Page 65 of Lost Lyrics

“Holy shit.” I didn’t need to see the logo on the head to know what brand it was. The classic vintage sunburst acoustic body and long, dark neck with signature mother-of-pearl fretboardinlays screamedGibson.But that was no ordinary guitar. “Is that a Lab ’57?”

“Yep.” Slip spun the guitar around in his hands. “Found it online near our place on Bowen Island. This old guy had it sitting in his garage, collecting dust, for years. He’d never used it and had no idea what it was worth. It had a broken tuning key and bridge and some bad scratches. He had it listed for five hundred dollars. I offered him five grand and he wouldn’t take it. I showed him online what she was worth, and he didn’t believe me. After much negotiation, we settled on three. I still feel bad I got such a bargain.”

“Shit. You got a seven-thousand-dollar guitar for three grand?”

“Actually, this one is probably worth closer to eight-and-a-half. It didn’t take much to restore it. She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

Slip handed me the guitar. I placed it across my lap, struck the strings, and admired his incredible restorative handiwork. “Dude, it looks brand fucking new. And sounds...amazing. Is this my late Christmas present?”

“No fucking way.” He puffed air through his nose and shook his head. “She’s mine.”

“You sure?” In my collection of more than twenty guitars, I had a few Gibsons, electric and acoustic, but I could always add more. I didn’t have a Murphy Lab ’57.

“Yes.” He held out his hand and flapped his fingers. “Give her back.”

I tinkered away on the steel strings, loving the sound and feel. But before I got too attached, I handed her over. “She’s awesome. Can’t wait to see what you create on her.”

“Me too.”

“Alright then.” Cole shuffled forward in his seat and rolled his sticks between his palms. “Let’s write an album. Where do you want to start? Look? Feel? Sound? Anyone got anythingthey want to lay on the table?”

“I do.” I wrung my hands together, cracked my knuckles. The first two albums I’d penned with Phil, then Cole and Slip had joined us to flesh out and compose the music. I’d written our third album with Cole and Slip after Sutton and I had broken up...and then, when Sutton and I had gotten back together. There had been way too much alcohol involved. But I’d loved the process and their input every step of the way. “I want this album to be written like our last one. We’re all together, for every word, every line, every note. Is everyone cool with that?”

Fire ignited in all the guys’ eyes as they nodded.

“I have a million ideas zooming around inside my head.” I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. “I’ve written a bucket-load of new songs and composed some cool music, but I’d also like to do something with Phil’s lyrics. Have you read your notebooks?”

“Sure have.” Cole grabbed the one Tia had given him and flicked through the pages.

“Yep.” Slip tapped his hand on top of his pile of pages and pads.

“I’ve read all of them.” Lewis dipped his chin. “The guy had a way with words.”

“He certainly did.” I remembered how we fed off each other, coming up with lines, stories, and rhymes, trying to outdo each other, creating song after song. Phil was truly talented. His lyrics were incredible. I didn’t want them to go to waste. “I’d love to swap each notebook around and we can read each one, tagging the songs we like ...like this.” I pulled mine off the coffee table and showed them the colored Post-it notes sticking out the top. “Green is awesome.”There were three.“Blue is ‘I can work with it.’”Four of them.“We see which ones we agree on and turn those into something.”

“So you want this album to be Phil’s work?” Concern drilledinto Slip’s brow. “I’m not sure about that. I want to write new music. This is a fresh start for all of us. I don’t want to look back.”

Cole closed his book and placed it on the table. “I don’t think the album should consist entirely of his stuff. But there are some really good lyrics in my notebook. Raw shit that hits hard, that I know we’ll turn into phenomenal songs. A mix of old and new would be good. Does that work for everyone?”

“I’m not making any promises about using Phil’s songs.” Slip ruffled his hands through the back of his hair. I understood his hesitation about not wanting to write an album of depressing songs or using all of Phil’s words. He shrugged, not totally killing the idea. “Like always, we’ll see how things unfold as we write.”

“I’m cool with that.” Cole nodded and scratched his scruffy cheek. “I’ll mark up my book tonight and have it ready to swap tomorrow.”

“Awesome, and yes, I’d like a mix, too.” I skimmed through a few of the pages in Phil’s notebook. There was some great stuff in there. I couldn’t wait to work on the music for several of these songs. “We’ve come so far, but I don’t ever want to lose sight of where we came from. I don’t want to dwell on losing Phil anymore. The aim is to honor and remember him in a positive way. To not let these lyrics go to waste. I’m so grateful for where we are, what we have, and what we’ve achieved. I’m excited about the years ahead.” I closed the book and held it against my chest. “Our last album was about breakups and falling in and out of love. This album is about us...what we’ve lost, what we’ve found, and our friendship that has stood the test of time. I want it to be full of good vibes. We’re gonna write some incredible rock songs and legendary music.”

“Ooh.” Lewis clicked his fingers. “We could give the album a working title ofLost and Found? I kinda like that.”

“Yeah. Me too.” I bobbed my head.

“That works.” Cole picked up a drumstick and twirled it around his fingers. He was super chilled most of the time, but always fidgeted with something.

Slip rubbed his forehead. Too much worry had embedded there. I didn’t want to see any. “Fine. But if we go down the path of using some of Phil’s material, I don’t want to focus on losing him or the darkness. Most of the lyrics in my notebook are depressing and painful. Most of them were written just before he died. I’m happy to honor Phil—you know that. He was my best friend. But anything we use has to be fun and positive. A song or two is fine. If we find more, we can always record them and keep them in mind for future albums. We’ve turned our lives around in the past couple years. All for the better. I want to look forward, not backward. I have a new fire burning inside me. Fresh rhythms and tunes are hammering my head. The break has given me a new lease on life. Let’s make this a fun album.”

“Absolutely.” I clapped my hands together, then held up one finger. “But...with a couple love ballads and heart-breaking tracks thrown in.”

“If they weren’t our bestselling songs, I’d beat that crap out of you.” Cole shook his head, but his eyes glinted. “I’d prefer upbeat party tracks. Much better for drumming.”

“That is true...but our bestselling hits have been the emotional ones.” I counted on my fingers. “Angst-filled love, being hot for a girl, sexy innuendo, and crushing heartbreak sells.”

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