Chapter 6
Chapter Six
EchoZone – Private Message Thread
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Between homes? You’re a puzzle, Rafe. I was under the impression you were currently living in your parents’ basement.
MustLoveMusic: Ouch. That’s a little hurtful.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: That’s exactly what you said when I called you. Don’t make me quote you to yourself.
MustLoveMusic: Okay, maybe I said I might end up there. It was figurative. I’m working on a less drastic alternative. It’d be very complicated if I ended up at their place.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Still, I could send your check to your parents’ place then. You can pick it up on your next shame-filled visit.
MustLoveMusic: That’s . . . practical. Not a bad idea, Aly-e. Thanks. I’ll email the info in a bit. So—what about a gig?
AlyEuphoriaEvents: There are a few weddings still holding out for Love & Vinyl. If they don’t fix their issues by next week, I’ll be holding auditions. If you’re actually interested. I’d prefer a full band, though.
MustLoveMusic: The guys you had yesterday were decent. I could work with them.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Ha. Ha. “Work with them,” you say. As if you’re gracing them with your presence. Please. They’ve played more weddings than you’ve played in your entire life.
MustLoveMusic: Sure, they have the record in weddings but . . . don’t forget I delivered last night. Didn’t I?
AlyEuphoriaEvents: You did. Against all odds.
MustLoveMusic: Send me their numbers. I’ll rehearse. We’ll call ourselves Vinyl 2.0. ~Reboot the dream.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Absolutely not. You need a better name. That one sounds like a tech start-up.
MustLoveMusic: You don’t trust me to name a band?
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Should I?
MustLoveMusic: I named the last band I was in.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Your garage band doesn’t count.
MustLoveMusic: So what, you want me to come up with a name like Dead Moth Parade?
AlyEuphoriaEvents: That’s already taken. They broke up a few years ago. Too much drama, not enough lyrics.
MustLoveMusic: They did, huh? You knew them? You liked them?
AlyEuphoriaEvents: It was the ‘90s. We all made questionable decisions.
MustLoveMusic: You say that like you’re defending a secret CD collection.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Grunge was strong. I liked them as much as I liked Stone Temple Pilots, Bush, and Soundgarden. Some songs, but not all their music.
MustLoveMusic: A woman of taste, I see. Anything else you listen to these days—or is it just wedding playlists and bridal entrance edits?
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Excuse you. That’s a bold question for someone who didn’t know much about music before he was hired, but pretended well during our phone conversation.
MustLoveMusic: Touché. But I’m curious. Beyond Hall & Oates . . . what do you like?
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Why do you keep bringing up Hall & Oates?
MustLoveMusic: Because it wasn’t on the playlist.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: There’s always a request for H&O at a wedding. I needed to know if you could improvise if someone shouted “Maneater” after four gin and tonics.
MustLoveMusic: I can improvise. More than you think.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: You did well, I agreed, remember?
MustLoveMusic: Name one band you like more than just a few songs.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: That’s . . . probably impossible. I don’t commit that easily.
MustLoveMusic: Try it.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Fine. Train.
MustLoveMusic: Really? Train? I think this conversation should be over.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: What is wrong with Train?
MustLoveMusic: What is right with them?
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Have you ever listened to Drops of Jupiter? I bawl like a baby every single time.
MustLoveMusic: So you get frisson from it. Boohoo.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: It’s a lot more than . . . wait, what is frisson?
MustLoveMusic: It’s that chill that crawls up your neck when a song hits you right in the gut. When the note, the lyric, the something hits so hard your body reacts before your brain does. That’s frisson. It’s why people fall in love with music—or with the person making it.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: You can call it whatever you want, but that song is magical.
Magical.
MustLoveMusic: Magical? Fuck. You need better taste in music. How can you say it’s magical? Please do explain.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: It’s simple. It’s just someone talking about loss in the most human way. Missing someone so much that even ordinary things—the stars, the air, the morning coffee—feel different.
You listen to it, and suddenly it’s not about them anymore. It’s about you. The person you were when you still believed love could fix things. It’s about standing in the wreckage and realizing the world kept moving without you.
That’s why it’s magical. Because for three minutes, it reminds you that love can bruise and still be beautiful. It’s hopeful and completely wrecked all at once. That maybe we survive it not by forgetting, but by remembering that once, someone changed the way you heard a song.
MustLoveMusic: You sound like you’ve rehearsed that.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: I haven’t. Some of us just listen when a song means something.
MustLoveMusic: Maybe I should write one that makes you feel that way.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Can you even write? Is it called writing or composing?
MustLoveMusic: Wow. “Can you even write?” You wound me.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: I’m just asking. You barely knew eighties music last week and now you’re offering me a magical song.
MustLoveMusic: Excuse you. I’ve written actual songs. With structure. And metaphors. Some even rhymed on purpose.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Uh-huh. Anything recorded? Or are we talking cassette tapes buried in a shoebox labeled Do Not Judge Me?
MustLoveMusic: Wow. Harsh. I’ll have you know those shoebox demos were emotionally raw masterpieces.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Screaming into your mom’s throw pillows doesn’t count as a chorus.
