"All right," said Matt, nodding in satisfaction. "That was almost un-shitty. Now let's do it again. From the beginning."
They did it again, almost flawlessly. And then they did it again. And as they played and sang, gripping their instruments, pounding their drums and piano keys, letting their voices be heard, the magic of making music slowly overtook them. They let their fears and resentments, their worries and anxieties, slip away from them, floating out on a stream of electrons through wires, pounding out as vibrations through the air emitted by amplifiers. They became a band again, doing what they did best: playing their music. By the time they called it a day at six o'clock that evening, they'd dialed in two of their previous tunes and were well on their way to dialing in the third. They left the warehouse in much better moods than they'd entered it with, even Darren, who was still pondering how good it would feel to drive a needle full of heroin into his vein and wondering when the scrutiny would be off of him enough that he could do it again.
There wasn't a day that went by that Steve Crow didn't call either Jake or Matt to hound them about when he could expect a demo tape on his desk.
"We're already out of the Grammy Awards for next year since there's no way in hell we're going to get an album out by January 1," he complained to Jake one day. "And that fucking band of spics you got in a fight with released their new album three weeks ago. Have you heard that shit? They're already tearing up the charts! They're going to go gold in less than two months!"
"What does that have to do with us?" Jake asked.
"It means they're going to be in the awards and you are not," Crow said. "Do you have any idea how much free publicity we're missing out on by not being in the awards?"
"We're going as fast as we can, Steve," Jake said. "Have patience."
"If you would've been working on this new material during the contract negotiations you could've gone right into the studio once it was signed."
"Steve, think about that for a minute," Jake told him. "If we would've done that our entire negotiating position would have been compromised. You're lucky that Matt and I were even composing new tunes during all that. We could've just been sitting on our asses."
"I suppose," he said. "I'm just letting you know that you're in danger of obscurity. It's been almost two years since Thrill was released. A lot of your fans might have forgotten about you."
"Is that why Thrill is still in the top ten album chart?" Jake asked. "Is that why three of the songs on Thrill are still the most requested on rock radio stations nationwide?"
"That's now," Crow said. "It'll still take at least three months to record your tunes once they're submitted. A lot can change in three months."
"We will record no tune before its time, Steve," Jake told him. "We're getting there, okay? When we have the demo tape ready for you, we'll submit it."
"Three good songs and seven filler tunes," Crow pleaded. "That's all we ask, Jake."
"We don't do filler tunes," Jake replied. "You'll get ten good tunes and the album will sell like mad. Don't worry."
But, of course, he continued to worry and continued to hound. The band did their best to ignore him and continued with their composition, working at least six hours, five days a week, composing and perfecting, honing and rejecting. By mid-October they were well into the rhythm during their sessions, even Darren and Coop, and it was almost like old times. The suggestions flew and the changes were tried and incorporated. New songs were introduced one by one and then perfected. Finally, on November 7, they had twelve songs ready for submission — five by Matt and seven by Jake. Putting themselves under Bill's direction, they recorded a demo tape over a period of three days, working through the weekend. On November 11, the following Monday, they put the demo tape, the lyric sheets, and the music sheets on Steve Crow's desk.
"This is the real thing this time?" he asked as he opened the envelope and removed the contents.
"The real fuckin' thing," Matt said. "Some of the best tunes we've ever done are on that tape."
"Okay then," he said. "Let's give it a listen."
They gave it a listen. For the first time since being assigned to Intemperance, Steve Crow found himself in awe of them. Rich, melodic, and most of all, complex rock and roll music poured out of his speakers for more than fifty minutes and he drank it in. When the tape finally ended he looked up at them, respect showing in his eyes.
"This album is going to sell a lot of copies," he said.
"That's the idea," Jake said. "When do we go into the studio?"
"Soon," he said. "As soon as I can book the time. Meanwhile, let's get Doolittle in here and we'll start working on the production list."
National was so desperate to get the album into production they fought very little with the band on which songs would be included and in what order they would be played. The only time they used their veto power was when Jake suggested they record It's In The Book and name the album that. The band didn't fight the issue. Eventually they settled on ten of the new songs, six of Jake's and four of Matt's. Two of the songs were ballads, which National was particularly fond of since those tended to translate into best-selling singles. The title cut of the new album was to be Balance Of Power, one of Jake's songs that dealt with the subject of asserting yourself and taking control of your own destiny — a subject that no one at National seemed to realize was about the whole dispute they'd just had with their best-selling band.
They entered the recording studio on December 6 amid much gossip media coverage. Throughout the entire negotiation process the reporters had continued to hound both the band and the National executives about rumors of a new contract and the fact that a lawsuit was still on record. This attention increased to a frenzy once it was reported that National had dropped the lawsuit. Now, on the day the band actually started recording, National triumphantly announced that fact to the world, stating that since two of the members had successfully completed rehab at the Betty Ford Center for drug addiction, the band was now on track and anticipated finishing their new album by spring.
"What about the rumors of a new contract?" asked several reporters.
"There is no new contract," Crow replied. "The band is operating under their current contract and will remain so until it expires."
Recording, including remixes, dubs, and overdubs, for Balance Of Power was finished on March 3, 1986. National rushed the album into production as quickly as possible, with plans to get the first single — I've Found Myself Again — on the radio by the first day of spring and to put the album itself into record stores by April 1.
"Now it's time to get the video for Found into production," Crow told them on March 4. It needs to be on MTV simultaneous with the release of the single. That doesn't give us much time."
The filming of the video turned out to be the first major test of the new contract and the powers that had been granted to Intemperance under it. The band met with Norman Rutger, the man who had produced and written all of their previous videos. His idea was to continue the Satanist theme started in the other videos. He envisioned the band dressed in black leather and roaming through dank underground catacombs, searching through rooms full of torture equipment and splattered with blood. During the chorus of the song Jake would find a smiling duplicate of himself in an embrace with a winged demon in one of the more hideous rooms.