Hallelujah Ch. 10-11

"You're saying you want me to change the vocal chain."

"I do. But more to that Elvis twitch than the Beatles shine. Lots of slap-back echo on the vocal and guitar. Hell, put some on the kick, too. Wield a heavy hand on this one. If it's too much, we can always trim back later in post, but I need the band to see what the intentions are."

"Got it. Anything special on the EQ, or just the standard fare?"

"The drums are gonna be snare and cymbal heavy. There won't be a lot of work with the toms....maybe none at all. So that frees up some space to do with as you will. You will have to be careful not to let the piano and cymbals smear each other, but beyond that just be gentle with the sculpting."

"I can do it." He turns to his work, and I can't help but notice a tone in his voice that I hadn't heard before. Not quite excited, at least he's sounding hopeful.

At that moment, Teddy comes out of the supply closet tenderly carrying a Gretsch Country Gentleman. A classic guitar with a driving, clean tone, it's gonna get distorted as all shit before I'm done with it...but it will still be sharp and snapping. I hit the talkback.

"Teddy, that's so perfect my balls just dropped a little."

He laughs. "I guess that's a good thing. Am I plugging directly into the amp?"

"Yup."

He plugs in and flips it on. The cable is plenty long, so it isn't long before he's over with his band noodling around on his new toy. He looks surprisingly natural with the oversized red beast of a guitar strapped over his shoulder.

I flip the talkback. "What I'd like to do is run through the song once with all attitude. Teddy, just stick to barre chords but play 'em with punch. We'll let Mickey fill in any spaces with the piano. Mick, a little bit of Jerry Lee Lewis is in order. Fair?"

"Fair."

"Cool. And Paul, lay off those toms completely. Make believe they don't exist. We're gonna record this, so give it everything."

Paul looks nervous. "Shouldn't we practice first? We've never played this way before."

"I thought you liked spontaneity. Look guys, it'll never be quite as real as the first time, so we'll just see if we can get a take. If you fuck up, we'll just do another. If you don't like the way it sounds, we'll revert. No big deal." I look over at Brian, and he gives me a thumbs up, so I turn back to the band. "Boys, for the next ten minutes this is Sun Studios and I'm your colonel. Tear it up."

They do.

The song's Beatles melodies and 1950's energy were its defining characteristic, and Teddy falls into a sputtering strum pattern without putting any thought into it. He palm mutes, cutting a lot of the chords short almost as soon as he's struck them. It sounds great with the slap-back echo. Meanwhile, just standing up and playing it instead of sitting with his lap steel has changed his approach. He throws way more attitude and bite into the vocal, twitching and jerking around the mic, and even letting out a little yelp at the end of the last chorus as the band bursts into a gleeful jam of an ending. He plays faster, causing everybody to play faster. I hadn't intended that, but now that he's punching strings instead of sliding around it sounds better with a little more rush to it.

Afterward, they all rush up to the control room, and they immediately fall in love.

We'll have to fix a few things...the reverb is a little too heavy and the lap steel would sound glorious as a background addition to the chorus...but we've basically bagged the song in a single take. It sounds fantastic, topping 'As Long As I'm Here' and humiliating 'Hazy Witness.' Mickey English is pacing and biting his lip by the end of the playback.

Teddy laughs and slaps me on the back. "Holy shit, am I glad you're back," he says.

I give him a look. I'm tempted to point out to him that once again my ideas have redefined his song and helped give him a track that has radio potential written all over it. Instead, I just wink.

Mickey slaps his hands together. "Now what?"

"Overdubs?" Brooke suggests.

I shake my head. "We need some, but let's not kill this momentum. Get back down there and let's see if we can't do something with that song where you keep interjecting 'all right' after every line in the verse. What's the name on that one?"

"'Alright,'" Fields says straight faced.

"Alright," I say. "That one. Go back to your normal setup for now. Do a couple of run-throughs and then we'll talk about a recording."

As the band heads down the stairs, Brian looks over. "Any ideas on this one?"

"Not yet," I say. "But I will soon enough."

