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A Helping Hand

03

The next morning, Indy entered the studio, coffee in hand, surprised when she saw Matt working with her father on one of the computers. She had expected Mudrock to be in early, mastering some of the tracks they had done so far, but seeing Matt was more confusing.

“Morning boys,” she greeted, placing her bag and guitar with her other 3 guitars against the wall. Today, she had remembered to bring in one of her acoustics, just in case it was needed.

“Good morning, Indy,” her father said, quickly looking at his daughter, smiling warmly before he returned to the computer screen, completely absorbed in his work. She couldn’t blame her old man, knowing it was his passion, and he would do anything to help these boys. She gave his shoulder a quick squeeze as she went past him.

“Hey,” Matt greeted, nodding his hello. He had come in to start warming up his vocal cords, the process taking longer than he would like, ready to start the day once his fellow band mates joined him. He, too, was surprised to see Indy come in so early, not expecting her until 9:00am, their designated starting time.

“You’re here early,” she commented, unpacking her bag to retrieve her phone, always comfortable with it on her person. It’s not that she had trust issues, but it had become part of her routine, and she’d be damned if she stopped it now.

“Vocal warm ups. Why are you here so early?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He could sense that she was anxious about today and how everyone would react and cope with her presence. He felt sorry for her, and hoped that everything would go down smoothly.

“I came in to listen to the stuff you’ve tracked already to see where this album is heading,” she explained, finding her headphones in her bag, ready to plug them in so she could do just that. “After listening to your two albums last night and this morning, I figure this one is going to be different yet again.”

Matt couldn’t help but laugh, loving that she was perceptive enough to pick up on their change album from album, and that she predicted that they would change yet again. His fears and doubts all but dissipated once he realised that she was a true musician, knowing that playing wasn’t all there is to music.

“Spot on, kid. Why don’t you listen and see for yourself?” he suggested, pointing to one of the computers near the rack of guitars. She smiled at him, silently thanking him for his help and moved to the computer. He smiled back, his attention moving from Indy, back to Mudrock who was looking over some rough lyrics he had penned a few days ago.

Indy turned the computer on, plugging in her headphones into the audio jack, waiting patiently as the machine kicked into gear. So far, she had analysed the guitars in the music she had heard from the band, noting the typical features of their songs, the tone of the guitars and the techniques they used to play. She had come to the conclusion that it would be a test of her ability, playing to the speeds they set, not only basic rhythmic chordal progressions and backing, but also playing the harmonized solos that helped create their unique sound.

In the back of her mind, she doubted that she was skilled enough to keep up, let alone learn Zacky’s style and play on par with Brian’s lead work.

She snapped out of her daze, noticing the computer was now ready for her to search and listen to the tracked material. Finding their folder wasn’t hard, but deciphering the set out was more than she expected. There were snippets here, full tracks there, and singular instrument recordings mixed in. Her OCD side kicked in, and as she listened through each file, she sorted them, making a subfolder for each instrument, a folder for full tracks and another folder for tracks that needed more mastering. Her father was going to kill her, but it would help in the long run.

The samples she listened to surprised her once again, the band changing from their metal-core, heavy starting to a hard, classic rock vibe, and she immediately noticed the absence of any screaming on the vocal tracks so far. She admired the band for doing what they wanted; growing musically regardless of what their previous albums consisted of. She loved it.

Once more, she carefully listened primarily for the rhythm guitar to figure out the style she needed to adapt, mostly forgoing the previous style. After a few solid listens, she decided to grab her guitar and play along, figuring out the parts to a song titled ‘Beast and the Harlot’. It had chords, solos and little filler parts that she needed to understand to grasp the style, and she dubbed it completed, so it was a perfect choice.

She spun in her chair, remembering to take of her headphones as to not be pulled back once rising from the seat, and was once again surprised, seeing both Brian and Zacky sitting on the couch, observing those around them. She hadn’t realised anyone else had come in, regardless of the two guitarist she would question in depth.

“Whoa! When did you guys get here?” she asked, remaining seated while their attention shifted solely to her.

“Good morning to you, too,” Brian replied sarcastically, a smirk on his lips as he took in the young woman. She had adopted a black beanie today, coving the majority of her head, some of her copper hair flowing beneath its end, while she dressed in a similar casual manner to yesterday, jeans, boots, a grey top and black jacket covering her body.

