“Ok, let’s do it in the order of the board for now and see how far we get,” suggested Jake, suddenly wishing he was at the museum with Lori and Becky.
By lunchtime they had run through the ten numbers twice. Nerves had got in the way for most of the morning, but, by the end of the second run through, they were all focussed on the task in hand. So far Todd had said very little. He had interrupted them a few times to change leads or amps, but hadn’t engaged any of them in conversation.
“I’m going to McDonald’s,” he declared around one thirty. “Anyone want anything?”
They agreed to break for half an hour for lunch. While Grey and Rich went with Todd to get their burger order, Jake went to explore. He wandered past Studio A noting the “recording in progress” sign on the closed door. Studio C was also closed – “rehearsal in progress”. The lounge on the upper floor was empty. It was a huge space with several large couches, a bar at one end, a large glass fronted chill cabinet filled with bottled water and various juices. Along one wall were framed photos of the bands and artists who had used the studio. There were a handful of gold discs on display too.
“Hey,” said a voice from behind him.
Jake turned and found himself face to face with the lead singer from the English rock band, Weigh Station. He had been a huge fan of theirs for a long time and could barely return the greeting.
“You in Studio B?” asked the singer, casually.
“Yes,” he replied, then offering out his hand. “Jake Power from Silver Lake.”
“Dan Crow,” said the older man, shaking his hand firmly. “First time here?”
“Yes,” nodded Jake. “Does it show?”
“A bit,” admitted Dan, lifting four bottles of water from the chill cabinet. “Enjoy. Relax. Have fun. That’s what it’s all about.”
“We’ll try.”
“Might stick my head in later to hear you,” said Dan as he headed for the door. “Need to keep an eye on the up and coming opposition.”
Still somewhat star struck, Jake lifted four bottles of water for the band and returned to the studio. The boys were back with lunch. When Jake told them who was in the studio next door, they were as star struck as he was. With a mutter Todd put his lunch trash into the bin and declared that Weigh Station were assholes to work with. Silently Jake wondered what he was making of the four of them.
Three hours later the band were on their fifth run through and struggling a bit with the bass on what was now “No. 8”. As Grey was getting ready for a temper explosion, the door opened and Jack strolled back in.
“Winning?”
“No,” growled Grey sourly.
Jack raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
“Ok,” said Rich calmly. “From the top again.”
The sound engineer reclined on the battered leather couch that sat in one corner and listened. For the next hour and a half he sat and listened as they ran through all ten songs again. This run through went smoother than their previous attempts. It wasn’t perfect and there was one moment of nervous hilarity when Jake forgot the lyrics mid song, but, apart from that one lapse, they were all happy with how it had gone. More than happy with the improvements they had made during the day. As the final chord faded out of “No. 10” the sound engineer got to his feet.
“Take a break, boys,” he instructed. “I have to say, I’d expected you would be shit. One of Maddison’s charity cases that she throws our way now and again. I was wrong. You guys are shit hot.”
“Thanks,” said Jake with a broad grin. The relief at hearing the sound engineer’s approval was written all over his face.
“Right, guys,” began Jack firmly. “Plan for tomorrow. Be here for nine. Warm up. Caffeine fuel yourselves, if need be. I’ll be here by ten. Todd will be here early. I’ll call Jim before I leave tonight and chat things through with him. And, Mr Power, rest that voice for tomorrow. No more vocals tonight. It’s going to be a long, tough week for you.”
“Are we ok to do another run through without vocals?” asked Rich. “I want another shot at a couple of bits.”
“Up to you guys,” Jack shrugged. “I’m out of here. See you in the morning.”
And he turned and left.
“Look, it’s almost seven thirty,” began Grey with a yawn. “Take your guitars home. We can play a bit back at the apartment. I need to see my little princess.”
“Sounds like a plan,” agreed Jake, feeling the day’s efforts in his forearms and shoulders. “We can work on the acoustic tracks for an hour or so tonight.”
