I Always Will

Row, Three Months Later

I've never officially recorded music anywhere but LA. In my father's basement where Strut cut our demo's and the studio where Strut's one and only album was laid down. That place was entirely white and black with fluorescent lighting and completely computerized. The engineer's room reminded me of a space ship.

I had no idea how to make a record. I didn't have to. I had a famous father, a famous A&R guy, a famous producer. Probably even the sound engineers were famous, only I didn't know because I was young and stupid and I didn't take the time to know. All I knew then, was how to write songs, play the guitar, sing, and act like a general bad-ass. Strut strutted into the studio, did our thing, took some direction, made some adjustments, and let the suits worry about the shit we didn't care about. My dadager, our A&R guy Mason Moran, our producer Zeke Solomon, and our actual manager Riley handled everything else.

It's so different this time. It's not just the songs, its the sound that's on me. This time it's a collaboration, not a learning experience. Riley and I have spent two months experimenting in Trace's basement, not just songwriting, but finding the rough shape of our sound. Once, Riley and I both were in bands with huge sounds—lots of synthesizers and electrics and full drum kits. I think we both thought our two guitar system was only the skeleton of our sound. We tried out arrangements with a full band sound—guitars, bass, keys, full kit.

After a couple of weeks of serious conversation and deep experimentation, with Adam and Mac and Bodie often spending a few days to help out, we've decided less is really more, for us. Our music is about the beautiful and interesting tension in our harmonies. It's a challenge for us to get the most rhythm and heat out of a couple of guitars and some keys and a five drum set-up. Only about a third of the uptempo songs will have either a bass line or a electric guitar and more depth in the kit.

At least, that's the way our five song demo tape turned out. And it turned out pretty good, if I say so myself. Good enough to snag us Charlie Quetzl, a producer that's very much in demand in Nashville and in Muscle Shoals. He rearranged his entire schedule to produce our album. He pulled strings to get us recording time at the famous Muscle Shoals Studios, which we're pulling up to now for our first recording day.

The parking lot is surprising full of six-figure sports cars.

"Wow, how many studios do they have and who else is recording today?" I ask.

"Yeah, about that," Riley scratches his five o'clock shadow. "You know how you asked your BFF Bodie to lay down the drum tracks, and I asked Adam if he wouldn't mind giving us a hand on a few songs to cut down on costs? Well, I just got word this morning that...apparently...there was some unspoken assumption there...and...well...you see..."

"The entire rest of Soundcrush took that as open invitation to come hang while we record." I murmur.

"Pretty much. I think they are only planning to stay a week."

"A week!" I gasp. "Trace and Leed?" Of course I expected Mac might come with Adam, but I had no idea that the two Titans of Soundcrush were coming to play Lord Overseers of our album.

He turns the ignition off in Trace's truck and carefully turns in the seat. "I'll send them away. Just say the word, if you think they'll be distracting. I have no problem with that."

I look at my handsome husband. (Yes, I know Marley says we aren't supposed to think like that but my parents aren't married and they call each other husband and wife and he's my husband in every way that matters to me, and I've never been good at following anyone's rules, not even my marriage counselor's.) My husband is quite serious right now. Five people in that studio have meant everything to him for the last eight years, and I'm not sure he truly knows how important he is to them. Every single one of them wants to be here, standing side stage as Riley becomes the man he was born to be.