Suzie’s House 556 : Studio Performance II

“Wow. They’re good.”

Peter couldn’t help but marvel. He’d watched these kids, just barely old enough to be in high school, filter into the studio like it was their second home, much the way they seemed to run tame all over town. Right up until the minute their picked up instruments they were joking and horsing around like any other teenagers.

Then bam! They were in the thick of it. Every instrument right on tempo with a complicated kind of intro that he could hold dream of playing. And the vocals! He’d had no idea Emma could sing like that.

“Haven’t you listened to their album?” The sound man who was also named Pete said it almost like a challenge.

“No,” Peter admitted. The only reason he knew there was one was because Gabriel, sweet Gabriel, had mentioned it a few times.

He glanced at his lover and found a huge, self-satisfied grin.

“They’re really talented,” Peter admitted, not the least big grudging.

“More than you know. They put that whole album together under just awful pressure,” the sound man said. “Every song on that album is so full of soul. But they had to fight that advertising woman tooth and nail for it. What she did to them was a travesty.”

“What did she do?” Peter shifted away from his lean against the wall. He’d heard a few things about the woman, too. It hadn’t seemed that bad.

“She turned nearly every song on the album into an advertisement!”

“Is that all?” It actually gave Peter a sense of relief. She hadn’t actually ripped them off. She’d just found a way to make the project pay for itself.

As an investor, Peter approved. He liked to think he was an investor with a social conscience. He avoided GMO manufacturers like Monsanto, steered clear of hazards like tobacco companies, and invested heavily in some forward thinking utilities that included wind power. But all you got from investing in a losing business was losing the shirt off your back.

“Is that all!? I can’t think of anything worse.” The sound man turned his head back and forth, reminding Peter that he couldn’t see so missed the smile.

“I didn’t mean that in a disrespectful way,” Peter clarified. “I’m sure it’s been hard for the kids.”

“They are getting teased for it at school. Everyone thinks they’re doing cover tunes of advertisements instead of having their heart felt creations ripped off.” Spittle was flying.

Gabe gave Peter a worried look, but didn’t say anything.

“They worked so hard. All their songs are original, written by themselves. They’re all so deep and meaningful. But no one even knows. All because of those ads.”

“Would the album exist without the ads? Did they have any producers showing interest”

“No.” The word came out grudgingly as the song wound down. “But if they’d only waited a few years…”

“How many bands break up before they can get a record deal? Seems to me the kids know what they are doing.”

The song ended. The sound man leaned into a microphone to tell them he’d captured everything. They piled out of the soundproofed studio like a pack of puppies. As soon as they were in the sound room they demanded to hear a playback. They probably could have just listened from the other room, but they all leaned and shifted to watch everything the sound man did.

Bruce swore. “I knew it! I got that note wrong.”

“I think I could have held that high note a little longer too,” Emma mused.

“But we don’t have enough money for a retake.” This from Gene, the quiet one.

“Go ahead. Do as many re-takes as you want. I’ll foot the bill.” Peter couldn’t resist to offer. Even if it cost LA studio prices he could well afford it.

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