“You definitely calling it a day?” asked Todd hopefully.
“Yeah,” yawned Paul. “I’m hungry anyway.”
As they were packing up, Jake sent a text to Lori to say they would be back shortly. She replied to say she would sort out dinner if they hadn’t already eaten. Both Jake and Rich packed up their acoustic guitars and elected to leave everything else where it was. Day One was over and they were all worn out but still on an emotional high at the praise from the sound engineer.
When they came out of the elevator and into the apartment, Becky came flying out of the living room and threw herself into Grey’s arms. He scooped her up into his embrace and listened attentively as she told him all the different things Lori had shown her at the museum. From the kitchen, Lori called that dinner was waiting for them. She had set the dining room table and had her iPod playing some soft rock in the background. Jake dumped his guitar case in a corner and went through to the kitchen, suddenly desperate to see her. She was standing at the counter with her back to him. Jake came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her tiny waist, nuzzling into her neck.
“Good day?” she asked hopefully.
“The best,” he said, hugging her tight. “We meet the producer and start recording tomorrow. How was your day?”
“Good fun,” replied Lori, turning to face him. “The museum was a big hit with Becky.”
“I could tell,” he laughed, indicating towards Grey, who was still being regaled with tales of dinosaur bones and giant whales. “Do you need a hand here?”
“There’s two lasagnes in the oven that you can take through plus some garlic bread,” she answered.
“You didn’t cook did you?” asked Jake, feeling guilty if she felt she had to cook dinner for them all.
“No. I ordered in from a little Italian restaurant a few blocks away,” admitted Lori. “Seemed the easiest option. I had no idea when to expect you back.”
Soon they were all seated round Lori’s large rosewood dining table, all desperate to talk about their day. They were suddenly transformed into four enthusiastic teenagers that had had all their Christmases come at once. In between tales of this track and that solo, Becky told them all about the natural history museum. The band gave her a fair hearing, glad to see the little girl so happy and talkative. Once their meal was over and the table had been cleared, Rich and Jake went back to work on the acoustic stuff. Paul declared he was going to find a ball game on TV and Grey led Becky downstairs to bed. The two guitarists were camped out in the dining room gently working out the chord progressions and melodies that had felt clunky and awkward a few hours earlier. With the kitchen tidied up and the dishwasher stacked, Lori poured herself a glass of wine and sat at the table listening to them play. Eventually Rich was happy enough to call it a night so he poured himself some wine and went to join Paul in front of the TV for the last two innings of the game. With a smile over at Lori, Jake continued to play. He was fiddling with a melody line, then paused and began to play a song she hadn’t heard before. Quietly, almost whispering, he sang the lyrics. The softness gave the song an ethereal, ghostly quality that contrasted beautifully with the strong guitar. When the song was finished, he sat staring down at his guitar, his hair falling carelessly over his face.
“That was beautiful,” complimented Lori. “Amazing.”
“Thanks,” he said, lifting his head. “Just something I’ve been playing with for a few weeks.”<
br />
“Is it on the board to be recorded?”
He shook his head, then got up to put his guitar back in its case. “No. They’ve not heard that one.”
“We have now,” said Rich and Paul from the doorway. “If there’s time it goes on the board and you perform it exactly like that.”
“I don’t know,” began Jake hesitantly. “There’s already seven of my songs on there. You guys have other stuff that we could add too.”
“It’s going on the board,” declared Grey from the hallway. “Band decision. No arguing. What’s the name?”
“Lady Butterfly,” he admitted reluctantly.
“Definitely in the top ten,” said Rich. “We can debate on what to drop tomorrow.”
“Do I get to voice an opinion here, folks?” asked Jake.
“No!” came the immediate chorus of his band mates plus Lori.
“There’s no point in even trying, is there?” he asked.
“No,” replied Lori. “We can’t all be wrong, so chill a bit about it.”
“I guess,” he surrendered, pouring the last of the wine into a glass for himself. “Ok, we add it on. Nothing comes off the list. We tell Jack that it’s eleven tracks not ten.”
