I shoot him an exasperated look. “You know what the definition of insanity is, right?”
He pushes out a throaty laugh. “No, but I get the feeling you’re about to tell me.”
“Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”
He tips his head, amused. “Yeah, well … it’s still not right. Time to make some changes.”
He has no idea how much I know about music—thanks to Mom. He had her for one year in elementary school. Try having her as your mother for life. I know my stuff.
I need to offer some instruction, or we’ll be at this all night. “Okay, here’s what I think?—”
He cuts me off. “The tempo feels rushed. We should slow it down a tad.”
“Yeah, that might help, and you should pause right before the chorus hits. That split second of silence will make the hook hit harder.”
He nods. “Could work.”
“Also, modulate up half a step on the last chorus.”
He blinks. “Oh, so you do know a little something.”
“If you modulate, it’ll lift the ending—make it feel bigger and more emotional.”
He smirks. “I know the trick. It’s pretty common in my field.”
“Well then,” I say, giving him a teasing grin, “maybe we should actually use it.”
“Okay.” He positions his hands on the guitar. Let’s try it.”
Before he starts, I think of one more thing. “Oh—and right at the end of the chorus, you’re hitting the note, but I’m not feeling it.”
He lowers his hands. “What do you mean, not feeling it?”
“It sounds a little flat. Maybe it’s the lyric. You’re going for rhyme over emotion, and it comes off hokey. The line about ‘longing and belonging’—I get what you’re doing, but maybe there’s a stronger way to say it.”
He studies me. “Okay, what do you suggest?”
I pause, considering. “Maybe instead of ‘longing for home and belonging there’ try something like… ‘I’m longing for home to fill the part of me that belongs to the memories of my heart.’ It has more depth.”
He hums the line under his breath and sings the phrase. “I like where you’re going, but it’s too wordy. How about? “I’m longing for home to fill the part my heart remembers.”
“I like it.”
We launch into the song again. The changes do wonders.
When we finish, Axel flashes a wide grin. “Okay, London, that was pretty good.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.” I laugh.
He looks thoughtful. “You know, it would sound even better if you’d harmonize with me on the chorus.”
My eyes widen. “You want me to sing?”
“You clearly know music. Can you sing?”
“I can hold my own.”
“Then let’s hear it. Try harmonizing with me.”
