“What do you mean?”
“Listen to Native American music—especially the Omaha tribe. It’s all drums and voice. Amazing shit.”
“Okay, but where would that leave the rest of the band?”
“I’m just saying to not discount your abilities, Dani. You’re a hell of a drummer and you’ve taught yourself so much good shit. Youcoulddo an awesome drum solo if you wanted—or you could write the foundation of a song. You just have to free your mind to believe you can.”
Again…holy shit. This was not the Zack any of us knew. But before I could respond, he spoke once more.
“Can I admit something to you guys?”
“Yeah,” Braden said.
Zack blew out a slow breath. “I’m having a harder time composing now that I’m clean and sober. It’s…tougher. I mean, I’m doing it, but it’s like pulling teeth when it used to be like floating down a river.”
Cy asked, “Is that why you’re extending this offer? Because you need our help?”
“No. I know I can figure it out. Now that I’m sober, I’m retraining my brain—I’m creating and strengthening new neural pathways…but it’s a process. It’ll take time. Still, that’s not the point. Are you guys happy just letting me write everything?”
“No.”
Braden and I remained silent—because I didn’t know and I suspected Braden felt the same way.
“Exactly. I’ve been a selfish prick. But this isourband and I want you to feel like you have some say in things.” Cy still looked skeptical as he took a drink from his can of Dr. Pepper. “Tell me why you wanted to leave the band. Be honest.”
“It was because you wouldn’t stop drinking and were just generally trying to kill yourself.”
“So you’re telling me it had nothing to do with not having any control over what the band did?”
Cy frowned but seemed to ponder his answer. “No, you’re right. I guess it did. AR didn’t explicitly tell me I could do any writing for them, but there was always a possibility. And, of course, there was the chance to make some real money—which we’re doing now.”
“But that’s what I mean, man. I want you to have artistic freedom here. We’re in this for the long haul, so we all need to be happy doing it.”
Smiling again, Cy nodded. “I like the sound of that.”
“So give it some thought, guys. You wanna do what Cy calls good old-fashioned rock and roll? Let’s do it. You wannaadd some EDM, throw in some synthesized stuff, play a heavy bassline? I’m all for trying it. You wanna try a little jazz? Let’s go for it. All I’m saying is let’s evolve—but let’s do it together.”
We all enthusiastically agreed.
And then Zack hit us with another surprise. “Cy already knows this, but I have some contractors coming over later today. I’m going to convert the garage into a recording studio. It’ll probably take all the money I have, but it means we’ll have more control over the process and, in the long run, it’ll save some money.”
“No way do you have enough for that.”
“No…but I do make a little more than you guys for the songwriting credits—part of why I think you guys should have more involvement in that. And my mom cosigned a loan with me. I had to write out kind of a business plan, but the bank agreed—between my mom’s signature and my grandpa’s property as collateral—so I say we start working on music now. Once the studio’s ready, I’ll see if Jeff is still down for producing.”
“Have you run any of this shit past the label?” Cy asked.
“No…but we’re stars now. They’re not gonna tell us no.”
It turned out Zack was right.
CHAPTER 19
Convincing the label to let us record in Zack’s studio turned out to be easy. They liked the idea of not having to front so much money for our next album.
The studio would be ready by January and we hoped to be ready to record shortly after that. In the meantime, we hashed out new songs in Zack’s living room, sometimes to the sound of saws and loud guys talking and laughing, hammering, using nail guns, and other unexpected jarring noises—but, once a week, we’d take a peek at the studio to see the progress being made.
So we started practicing at night to make it easier. Once it was dark, the construction guys left for the day, making it more conducive for our work.