“What? Oh, right. Good morning,” she replied, confused at what he said before realising that she had been rude and hadn’t said hello before delving straight into her question.

“Hello,” Zacky answered, speaking up for the first time, her eyes turning from his friend to himself as he smiled. He was in a fairly good mood today, the nerves of yesterday over, replaced with anxiety of what today would bring.

“So, when did you guys get here?” she asked again, finally rising from her seat and moving to her guitars, picking her favourite to start work with. She settled with her Les Paul, knowing her oldest guitar would serve her mission well.

“About 20 minutes ago,” Brian answered, watching as she carefully picked a guitar from the four cases in front of her, one obviously an acoustic due to its tell-tale hard case shape. The acoustics tended to be shaped to hug the guitar while the electrics were often rectangular with lots of space around the neck while hugging the wide hips of the guitar.

“Seriously? And you guys just sat, waiting?” she asked, wondering if they were waiting on her. She isolated the guitar, opening the 3 latches and springing her guitar from its prison. She ran her hand over the strings, collecting any lint before picking it up and returning to the seat, still talking to the other guitarists.

“Yeah, had nothing else to do while you were listening and Matt and Mudrock went over lyrics,” Zacky answered, admiring her choice in guitars. He always wished he were right handed so he could easily try guitars, both in shops and other peoples, but being a lefty made it that much harder.

“Fair enough. You should have tapped me or something to tell me,” she said to them, placing her guitar on her lap as she strummed down the strings, judging if it needed immediate retuning.

“No big deal. We weren’t complaining about doing nothing,” Brian replied, making the other two laugh lightly at his comment. As much as he wanted to dive into recording, getting the album finished, he had realised that it was going to take longer than he would have liked, and had come to terms with it.

“Ha ha, can’t blame you there,” she nodded, still smiling from his comment. She motioned the two over to her so they could talk without having to nearly shout across the room. “I have some questions.”

And with that, the barrage of questions began, both men trying to answer as well as possible to help her out. She asked things from ‘what type of strings do you use?’, to ‘who are your influences?’, back to ‘what type of tremolo do you use on this song?’ and ‘why did you change the riff in the second part, not repeat the first as is?’, each question different from the last, but aiding to the profile she was creating in her head. When it got down to her learning the parts from ‘Beast and the Harlot’, both became a massive help, Brian grabbing a guitar to play his parts while Zacky taught her the basic sequence and notes he played.

“So after he does the descending scalic bit, you start the verse progression again,” Zacky instructed, Indy’s fingers changing from barreing the 11th fret to playing the open string before quickly sliding down to the 3rd fret.

“Fuck! This is insanely brilliant,” she told him, playing the second verse chords, still mentally recovering from watching Brian play the first solo.

“We try,” he replied cheekily, waiting for the start of the chorus to tell Indy the fret numbers. “Chorus! Remember 3, 10, 8, 8. 3, 10, 8, 8. 5, 3, 10, 8. 8, 8-10 slide to 7, 11 with second on 12.”

“Fucking shit! Way to make things easy with that end change,” she commented, still trying to master the end phrase while keeping up with Brian. He smirked, knowing exactly how she felt, but not taking it easy on her. If she was in this, it had to be done his way, and that didn’t mean slowing down. Not yet, at least. “Do it again.”

“So is this how it’s going to work?” Zacky asked, watching her play the chorus once more, her brain now comprehending the changing pattern. When she nailed it, the duo moved onto the interlude, meaning more learning for Indy.

“When it comes to transcribing the stuff you guys are happy with from your rough mixes, pretty much. It will be different when you decide to make changes on songs. Because you know this song so well, knowing exactly how it sounds and what parts go where, its just teaching, whereas building a song will be a lot more figuring out,” she replied, trying to focus on both playing and talking, but failing. She stopped playing, Brian continuing to play the chorus descending triplets while she and Zacky spoke.

“You and Brian work well together, though,” he pointed out, having seen firsthand how instantly they clicked, when repeating a section, they would wordlessly start from the same bar, diving back into playing.

“Which is really good. It will get easier in time as I understand him more, and eventually the others, too,” she added, agreeing with him as she thought of how she and Brian had just played. It usually took a bit longer to sync with other guitarists, but she and Brian had done so very quickly. Sure, there was still lots of room for improvement, but it had gone a lot better than she expected.

