Suzie’s House 375 : Co-operative Songwriting

Tracy could actually hear him swallowing when he handed her the ragged scrap of paper. It was just a song. How bad could it be? She looked through quickly, then looked again.

She barely felt the pressure of Gene’s bed on her back side as her knees gave. She recognized these words right off. They were her words.

“This… this is about me. Right?” She glanced up at him.

“You gave me the idea, but it’s not just you. I mean, right here. This is all you.” He leaned over and pointed out a couple of verses. “But this is all me. And that’s more about Emma.” His finger moved over the paper from one section to another. “I’m trying for something… I don’t know. Bigger. But it’s not… um… what’s that word?”

“Adequate?”

“Yeah.” He looked genuinely surprised that she’d come up with the right word. Tracy tried not to let that get to her.

“Well, this part is good.” Tracy pointed. “And this too. But this bit about killing him? It’s out of rhythm. It’s hanging on there like a parasite.”

“So what are you saying? I have to take it out?” From the way he stuck his chin out, Tracy could tell this was his favorite part.

“No. No, you just have to move it. Actually,” Tracy grabbed a pencil and spread the paper out on his night stand. “I think you should make it bigger. Much bigger. Hey, hum a few bars for me.”

Gene grabbed his guitar and joined her on his bed. He strummed a little while, then kind of sang in a quiet, half-assed way.

“No, no, no. I get what’s wrong. This isn’t that kind of song. It’s not a ballad or something. This is a scream-o song. It should come out all explosive.” She gestured with fingers spread. “Sing it for real.”

“All right.” He looked dubious, but he strummed the guitar with more confidence. He sang the first stanza. “I know what it feels like, the punch and kick, the hand like a whip, but I’m no victim, hmmm, hmmm, No I’m no victim. But I still want to kill him. Yeah.”

“Stop.” Tracy interrupted. “Instead of ‘But I still want to kill him. Yeah.’ go like ‘oh, oooooh, oh, nooooo.’” She sang a riff.

“Oh! That’s good.”

“Right?” She grinned at him. “So then after than, something like, ‘I’m gonna kill him, cause he’s just a blight. No more of this sh*t in my life. I’m going to kill him, take him out tonight. I wanna kill him, yeah!’ Here. Let me show you.” She reached for the guitar.

He let her play it through a couple of times, then took the guitar back. “Yeah. I get it. Let me try.”

This time he really put his heart into it, singing in the scream-o style she’d suggested. The air around them crackled; especially when he got to the new chorus. Yeah. This was good. She couldn’t wait to share with the rest of the band.

The door flew open. Mrs. H. burst in, eyes wide. “Gene?! Are you all right?”

“Yeah, Mrs. H. I’m good. Couldn’t be better.”

“Are you sure?”

Both Gene and Tracy nodded.

“Well, all right.” She closed the door slowly as she left.

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