Africa body spray.

And I need you to imagine Johnno McCreadie.

Johnno is 15 years old.

Small, skinny, shy, and awkward. And full to bursting of all the raw and holy emotions of a teenage boy.

His face is a canvas of plooks.

He sits in this bedroom, his bedroom, looking out the window at the dreich evening, the orange sulphur streetlight, the school across the street, the row of hedges, the bitumen pavements, the dog shit.

Johnno McCreadie, 15 years old: disappointed with the world, and terrified of his own place in it; a still-beating heart in a concrete landscape. A moody wee shite.

 

 

 

 

3.

Johnno is playing Zelda on the SNES for about the hundredth time. He's at that bit where you go into the Dark World for the first time and turn into a weird pink bunny rabbit. He's wearing his favourite green hoody, the one that's too big for him so when it's pulled up the hood falls right across his face, keeping him shut off from the world, separate. He'd taken to wearing it like that indoors even though in his bedroom the door to the outside world was always locked. He'd just had a lock fitted a few months ago ever since his mum had decided that: you are at an age now Johnno, where you might need a bit of, you know. Privacy.

If only she'd buy him one of those new Playstations. He's been playing this same old game for about 3 years now. Since he was 12. Which is basically the same thing as forever.

 

 

 

 

4.

Alison McCreadie is checking off a list.

Post office. Tick.

Messages. Tick.

Mum's messages. Tick.

Ironing.

Countdown had been on earlier when she got in, kicked off her work shoes, and started making Johnno his tea. Now it was time for that new American show, Friends.

Johnno had seemed funny. He wasn't talking.

What was the problem?

She's starving. Dinner was the first thing she'd had to eat all day unless you count they two Slim Fast shakes. But she's holding out. She's no going to let a stupid milkshake get the better of her.

She wasnae sure about that Friends. All squeaky voices and shiny teeth and flats with purple walls. Purple walls? Was that going to be the new thing? Good grief.

She'd been hearing things. Stories about they boys. She'd have to find a way to talk to him, find out what's going on. He'd think she was getting all worked up for nothing, but she wasn't. She wasn't.

It's no just scare stories Johnno. You don't know it but I've seen some things myself, before you were even around. I'm no daft, son. It's not for no reason that I'm…ach shit.

He'd never listen. He'd never listen to all that. But she'll need to say something, she thinks, she'll need to, as she sits and ticks off a new list inside her head of all the things that her wee Johnno might get up to if he kept hanging around with that crowd.

Dogging school? Probably. Tick.

Fighting? Possibly. Tick.

Drinking? Seemingly. Tick.

Drugs?

Tick. Tick, tick, tick, tick.

5.

Call General Accident Direct on oh eight hundred one two one double oh four. You could lower your home contents and building insurance costs today.

Robert Dunlop stares at the television screen.

Loads of these sortay ads on the telly noo. Probably worth looking intay, he thinks. Probably money to be saved somewhere. Who knows where to start but. Naw. Naw, no interested thanks.

You are about to experience an impressive release of power.

Oh aye. Always the same plummy Radio Four voice an aw. Was that the same guy that did aw ay these? He's probably making a racket.

The government will soon be releasing its remaining shares in National Power and Powergen.

Shares. Oh right. Probably a good idea, Robert. You've some money saved after aw.

To register, contact one of the many banks, building socie...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half-title Page
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Notes on the Original Production
• Contents
• Chapter 1.
• Chapter 2.
• Chapter 3.
• Chapter 4.
• Chapter 5.
• Chapter 6.
• Chapter 7.
• Chapter 8.
• Chapter 9.
• Chapter 10.
• Chapter 11.
• Chapter 12.
• Chapter 13.
• Chapter 14.
• Chapter 15.
• Chapter 16.
• Appendix