Chapter 12 #2
“I don’t know. I promise I’m trying.”
“Okay. Just do your best.”
By the time we moved on to the third song, I noticed how red Zack’s face had become, as if he’d swallowed a Carolina Reaper pepper and was struggling to keep it down.
For his sake, I was trying, but it was as if my body refused to go there again.
At the end of that song, Zack said, “You’re not taking this seriously” and stormed out of the control booth.
My muscles tensed, expecting him to come into the live room…
but he didn’t. I had no idea where he’d gone.
When my eyes met Jeff’s, I could see he felt the same way I did: Zack’s emotions weren’t just about this album.
There was something deeper troubling him—and I didn’t know that we could help him through that until he was ready.
I just hoped we could get the album finished before he went off the deep end.
Three weeks later, over budget and time, the album was done.
Jeff and the label both finally told Zack that it might not be done to the exact way he wanted it to be but it was good—and, more than that, it was past deadline.
They promised that, if this album took off, they’d give us more time in the studio for our sophomore album.
For now, though, we had to move on. And we weren’t done with our band obligations. We now had to record a video for the song chosen to be the single off this album.
Once again, we had several fights on our hands.
For the single, Zack had wanted the last song on the album, a longer one he called “Absinthe,” to be the one, but the label had said it was “too moody,” “too long for radio play,” and “too depressing.” “It’s not indicative of your band’s overall sound.
Remember, we’re trying to cast a wide net—and we can’t with ‘Absinthe’. ”
Which meant that “We’re Gonna Rock You” was the natural choice for a single.
The label execs said this would tell the public just what kind of band we were, and it displayed our high energy and catchiness.
Zack didn’t hate the track, but he didn’t feel like it was the best artistic representation of what we were all about.
“You wanna hook ‘em, kid. Then, once they like what you’re selling, they’ll come back for more. But you gotta hook ‘em first.”
The label also asked us to share our passwords and admin rights to all our social media. We would still be allowed to post if we wanted to like always, but they had a team who would be handling all the marketing and, for that, they needed access.
And they redesigned our logo. It still had the upside down A that resembled a heart, but it looked way more polished and professional.
I liked how they’d updated it, and I appreciated most of what they posted on our social media.
On both TikTok and Insta, they had small “Meet the Band” profiles, where each day, a short video with several stills highlighted one of us, giving a short bio in the caption.
The bios, of course, were curated—meaning the marketing team didn’t want to tell the whole truth. They didn’t talk about our families or anything like that. They didn’t even mention Nopal. They just said we were from Colorado, making it seem like we’d lived in Denver our whole lives.
But I kept telling myself these guys were professionals. They knew what they were doing. They’d done it hundreds of times before and knew what worked.
Besides, it kept that work off our plates.
After pushing the single out to radio stations, both traditional and satellite, as well as streaming stations, they also pushed it to other places I didn’t know about.
And the week before the single debuted, they teased the hell out of it on our social media.
Our local followers got so excited and interacted so much with some of the posts that we managed to pick up lots more followers—even before the single was released.
That time in our lives, even though it was stressful and I knew Zack was trying to bury the regret he felt for not connecting with his father, was a feeling I’d never forget.
I could sense the momentum building—and it wasn’t just that I was excited for what was to come.
There was an undefinable charge in the air, almost as if it were full of gas fumes, and all it would take was a spark to ignite.
And, man, was it sparking all over.
The label approached marketing synergistically, and I figured out that the sum of the whole was far greater than the individual parts, kind of like our band.
Zack’s guitar riffs were killer—but they were way better with Cy playing alongside him, and far richer when Braden laid down the bass and I added the drums. We too were greater as a whole.
So many things were happening so quickly, and as a group, we decided to quit our jobs.
It wasn’t that we didn’t need the money, because we definitely did, but we knew we’d be touring—whether it would be similar to what we were already doing and small scale or something larger with established bands.
We still had about three weeks of shows to perform that Zack had booked before we’d gotten the contract with the label, and we just hoped that the cash from those would help us get by until we started making money from the album.
The single was a success, driving new listeners to preorder our debut album, the cover of which was simply the polished version of our logo on a white background.
