“You’re fucking joking, right? That’s like the equivalent of what…five albums?”
“Yeah,” he says, glancing over at me for a few lingering seconds.
“How long have you been recording music?”
“Since I was fifteen.”
“So, your band—”
“I don’t have a band,” he mumbles as if he’s embarrassed by it.
“Wait…you play all the instruments yourself?”
He drops his eyes, his voice low. “I grew up playing with professional musicians, so it’s not that big of a deal.”
I give him a hard stare. “Oh, bullshit. Don’t try to humble your way out of this, Easton. You lied to me when you said you weren’t a prodigy.”
“You haven’t even heard it,” he defends.
“I’m suspecting you know exactly how good it is. You do realize that amount of music is considered a lifetime’s worth of work for some musicians, right?”
He scoffs. “Because, if this does well, I can kick back and take it easy, right?” Anxious energy rolls off him as his posture tightens.
“So, when you say you have no choice—”
“I mean it,” he says, glancing over at me. “I can’t sit still for long without playing, listening, writing, being a part of it. I’d be empty without it. I’ve felt that since I was very young. But instead of expecting open doors, I worked my ass off, doing everything I could to pave my own way.”
“How so?”
He remains silent for a stretch before finally speaking.
“When I was nine, we were on vacation in Lake Tahoe at one of my parents’ very wealthy, very affluent friends, and Dad found me washing one of said friend’s boats for cash.”
“Why?”
“Mom had just taken me on a trip to Mexico to visit family, and it was there I recognized the different types of social barriers between people and the mindset it must take to get from one place to the next. It wasn’t the first time I was exposed to the way other people live, but it was there it resonated with me most. That’s when I realized the bars behind the gated community I grew up in were exactly that, bars, no matter how shiny they were. That’s also when I started to resent the separation from the rest of the world. Even feeling that, I also recognized how hard my parents broke their backs to get us behind them, to keep all they had worked for and built together, safe.”
With one hand hung on the wheel, he runs the other down his jeans. “Dad got it. He’s all about work ethic and allowed me to earn cash when I found the opportunity. Sometimes I carried lighter equipment for the crew or cleaned toilets at the studios. I did everything I could to save money for my own studio time. When I was fifteen, he put me on the payroll, making the same wages as everyone else because I was determined to earn my way, like he did.”
“And you don’t think this would endear you to your future fans?”
“Sadly, it would probably be thought of as a ploy, so I don’t ever want them to know.”
Expelling a breath, I shake my head as he glances over at me long and hard.
“I once saw a documentary where John Lennon was speaking to a fan outside his house. It was clear the guy had mental health issues to the point a simple conversation wasn’t going to convince him that John wasn’t his answer. He invited that guy into his home, fed him, and had the best conversation he could while trying to relay that he wasn’t the solution. That’s a scary scenario for people in the limelight. Like how the fuck do you handle that responsibly?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to be responsible for the way people behave, think, or live, or the decisions they make. If anything, the message in my work begs them to think for themselves.” He gives me a sideways glance. “I don’t think you can live a genuine life being inspired by others—everyday lives anyway—but you can be inspired by their creations. There’s a big fucking difference. If some guy wants to propose because of a love song I wrote, great, that’s where it should end. I’m not saying famous people don’t have a responsibility, or if they’re reckless with it and do horrible things, they shouldn’t be called out. They should. But for those who just want to quietly contribute at this point, it’s next to impossible to keep their private lives out of it. Not only that…”
“Don’t you dare stop now,” I warn.
“Seeing my father in a state of utter disarray for months regarding one of his fans changed my perception completely about what I want out of this.”