When It Drops

by Alex Dyson

  ‘Wait, Gallbladder Collective!’ Caleb exclaimed, suddenly excited. ‘Rach, remember dancing to them with Dad?’

  ‘Of course, his hip-thrusting is burned into my retina.’

  Gallbladder Collective were a four-piece electro-pop band from the UK who’d released a synth-laden hit about fifteen years ago called ‘Grease Trap’. Caleb remembered their dad playing it on repeat, awkwardly shaking his hips and encouraging his kids to do the same. It was the only G.C. song Caleb knew, as they’d broken up soon after the release of their one and only album, GALLS TO THE WALL. It was wild that he’d be rehearsing in the same place they’d recorded!

  ‘Do you want a quick tour before we set up?’ Jai asked.

  ‘Sure.’

  Purple walls engulfed them as they stepped into a long corridor adorned with framed records. Platinum this, gold that, as far as the eye could see. Some were from bands Caleb had never heard of, others were from bands he loved.

  ‘Were all of these recorded here?’ Caleb asked, astonished.

  ‘Yep,’ said Jai. ‘And a lot of them are TransAtlantic artists too. It’s a recording space as well as a rehearsal space. Right now, there’s three artists in here recording.’

  ‘Who?’ Caleb could feel the excitement building. Being in a place like this was bringing out his inner music nerd. Well, technically, his inner nerd was always also an outer nerd – but it was shining brightly regardless.

  ‘Um, Katrina Fellows is in here somewhere. Denim Dreams should be around too, they’re onto their fifth album now … and I’m pretty sure I saw CheddR running around before.’

  Caleb had heard of all but the last one.

  ‘Who’s Cheddar?’

  ‘WHO’S CHEDDR?’ Rachel echoed, eyes wide with disbelief.

  ‘Ha, he’s pretty new,’ Jai explained. ‘But he’s going to be massive. He’s playing Splendour, and I think they’re filming a documentary about it in the lead-up, so keep a low profile unless you want to be in it.’ He pushed open another door.

  ‘Have you seriously not heard of CheddR?’ Rachel asked as they passed a little kitchenette with a kettle and a filthy sandwich press.

  ‘No – should I have?’

  ‘His song “Cheezy Does It” has been in the top ten for, like, two months! He’s the guy who wears the cheese block on his head? Come on!’

  Caleb hadn’t seen a man with cheese for a head recently. Maybe he was becoming old and out of touch.

  They passed through more doors and found themselves in a rich red corridor.

  ‘And here are the recording studios,’ Jai said with a flourish. ‘Just let me know whenever you want to use them, Cale – if the bedroom is getting a bit cramped.’

  Caleb glanced through some glass-panel doors. There was a massive monitor with a keyboard and mouse, with two of the most aesthetically pleasing speakers he’d ever seen perched on either side. It was magical!

  They paused for a moment before Jai led them down the next corridor. They passed thick, soundproof doors, behind which echoed hints of the most delicious noises. Caleb had to pinch himself to believe he was catching glimpses of art at its rawest. Being shaped until it was ready to be unleashed upon a world that needed an injection of beauty. Of talent. Of –

  ‘SAYYY CHEEEEEEEZZZZZZZE!’

  A huge light blinded him. Caleb put his free hand up to shield his eyes as – from the brightness – a silhouette of a large man with a block of cheese on his head materialised. The cheese had big black dots for eyes, and a drawn-on sideways mouth. It kind of looked like this – :/ – but the right way up.

  A bassline dropped from nowhere, and the cheese-head man started grinding his hips against them – first Jai, then Rachel, then Caleb, double fist-pumping as he went.

  ‘COME ON, CHEEEZY DOES IT!’

  Jai and Rachel started dancing, but Caleb just stood there, clutching his laptop like a statue. He noticed a camera filming the whole scenario: three dancing bodies and one stunned mullet. (And Nat wasn’t even there.)

  Then, as quickly as it began, the music stopped and the cheese-man and his crew disappeared down the corridor.

  ‘THE CHEEZE AIMS TO PLEEEASE!’ was the final call as he rounded the corner.

  Caleb stood frozen on the spot while Jai and Rachel chuckled.

  ‘So, that’s CheddR,’ said Rachel.

