Chapter 3
“Where’s the coffee?” Isaac yawned as he walked into the studio three weeks later at 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday to begin recording.
“Hey, Isaac,” I greeted. I couldn’t believe this pillar of pop music was standing before my very eyes. “It’s over there inside that door. That’s the supply closet and my office.”
“Supply closet and your office?” he laughed.
“Yeah, well, I’m an intern, and I don’t spend much time in there. Ever since Sharon had to quit, I’ve been out here a lot, anyway. Jake really doesn’t have the money to hire a new secretary yet.”
“Well, we’ll change that pretty soon. Our first payment is coming in exactly...” he squinted his eyes and his mouth scrunched up in thought, “three weeks and two days.”
“Believe me, we need it. Oh, by the way, where’s the rest of them?” I inquired, just noticing the absence of Taylor and Zac.
“Oh, Zac was catching up on his sleep in the back of the van, and last I saw, Taylor was attempting to get him up and out of there,” Isaac leaned back and glanced out the front door. He then shrugged and continued towards the supply closet to retrieve a much-needed caffeine boost. I sat down at the secretary’s desk and filled out paperwork for a couple of new clients we were getting. They were insignificant local bands, but they paid by the hour and gave us enough money to get through each week. A few moments later, I heard a lot of noise in the studio. Curious, I got up and opened the door to look inside.
“Could you grab that case, Jeff?” I heard a man call. I watched as a couple of workers lugged instruments into the studio and began setting them up. I smiled at the familiarity of it all. It was now the beginning of March and I had been at work for a little over five weeks, making everything but the fact that Hanson was within range strangely familiar. I knew how to work everything; I could walk into a dark room and find the light switch without stubbing my toe; I knew almost every button on the switchboard by heart. I felt like I belonged which was a new feeling for me. I had always felt a little alienated at school, but ever since I started the internship, my confidence in myself inflated, giving me more room to be who I wanted be.
“Morning, Melody,” I spun around to see Taylor and Zac behind me.
“You’ve got quite the hoarse voice this morning. You going to be able to start recording?” I laughed a little at how his voice seemed to resemble a bullfrog rather than a human.
“He did it all through puberty,” Zac shrugged, “I’m not sure he can’t record like that.”
I laughed a little, thinking of how he could continue to make jokes even after waking up only a few minutes before. “Did you get coffee yet?”
“Nah, tastes too much like a coffee house to me and that doesn’t bring back pleasant memories. I stick with cokes,” he held up the bottle he held in his right hand.
“Oh, I see. I’ll make sure to get some more of those for you, then.”
“Thanks. It keeps me regular,” Zac winked. I cringed at the meaning I took from his comment.
“Zac, you know better than to start scaring the interns until at least the end of the first week,” Isaac patted his brother on the shoulder.
I shrugged it off. “It doesn’t bother me. With the strange people my parents bring home, I’m always ready for the unexpected comment.”
“That’s good because Zac’s always prepared to give the unexpected comment,” Taylor laughed as we all entered the studio. I took one look at their equipment and gasped. It was beautiful. The Pearl drums were gorgeous. Four Gibson guitars in brilliant colors leaned against their stands. Three different keyboards stood together beside an assortment of different noisemakers: wind chimes, sand blocks, wooden sticks, maracas, and many other strange and somewhat painful looking contraptions.
“What’s the matter?” Isaac asked, giving me a concerned glance.
“You’re equipment--it’s spectacular...” I said, dazed, then suddenly snapped myself back to reality. “Oh, sorry, I guess I’m supposed to be professional about all this and not gawk at your wonderful equipment,” I blushed. “It’s just that I’ve never seen so many new-looking instruments together.”
It wasn’t like I was poor or had never seen these things in my life, but seeing them all together in their stupendous shades of shimmering blues, greens, reds and purples was like seeing the Eiffel Tower standing before me. I had seen the instruments at local shows and had seen people perform with them before, but now they were up close and I could touch them and practically feel what wonderful music would pour out of them.
“It’s quite all right. I mean, when we first got equipment like this, I was in such awe of how gorgeous it all was that I kind of stood there in this stupor for a few minutes thinking ‘I can’t touch it or it’ll break.’ It’s really cool though,” Isaac identified with my dreamy haze then smiled at me. “Do you play anything?”
