"Jamie, play that bassline again. Franco, you follow him, all snare and kick bass, no tom. Light cymbal crash at the end of each measure. Robbie you play under Jamie, with him. I'm gonna play over the top. Just ignore me and let me do my thing." I kick the delay down and the distortion up and we play through a few times.
MFDM is leaning back in his chair with a smirk on his face. A smirk is good. A smirk means he likes what's going on. Really likes it. He's been quiet, too. That's always a good sign.
"Okay, let's do this, beginning to end. MFDM, will you record? I wanna hear it played back so I can work on some lyrics."
He pairs the smirk with a lazy thumbs up. We're golden. That pairing in producer-speak is I fucking love it.
"I'm gonna lead in, give me some space for a few measures Franco, then jump in. Downbeat, rim only. Give us a few measures alone, then everyone joins in on my signal for the chorus. Repeat until I nod you out. That leaves Jamie's bassline and Franco for the second verse. I'll give the transition and we'll repeat the chorus again. Then we'll end with the third verse, which will be a repeat of the second, Jamie and Franco only. We good?"
They all nod. I look at Jamie. "No pressure, but you know how much Bright Side liked a solid bassline. Do her proud, dude."
He raises his forearm tattoo to me and smiles. "I only do epic." He winks. "I've got this."
After I adjust my effects pedals, I strum my guitar twice. It's habit. I do it before I start every song. I look to MFDM. He's got his headphones on and he gives me a thumbs up and hits a button to start recording.
We play through once and it's decent, but the transitions aren't clean. The second time we run through, everyone knows what to expect and it's tight.
When we listen to the recording I get chills. That rarely happens. I love it. Only a few songs have ever done that to me. And I already have lyrics forming in my mind. I look at the clock on the wall. It's just after noon. "Why don't you guys take an hour? Go get some lunch. Give me some time to hammer out these lyrics. I've got most of them. I just need to listen to this a few times and jot them down."
MFDM stands. "You want me to stay?"
I know he's giving me a chance to ask for help if I need it, but that he also trusts me to do it on my own. "I've got this. Do me a favor and bring me back something meatless to eat. I need some fuel. I want to record this and I have a feeling it's gonna be a long day."
He nods, barely containing his smile. "Will do. You're onto something here. Something great. Follow your instincts, Gus. They haven't failed you yet." He leaves before I can answer him.
None of us leave until two o'clock in the morning, and by that time, we're completely spent. But the song's done. Recorded. Lyrics and all. It's called "Redemption." And the guys don't know it yet, but we just got our album title, too.
Redemption. That's what happened today. Not in the religious sense, but in an I'm-a-better-person-than-I-was-before sense. And it feels so fucking good.
Thursday, January 25
(Scout)
"L.A. misses you, Girl Scout." That's how Gus answers the phone.
"I miss L.A. And you. Happy birthday, Gus."
"Is that today already? How'd you know?" He sounds surprised.
"It's on Audrey's calendar. I'm her assistant. I'm privy to all of the important stuff."
"You certainly are." That was a sexual innuendo if I've ever heard one. "Thanks. And speaking of the important stuff, we're all done here Saturday. Would you mind driving Pax up to the studio on Saturday morning? I don't want that kid anywhere near L.A. traffic on his own. We've been texting all month and I've been sending him short videos of what we've been doing, but I know he'd like to see it in person. I still need to record the guitar for the final song and I've saved it for last hoping he could be here for it."
"Of course I'll bring him. He'd love that." Gus is everything to Paxton. I know Gus downplays the influence he has on him, but the truth is that being around Gus is probably the best thing that's ever happened to Paxton. Gus is a father figure, a brother, a teacher, and a best friend. Paxton was always a good kid, but the changes I've seen in him over the past few months are huge. He's more confident. He's more outgoing. He's more engaged in school and more focused on his interests.
"Good. Gracias, muchacha."
"What time do you want us there?"
"I know it's early, but I want to get started at eight o'clock. It shouldn't take me long, maybe an hour or so. Then I'm free and we can head home. Mind if I hitch a ride? Or you could bring cookies and put your panties in your purse and we could go back to the apartment."
"I'd love to bring you cookies and put my panties in my purse, but what about Paxton?"
"Right. When did Pax turn into a cock-blocker? I thought he was my boy?" He's laughing.
And now I'm laughing. "I'd better get to work. I'll talk to you tonight, birthday boy. Have a good day."
"Always. You too, sweetheart." I love it when he calls me that. Every time he says it his voice gets soft, the verbal equivalent of a hug. It makes me feel warm inside and it makes my heart literally flutter in my chest, a physical reaction.
"Bye."
"Adios, amiga."
Saturday, January 27
(Gus)
Scout brought Pax to the studio this morning. The kid was stoked. It fueled me. And now the final guitar track is in the books. And it's epic.
I rode back home with them and we arrived a little after lunch time. Ma had cupcakes and veggie tacos waiting for me. God, I love that woman.
Ma, Scout, Pax, his girlfriend Mason, and I had a low key, belated birthday celebration.
And to cap off a great day, Scout showed me her birthday suit.
And I showed her mine.
And we rocked the hell out of them.
And then she let me hold her all night.
I love being home.
Sunday, January 28
(Scout)
There's a sticky note on the bathroom mirror when I step out of the shower. San Diego sex is my favorite.