  ‘Yeah. I kinda guessed,’ Caleb replied.

  ‘We’ll have to go watch him at Splendour,’ said Rachel, turning to Jai and grabbing his arm.

  ‘Definitely,’ said Jai, motioning them forward. ‘Shall we?’

  Caleb’s first impression of his rehearsal space was – ‘Woah’.

  The amount of gear that had been squeezed into what was technically a pretty small room was unfathomable: guitars, amps, keyboards, stands, pedals and other pieces of equipment Caleb couldn’t name, but that looked like cool music-y things.

  A table with a black cloth had been set up in the middle of the room, and Caleb placed his laptop and sample pad on it.

  Jai rummaged around in the haystack of gear and came back with a drum machine thing and a couple of drumsticks.

  ‘You could use this too, man. It’s called an SPD – load some samples on, and you can whack it with the drumsticks instead of your fingers. Bit more colour and movement that way.’

  ‘Oh, cool, thanks!’ said Caleb. ‘So I can just borrow it?’

  ‘Yep, that’s all good. Here, let me help you.’ He and Caleb screwed it onto a stand and sat it next to the table. Caleb opened up Ableton and began trying to figure out how to put the sounds from his computer onto the SPD pad.

  ‘We’ll give you some privacy and let you have a crack,’ said Jai. ‘We’ll check back in a bit, hey?’

  Caleb hesitated. ‘Um, actually – how do I do this?’

  Jai shrugged. ‘Not sure about that part. Sorry, man. You’ll be good though – you’ve got all afternoon.’

  ‘Are you sure we can’t watch?’ asked Rachel.

  ‘Nah, let him do his thing. Let’s go somewhere else.’ Jai made eyes at her, and Caleb saw his sister relent.

  ‘Okay. See you soon, Cale?’

  Jai grabbed Rachel’s hand and they left Caleb to his own devices.

  Right, he thought, turning back to the equipment. Let’s give it a crack.

  Four hours later, Caleb had run through his set seven times. To be fair, it was only five songs. Four were from his ‘finished’ list, with one additional track called ‘Echoes’ that was written when he was fourteen. It was decidedly unfinished, but he was desperate, so included it anyway. The set ended with ‘Ella’, of course. He saved his one hit for last, since he didn’t want people leaving halfway through.

  The final chords of the eighth attempt at ‘Ella’ echoed out, and Caleb felt he had reached a point where he was only going to get worse if he kept practising. Rachel and Jai weren’t back yet, though, and he wanted to run the set by them, just to make sure it was okay.

  Another thirty minutes went by, and just as Caleb was about to give up and leave, Jai and Rachel wandered back in carrying a large bag.

  ‘Hey, mate!’ Jai said excitedly. ‘How’s it sounding?’

  ‘Fine, I think,’ said Caleb. ‘Where were you guys?’

  ‘We just went for a little drive. Here, look what we managed to get you for the gig!’ He reached into the bag and pulled out a large black fabric-y mass.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Your costume. For the show.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yeah, BVTTON’s mysterious, right? So we thought we’d play into that.’ Jai handed the clump to Caleb. ‘Here, courtesy of the TransAtlantic style team.’

  Caleb unravelled it to find a velvet one-piece tracksuit type situation, with large shoulder pads that swooped upwards.

  ‘Custom made,’ Jai added.

  ‘Um,’ Caleb said. ‘I thought I could just wear, like, a T-shirt or something?’

  ‘You could, mate, but there’s no drama there. No offen
ce, but with your normal clothes you just look like, well – a random sixteen-year-old kid.’

  The truth, Caleb realised, could be offensive sometimes.

  ‘And don’t forget this –’

  Jai handed Caleb a black mask that went over his eyes and nose. Caleb held it up, and his eyes locked with Rachel’s, telepathically asking his sister if she had agreed to this. She had been remarkably quiet so far.

  ‘I think it will be good, Button,’ she said sweetly. ‘You’ll look really cute in it.’

  This went a little way to allaying some of Caleb’s concerns. In fact, any girl could give him a compliment about clothes and he’d believe them.

  ‘All the best producers are wearing masks these days,’ Jai added. ‘SBTRKT, Claptone, hell, even CheddR, and he’s huge.’

