Amy’s eyes finally left Josh’s irritatingly perfect face and moved to look around the room at the rest of us. She let go of his hand before stepping around him and introducing herself to Max, then Kevin, and finally, me.
When she looked up into my eyes, I forgot how to speak. I’d known she was beautiful when she walked through the door but seeing her up close was something else entirely. She was a tiny little thing, standing at five foot three, with big, brown eyes and long dusty pink hair that was pulled into a high ponytail.
“Eric,” I blurted. “I’m Eric.”
“Nice to meet you, Eric,” she said, smiling. Goddamn, that smile. It was wide and striking and made a few lines form at the corners of her eyes. She had a small gap between her teeth that gave her a sense of innocence that intrigued me.
We invited her to sit and look over the songs Josh had brought in, and she went right to work, a crease forming between her brows as she studied the lyrics and flipped through the pages.
“Alright, feel free to tell me to fuck off,” she said, crossing one leg over the other and flipping back to the second page. “I think this one is incredible, but I think we could take it to another level if we turn it into a duet. There are two sides to every breakup, right? So, we take your side here,” she pointed to the first verse. “But I write a second verse. Make it about the fact that you’re going through some shit, but so am I. Thechorus and bridge will still work as you have them.” She looked up at Josh like she was waiting for him to tell her to go to hell, but he looked—interested.
“Let’s try it,” he said. “Whatcha got?”
“Well, off the top of my head…” she trailed off, studying Josh’s words and chewing on her thumbnail for a bit. “What about something like this?” She sang the words like she’d been carrying them in her head for years instead of minutes.
“Holy shit,” I said. Apparently out loud. Everyone turned to me, and I swallowed nervously. “Sorry, I can’t believe you just…did that. Pulled those lyrics and melody out of thin air.” Her cheeks turned pink, and she bit her lip.
“That melody is beautiful,” Josh said, moving to the edge of his seat. “Let me see that.” He motioned for her to hand him the notebook and she did. He placed it on the table and pulled the pen from behind his ear, scratching words out and writing new ones that fit better with the melody she presented.
With the timing in my head, I walked out of the lounge, into the tracking room, and over to the kit the studio provided and started messing around with a beat, Max and Kevin following soon after with their guitars.
This was my favorite part of songwriting—laying down the foundation to carry the words. Experimenting with different patterns and dropouts until we found what worked.
An hour later, we had something we were all on board with, so Josh fired up his laptop, opened Pro Tools, and hit record. We ran through it a few times, stopping every once in a while to re-write a line or change a chord. Amy’s voice had been incredible on their album, but I think she sounded even better live, and I was amazed that such a big, strong sound came out of such a small person.
“Not that I don’t love all of you,” Amy said, looking at me, Kevin, and Max. “But can we try something different on this next run?”
“What are you thinking?” Josh asked.
“Strip it down,” she said. “All of it. Max, do you have an acoustic here?”
“Yeah, I have my twelve string. I’ll go grab it,” he said, removing his electric from across his shoulders and setting it in one of the stands against the wall.
“Shit,acoustic,” Josh said, the wheels turning in his head. His brow creasing instantly, thinking through the options.
“I can get my brushes,” I said, standing from my kit.
“No,” Amy said. “Iliterallymean strip it. No drums, no bass—nothing but the acoustic.”
Max tuned his guitar and came back into the room a few minutes later, and the three of them went through it once while Kevin and I watched in awe.
Amy had been right—it was good with all of us, but it was a hit without us. Without my drums or Kevin’s bass, the raw emotion in Josh and Amy’s voices shone through. This song should be about the words and pulling it back to an acoustic guitar was the right move.
“Strings,” Josh said as soon as they finished the first acoustic run.
“Fuckyes,” Amy agreed, closing her eyes and moving her hand through the air—as if she could see the instruments in front of her. “Violins and a cello.”
“None of us play those, do you?” Josh asked.
“No, but I can put something together in Pro Tools,” she said. “I’ll go mess around with that and you guys can work on whatever else you have.”
Amy stepped out of the tracking room and slung the giant bag she’d dropped against the wall earlier over her shoulder before disappearing through the door of the control room and down the hall.
“Yo, Eric,” I snapped my eyes to Kevin. Then Max and Josh. They were all staring at me.
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked. They all laughed.
“You’re the deciding vote.”
