Chapter 35. Haley
Haley
Good morning, Chicago. This is Hidden Tracks on WJPK, and I’m Haley Chapman.
Today’s show is a very personal one. It’s about the times life throws you a curveball.
You find yourself opening doors you’ve kept locked for years and letting the music that’s been trapped inside finally break free.
That’s what happened to me, and I want to share it with you.
We’ll be exploring songs about new beginnings, about finding your voice when you thought it was lost forever.
We’ll hear from artists who’ve turned their pain into poetry, their silence into symphonies.
I also have an announcement to make. For the first time ever, I’ll be performing my own original songs.
I’ll be at the Bluebird Café next Friday night and I hope to see you there to share this journey with me.
It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once, kind of like life.
Today’s playlist is for anyone who’s ever felt stuck, anyone who’s reopened old wounds only to find unexpected healing, anyone who’s standing at the threshold of something new and scary and beautiful. It’s for those of us learning to sing our own songs, even when the harmony isn’t quite perfect.
We’ll kick things off with a song I wrote to remind myself that sometimes, the bravest thing we can do is simply show up and be honest. Stay with us and remember—every ending is just a new beginning in disguise. This is “Echoes of the Heart” by Haley Chapman.
My heart pounded as hard as it had when I’d been hiding upstairs from the intruders in Riverstone.
My first original song was going out into the world, and I had no idea what people would think.
I’d written an entire album’s worth of music in only two weeks and recorded “Echoes of the Heart” at a nearby studio before reaching out to local bars to see if they would be interested in booking me for a gig.
My roommates, who had heard me practicing it dozens of times, had only nice things to say, but I wanted feedback from people who weren’t worried about hurting my feelings.
I also wanted to hear from Ace, because I’d written that song for him.
Ace had returned to LA the day after the election.
For some reason, I’d thought he would transfer to Chicago, and we would be together and live happily ever after.
But he’d gone for a walk in the forest before his cab arrived and when he’d returned, I knew something wasn’t right.
When I raised the issue of our relationship, he told me he had some things to figure out and some work to do on himself, but he promised he’d come back.
I’d given him the benefit of the doubt, but it had been two weeks, and he hadn’t even sent me a text.
I kept busy catching up on schoolwork, taking makeup tests, touching base with my clubs, but mostly I sat on my floor writing new songs.
I’d looked at the mess of papers on my floor when I’d returned from Riverstone and immediately knew what was missing.
Paige had been shocked when I dumped everything in the recycling bin—two years’ worth of lyrics, two years of repressed emotion, two years of pain.
Something had changed in me when I’d opened Matt’s box.
I finally felt free and ready to share the feelings inside me, no matter how painful they were.
They were my stories. Real stories. The stories of my heart.
Chad thumped on the glass outside the studio and held up his phone. “Line is blowing up,” he mouthed. I’d stopped checking messages during my shows after I’d received the threats and I had to steel myself to look at the screen.
Why haven’t you been playing your music before?
Love this song
Amazing
Gave me all the feels
Definitely coming to your gig
Why aren’t you signed? Or are you?
I responded to the last message with a hopeful Not yet and some cheerful emojis.
I’d reached out to Stefan after the Bluebird had booked me, to let him know I was performing.
I’d also sent him a download link to my new music, but a week had gone by and he hadn’t responded so I figured I still had some work to do.
Dante and Chad were talking in the hallway when I left the studio after the show.
“That was a great track,” Dante said. “I mean really great. Do you have more?”
“Enough for an album. I came back from Virginia, and it was like I was possessed. I couldn’t stop writing, and then I did all the arrangements and suddenly I had a story in songs.”
“Why aren’t you in a recording studio right now?” he said. “I’ve always thought you had talent, but that track was next level.”
Dante liked my song. I respected the hell out of him as a musician, and his praise meant the world to me. “I wanted to do a gig and get some live feedback. I’ve only ever sung covers in public. I just have no idea whether my original tracks are any good so I just recorded the one song.”
“Haley.” Dante shared a look with Chad, who had a grin from ear to ear. “It’s fucking amazing. You don’t need any more feedback. Have you seen the messages?”
My lips quivered at the corners. “Some.”
“Read them. All of them.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ve texted you the name of a guy I know who runs a recording studio in the Loop. Tell him I sent you and he’ll give you a substantial discount. Get that album recorded and then I can put you in touch with a PR team to get the word out.”
“Fifty bucks says Haley is signed within three months of recording her album,” Chad interjected.
“One hundred says two months.” Dante shook his hand.
Chad grinned. “One fifty says one month and I’ll donate the money you’re going to give me to the Haley Recording Fund.”
“Hey guys.” I waved my hand in front of them. “I’m standing right here. I’d rather you just come out to my gig at the Bluebird and show support that way than trying to beat each other in a betting pool.”
“I’m back for a few weeks and I was going to get the band together again,” Dante said after shaking Chad’s hand to confirm the last bet. “I could probably get another gig for us this weekend if you’re interested.”
“Thanks,” I said. “But I think I’ll go it alone.”