“He needs to use a different guitar then?” Matt asked.
“That’s right,” Jake said. “Preferably an acoustic electric or even a miked standard acoustic. Remember when we did I Am Time? We wanted the string strikes to come through, so I did the basic melody with my Brogan and overdubbed the string strikes with my Fender. It came out sounding pretty fuckin’ sweet.”
Matt nodded thoughtfully. At the time, he had been vehemently opposed to that particular overdub, but these days he was on record as agreeing that it had worked well. “Yeah,” he said. “That did work there. You did the same thing on a few of your solo tunes too.”
“I did,” Jake agreed. “I used the technique on Can’t Keep Me Down, Breaking Down Fast, and Teach Me. I’ve used it on quite a few of Celia’s tunes too. It’s tried and true.”
“All right,” Matt said. “I guess we can try this shit.”
“Cool,” Jake said. “Does Corban have an acoustic?”
“I don’t know,” Matt said. “I’ve never seen him with one. He sure as shit doesn’t have one here. He just has the Brogan and the Telecaster.”
“Hmm,” Jake said, giving an extra little motion to his rocking because Caydee was starting to fuss a little now that the music had stopped. He leaned forward and pushed the intercom button again. “Come on out for a few, Corban.”
Corban nodded and set down his guitar. He took off his cans and then walked to the door. A moment later he was in the room with them. “What’s up?” he asked.
As was his habit, Jake let Matt explain the issue at hand, thus preserving the illusion that Matt was actually in charge. It was an illusion that fooled no one—not even Matt—but that helped maintain the always fragile cease-fire.
“This overdub ain’t working with you playing the same guitar you used for the basic,” Matt said. “We think if you use an acoustic it’ll sound better.”
“Why would that make a difference?” Corban asked.
“An acoustic will produce a slightly different timbre than your Brogan played clean,” Jake said. “The subtle difference will make the string strikes stand out instead of being buried.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Corban said, “but I don’t have an acoustic.”
“You don’t have one at all?” Jake asked.
Corban shook his head. “Nope, not since I was in junior high and got my first electric.”
Jake nodded. That did explain a lot. Though Corban was quite excellent on the distorted electric, having him play clean notes on Faithless had been a struggle to some degree. Most guitar players and bassists—Matt was a notable exception—learned to play on an acoustic initially and would generally retain that skill to some degree, but lack of practice and focusing primarily on distorted chords did tend to sap that muscle memory over time and Corban had to relearn the technique once they entered the studio and Matt agreed to go with the clean notes on the piece. “I have one in the other studio,” he told Corban. “It’s my Ibanez acoustic electric and I’ve been using it for overdubs on a few of Celia’s tracks. Let me go grab it and we’ll see how you do with it.”
“All right,” Corban said doubtfully.
Jake took off his headphones and set them on the board. He then stood up and turned to Matt. “Here,” he said, holding out his daughter to the guitarist. “Hold Caydee for me while I go get it.”
Matt’s eyes widened and he actually recoiled a bit. “Hold it?” he asked.
“Hold her,” Jake corrected. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”
Matt shook his head. “I’m not into that kinda shit, dude,” he said.
“Holding a baby for two or three minutes is not some kind of shit,” Jake said. “Just take her. Hold her like I was. She’s not going to bite you. She doesn’t even have teeth.”
“What if she pisses or shits on me?” Matt asked.
“She has a diaper on,” Jake said patiently. “Trust me, Matt. You can do this.”
Reluctantly, Matt took the small bundle from Jake. He looked down at her for a moment and she looked up at him.
“Don’t hold her two feet away from you,” Jake said. “Put her against your chest and support her head with your arm.”
Gingerly, he did as requested. Caydee started to fuss a little.
“What’s wrong with her?” Matt demanded.
“She likes to be rocked,” Jake said. “Just sway back and forth a little. That soothes her.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Matt muttered, but he did as told. Caydee, who was used to a variety of people holding her quite frequently, immediately settled down.
“You see?” Jake said. “Just keep doing that. I’ll be right back.” With that, he turned and headed for the main studio door, letting the smirk he had been hiding come forth now that Matt could not see it.
Jake walked through the hall from one end of the building to another, passing the cafeteria and the main reception area on the way. He then punched in the code to enter the large door that guarded the entrance to Studio B. It opened and he walked into the main room. In here, Celia and the Nerdlys were sitting at the mixing board with Collette, the tech who had been assigned to Celia’s project. Inside one of the isolation rooms was Laura, who was apparently working on a retake of one of the saxophone tracks. Celia was the only one who looked up at his entrance.
“Hey, Jake,” she greeted. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to grab my Ibanez,” he said. “We need it for one of the overdubs.”
“Oh, I see,” Celia said. “Where’s Caydee?”
Jake chuckled a little. “I have Matt holding her,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “Matt? Holding Caydee? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“He’s not going to hurt her,” Jake said. “And the experience might even be good for him. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I suppose,” she said doubtfully.
Jake opened the storage room and stepped inside. His candy-apple red Ibanez was hanging on a hook. He took it down and gave it strum. It was slightly out of tune since it had not been played since before the Christmas break. And it would also have to be sound checked. That was no big deal, however, since the Nerdlys were over here and would not be able to prolong the effort.
Jake saw that they were now between takes in the studio. He waved at Laura and blew her a kiss. She returned the gesture with a smile of affection. He then went back out the door and retraced his steps back to Studio A, where he found Matt still holding Caydee against his chest, rocking back and forth and looking down at her.
“How’s she doing?” Jake asked him.
“She’s just lying there looking at me,” he said. “If I stop this rocking shit, she starts getting mad and making noises and squirming.”
“Yep,” Jake said. “You just described Miss Cadence to a T.”
“Take her back now,” he said.
Jake chuckled again. “Sure,” he said. He handed the Ibanez to Corban and then took Caydee from Matt. Automatically he began rocking her. “It needs to be tuned a little,” Jake told the guitarist. “Go plug in and I’ll give you the reference.”
“Right,” said Corban, who was looking at the bulky Ibanez as if he had never seen such a thing. “This is a nice guitar.”
“It is,” Jake agreed. “Don’t fuck it up.”
Corban went back into the isolation booth and plugged in the guitar. Jake went over to a small electric piano that sat on a platform behind the mixing board. Matt had no piano or synthesizer in his music, of course, but they used the instrument daily as a reference for tuning the guitars. Jake powered it up and the tech flipped the switch that would allow its output to flow into the headphones. The tech gave a thumbs up to Jake. Jake then gave an enquiring look to Corban. Corban gave him a thumbs up. Jake nodded and began to rhythmically push the key two to the right of middle-C on the keyboard. This key produced the exact pitch that a properly tuned high E string on a guitar would make. Corban listened, made the adjustment on the tuning knob while striking the open string and then nodded. Jake then began to push the key that matched pitch with the B-string and then the G, the D, the A, and the low-E. The process went quickly and they were done in only two minutes.