Page 37 of Shame Me
“That’s all I asked for.” Braden rested his bass in the case and walked out of the room—but I wondered if he’d really needed to pee or if he just needed to get away from our frontman for a minute.
Although I didn’t need the bathroom, I wanted to fill up my water bottle. Zack went into the control room to talk to Jeff, but Cy stayed behind, doing something with his guitar. After a few seconds, though, he emerged into the hallway where I was.
I didn’t know if Cy was feeling as stressed as Braden or I were, and I didn’t want to ask—so I decided to keep the conversation fairly neutral while asking a question I’d been dying to. “You know millions of people are gonna hear this album.”
“That might make this bullshit worth it.”
Ah…so the tensionwasgetting to him too. I wasn’t sure how to ask, so I just blurted it out, knowing Cy didn’t mind directness. Remembering his nerves at our first few gigs and even more recently, I asked, “Will you be okay performing in front of thousands of people?”
“Yeah. I’ve gotten used to it.”
I thought back over the last month of concerts and realized he had. Once he got under the spotlights, it was almost as if someone else took over—and maybe that was how he did it. “You’re a great performer, Cy—and I’m glad you’re in the band.”
“Thanks. You too.” After I took a sip of water, he said, “Having so many hot girls in the audience kinda helped me get my shit together.”
I nearly spat out the water in my mouth because, out of everything I’d expected him to say, that hadn’t been it. Although I tried not to get sucked into our social media platforms, Ididknow that a lot of females said they loved Cy because of his “hot” looks and “broody” nature.
Theirwords, not mine.
Even though I could see how good looking he was, I only had eyes for one guy…even while that guy was pissing me off beyond belief.
“Guess we better get back in there.”
“Yeah. At least we’re not getting waterboarded.”
Braden exited the bathroom and walked in the recording room behind us. I said to Cy, “Part of me might be willing to try that over this.” A couple of the songs I’d already grown tired of playing—and while I only had to play each a few times in the studio, I might have to play them hundreds of times on the road.
And what if one of our singles became an all-time fan favorite and it just so happened to be one of the songs I didn’t like?
I’d have to play it thousands of times over the course of decades.
Why did I hate playing those songs so much? Overall, I liked them. But then I realized—they were songs I’d learned early on, and the beats weren’tmine. Although it was fun to copy other artists from time to time, I realized as I made my way to my drum kit that I’d been developing my own style this whole time.
And I’d grown to hate the earlier because of it—because they weren’tme.
Settling in, I knewexactlyhow I was going to play. Jeff, from the control booth, said, “Okay. One more time for ‘Get Out of My Way’.”
This time, I closed my eyes and let the clicks fade into the background. I kept the rhythm, letting it flood my heart and soul, allowing the music to take over my emotions, because I had decided that this song and I were going to love each other, and I would find a way to do it.
After the first verse and chorus, the inspiration took hold. At the time, I didn’t have words for what I was doing; all I knew was that my drumming could be more artistic, more creative—and by doing that, it could elevate this song to a whole new level. What I was doing was something calledsyncopation, which was basically my way of taking us off the beaten path. It made me excited about drumming in a way I’d never felt before. At first, it was subtle—just a little during the second verse and chorus and, during the guitar solo, I kept a regular beat, except I was double thumping the bass instead of giving it the usual one. By the end, I was adding in fills where they didn’t belong.
Well…after that take, I thought they did.
I was even smiling when we finished. I looked at Jeff to see what he thought but Zack said, “What the hell was that shit, Dani?”
“I was improvising. This song’s beat is kinda boring, and I wanted to shake it up.”
“We’re on the clock here. Time is money and that shit’s eating it up.”
I couldn’t help myself and I jumped up off my stool. “That’s easy for you to say. However we record it today is the way fans will expect to hear me play it from now till the end of time—and if I can’t make this song mine, I don’t want to fucking play it ever again!”
Zack’s volume didn’t match mine. In fact, he dropped his voice as he closed the gap, his guitar still hanging from his shoulders. “I wrote the goddamn thing, so I’d appreciate if you played it the way I wrote it.”
I could argue…or I could prove my point. And that was exactly what I intended to do. “Fine.” I sat back down on my stool, my teeth clenched.
Zack returned to his spot and, in the mic said, “Again.”
I couldn’t read Jeff’s expression through the glass. “Whatever you say.”
