Sweet Thing (Sweet Thing #1)

When I got to the studio, Will greeted me with enthusiasm. He had already completed two songs and just needed the piano track for the third to complete his demo. He was including my song, which he named “Pray,” along with “All Fine” and finally the song “Polarize” that I would be working on.

“Hey, baby,” he said, kissing me on the cheek. He quickly grabbed my hand and led me through the studio and past a few people sitting at on a couch in the lobby area. “This is Mia, everyone!” he shouted and then pulled me through a door and motioned for me to sit down at the mixing console. Frank was there and another man who I assumed was the engineer. “Mia, this is Jeff. Jeff, Mia.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking his hand. I looked up at Frank and smiled. He winked back at me but remained quiet in the corner. I directed my attention to Will, who was all business, moving the dials and pressing buttons. I could barely wrap my head around what he was doing.

“Listen, you have hear this and tell me what you think,” he said. It was my song playing and it sounded better than I could have possibly imagined it. As Will’s vocal began to rise in the second verse, I got chills; goose bumps covered my body. He held each note so long and steady and controlled; I couldn’t think of any way to make the song better.

He looked at me sharply while I listened and then he said, “What do you think? Too much on the low end?” The look on his face was intensely serious.

“No way! It’s perfect. That depth makes the song,” I said.

“Yeah, I agree.” He worked at the board like every dial was a string on his guitar. I was astonished. Jeff the engineer literally did nothing; he was leaning back in his chair with his feet propped on a table. I’m pretty sure I saw dollar signs on Frank’s eyeballs as he shot me the most self-satisfied smile I had ever seen. Will was a perfectionist and there was no doubt that he was in his element in the studio.

“Let’s do this, then,” he said while flipping a couple of switches. He stood up, reached for my hand, and led me into the soundproof room where I sat down at a gorgeous Yamaha grand piano. He spoke to Jeff through the window. “Okay, we’re gonna go, start to finish, one take, and then we’re outta here.”

“What? Will, what do you mean?”

“You know the song, Mia, we’ve played it hundred times. The room is already miked for it. I want to do piano, guitar, and vocal… organically, like this… together.” He paused and assessed my look, which must have been pure fear. “We’ve got this, you and me, remember… mystical alchemy.” And then he winked, grabbed his guitar, and took a seat in front of the microphone. I shook my head frantically, but he just shot me an arrogant smile and said, “It’s a recording studio, they’ll let us have another take if we need it, but I have a feeling we won’t.”

And we didn’t. The acoustics in the room were magical. Will was right; recording the song that way gave it more identity. After we finished our take, he went to the mixing console and started the playback. He was ranting to Jeff about push-ins and drum tracks, so I decided I should get out of his way.

I put my arm around his shoulder and said, “I’m gonna get outta here unless you need me?”

“Yes! I need you. Why, where do you have to be?”

“Nowhere. I just don’t want to get in your way.”

“You are never in my way. I want you here; you’re the only one who knows the sound I’m going for.”

I was so incredibly flattered that Will felt that way. I stayed the entire day and into the night working with him to tweak each song. It took him several hours to perfect the drum track on “Polarize.” I didn’t even know Will could play the drums before that day, but he was competent enough at it that he was able to achieve the sound he wanted. When Frank and Jeff left, Will put some final touches on the last song and we listened to the completed demo tape all the way through. He was leaning back in a big leather chair. When I walked over to sit at the console he pulled me onto his lap. I leaned against him, resting the back of my head on his shoulder as we listened to music we’d created.

On the subway ride home, he seemed truly at peace and satisfied with his work that day. He thanked me over and over and I just kept thanking him back; I told him it was one of the best days I’d had in a long time. When we got home we took turns in the shower and then went to our rooms. Will yelled at me from his bed, “Night, pretty baby!”