“I-uh play piano and guitar...but....”
“Go on, try ‘em.”
“I couldn’t....”
“Sure you could,” Taylor coaxed me.
“Yeah, go ahead, we don’t mind,” Zac agreed.
I looked at them all with amazement as I entered the sound booth. I ran my fingers over the pure white keys of the keyboard and flipped it carefully on. Then, with careful precision, I began playing the opening to one of my favorite songs. It was beautiful. Then, realizing what I was playing, I blushed. I had forgotten that I was standing in the presence of those who had written “More Than Anything.” I put my hands to my face feeling the blood rush and knowing I must resemble something like a radish at the moment.
“Sorry, I forgot who I was with for a minute...” I laughed, glancing up at them. “I think I have some paperwork I need to go fill out.”
I excused myself and scurried out of the studio, retreating to my office where I crouched in a corner and regained composure. I had managed to completely embarrass myself and it was only the first day of six months together. I could already tell it was going to be something that would take a lot of getting used to.
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“That was good, but I think you guys are just a little close to the mics. Since the equipment is so new, it’s really sensitive right now,” I advised, trying to cue up the tape again. “Just give me a few notes or something and I’ll tell you when you’re far enough away.”
They sang something together and I gave them an okay sign. “All right. Let’s try this again.”
I began recording as they did the opening to their new CD. They sang an intro to the CD/interview. It was something that I really hadn’t seen before. Most of their CD was going to be music, but in between every two or three songs there’d be a short snipit of them talking, explaining their view on a certain song, a story of the past tour, or a simple thanks to the fans. To create the interviews, they were collecting questions from people on the internet, questions from fan mail, and even just questions from me or their crew and answer them in an interview situation. They decided to just do it radio style and sit in front of their mics and talk for an hour or so and edit it to fit their needs. It was an interesting idea, and I was ecstatic to be the one to help out on the endeavor.
As for the early embarrassment, I got over it. I came out of my back room twenty minutes later, laughed off my actions and got down to the recording business, putting personal problems aside. Jake oversaw everything I did on the first few days, but soon trusted me to do a little more on my own since I knew everything so well already. I was pretty impressed with how well the guys recorded everything. They had it down to a science, it seemed. They would have a problem and it was almost like they used a scientific method to solve it. They’d assess the problem, think of why it was happening, experiment with a few different scenarios to adjust the problem and when it was solved, they made a note to watch for it next time it popped up and went on with their business.
I could have sat and just watched them record, but unfortunately, I was serving as the “Recordstress/Nurse Maid” as I called it. I would sit there and tell them when I was recording, and I would record. Not much to it, but then, when Zac cut his finger, I fetched a bandaid. When Taylor was thirsty, I retrieved a coke for him. I was just an all-around helper. We finally had our first big crisis when Isaac misplaced his favorite guitar pick.
“I can’t have lost that pick!” he ran his hands through his naturally curly hair. After straightening it for years, he finally just let it go and now hung in small waves and ringlets just above his shoulders.
“Can’t you just get another one?” I questioned, not that concerned.
“No, you don’t understand,” Taylor looked at me with worry in his eyes, “This pick was Otis Redding’s favorite pick. Isaac got it at an auction last year and hasn’t been without it a minute since. It’s too important just to go get another one.”
My mouth formed a small “O” and I began thinking of where Isaac had been in the past hour. I went back to my little office and looked around the coffeepot and underneath the coffee cups. A few moments later as I searched on the floor around the refreshments, I felt another person in the room with me.
“Did you find it yet?” I asked whoever it was.
“No.” Isaac answered concisely before joining me on the floor. He moved the ice chest aside to look behind it under the table. “Can you look back there? I’m not exactly small enough to fit.”
I nodded, “Sure.” Carefully, I went under the table and saw a shiny, plastic pick and smiled. I retrieved it and came out from under the table and sat up, holding up the pick.
“Thank you!” he hugged me tightly, one hand over my hand and the pick. Then, probably just as an involuntary thing, he pecked me on the cheek and left. I sat there for a moment, still able to feel his warm lips on my cool cheek and smiled.
Tell me what you think
Chapter 4
Chapter Index