Swimming Through the Dawn

by R. P. Rioux

"Truthfully, I have everything up to the rap break at this point. I thought we could work on the rest together." Hearing no objections, she continued. "The song's called 'On Your Lips.' It's about meeting an exciting new guy and imagining your first kiss together."

  "That sounds nice," said Sun-hee.

  "It is," Heather smiled. "Erin, hand me your instrument." She played a snappy, sneaky-sounding bass line. "The first two bars are bass only. Drums will start here. Can you learn it?"

  "It's fun, but not too hard," Erin responded as she retrieved her bass.

  "I'd like us to sing the chorus together. Can you do that, Mindy, while playing the drums?"

  "Sure thing."

  "Erin?"

  "Can I concentrate on the bass first?"

  "Excellent idea." After a restart, Heather sang through the first part and stopped. "I'm stuck at this point."

  Grace found the song bright and catchy, with the faint vibe of surf rock. She noted the lyric's boundless optimism but felt it needed more edge. "I have an idea for the rap." She began jotting down notes. Mindy and Erin practiced their opening together. Meanwhile, Heather and Sun-hee discussed a post-rap bridge propelled by and built upon the energy of the opening bass line.

  Once they had sketched it, Heather said, "This is where the break comes in. What do you have?"

  For contrast, Grace devised a rap expressing skepticism about the viability of the relationship. The first half ran in time with the beat, while the second was in double tempo. She substituted patter for the incomplete parts.

  "That's a good start," Heather said. "Erin, let there be drums alone for the first half. When the rap goes double tempo, join in with a running bass line." Erin nodded in agreement.

  Having heard the rap break, Sun-hee suggested a modification, which she presented to Heather. As they worked on this, Mindy grew bored and started wailing on her drums in an improvised solo. Erin looked on in awe as she magically twirled the drumsticks between beats. "How do you do that?" she asked.

  Mindy smiled. "Easy-peasy. As a child, I lived in a remote monastery in the Himalayas. The temple master wouldn't let me leave until I perfected this technique."

  "Really?" asked Erin, her eyes wide in wonder.

  "Yeah. I had to sand floors for two months before I could even touch the sticks."

  "That's amazing."

  "She's full of it," said Grace. "It's mostly an optical illusion."

  Mindy smiled slyly and demonstrated the stick trick in slow motion. "I can do more complex stuff." She started drumming again, this time flipping the sticks into the air and catching them just as they were needed for the next beat.

  "It might be a trick, but it still looks neat," said Erin.

  "I'm all about showmanship."

  "Okay, pay attention." Heather interrupted. "Sun-hee will sing the post-rap bridge over simple piano chords. The rest of you, no instrumentation at all. When I start the crescendo, let's have drum and bass return. During the final chorus, I want to hear full guitars as well. Everyone got it?"

  All nodded except Erin. "We'll see."

  "No pressure. It's only rehearsal."

  They ran through the song once more from the top. This time, individual pieces blended into a coherent whole. Sun-hee had improvised a lovely passage stemming from Grace's rap. She warbled a melancholy bridge that gradually transitioned into Heather's lead-in to the final chorus. The bright climax was capped by a full octave jump.

  "Much better," encouraged Grace. "It's starting to sound like an actual song."

  The garage door suddenly opened with a shudder, causing them all to jump. Car headlights bathed the garage in a blinding luminance.

  "Appa's home," said Grace, motioning for Ha-joon to dim the lights as he parked on the driveway. She jumped to her father's side when he emerged. "How was your day, Appa?"

  "Sweetheart, I told you not to practice here. What will Mrs. Cavanaugh say?"

  "She's in Omaha this week visiting her son."

  "Oh," he said. "Still, it's getting pretty late, isn't it?"

  "We're done. Do you want to hear our song?"

  "It won't take long, will it?"

  "Three and a half minutes."

  Mr. So placed his briefcase on the workbench and laid his suit jacket on a stool Heather had procured for him. After dragging her mother, Soon-ja, and twin brother, Henry, to the garage as well, Grace had the band play 'On Your Lips' once more. By then, the members were comfortable enough to add their own nuances to the music.

  The family applauded at the end. "I'm not familiar with that song. Who's it by?" her father asked.

  "That's ours, Appa," said Grace proudly. "We wrote it."

  * * *

  Grace answered the phone despite the inbound number being unfamiliar. The voice on the other end was a bit gruff sounding, with an indeterminate East Coast accent.

  "Yeah, my name's Arnie Johnson. I'm calling 'bout the manager position you posted. When are the interviews?"

  She had forgotten all about the ad. "Um…what time can you get here?"

  Heather met Grace on campus at The Lair. The day was beautiful, and they opted to sit at a patio table. The umbrella was open. They drank iced Americanos.

  "Glad you could come. I didn't want to decide this on my own," said Grace.

  "Believe me, skipping early on Precalc is a blessing," said Heather. "My brain was dying. When's he supposed to arrive?"