“When will we start to write, properly?” Zacky couldn’t help but ask, knowing that he still had to re-write and track at least 4 songs they had played around with already, let alone any songs they create while in the studio.

“As soon as we can really. I just need Mudrock to fill me in completely when he gets a chance, and in the meantime, I have to pick up everything to do with you and your playing,” she replied, needing her father to lay everything out, directing her specifically to parts that needed doing. Coming in blind to a project halfway through was nearly as hard as it gets, and she had a lot of catching up to do.

“So, ready to try this song again?” Brian asked her, sensing that their conversation had ended. He was eager to play around with some songs, getting used to playing with another guitarist, something he hadn’t done in years, and seeing the skills the younger girl possessed.

“Sure am. 1, 2, 3, 4,” she answered, counting off to begin ‘Beast and the Harlot’ again from the very start, concentration leaking out of her ears as she tried to remember the structure of the multi-metered song.

As the two played, learning not only ‘Beast and the Harlot’, but a few other tracks, most yet to be fully mixed, Mudrock recorded some of Matt’s vocals, tweaking lyrics here and there, and it had hit lunch time when Johnny and Jimmy showed up, each a little bruised and battered from their fighting yesterday.

“Finally,” Matt sighed, seeing the two sitting on the couch as he emerged from the recording booth. “What the fuck took you so long?”

“Didn’t think we needed to be here straight away. We knew you’d be recording, and those three would be getting to know each other, playing together and what not,” Johnny replied for the pair, both feeling slightly irrelevant at this point in the recording process. Jimmy had recorded all his basic tracks for what they had so far, and Johnny had been waiting to hear the guitars before judging what he needed to add to the mix.

“We all need to talk about what songs we want on the album, and if we need to write anymore,” he explained to the pair, going over to the table where he had placed a few bottles of water, more than half now empty. He chugged half of a new one, keeping his throat well soothed and replacing what he sweated out in the booth. Cold autumn weather be damned, it was fucking hot in the tiny booth, and he exerted himself when he was singing, giving it everything he had.

“Well, now we can,” Jimmy said, smiling as he flew up from the couch and motioning for everyone to gather together, ready for their band meeting.

“But its lunch now,” Brian whined, putting his guitar on the rack after finishing jamming to a very rough version of ‘Burn it Down’.

“Suck it up, princess,” the drummer replied, sitting in the centre of their group, right on the ground. “So, talk.”

With this command, Mudrock took the reins, his daughter wordlessly writing everything down on a piece of paper, ready to organise his rambling later on so she could visualise what needed to happen.

“So, we have 2 songs tracked, fully EQ-ed and ready. ‘Beast and the Harlot’ and ‘Trashed and Scattered’. ‘Burn it Down’, ‘The Wicked End’ and ‘M.I.A’ need the bass tracked and Matt needs to figure out his melodies. We still need to track the other 4 demo songs you guys played in the beginning, and you guys need to decide if you want to write any more songs in case you want to choose your favourite for the album,” he told everyone, listing what was done, and what needed doing.

“I have about 4 more songs worth of lyrics I’m happy with,” Matt offered, motioning to the computer where he and Mudrock had recrafted his words earlier that day. He knew he could easily write a few more, but needed time. While the others jammed and thought of their parts, he knew he would be able to do it.

“Good, that’s what we need,” Mudrock praised the singer, liking that he was prepared. “I know that the guitar work will take time, especially creating, so if you three can please start perfecting the demos, that would be great.”

“I just need the rest of the day to get into this headspace. Sorry, but it’s as fast as I can make it at the moment,” Indy told her father, hating to take time they didn’t have. She was sure everyone would understand, but she still hated it.

“That’s completely fine. As soon as you’re comfortable, preferably sooner, work with the others and let’s pump this thing out. We are nearly half way there,” Mudrock answered Indy, trying to pump everyone up with his last statement. As this was the band’s first record with Warner, they were set with a deadline, the producer more than happy with the time limit for the band, but making sure it was all mixed and mastered was going to be the push. “Now, go to lunch.”

With that, everyone stood, leaving the den one by one for their break. Indy stayed back, wanting to ask her father if he wanted anything, knowing that he’d stay in here regardless of the set break.

