From beside me, Syd dumps his bass in his stand as if he doesn’t have a care in the world before twisting off the top to another beer. Taking a long pull, his eyes lift in dare for an objection from me. Surprisingly, he hasn’t once lost rhythm, so I don’t bother with one. He’s not the problem.
“Let’s take five,” I snap, harsher than I intend, glancing back at LL. He stares back at me with muted contempt. He must know full well it’s his continuous fuckups holding us all back from mastering the song.
“Five, seriously?” LL prods, eyeing the clock perched above the glass partition in Dad’s studio, his British lilt punctuating his disdain. “We’ve been at this shite for nine fucking hours, mate.”
Walking over, I hop onto an old amp and rip the clock off the wall before tossing it on the floor and driving my boot through it. “It takes as long as it fucking takes.” Dad pops out of his chair as I stalk toward the door. Hot on my heels, I take a few steps onto the cobblestone pathway before reeling on him. “You don’t have to say it. I already know.”
“So, he’s off today. One day, East. Just give him time to regroup.”
Dad reaches me in a single stride before lifting my bandaged fingers. “You’re fucking bleeding on your own Strat. It’s time to take a breather. You’re wringing them and yourself dry.”
“He can do this. He’s better than he’s playing.”
“He knows it, and it’s only pissing him off. Just let him even himself out.”
I fist my hair and let out a harsh exhale, and Dad smirks. “You’re placing too much importance on the wrong shit. Your collective sound is tight, East, damn near seamless, so give them a little fucking grace.”
“Dad, you can’t intervene.”
Cigarette dangling between his lips, lighter ready, he pins me with his stare. “Don’t go there. I haven’t said a single word inside that room without you instigating my involvement.”
“You ever stop to think you’re the one making them nervous?”
He scoffs as he lights his cigarette, exhaling as he speaks. “Professionals they may be, not one of them can exchange instruments on a whim and play with expertise the way you can. Thank fuck they don’t know it yet, either. It’ll only humiliate them, but the more you point out, the more they’re catching on.”
“All right,” I snap, feeling the adrenaline coursing through me start to wane. I’m drained. We’re all drained. We’ve been busting our asses for a solid month to get our sound together. We’ve only got a few days before we hit the road, and we aren’t where I want us to be. The fact that we’ve only had weeks to play together is my fault because of my indecision on releasing. To their credit, they’ve been practicing their parts solo while on standby in case I decided to pull the trigger.
Now that there’s gunpowder on my hands, I feel the pressure mounting daily.
“You have time,” Dad reads my thoughts, offering assurance. “We weren’t nearly as strong the entirety of our first tour.”
“I hear you,” I reiterate, as he takes a long drag from his cigarette and shakes his head incredulously.
“No, you don’t, and the fact that you think it’s me they’re intimidated by is laughable.” He blows out a steady stream of smoke. “Truth of the matter is, they weren’t at all prepared for you. Think about your ask, son. You’re demanding they master a song with different time signatures that starts in four-four, shifts to three-four, and then occasionally measures down. Then there’s the change in the chorus. A song they were only vaguely familiar with before today. That’s the equivalent of handing a fucking four-year-old their first violin and the sheet music for Mozart on day one.”
Reading my expression, a prideful grin lifts his lips. “I don’t know whether to love or hate it that you still don’t believe me, but that,” he jabs a thumb over his shoulder, “what’s happening in there has got nothing to do with me.”
He tosses his cigarette and stomps it out before stepping up to me. “You can’t let frustration and anger take over, or you might as well hang it up now. Whether you like it or not—and for the first time in your life—you have a band, and you’ll have to learn how to play well with others. Stop being so selfish with your demands and recognize your own talent is one in a billion. You know all too well how to bounce off other musicians because you’ve played with some of the best.”