Boring Girls by Sara Taylor

Author:Sara Taylor
Language: eng, eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: ECW Press
Published: 2015-03-05T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-FIVE

Socks had a friend named Ken, who played in some local bar band, and they rented a rehearsal studio down by the river. In that rehearsal space, Ken had a recording set-up. He said he’d help us record for pretty cheap, so we all pooled our money. I pitched in my birthday money, as pathetic as the sum was, and as the school year ended we went into the “studio.” It was fun — we created a schedule with Ken where each of us would record our parts one at a time, and condense all of it into a few hours a day for a week. Socks was first on the schedule, and we all wanted to be there, of course.

The room was in a small building with five other rehearsal spaces in it. Ken explained to us that most of the rooms were empty at the moment, and when we got our first look into their room, I was so relieved that we used Socks’s basement for band practice. The rehearsal space was filthy from years of use. The rug was an undistinguishable colour, the ceiling had water damage stains mushrooming across it, and the walls were covered with spray paint. Ken and his band had brought in some clean furniture and tried to tidy it up, but there was only so much that could be done with such a place. The good part was that it was soundproofed, cheap, and it was nice to go and sit by the river if you felt like taking a break.

Ken seemed like a good guy. He was probably in his early twenties, a bit older than Socks, and I was pleased to see him wearing a DED shirt. Socks had told us he was into good music, even though his band played generic rock covers at their bar gigs.

He had some good mikes and let Socks play on his drum kit, because the kit was in better shape than Socks’s. The only thing we did bring along for Socks was the snare drum, because we preferred it to the way Ken’s sounded.

Ken sat at his computer while Socks flawlessly played through all twelve of our songs. I was impressed by this — I familiarized myself with my parts by feeding off cues from the music. Socks just knew the rhythm of the songs. I supposed that was his job, but it still impressed me.

Ken suggested that Socks run through each song one more time, to ensure a good take or a different option, and Socks sturdily played through again. Edgar, Fern, and I sat on a couch, watching and trying not to make any noise that could be picked up by the mikes. Socks made a few mistakes this time through, but happily began again when it was required.

The goal was to get one of us done a day, and the next day was Edgar’s turn. He listened to Socks’s drum parts through headphones and played along, his amp miked. Ken sat riveted to the computer.

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