Canyon Moon: The Making of the 2019 Album, Fine Line {H.S}

We'll Be Alright

June 27th

{ANNIE}

"I'm hopeless, broken. So you wait for me in the-Ah, fuck." Harry murmurs while he strums his guitar. "That chord isn't right, is it?" He's spent the last few days working on a new song that, apparently, he 'can't get quite right' in his words.

"How about this?" I ask, subsequently playing a chord that fits into place on the piano in front of me. It's been a week since Tommy and Adam's wedding and since then, I've made it my mission to keep working on my music along side Harry's, which is what I'm trying to do now. But, like I've always struggled with, the lyrics aren't coming as quickly as the music is. So instead, I'm procrastinating by helping Harry.

"Yeah that's better." He says, playing the chord on his guitar.

"Play me what you have so far?" I ask.

"I could, but then I'd be distracting you." He says with a wink. "Besides, I couldn't if I wanted to. It's all over the place right now."

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours." I attempt to urge, even though, like Harry, I have practically nothing. All that's written in my notebook is scatterbrained ideas for a song I wasn't even sure made sense yet. The only thing I'm sure about it the end, which is ironically, the part that doesn't have any lyrics.

"Fine, I'll bite." He smirks. "Whatcha got so far?" He stands up from his spot on my couch and slides next to me on the piano bench.

"Not a lot. I have a basic melody for an instrumental break at the end, but that's about it. I know what I want it to sound like, though."

I begin the first few notes, then continue to describe my vision. "It doesn't sound like much, but I'm picturing a lot of noise. Trumpets, snare drums, vocals, and heavy drums, like pretty much everything." I plunk away at the piano, hoping Harry can see what I see. The piano doesn't truly capture everything I want it to be, but I'm praying Harry's ear for music is similar to mine.

As I finish the melody, I look up to Harry, who's smirk has grown into a full blown grin. "That's brilliant, Annie."

"Hardly." I blush. "It doesn't even have any lyrics."

"What's this then?" He says, pointing to a few phrases I have scribbled in my notebook.

"I don't know. Just some words that came to mind."

He grabs the notebook and my pen, circling and adding a few phrases and words, stringing them together effortlessly. This is what he's so talented at. Words are his strong suit and he knows how to use them better than anyone I know.

"Can you play that end part again?" He asks, and I do so. Over top of my melody, he sings two of the phrases.

"We'll be a fine line. We'll be alright."

It fits like a glove. His voice over my music sounds like it was meant to go together forever. This partnership we've created making this album is a match made in musical heaven and it would be a mistake not to use it to our advantage. Just in the matter of a few minutes, he's managed to take my musical ramblings and make them into something that makes sense.

"How do you do that?" I ask in astonishment.

"Do what?" He asks.

"That." I respond, pouting at my notebook and the words he scribbled in. "I can't do that, not like you can."

"Yes you can." He encourages, nudging my shoulder with his own. "Besides, you have what counts. Anyone can write lyrics, that's the easy part. You have a gift for music, Annie. Not many people have that."