Chapter 18 #2
So it was nice to see Zack settling in—and I wondered if part of that was due to rehab.
Even though he hadn’t talked much about it, he’d hinted that part of it had involved therapy, both individual and group, and then I knew just how good the treatment was.
Zack’s issues stemmed from shit he’d buried deep inside and never talked about.
“So…we had a successful first album and followed a passion of mine for the second. What should we do for our third?”
I sort of shook my head because I was no expert.
Cy said, “Do we have to have a theme?”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m just asking if any of you have been dying to try something…like an acoustic album or if there’s a cover you think we should record. Or maybe there’s a musical style you want to incorporate, like rap or something.”
Braden said, “We figured you’d come up with that.”
“Well…I’ve been kinda selfish. I’ve been all ‘this is my band,’ but it’s honestly all of ours—and I think I shouldn’t be the only one making the decisions around here.”
Holy shit. That was growth. Wow. I hadn’t talked to Zack one on one since he’d returned, but I didn’t have to in order to know he’d made some progress as a human being.
Holy shit.
I kept thinking that phrase over and over in my head during the meeting, because I had never seen Zack so giving. I’d never seen him able to give up control.
Cy sat up in the chair. “Actually, I think I’d like to just play some good old-fashioned rock and roll.”
Zack grinned. “Define old-fashioned… ‘cause I don’t plan to play any Buddy Holly or The Beatles or anything like that.”
Cy laughed. “No. Not like that. I mean just…not worrying about having a certain sound. Just riffing, jamming, letting the songs kind of evolve that way.”
“Oh. I like where you’re going.”
For the first time in a long time, Cy’s smile actually reached his eyes. “Then I’ll have to share some stuff I’ve come up with.”
“Hell, yeah, man. In fact, I’ve been pretty much a dick when it’s come to our music…to our sound. If you guys want to write music, let’s have a consensus for what we work on. How’s that sound?”
Braden said, “That’s cool, dude—but I haven’t been writing shit. It’s easy for me to come up with stuff once you write the basics, but I’ve never even tried writing from scratch.”
I knew Cy didn’t have that problem, but I echoed Braden’s sentiment. “Same here. I mean, how do you even write with a drum?”
Zack grinned. “You ever hear Omaha music?”
“What do you mean?”
“Listen to Native American music—especially the Omaha tribe. It’s all drums and voice. Amazing shit.”
“Okay, but where would that leave the rest of the band?”
“I’m just saying to not discount your abilities, Dani. You’re a hell of a drummer and you’ve taught yourself so much good shit. You could do an awesome drum solo if you wanted—or you could write the foundation of a song. You just have to free your mind to believe you can.”
Again…holy shit. This was not the Zack any of us knew. But before I could respond, he spoke once more.
“Can I admit something to you guys?”
“Yeah,” Braden said.
Zack blew out a slow breath. “I’m having a harder time composing now that I’m clean and sober. It’s…tougher. I mean, I’m doing it, but it’s like pulling teeth when it used to be like floating down a river.”
Cy asked, “Is that why you’re extending this offer? Because you need our help?”
“No. I know I can figure it out. Now that I’m sober, I’m retraining my brain—I’m creating and strengthening new neural pathways…but it’s a process. It’ll take time. Still, that’s not the point. Are you guys happy just letting me write everything?”
“No.”
Braden and I remained silent—because I didn’t know and I suspected Braden felt the same way.
“Exactly. I’ve been a selfish prick. But this is our band and I want you to feel like you have some say in things.” Cy still looked skeptical as he took a drink from his can of Dr. Pepper. “Tell me why you wanted to leave the band. Be honest.”
“It was because you wouldn’t stop drinking and were just generally trying to kill yourself.”
“So you’re telling me it had nothing to do with not having any control over what the band did?”
Cy frowned but seemed to ponder his answer. “No, you’re right. I guess it did. AR didn’t explicitly tell me I could do any writing for them, but there was always a possibility. And, of course, there was the chance to make some real money—which we’re doing now.”
“But that’s what I mean, man. I want you to have artistic freedom here. We’re in this for the long haul, so we all need to be happy doing it.”
Smiling again, Cy nodded. “I like the sound of that.”
“So give it some thought, guys. You wanna do what Cy calls good old-fashioned rock and roll? Let’s do it.
You wanna add some EDM, throw in some synthesized stuff, play a heavy bassline?
I’m all for trying it. You wanna try a little jazz?
Let’s go for it. All I’m saying is let’s evolve—but let’s do it together. ”
We all enthusiastically agreed.
And then Zack hit us with another surprise.
“Cy already knows this, but I have some contractors coming over later today. I’m going to convert the garage into a recording studio.
It’ll probably take all the money I have, but it means we’ll have more control over the process and, in the long run, it’ll save some money. ”
“No way do you have enough for that.”
“No…but I do make a little more than you guys for the songwriting credits—part of why I think you guys should have more involvement in that. And my mom cosigned a loan with me. I had to write out kind of a business plan, but the bank agreed—between my mom’s signature and my grandpa’s property as collateral—so I say we start working on music now.
Once the studio’s ready, I’ll see if Jeff is still down for producing. ”
“Have you run any of this shit past the label?” Cy asked.
“No…but we’re stars now. They’re not gonna tell us no.”
It turned out Zack was right.