“Deal,” agreed Grey. “But you do “Lady Butterfly” as a solo. That just blew me away.”
As Jake started to protest, the others over ruled him again. Tired and embarrassed, he excused himself and, carrying his glass of wine, wandered through the apartment and out onto the terrace. He needed a few minutes in the evening air to clear his head. Sensing his need for solitude none of them followed him out. Having set his glass down on the table, Jake stood at the railing, gazing out over the city. The sounds of cars, horns and the occasional siren filtered up from the streets spread out below. He missed the sound of the ocean waves. Missed the smell of the ocean. Missed the screech of the gulls. It’s only for a few more days, he thought to himself running his hands through his hair. From behind him, he could hear the ball game finishing up on the TV. It was getting late and the sensible part of him knew he should head in to bed but the selfish part of him needed a few more minutes in the stuffy night air. Leaning on the railing, he gazed out at the skyline.
“Penny for them?” whispered Lori, wrapping her arms around his waist.
He jumped, startled by her soundless appearance beside him. Casually he pulled her round into his embrace. Her subtle floral perfume filled his nostrils and he leaned forward, burying his face in her long blonde hair.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m a jerk.”
“Nonsense,” she replied. “I understand. I think.”
“It’s been a long wonderful day,” sighed Jake. “Guess I’m just tired.”
“Me too,” confessed Lori. “I brought out some more wine. Want to sit for a while with a glass?”
Jake nodded and allowed her to lead him over to the small glass table and wrought iron chairs. As she topped up his glass, Lori said, “I used to come out here all the time to think. I’d listen to the city and lose myself in my own thoughts. I’d feel safe up here in my own tiny corner of the world.”
“This is a fabulous place,” answered Jake, “But I miss the ocean.”
“Me too,” she admitted sipping her wine.
“We’d best not stay out here too long. I need to be up early and I want to go for a run first thing,” said Jake, running his fingers up and down the stem of the glass. “I need to stretch my legs a bit.”
“Well, the park’s only two blocks over. You can do a loop through part of it,” suggested Lori. “Nothing more New York than jogging round Central Park!”
Jake laughed, “I guess.”
They both sat quietly for a few minutes, then agreed it was time to end this wonderful day. Hand in hand, they walked back indoors. The apartment was quiet- everyone else had already gone to bed. Once down in the bedroom Jake casually stripped down to his boxers before wandering through to the en suite bathroom. Lori sat at the dressing table brushing and plaiting her hair, then she too undressed and pulled her Mickey Mouse T-shirt over her head. She went to lift her yoga pants then paused. What was there to hide? It was a warm evening, despite the air conditioning – the T-shirt would do.
When she climbed into bed beside Jake a few minutes later she snuggled down and laid her head on his chest, listening to the slow steady beating of his heart. The tattooed dragon on his shoulder appeared to be staring at her and she giggled.
“It’s like being watched,” she confessed, fingering the tattoo’s bright eyes.
“Go to sleep, li’l lady,” murmured Jake sleepily. “He’s protecting us.”
♪
By eight thirty the next morning Silver Lake were back in the studio, armed with hot coffee and bagels from a nearby deli. True to his word, Jake had risen before six and gone for a five mile run round Central Park. It had been good for his soul and even before the caffeine hit, he was firing on all cylinders ready to go. Todd wandered in around nine and quietly set up the live room with the necessary amps and mics needed for recording. He had just finished setting up when Jack arrived accompanied by the producer.
“Morning, boys,” he called loudly. “Let me introduce you to the boss. Dr Jim Marrs. Your producer and musical wizard.”
“Hi, guys,” said the tall slim man standing to his right. “I’ve heard great things about you. I’d like to hear them for myself. Todd, are we ready to go?”
“Yes, Doc,” said Todd, saluting the producer.
“Ok, let’s make some music,” declared Jack. “Start from the top of the board. We’ll tell you when it’s time to stop and start. It’s going to be a long day.”