  "He texted from the parking lot. Should be any minute."

  "How do you like being a Finance major?"

  Heather rolled her eyes in desperation. "I can't wait until next year. At least I'll be able to ace one course."

  "Which one?"

  "Creative Experience."

  "Yeah." Grace laughed. "Your one chance to show them business majors who's boss."

  "Sad, but true."

  A stubbly-bearded, paunchy, white guy approached, wearing an oversized dress shirt with sleeves rolled up and one too many buttons undone at the collar. "Hey, either of you, Grace?"

  They introduced themselves and offered to buy him a soda. Surprisingly, he ordered two slices of pepperoni and sausage pizza. It was 3:30 in the afternoon. Heather volunteered to fetch the order.

  The first part of the interview consisted of Arnie responding to simple questions with long, rambling trains of incoherent thought. He spoke enthusiastically of his days spent touring with Sordid Gorgon, a thrashcore band from Denmark. His demeanor turned cagey, however, when Grace inquired about the abrupt end of their North American tour, muttering something about a hazmat team and a Welsh Corgi.

  "How's your punctuality?" asked Grace as Heather returned with the pizza.

  "I don't pay much 'tention to grammar or nothing. Does it even matter?"

  Heather stifled a grin. Communicating with her eyes, she dared Grace not to laugh as she placed the tray before Arnie. "Naw, it's overrated," agreed Grace, deftly overcoming her friend's silent challenge.

  As Heather got herself settled, Arnie stared at her a moment too long before folding the pizza slices and taking an enormous bite. He spent most of the next minute chewing as he spoke. The next round of questions focused on K-Pop girl groups, of which Arnie could not name a single example he was familiar with. He did mention seeing an all-female metal band at a festival once in Connecticut, but couldn't remember their name. "It was Fist of Diana, or Feast of Dinosaurs. Something like that."

  "What are your expectations as a manager?" asked Heather.

  "For a man of my talents, I'd need, like, $50K per year minimum."

  Heather and Grace both waited for a punchline that never arrived. "Was that a genuine request?" asked Heather in Korean.

  "Apparently so," Grace responded. "Okay, play along." Returning to English, she stated, "To be honest, we were hoping to find someone who'd accept $80,000."

  Arnie's eyes brightened. "I'm okay with that."

  "The position also comes with free use of a limo, VIP seats to twelve concerts of your choice each year, plus, a
monthly allotment of either coke or heroin."

  Heather supported her friend's statement with an eager nod and an inviting smile. "Oh, and you get the first pick of groupies to do in the back of the tour bus."

  Grace nodded, "Duh, how could I forget?"

  "That's awesome!" said Arnie before hesitating. "Wait a minute. Are your groupies male or female?"

  "Whatever floats your boat, Arnie," said Heather. "We don't judge." Grace was forced to look away to maintain a straight face.

  Arnie reclined back to assess the two of them. The hamster wheel powering his brain was spinning furiously as he formulated a response. "Hold on a sec. I don't get this kind of luck. What gives? This sounds too good to be true."

  "It is, Arnie," concluded Grace, "but you started it. Care to cut the crap now?"

  They spent the remainder of the interview addressing their expectations of a manager, making a concerted effort to harness the conversation to prevent Arnie from running off on another wild tangent. After 45 minutes, they made progress. "We're willing to work hard to make this a success, and we need a manager who feels the same way. Does that describe you?"

  "I'll say yes if that gets me the job."

  Heather was caught off guard by his response and disguised her reaction with a cough. Grace smiled awkwardly. "Okay, thanks. We'll contact you."

  After he left, Heather asked, "Was that last answer acceptable?"

  "I don't know. This is new to me."

  "He's enthusiastic. I'll say that for him."

  "That's because he's as desperate as we are."

  * * *

  "Good news. We have a new manager," reported Grace during a phone call with Steve later that day.

  "Oh, that's great," he said. "How'd you find him?"

  "He responded to our Craigslist ad."

  Lengthy silence.

  "Hello?"

  "What are his qualifications?"

  "Uh, he applied."

  "I see." After contemplating it a moment longer, Steve added, "Well, good luck with that."

  12

  Steve

  Steve stood alone, meditating in a dark classroom at the St. Ignatius Fine Arts Building. He expected a tiring day, but these moments he looked forward to the most. The prior weeks had been more stressful than anticipated, but those challenges were behind him now. His crew was prepping the equipment; the musicians were loading their instruments. The organizing was over. It was time to create.

  In the studio, he recognized three of the musicians from earlier. Sun-hee welcomed him with a wave and an ever-present smile. Heather glanced at him briefly but quickly returned focus to her guitar. Grace introduced the two newcomers. Mindy was taller than the others and slightly older. She carried herself with an air of confidence. Erin was petite even by the standards of Made in Heaven. In the way she dressed and moved, Steve found her adorable. He, in turn, introduced Phil, and Arturo, the sound engineer.