“Need anything?” she asked, not willing to risk adding ‘dad’ to the end, just in case one of them was still in earshot. She knew he would rarely eat on a regular schedule when he was working on a major project, and now she was living away from home, she was worried about him.

“Oh, if you wouldn’t mind. I totally forgot to bring something today,” he admitted, only realising this after she had asked him. He hadn’t felt hungry until he realised he had nothing, then realised further that he hadn’t eaten breakfast as he was too set on work at the studio.

“Fool,” she scolded him playfully, more than happy to help him out. She decided that she would go around and cook dinner for the pair tonight, then she could rest easy that he was ok. He was usually fine with all that stuff, but as soon as he began to stress, he would get a tunnel-vision for his work, and she could tell he was stressing, more so now that his guitarist had broken his arm.

“Love you,” he told her quietly so only the two could hear. She smiled widely at him, her eyes conveying the same message before she left, heading out to visit the coffee shop she took Zacky to yesterday, knowing her father would like some of the stuff they had on offer.

For the rest of the day, Indy, Zacky and Brian worked together, teaching Indy the stuff they had already recorded and showing her their early demos they played before the whole process started. From then, she had something to go off, and felt a lot more confident in the process as a whole. Everyone knew that when it came time to create songs, it would be testing, but so far, everything was going well.

As it was time to leave, Mudrock needed to share one last piece of information with the group.

“We’ll reconvene back here on Monday, and all the studio guys will be back, meaning we can get Jimmy tracking, Matt and Johnny working together on the new songs while you three start working on the guitar material,” he told the group, the boys knowing who he was talking about, but Indy left completely in the dark.

“Who are the studio guys?” she asked, packing up her equipment with a confused look on her face. She didn’t realise there would be more people in here than just her father and the band.

“We have a few techies that come in to help. There’s one who sticks with Jimmy, helping him track, adjust his drum kit and what not. There is a guitar tech who tunes, cleans, restrings and tracks, and a mixer. It gets pretty crowded, but we manage,” her father replied, listing the help he was able to enlist for this record. He was in charge, but by delegating, he got a lot more done in short periods of time.

“Ok, cool,” she shrugged, hoping that Monday would fly as smoothly as today did. Knowing she would have to meet at least three new people who worked on this record created a storm of butterflies in her stomach, her nerves returning from yesterday’s fears.

“It will be fine, you’ll see,” he reassured her, smiling comfortingly. It was that smile that calmed her down, reminding her of all the times her father had been right before, and that she had stressed over nothing. She took in a deep breath and sighed.

“Ok then, I spose I’ll see you all on Monday,” she said, picking up her bag and one guitar, wanting an electric to practice what she had learnt. She wanted to play around with her rigs at home, trying to create the right sounds she wanted and would fit with the songs so far.

“Have a good weekend, everyone,” the producer told his band, waving them all off in a group while remaining to shut off the rest of the mixers.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Brian told Indy as they all made their way back down the corridor to the parking lot, each driving their own cars in today. He, like the rest of the band, could sense the young woman’s unease about Monday, and tried to convince her that she would be fine.

“Yeah, it will just be another regular day, you’ll see,” Jimmy piped in, his calm, easy going way making her smile. With the backing of the boys behind her, she relaxed further, knowing that she didn’t need to worry, but she would until Monday was over.

“Yeah, I spose so,” she nodded, agreeing with them while retaining a little seed of doubt in her mind. Nothing was going to calm her until she knew that they would all work well together, and she helped these boys with their dreams.

“Stress less, and chill over the weekend,” Zacky advised her, squeezing her arm gently and the group came to a stop outside the studio, each hesitating before parting to their car.

“I think I might just do that,” she agreed, smiling at Zacky before giving one last sigh, heading off to her car. “I’ll see you all on Monday.”

“Bye!” They called out as a collective, watching the woman leave to her car, fishing her keys out of her bag. With a last goodbye, the boys dispersed, each driving the 30-minute drive to their respective houses, each eager to see what Monday would bring.

Indy, meanwhile, drove to the supermarket, not forgetting her promise to herself to cook for her father tonight. She grabbed all the ingredients she would need, driving to her childhood home and preparing their food, ready to have a chat with her father about everything that had transpired within the last 2 days. It was going to be a long night.
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Indy's Outfit