Although the label didn’t say so, we hoped that meant we’d have a bigger tour.
One of the reps told us they might choose a second single to release in a few weeks if the hype kept up.
In the meantime, we were scheduled to film a video.
Like with recording, the label wanted to fly us out to L.A.
, but that would have meant canceling the few shows we had left, plus more expenses we suspected would come out of our earnings.
Still, we finally settled on having a crew from L.A.
fly into Denver and shoot us here. In the meantime, we had a Zoom call where we discussed ideas—and we came up with a couple of spots that would keep the shoot low-budget.
First, we’d have them film footage of us on an actual stage at one of our last shows—and then we wanted to find a cool place that would capture Denver’s vibe.
We decided the roof of our building was the perfect spot.
Although we weren’t actually allowed up there, the lock on the door didn’t work right, and we’d snuck up there a couple of times to get high.
Smoking wasn’t allowed in the building and the smell of weed might have alerted some of our more conservative neighbors—but smoking on the sidewalk seemed like a bad idea, considering we were all still underage.
So we knew the roof would be a good spot.
The film crew arrived on a Thursday afternoon, and we met them for dinner at a nearby Chipotle. Although we were grateful it was fast food so it would be lighter on our budget, it wasn’t the cheapest option. Zack kept reminding us that we’d be making money soon.
When we waited outside for the crew to show, we were shocked as a gang of people approached us.
We’d expected two or three guys—but the crew consisted of ten individuals.
With that many people, how the hell could our video be low budget?
I could tell by glancing at the expressions of my bandmates while we stood in line to get our food that they were thinking the same thing I was.
We needed to get this filmed as soon as possible.
Once we were all seated at two tables in a small outdoor area, David, the director, introduced everyone—but there was no way I could have kept their names straight.
There were only two women in the bunch—one who did hair and makeup and the other who was a gaffer, but I couldn’t remember what that meant she’d be doing.
The gaffer woman looked kind of manly—her hair was super short and she didn’t wear makeup.
In fact, she even dressed like the guys.
But I didn’t have a chance to get to know her.
“Did you decide where you want us to film your concert?”
“Well,” Zack said, “I had until I saw all these people. There’s no way we could get you all into the show for free. You’d be taking up way too much space.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. I imagine the live footage could just be me and Ronnie, and he could use a handheld.
If we film the whole show, we should be able to get a lot of usable footage.
Actually, we might want a second guy on cameras to focus on close-up shots, especially when you play ‘We’re Gonna Rock You.
’ We’ll need as many shots of that song as we can. ”
“I’ll talk to the manager at the venue and make sure she’s okay with it.” Zack hadn’t yet taken a bite of his burrito.
“Good. Now what about other locations? Have you come up with anything or do you need us to figure it out?”
“The rooftop of our apartment building. It’ll be perfect.”
David seemed to mull it over. “Can we fit the whole crew up there?”
“Easily.”
“How many stories? Will we get any good views of the city?”
“Yeah. The apartments used to be offices. It’s not a high-rise, but it’s decent.”
I could barely remember the two times we’d been up there, but I recalled enough. I’d loved the breathtaking view of all the city lights at night. I asked, “Will we be filming during the day?”
Not making eye contact with me, David answered the question. “I think we should film for one entire day and night.”
Cy put down his cup. “We should probably get our equipment up there early so nobody sees us doing it.”
“Wait. You didn’t get permission to film?”
Shit. Zack said, “Hell, no. I don’t like being told no.”
Braden, Cy, and I waited for David to nix the idea—but, instead, he said, “Ah, a rebel. I love it. Typical rock star.” The crew laughed along with us.
David put down his black plastic fork, a contemplative look on his face.
“So we—meaning the crew and I—probably also need to be discrete when we arrive at the location.”
I tried not to laugh, thinking of our apartment building as a location.
Zack said, “Definitely.”
As mostly Zack and David continued working out the logistics, I grew excited, because Zack and I had cut our teeth on music videos back in high school, and even to this day, I knew what I’d seen and heard had influenced not just what I loved but how I wanted to play—and even how I wanted to look.
Little did I know that I would wind up hating the filming process with a passion.