AllFreeNovel
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Now that I’m a dad, I have perspective. Carter lost years with Zane due to his own severe addictions. Zane’s best friend, Ty didn’t have a father figure in his life. In retrospect, Carter was making up for lost time. Doing penance, I guess.
He took complete charge in the studio to record an EP of four songs Ty and Zane wrote. I don’t think the three of them ever took a break. Well, aside from Ty shoving his tongue down Zoey’s throat every chance he got. Jace and I often felt like hired-gun musicians. I’m confident it wasn’t deliberate. We were the newer guys in the band. Outside of recording our parts, we offered no input, nor were we asked for it.
In the years since, we’ve become collaborative as songwriters. Hours on the bus gives the four of us lots of opportunities to help shape LTZ’s music. Zane, our musical savant, can pick up and play any instrument. Jace’s steady rhythm gives the band a backbone we can all count on. I’m exceptional at pinpointing a harmonic pulse that ties each song together.
But Ty? Holy shite. He’s a feckin’ master in the studio. Focus. Attention to detail. Mindfulness. A stickler for creating the appropriate vibe. He knows what to add and when something’s missing. A drawn-out base note here. A drum fill there. A sprinkling of violin. A dose of cowbell (I couldn’t feckin’ resist).
Case in point? Our second album,Z, blew us into the stratosphere. LTZ won Grammys and countless awards and accolades. Despite Carter’s credit as head producer, word spread swiftly throughout the industry that Ty was not only the greatest vocal talent of our generation, but theactualproduction genius behind the LTZ sound.
In the years since, Ty’s worked behind the scenes on dozens of hit songs for many artists. Across genres. If I were a betting man, and I am, I’d wager his personal income is easily double or triple the rest of us. He’s stealth though. And humble. He never talks about his experiences with any of us. We hear about it when the tracks he worked on hit the Billboard charts. Or win awards.
Which is why I asked Ty if he’d help me produce my brothers’ band, Fireball.
Liam and Padraig started the group in college with a fellow student, Felicity Clark. She left the band when my brothers wanted to move in a different creative direction. It took them years to recover. After stints with four or five singers, they found their permanent band member, Avonna Parilla.
The trio’s been grinding and grinding for years on the underground circuit. They’re unconventional, but excellent. Strong Celtic influence. Avonna weaves a bit of her Spanish heritage into the mix. Their harmonies are haunting. Fireball is special. A huge cult following, but they haven’t perfected a radio-friendly sound as of yet.
Recently, one of their tracks became the theme song for a popular streaming series. With a little taste of success and royalties coming in, my brothers asked if I would help produce Fireball’s latest album. Initially, I said no. I’d hate to screw things up when all of their hard work was paying off.
At Christmas, I tried to get Ty to take my place. His condition for working on their album is if I’d coproduce with him. Obviously, I couldn’t say no. Ty’s golden touch could propel my brothers’ band to the next level. Plus, I figured I’d learn something.
The timing worked out, too. Ronni and I hired a full-time nanny. Yolanda came highly recommended by one of Ronni’s colleagues. She’s young, energetic, and great with the babies. My wife’s been buried in preproduction on both her projects. The Netflix series and the Finnegan O’Rourke film. With the kids in capable hands, I have flexibility to work with my brothers.
“I think Liam’s a little pitchy.” Ty chews on the cap end of his black sharpie. He holds up a finger to my wee brother, who’s waiting for direction in the vocal booth. “Let me play it back again so you can listen.”
He rewinds and presses the button so all we hear is the isolated track of Liam’s vocal. Undoubtedly, something’s off.
“It’s his enunciation. If he drew out each word at the end of the chorus, he could ease into the note. It would give the song some edge, and I think it’d be grand.” I find myself tracing some imaginary notes in the air with my index finger as I explain my solution to Ty.
“Let’s try it.” Ty presses the mic button to communicate to my brother. “Liam, if you can hold out the word ‘lost’ at the end of the chorus. Play around with it. We can do as many takes as you want. Go raw.”
Padraig joins us, slumping in an oversized chair behind where we’re sitting at the console, his long legs crossed in front of him. “He never has the confidence to just let the fuck go.”
“He’s in a safe place here, so he is.” I crane my neck around. “We’ll get him there.”
Liam adjusts his headphones. Shakes out his hands. I know my brother. He’s nervous for some reason. He makes the adjustment and the next take is better, but it’s still off. We try a dozen or so takes, each a little better but not quite there.
“What did you think?” Ty nudges me with his elbow.
I glance at Padraig. He just shrugs. “He’s tense. He knows our entire future is riding on this album.”
Ty winces, then calmly pulls his hair back and knots it at the base of his neck. He glances over at me and says quietly so Padraig can’t hear, “Do you remember how it was for me the first time we went into the studio?”
“Uh, no,” I admit.
“I was scared out of my fucking mind. Carter didn’t mean to, but he made it seem like the band’s future was inmyhands.” Ty leans forward in his chair. “Liam, come out here for a bit. Let’s give you a break.”
We watch him take off the headphones and toss them down in frustration. He leans against the doorway adjacent to where we’re all sitting. “I’m fucking this all up. I know it. I can’t get it right.”
“Where’s Avonna?” Ty taps the Sharpie on his hand. “You’re together, the three of you?”
“No, they fucking aren’t.” Padraig stands and glowers at Liam. “Areyou?”
Liam sits on the edge of the sofa. “No.” He hunches over. Chews on his thumbnail.
Linus O’Donnell, Fireball’s manager, slips into the room from the hallway. “Hey. How’s it going?”
“Could be better.” Liam gazes up at him for a beat longer than I’d expect before looking back at the ground.