Back at the apartment the girls were having a lazy breakfast of Cheerio’s in front of the TV. Becky was glued to Sesame Street and even Lori had to admit to herself that she was enjoying the nostalgia trip as she watched the show. They were booked for a day at the American Girl store and Lori was keeping half an eye on the clock to make sure they weren’t late. When the programme was finished, she asked Becky to go and put her shoes on and to bring her doll with her.
“Where are we going?” asked Becky when she was ready.
“Well, I thought we would spend the day at the American Girl store,” began Lori with a smile. “This doll needs some accessories and some clothes.”
“And a hairdo?” asked Becky, jumping up and down with excitement.
“Maybe,” said Lori. “Let’s see what happens when we get there.”
It was almost eleven when the cab pulled up outside the American Girl store on Fifth Avenue by which time Becky was almost bursting with excitement. Having paid the fare, Lori got herself out of the cab, placing her canes carefully, then waited while her little charge clambered out. The little girl practically bounced onto the pavement clutching her doll tightly. When they entered the store, they were met by a smiling young assistant, who welcomed them warmly.
“Morning,” said Lori. “We have a booking for the day package. The name’s Hyde.”
“Of course, Miss Hyde,” replied the assistant. “If you’ll follow me.”
Still bursting with excitement Becky asked, “How did they know we were coming?”
“I planned this as a surprise for you when I bought your doll,” explained Lori, smiling at the little girl. “She’ll get her hair done. We’ll have some lunch, then you can choose some new things for her to wear.”
“Wow!” exclaimed Becky. “Thanks, Lori!”
“Come on, miss,” laughed Lori. “Let’s have some fun.”
Work in Studio B progressed smoothly all morning, thanks to a constant supply of coffee and more than a little luck. Under the concise direction of Jim Marrs, who preferred to be called Dr Marrs, they had run through all ten songs on the board while he had recorded them just as they were. He explained that he preferred to take that approach and build on things from the bare bones. They had a couple of takes at some of the tracks and the whole morning was interspersed with occa
sional moments of madness, forgotten chords and lyrics. At one point, Grey had been playing the bass line for track six when the rest of them were playing track five, but, on the whole, it had been a productive session.
“Ok guys,” called Dr Marrs. “Break for lunch till I listen to this. Go and get some air. I can see this being a late night.”
After a quick lunch at a nearby Thai restaurant, Silver Lake walked back to the studios. The sun was shining down on them and they all agreed that life didn’t get much better. When they re-entered the studio it was empty. While they were waiting for the others to return, Grey added track eleven onto the bottom of the board.
“Guess I’d better run through it,” muttered Jake, lifting his acoustic guitar from its stand.
He settled himself on a stool, with his back to everyone, and began to play the melody line to Lady Butterfly. Soon he was lost in the song, singing and playing with his eyes closed, oblivious to the world around him. When he was finished, there came a round of applause from behind him. Unbeknown to him Dr Marrs, Jack and Todd had returned just as he had started to play.
“From the top again, Mr Power,” called out the producer. “I don’t know where that came from but let’s get it recorded now. Just as you played it there. That’s your show stopper.”
After only two takes, Lady Butterfly was recorded. No frills; no fancy effects – just the bare song; acoustic guitar track and Jake’s haunting vocal. While he worked on it, the rest of Silver Lake sat back in the control room and watched in awe. All of them agreed with the producer, there was something special about that track. A certain spark of musical genius.
Once track eleven had been ticked off on the board, Dr Marrs called on Paul to come into the live room to start on the drum tracking. This left the others free for a few hours to do as they pleased. Jake stayed in the control room to offer moral support while Rich and Grey headed off upstairs to the lounge. Recording the drum tracks proved time consuming and to Paul seemingly never ending. Four hours later they only had four of the tracks recorded and the drummer was losing patience. Eventually he threw his drumsticks in the corner and yelled, “Fuck it! I need some air!”
Stronger Within (The Silver Lake Series Book 1) Page 17