MustLoveMusic: It was my grandmother’s, but I don’t like how vividly you painted that.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Because the truth is hard to swallow.
MustLoveMusic: For the record, I can write a magical song. It’s just a matter of wanting to do it.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: You say that like you’re one romantic breakdown away from writing a Top 40 hit.
MustLoveMusic: Maybe I am. All I need is the right heartbreak and an acoustic guitar. Lolita is currently in storage so it’ll have to wait.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: You have a woman inside a storage unit? Is this an inflatable doll?
MustLoveMusic: Lolita is my acoustic guitar. You already met Rosie.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Rosie is . . . (eyes suspiciously)
MustLoveMusic: The electric guitar you were lucky enough to listen to yesterday. Not everyone gets the pleasure of hearing the lady.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: So, if Lolita won’t break your heart, who will?
MustLoveMusic: You volunteering?
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Don’t tempt me.
MustLoveMusic: Wait, you’d break my heart for the sake of art?
AlyEuphoriaEvents: I mean . . . if it guarantees me front-row seats when you perform it live while I’m sobbing like a baby, maybe.
MustLoveMusic: Wow. So cold. Do you flirt like this with all your contractors?
AlyEuphoriaEvents: I’m not flirting. I’m trying to show you that you wouldn’t be able to come up with a song, let alone a song that’s magical. Plus, you’re trying to rename the house band after a rejected vinyl tech.
MustLoveMusic: Vinyl 2.0 was ahead of its time. You crushed them.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: It sounded like a printer.
MustLoveMusic: So what would you call us, then? If I let you name the band?
AlyEuphoriaEvents: The Improvisers. Or maybe Brides & Drums.
MustLoveMusic: Oh, that’s good. Really rolls off the tongue. Sounds like a cautionary tale with drums.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Exactly. Perfect for weddings. Just enough dysfunction to keep it real.
MustLoveMusic: You really have a thing for wedding gigs, huh?
AlyEuphoriaEvents: They’re weirdly addictive. You start thinking you’ve seen every type of love story . . . then someone surprises you. There’s always a better meet-cute. However, that’s not all I do. I handle a lot of different events. I’m a planner and make your magical day happen.
MustLoveMusic: So you’re addicted to magic.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: No. I’m not addicted to magic. I’m addicted to that split second—the one just before everything changes.
The breath before the music starts.
The silence before the promise.
The look on someone’s face when they realize they’re staring at the rest of their life.
That moment when the noise drops, and somehow, the woman standing at the end of the aisle becomes the only person that’s ever made sense.
MustLoveMusic: That sounds like magic to me. Slightly terrifying magic, but still.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Maybe. It’s less about fairy tales and more about the tiny things.
The mother pinning a six-year-old tie on her grown son.
The maid of honor slipping out to cry alone in the stairwell.
The cousin who makes a speech that’s way too personal and somehow still perfect.
That’s where the magic lives: The mess and the effort.
MustLoveMusic: Okay, but now you’re just trying to make me cry.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: You? Cry? Please. I bet you didn’t even flinch when Rose let go of Jack.
MustLoveMusic: She had space on the fucking door. That was a choice.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: You’re impossible. And slightly heartless.
MustLoveMusic: No, I’m a realist. You’re the one talking about crying over Train songs and stairwell breakdowns.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Because they matter. It’s the in-between stuff. The little cracks that tell the truth. Love shows up in the unexpected.
MustLoveMusic: So you believe in all that?
AlyEuphoriaEvents: What—love?
MustLoveMusic: Love, magic, stairwell crying fits. All of it.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Some days, yes. Some days . . . I just like the flowers.
MustLoveMusic: That sounds like someone who’s been disappointed.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: It sounds like someone who’s human. Besides, I don’t need to believe in it all the time. I just need my clients to believe in it for six hours and a first dance.
MustLoveMusic: Fair. I don’t believe in much either. But I still sing like I do.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: That’s because you’re probably a liar with a guitar.
MustLoveMusic: I used to be one. Now I’m just a man trying to find the right life and probably create the magical song.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: I hope you can find the right life, Rafe.
MustLoveMusic: Maybe I’ll start by changing my name.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: You don’t like Rafe?
MustLoveMusic: No. I don’t think I look like one. Do you? Rafe would be a guy five or six inches shorter than me with terrible hair and a clueless look.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Yes. That’s how I imagined you. College kid who just needed the money but didn’t know his Hall from his Oates.
MustLoveMusic: Aren’t you happy that you got me instead?
AlyEuphoriaEvents: There you go and I bet you’re about to wink.
MustLoveMusic: I’ll hold the wink until I see you again. Message me when you’re ready for the auditions and send me your guys’s number.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Don’t you have musician friends?
MustLoveMusic: I do, but they’re too rowdy for this kind of job. Plus, they charge a lot.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: Fine, I’ll call you if I have something.
MustLoveMusic: No, message me. I lost my phone yesterday.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: No address, no phone . . . are you real?
MustLoveMusic: Oh, I’m real, baby. You just have to get to know me.
AlyEuphoriaEvents: I have to go to sleep. Good night.
MustLoveMusic: See you soon.