  The A-side single, and subject of the music video, was supposed to have been "Celestial," a supremely confident, catchy, hard-driving tune with choruses sung by Heather and Sun-hee, and an aggressive rap by Grace in place of a guitar solo. The song expressed overwhelming emotions felt in the presence of a crush. It was a proper rock song, one Phil thought he could bring some edge to without losing the strong pop vibe the group wanted. Steve was drawn to it when Grace presented a rough demo during their café meeting. In fact, it was a demanding song requiring tight musicianship. Much to his annoyance, the band indicated they weren't ready for it yet.

  The replacement song, "On Your Lips," reminded Steve of 60s pop-rock infused with modern flavors. Cheerful and catchy, it was the perfect summer beach song. He liked it and thought it had potential, but wasn't sure it would work for his purpose. That his input on the original song was discarded perturbed him.

  "I mean, this is like a bait and switch. I thought we agreed," he said, unable to restrain himself.

  "We did, Steve. I'm sorry," said Grace. "I should've thought it through longer. Given the timeline, we went with a simpler approach. Heather was right."

  Steve looked at Heather, who was staring at the floor. "Why didn't you join us at the meeting? Your input would have been valuable."

  "I wasn't feeling well."

  "I wasted time planning for a different song. You could have called me. I don't bite."

  "Okay, I got it," Heather said. "Can we move along now?"

  In the interest of time, Steve dropped his complaint. He'd have to make do with what he had. The trial run of "On Your Lips" demonstrated the band's readiness. Their playing was tight. The peppy song lightened the mood in the studio. When it came time to record, the professional disparity of the members proved challenging. Four had experienced at least some prior studio time. Mindy, for example, laid down a solid scratch track. The process was utterly unfamiliar to Erin, however. Her eyes darted to and fro, conveying uncertainty. Arturo was a patient mentor, explaining the multi-track recording process in detail. To her credit, she absorbed the information readily.

  They made progress throughout the day, but it went slower than Steve preferred. He kept his eye on the clock, knowing he'd have to clear the room for another project by 6:00 a.m. The mix was still to come. The process for both songs was similar. Rhythm in the form of drum and bass came first. The chord structure was established by guitars and synthesizer. Melodies, primarily through vocals, followed. The last step was to add nuance through background vocals, and percussion/piano/guitar fills.

  While the initial results for "On Your Lips" sounded promising, the B-side was an unexpected revelation. Called "Have No Fear," it was a simple, uplifting ballad, with thoughtful lyrics and soaring vocals. The song concerned a woman working up the nerve to reveal her genuine feelings of love. The song's jangly guitar and simple drum beat established a country feel, though it clearly departed from pure country. Heather sang the opening verse while Sun-hee followed. Grace provided a much different rap this time, opting for a subtle approach that blended well with the more subdued nature of the ballad.

  To Steve's surprise, his excitement kept growing as the song came to life piece by piece. The emotional high point of "Have No Fear" was extraordinary. Grace's rap transitioned into simple piano chords, over which Heather sang the bridge. This quiet moment was soon to pass. As her powerful voice rose to a sustained high note, Sun-hee took over the main chorus, leaving Heather's vocals free to sail overhead like a cloud. Their singing contrasted and complemented each other perfectly. Heather repeated the final chorus alone before the song came full circle with the return of the jangly guitar from the intro.

  After the first rehearsal, Arturo proposed a mic switch, which Steve volunteered to handle. When Heather saw him enter the isolation booth, her eyes widened. Lifting the headphones off her ears, she asked tersely, "Is anything wrong?"

  "Arturo thinks you'd sound better on this Shure." He disconnected the Electro-Voice and placed it on the music stand by Heather. It felt like an excellent opportunity to thaw the tension. "Are you still mad at me?"

  Heather looked at him sharply. "Seriously? That's what's on your mind right now?"

  "Since we have to work together, I thought we'd at least try to get along."

  "And people call me sensitive."

  Steve was unsure of how to proceed. Neither of them said anything.

  Arturo's impatience came over the intercom. "C'mon guys, what's the holdup?"

  Heather gave Arturo an okay sign through the window. "It'll be fine," she told Steve. "Let's finish this song. Okay?"

  Steve plugged in the new mic and returned to the control room. Heather provided a brief test then sang the song twice.

  "Wow, that second take is a keeper," said Phil. The band waited as the crew fiddled around with the controls for several minutes. Phil transmitted a rough mix over the intercom. The group was overjoyed to hear the results, with smiles in abundance.

  "Okay, I want Mindy in for some vocal fills next," said Phil.

  "We'
ll need that Electro-Voice again," said Arturo.

  "I got it." Steve was often overwhelmed by moments like this when his creative endeavors came to fruition. As he entered the booth, Heather was listening to the playback. "We're going with that. You're done." He sniffled as he made the microphone switch.

  "Are you crying?" she asked.

  "No."

  She grabbed his chin and turned his head to look him straight in the eyes. "You are too. Why are you crying?"

  Steve smiled in embarrassment. "That was beautiful, is all."