-

By the time the day ends, we've put 'Alright' in the bag and overdubbed Fields slide onto 'Open it Up.' We've also added some hand claps and some background vocals that the whole band partook in. Everybody's grinning and talking about the songs as they head out the door. The band is clearly relieved to have four completed tracks now instead of just the two, and especially to know that at least three of them are great. I stay behind and act busy until they're all gone. Then, after locking up, I head down to Bennie's office. The door is open and nobody's inside. I look at Jennifer, but she just shrugs. Oh, well.

The drive home is peaceful. I'm getting to really liking driving around with no music playing. It makes it easier to think.

But, really, I don't think. I don't even move. I just stay where I am, and let the land move around me. It's a wonderful feeling.

I can see the moon just starting to appear as I get home, and I take that as a bad omen. Sure enough, Jasmine is sitting at the kitchen table, a bottle of our wine open in front of her. She looks tired.

"Hey," I give her a weak smile.

She looks up at me and the muscles around her mouth move, but it doesn't really become any sort of expression. "Can I talk to you?" she asks.

"Yeah. Yeah, alright." I sit down opposite her. I guess I knew this was coming eventually.

She takes a drink direct from the bottle, and then her chest expands in a deep breath. Her eyes focus directly on mine, and I know I'm in for it.

"Tell me why," she says.

Aware though I was that this was going to happen, I still don't feel ready. I'm almost tempted to reach out for the bottle, but it won't help. "That's a lot to tell," I tell her. "'Why' is the biggest question there is."

"I've got time," her lids droop slightly to show her unamused status.

I put my elbows to the table and lean on them, Bennie Rich style. "There are plenty of answers, Jasmine, but none of them are going to take the way you feel right now away. You know that well enough. It's just the right thing to do. That's all."

She shakes her head. "It isn't the right thing. How can you even think that? I know you feel the same way I do."

"I think that I do. But that doesn't mean that it's enough. Do you remember what I told you before?"

"That you fell in love in high school, and you never let yourself grow up."

I hold a finger up. "That's not quite it. I did say that I fell in love in high school. In fact, I said I fell in love twice. They were two equal, powerful sensations, and that's all well and good, but I just never moved beyond them. I wanted, the way a teenager wants, those two lovers to define me forever. I wanted them to BE who I was. So, when I was given the chance to see them for what they were...the first steps of a child...I misunderstood the message. I didn't ignore it, or deny it. I just couldn't understand it. It seemed too impossible to me, in my naivety, to be true." I tap my finger on the table, pointed at her. "But you saw it. You did. And to some degree I think you understood."

She shakes her head. "No. I was the one who was stupid. I was the one who made the mistake."

"But, see, you didn't. You left me, and you were right to do so." I hold up my hands as she shakes her head again, opening her mouth to argue it. "It's true. When you first told me your side of the story, I thought I saw a grown woman regretting a young girl's misbehavior. But I didn't. What I saw was you, as you are now. A near stranger to me, someone I used to know, experiencing a hurt. I was seeing you struggle with the hardest pain of your life, the biggest mistake you ever made. And that mistake wasn't leaving me, or cheating on AJ. It was marrying a man you didn't love...because you were scared. And, now, in your terror, you are trying to make the exact same mistake over again."

She scowls at me. "Being with you isn't a mistake."

"Jasmine, why did you leave me for AJ?"

She bites her lip. "I was scared. I mistook the difficulty of trying to build our life together as being work, and being around him made me remember that simple teenage innocence we used to have. It was a stupid-"

"Jasmine, look at where you are now. You're scared, you screwed up the life you had, and being around me is making you remember the simple innocence of two people who are conquering the world together. It's no different. AJ and I just switched roles is all. You don't need that. You need a fresh start. You need to find somebody with whom you don't have a past, so that you can be sure you're not hedging your bets on a good memory."

She wipes at a tear. "You're so wrong about why I want to be with you."

"Maybe. But it doesn't matter, because I'm not wrong about why I want to be with you. I want to be with you because I've invested more than a decade of my life into believing that you could make me happy. My emotions are wrapped up in a bullshit fantasy, and that's not a good way to start something real. Do you realize, I don't even know what I want in a woman anymore? I closed myself off from even thinking about it. I never thought about wanting a woman, because I only wanted you. I dated, but I never loved anybody else because it was important to me not to. And that's where that got me. I'm not sure what I want to look for in a woman, because I was only ever looking at ONE woman." I look away for a moment, not wanting to watch her cry. "It's the same, you know, with my other lover."

