Collaboration || Dan Smith

Two.

𝙈𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮
-𝗛𝗼𝘇𝗶𝗲𝗿

~ July 3rd 2018 ~

   Me and Maisie show the song so far to Mark Crew, Bastille's producer. We even play him what we think the instrumental should sound like. I guess by the unimpressed look on his face I don't think he likes it much. "I mean..." — his voice trails off — "it sounds like my boy wrote it. What the fuck are you two on?" With that Maisie tilts her head back and looks up at the ceiling while she now paces back and fourth.  

   "Wait don't tell me what you're on. I'm going to be very fucking jealous." Mark then laughs at his own joke. It's a sarcastic laugh...a laugh which sounds vaguely pissed off.

"Mate" — I say in a stern voice — "we're tired. We haven't had a break since fuck knows when. What's so wrong about the lyrics anyway? They're fine..." I know the lyrics aren't 'fine' but their Maisie's and I feel like as a boyfriend I need to protect her work from Mark. He doesn't know much about pop world...not Maisie's type of pop.

   The rhyming kind.

"Man..." Mark whispers while Maisie is in the background looking completely stressed and overworked. She doesn't need this, neither do I to be honest. "They make no sense for starters. They're not risky. They don't have any meaning and I swear down they're rhyming...right?" I knew he was going to say that. "To make matters even more worse...they're not even Bastille lyrics." I close my eyes and take it in. It's the only thing I can do, he has good ears for music...he's been in the industry longer than me.

   Sometimes Mark pointing out the obvious can be an advantage as well as a disadvantage.

"Bastille needs a change. Man, look at Happier! The people supporting us are still going fucking insane over it." I know that I've got a point. I know I have. "People might like it, but your fans want new shit. New Bastille shit." With that Maisie then walks up to us. Before I can say anything supportive or reassuring about our song she squeezes in between me and Mark and hovers over the desk after grabbing the mouse.

   "What are you doing?" I ask, but Maisie totally blanks me. I watch as she opens up one of her many folders. Since Maisie has signed onto our record label, Best Laid Plans, she's been using the studio for her own musical purposes when the Bastille lot don't. "Maze?" Mark says sounding pretty confused.

   "Listen to this. Read the lyrics. Take this depressing song." With that she then clicks play before slamming her lyric book into my chest. Why is she pissed off with me?

I'm trying my best for Mark to get our song green lighted. I'm proud of it, even if it's the least Bastille sounding song in the world. In fact I've never tried harder to make Mark see eye-to-eye with me on anything...but I am bloody well trying now. "Maze!" I shout as Maisie storms out of the main studio bit.

Mark turns her dainty voice off, which boomed out of the large speakers hanging on the wall. I proceed to quickly follow her through the long hall with all of the label's bands plaques and awards hanging up either side. "Quit following me!" She doesn't even turn around. I guess I'm a predictable person? I mean...we've been through situations like this before. Maybe she remembers that I'll always chase after her...I can't afford to let her go. She's too different from my other so-called 'loves'.

   "I'm going to green light it!" — I randomly shout after stopping a few meters away from her — "I'm going to work on the lyrics and we'll record it next week. Fuck him or anyone else who tells us it's not a Bastille song." It's because the song isn't depressing, hence that it's likely it won't hold any meaning to Bastille fans. Even in the happiest of songs there's always cynical lyrics...or something to dampen the mood because that's life. A totally fucking shit show. Something lonely teenagers can relate to. "Really?" Maisie turns her head around as she stops dead in her tracks.

   I crack a reassuring smile. "Fuck yeah. I'm my own boss...and I give us permission to do whatever the fuck we want with our musical skills." I hate to be that dickhead that screams 'yolo' after attempting something reckless...but...I'm also that dickhead who needs self motivation. "That's awesome..." now she doesn't seem that pleased.

   I can't win with Maisie.

"Yeah." My voice trails off as we awkwardly gaze into each other's eyes in this uncomfortable silence. I then look behind her at the front door, only because I don't want her to go. "Wait...did you follow me because you thought I was leaving?" Maisie sweetly smiles while she points backwards to the door. I mean...yeah. I'm not a clingy guy or anything. I just want to make the love of my life happy...not that I've said 'love you' aloud yet or anything. "Where are you going then?" With that Maisie, still with a pretty smile, points to the bathroom. "Ohh..." my voice trails off as Maisie nods her head.

"I better..." I point behind me. With that Maisie nods her head again. "Yeah, you better go and tell Mark who's boss..." I mean me, Mark and Dan Priddy are all 'boss' technically. I guess this place is more Mark's...even though I put a lot of time and investment in to it.

   "As if." I laugh while Maisie rolls her eyes and backs into the bathroom. She looks pissed off but I'm not sure why.

   I think we probably need some space. Being cooped up in the studio all day...everyday isn't the healthiest thing in a newish relationship. I should know that by now.

   Maybe I need to book a holiday and just get out of England in general? Me and Maisie...doing something fun and something that isn't productive. Yeah, I might actually. Mark is going to hate me...but I don't give a fuck at the end of the day. This is my life. Not Mark's or Virgin Records...but it's mine.

   I'm going to book a holiday...