  Caleb sighed. Despite his reluctance to have similarities drawn between himself and the human fromage he’d met earlier, he knew Jai had a much better grasp on what was cool than he did.

  ‘Okay,’ he relented. ‘Should I play you what I’ve got, then?’

  ‘Sorry, mate, I’ve got to shoot off to another commitment. Stay and keep practising if you like, though – you’re fine to keep using the room until six.’

  ‘But it’s ten to six now!’

  ‘Oh crap. In that case, you’d better pack up, the room’s booked for another session. I’d better go too, but I’ll see ya both on Thursday!’ And with that, Jai was gone.

  Caleb looked at Rachel sombrely.

  ‘Can I hear a bit?’ she asked. ‘Just quickly?’

  ‘No,’ he said, suddenly extra annoyed. He grabbed his things, zipping up his laptop irritably. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Come on, Caleb, just one song? For me? Come on, what would Dad do?’

  ‘Rachel. I’m not Dad, okay?’ Caleb was tired. Of everything.

  Rachel grimaced. ‘I’m sorry we were late … we were just organising the costume and some … other stuff for the gig –’

  Caleb wasn’t in the mood to hear it. He swung his laptop bag onto his shoulder and marched out of the room. He was tense, and his nerves for the gig had no outlet. His support network seemed to be ignoring his concerns, leaving him to fend for himself. He didn’t want Thursday to arrive.

  On the way back to the car, he got a text from Ella.

  Hey, how was rehearsal? Can’t wait to see it on Thursday! x

  … x?

  X??

  The awkward bungee jumper that Caleb called his mood bounced up again, defying gravity, breaking free of its rope and entering a shallow lunar orbit.

  Maybe Thursday wouldn’t be so bad ...

  CHAPTER 19

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  Dammit.

  Caleb turned around to look at his brother, who was staring at him with a look that definitely called his sanity into question.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Caleb, who actually had his fingers dunked in two bowls of icy water on his desk. ‘Just icing my fingers.’

  Nathaniel rolled his eyes. ‘Well, dinner is ready.’

  ‘I’ll be out in a sec.’

  Nat left. Caleb took his hands out of their artic pools and dried them on his shirt. It was Wednesday night – the night before his big showcase – and he wanted his tired digits to be in peak physical condition for the event. They’d started cramping from a week of overuse. He’d been practising his Phresh Finds set over and over, and the intricate patterns and timings needed to fire off all of his sounds had taken its toll.

  Not only that, but when his fingers weren’t hitting his sample pad, they were texting Ella Westlake. There were times when they were so sore, he could barely send her an emoji. But he persevered through the pain. It was worth it. Their conversations had continued throughout the week. She was excited about the gig tomorrow, and it made Caleb want to be even better, hence the extra practice.

  Just get through it, he thought to himself. Once the gig was over, the only thing left would be to pack for Splendour in the Grass. The thought of fulfilling a lifelong dream gave him some comfort as he sat on his uncomfortable computer chair. In his younger daydreams of Splendour, he’d always imagined Rachel putting him up on her shoulders, but in the last year he’d had a growth spurt, so it was more likely he’d put her on his. That is, if she even wanted to hang out with him. She’d probably just want to hang out backstage with Jai and all his cool artist friends. Maybe he could invite Ella? That would be amazing. To share a brilliant experience with his favourite person. Maybe he could –

  ‘CALEB!’

  ‘Coming!’

  As Caleb sat down at the dining table, he was reminded that there was definitely still tension in the Clifford household. Caleb and his mum hadn’t talked much after the cemetery mix-up on the weekend. Rachel was still doing her best to get into his good books after bailing for the entirety of his rehearsal. And Nat? Well, despite some small steps in their relationship, it was hard to ignore the fact that Caleb had recently elbowed his little brother’s tooth out.

  ‘So, Caleb – excited for tomorrow night?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘It should be good. Are you guys going to come along?’ Rachel asked the rest of the family. No-one answered. ‘Mum?’

  Their mother took a deliberate bite of her stir-fry. ‘I’m filling in for Phillipa at the hospital tomorrow night, so I won’t be able to make it.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ Rachel said. She glanced at Caleb before turning her attention to Nathaniel. ‘What about you, Champ? Come on – you can be my assistant!’