"Don't call it that."

"That's what it was. Fuck. I fell in love with music, as surely as anybody falls in love with anything. I fell hard. And just like I did with you, I wrapped myself in it so tightly that I wasn't even aware of anything else. For a while that was great. But something changed, and I couldn't figure out what that was. And I lied to myself to avoid the truth. But I know the truth, now. The truth is that I didn't walk away from the work I was doing in New York because Nashville was a new milestone. I didn't do it because I missed home. I didn't do it to work with new people, or to be a part of something spectacular, or any of that. I did it because, deep down, I was bored. Not brimming with ideas, or full of some righteous need to take on the establishment of the scene. Just bored. And Nashville was an obvious choice for mixing things up. I could put myself in completely foreign situations so that I wouldn't have to realize that I was bored. I could be around people who disagreed with me, so I could fight the boredom with drama and anger. I could protect myself. See, when I look at you I know that I have to accept that we can't be together, because I already tried it once. I tried it with the other girl, and it failed. Music and I have nothing for each other anymore, aside from a history of affection and an easy comfort. We have memories, and we will always matter to one another, but there just isn't a future there. I should have seen that a long time ago and recognized it for what it is: an adult learning that they aren't necessarily going to stay in love with their high school girl forever. I didn't. I tried to just make a few changes and carry on. And when that wasn't enough, when engineering here was no more pleasurable than it was up north, I pushed my way into producing. Only that didn't help, either. I was digging deeper into a hole I didn't care to live in. Even today...and we did real good today...my only sense of pleasure was in knowing that I didn't feel like a failure. That's where I stand with the music industry, Jasmine. And that's where I stand with you. If I were to stay, to try and start a relationship with you, you can't even imagine what an asshole thing that would be for me to do. It wouldn't be fair to either of us. I don't love you. I love the concept of you. I love having someone in my life that is a part of my history, who offers me those sentimental feelings that most people get from their parents and their siblings. It's a crutch. And I'm sorry."

She nods, but she's crying. A backhanded wipe at her eyes to clear them almost knocks over the wine bottle, and we both jump to catch it.

"I'm going to bed," she says. I nod, say nothing, and just watch her go. Then I pour the rest of the bottle down the sink.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"I fell in love,

on and off,

with the sound of something soft.

"They left it hanging

on a cross.

I let it down, and brushed it off."

Teddy Fields's voice comes out of the speakers, hushed and reverent, over a barely-there bassline and a fingerpicked acoustic guitar. That's right. I got him to put an acoustic guitar on one of his songs. It was what the song needed, and nobody complained when they heard the results.

Actually, I'm feeling very optimistic about this record. I think Teddy has more than just a shot at breaking through with it. I think he could end up with quite the lucrative future on his hands. And I think he knows it. The more songs we managed to finish, the more willing to take direction he became. He even requested my thoughts a few times, near the end. And he wrote this song overnight before the last session, insisting that we take the time to cut it. It's an affectionate track, a tender declaration of love for nothing more than the idea of sound. I love it. Maybe it's my favorite.

I wish I could say that we got the record done on time, but it took us one day extra to catch back up. That's not a huge deal...making records is a lot like redoing a bathroom: you kind of assume it's going to cost five to ten percent more than the quote. Still, it's a little black mark on my very small resume as a producer, and if I were intending to continue down that road it would be concerning to me.

As things stand, I frankly don't give a shit.

Right now I'm sitting in Studio C, alone, listening to the final playback before signing off. The last two days have been spent with Brian, touching up the mixes and making final adjustments. Teddy and Brooke came by on the first day, but they seemed bored and they didn't come back. Oh, and I finally met John Kennedy. He came in with them. The son of a bitch is damn near slender. Where that "fat Cajun after a few drinks in him" slur comes from, I'll never know. I'm supposed to e-mail John a copy of the mixes as finished, and the band will see if they want anything changed. I don't think they will...and if they do, it will have to be someone else who does it. I'm out of here.

The new song, 'Mistakes,' is the last track on the album as sequenced. As soon as the last note rings out, I'm taking off. I close my eyes and listen to the last verse.

"I fell in love,

through and through.

It looked the same, but it felt brand new."

The instrumentation ends with the last word...no outro...and it all just rings for a moment before fading to black. And just like that, the adventure is over.

Bennie Rich is standing in the hallway when I open the door. I jerk a little in surprise, and he winks at me and smiles.

"I didn't want to interrupt anything," he says. "I kinda imagine that this was a moment for you. Unless you've changed your mind."

"I haven't."

He nods. "Fair enough. Do you know where you'll go?"

"Minneapolis, for now. There's a behind-the-boards opening at a public radio station up there. And anyway, I have a friend up there, and I'd really like the chance to hear his story."

"Mixing board work doesn't sound like much of a change, Jake."

"It's enough for a start. And once I'm settled I can look into education possibilities, or whatever. I think I'd like to learn a new trade."

"College." Bennie's smile widens. "You think you'll be able to afford it?"

I think about the record I just heard. The record that will be hitting shelves in four or five months. "Yeah. Definitely."

"Good." He seems uncomfortable. "Listen. Jake. If you need a recommendation or whatever..."

"Sure, Bennie. I'll let you know."

He nods, still looking like he has something to say.

I take pity on him. "I should get going."

"Sure." He holds out his hand, and I take it. "Jake, I'm glad you came back."

I have to think about it for a moment, but I finally am able to say, "Me, too."

-

Jasmine's already moved out, but I'm not surprised to see her sitting on the steps when I pull up. After that last big talk, she couldn't get out fast enough. I'm sure being around me was upsetting her. Still, she was gracious enough to offer to pay one additional month's rent for me if I needed it, and she's called to see how the recording was going more than a few times. I'm glad that I won't need that rent money.

"Hey," she smiles at me as I approach. It's a genuine smile, the kind you give to close friends and rarely seen cousins. That pleases me.

"Hey yourself." I wave at the front door. "I'd invite you in, but there's nothing in there."

"Yeah, I looked in the window. I almost wondered if you'd left early, decided to skip out on me."

I shake my head. "I wouldn't do that. Most of what I'm taking's in my car. The rest is donated or tossed. All except for this." I hold up the bottle of wine in my hand.

"I see that. Are we going to have a glass?"

"I promised, didn't I?"

So we sit on the steps with our red plastic cups, sipping our wine and not saying very much. It's a good feeling.

"Jasmine," I say when I'm finished. "Would you be my sister?"

She gives me an amused look, one eyebrow up. "If it were anybody else but you, Jake, I'd point out how gross that is." She sighs. "But, yes. I'll be your sister." And then she turns and points at me. "But only if you'll be my brother, and you'll keep in touch and let me know how life is. Send me Christmas cards, call me once in a while, stuff like that."

I nod. "Absolutely."

She smiles. "It's good to have family, Jake. I'll be happy to be yours."

"Good. So, Sis, how's your new apartment?"

"Not as gross as the old one, and a little bit bigger, too. Nobody pees in the sink."

"You knew!" I stare at her, and she laughs.

"I thought I might look into nursing."

"Really?" I smile. "Changing your mind about those people?"

She finishes the last of her wine. "Maybe. Or maybe it was all an excuse to explain why I gave up on my dream. So I didn't have to admit that I quit because it got too hard."

"Hmm."

The wine's gone and the conversation is slow, so we stand and hug. Jasmine looks up at the sky, shading her eyes with her hand. "Day's half over. You sure you're ready to start the drive?"

"Oh, I've got miles and miles to go. Postponing it won't help a thing. And you know how I feel about night driving."

"I suppose. What will you do?"

"Have a few choice words with the moon."

She shakes her head. "Someday you'll have to explain that to me. Still, it seems like such a long drive."

"Yeah," I admit. "It is. I wish I could go by train."

"By train? Why?"

I squint over at her. "Didn't Grandpa Cooper ever tell you about the trains?"

She shakes her head. "I must have missed that one."

I clap my hands together. "I can tell you all about them, if you want. I don't really have a schedule to fall behind, and I like talking with you."

She looks over at me, but she only nods.

Because she wants to hear it.

Because she believes me.