  Nathaniel shrugged. ‘Sure, if I get twenty dollars. Half now, half later.’ He smirked at Caleb, who rolled his eyes.

  ‘We can’t do that, but I’m sure we can sort out some sort of non-financial remuneration.’

  Nathaniel stared blankly at his sister.

  ‘I’ll make sure you get free food!’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Great. It should be fun. Did you need me to put anyone else on the list, Caleb?’

  ‘You’ve got Ella Westlake on there, yeah?’

  ‘Sure do. Anyone else, though? Miralee …?’

  Caleb stopped chewing. Thoughts of the party he and Miralee had attended together echoed in his mind. She would probably love to go.

  ‘Nah. I’m good,’ he said.

  Rachel nodded. Caleb started chewing again. Their mum finished her meal and quietly took her bowl to the sink.

  And the table went back to silence.

  Back in his room, fingers finally thawed out, Caleb decided to risk working them one last time with a text to Ella. He mulled over it for a while, and decided on I’m off to sleep now. Looking forward to hanging out tomorrow x

  The x was a risk. He’d been apprehensive for a long time, but decided tonight was the night to jump off the deep end. He waited for half an hour before the reply came through.

  Me too, Caleb. Sleep well xox

  The blood rush he got from those letters was phenomenal. Their meanings swirled in his mind. It was intoxicating. Combined with his already heightened state of anticipation for the gig, his body formed itself into a slippery dip of adrenaline.

  Caleb rolled over and looked at the clock on his bedside table, making a mental note of the time just so he could accurately calculate the hours of sleep he wouldn’t be getting tonight.

  CHAPTER 20

  Caleb had always been a nervous person. He remembered as a child hiding backstage in the school toilets, dressed head to toe (or rather, canopy to roots) as a tree, because he was too scared to go onstage in the school production of The Wind in the Willows, despite his main job being standing motionless in the background. He was eventually found by Mrs Lunoe because his foliage was sticking over the top of the cubicle.

  But even that tree-terror, that flora-fear, that arboreal-agoraphobia, paled in comparison to what he was feeling right now. It was a mix of food poisoning and hypothermia. And the worst part was, there was nowhere to hide. The time since the rehearsa
l at 303 Studio felt like a blur. He’d practised every day. Sometimes most of the night. But standing at the back of the dimly lit bar, seeing his name up on the stage surrounded by Phresh FM posters, he was as nervous as a young lion in a hyena-infested elephant graveyard. He couldn’t even remember what time he was supposed to go on. Or what songs he was playing! The only thing bouncing around in his head was Nat’s annoying jingle –

  She’s gunna know

  She’s gunna knowwww

  Caleb really needed to investigate whether it was possible for surgeons to physically remove songs from a person’s brain. Of course, Ella did know now, and it wasn’t the disaster Nathaniel had envisaged when he’d created the tune. Instead, she was willingly attending the very first live performance of the song Caleb had written about her, and while it was the most exciting development in Caleb’s love life since, well, ever, it certainly wasn’t helping his nerves.

  He tried to relax and focus on his setlist – which notes he had to play, which drum pads he had to hit – but it was really hard to concentrate because Jai came over and interrupted Caleb’s thoughts.

  ‘Ready to meet some important people?’ he asked. Caleb shrugged. ‘Great! Let’s go.’

  And so the cavalcade of names and faces began. The dimness of the lights and the volume of the music made the names hard to hear, and the features hard to see, but Caleb did his best to look like he was mentally present.

  ‘This is Mary Hayley, culture reporter at VICE magazine – how are ya, Mary? Jai, Jai Fordham, TransAtlantic.’

  ‘And this old fella is Richard Springhill, program director over at 4-DOUBLE-Z FM – recovered from ThrashFest, Dicky? I saw you there in the gold bar. It’s Jai Fordham. Ha ha, nice.’

  ‘Ah, THIS wonderful lady is from the building next to us! Hey! Sorry, I totally forgot her name …’

  ‘Hey, there’s Danzel, mah-MAN!’

  Jai kept the conversations going while Caleb stood by his side like an obedient puppy. Every person Caleb met made the same expression when they realised the young, lurchy, oily-skinned specimen Jai was introducing them to was one of the artists they were there to see. It was an expression that said, ‘this guy?’