“We can see through rough,” Jake said. “Let’s hear it.”
“All right,” Jim said. He looked at his bandmates again and they all gave him non-verbal communication that they were ready.
Marcie began to play the piano, a gentle repetitive melody. She started singing, her contralto voice up in the higher range, asking how can you look at me each day and not see the same thing? As soon as this line was sung, the tempo kicked up as the drum and bass came in. Stephanie began to play a distorted build-up riff. Jim started playing a mildly distorted rhythm to match the tempo. Marcie asked another question about the relationship, answered her own question, and then, as they reached the first chorus, the tune truly kicked into gear. The tempo came up even more and the guitars began to crunch out a heavy metal sound backed with pounding drum beats. Jim sang out the chorus, a proclaiming of unconditional love that was sometimes strained by familiarity and needed renewal. Marcie then assured him that the renewal was a two-way street that would always be there.
Jake and Nerdly looked at each other as the tune pounded out for them. Holy shit, Jake thought in amazement. We’re really onto something here. Nerdly could tell what he was thinking. He nodded in agreement. The tune was awesome, well put together, relevant, and driving. It was the kind of tune that made you feel good just listening to it.
This will be the first cut released from their album, Jake thought. The first thing people hear on the radio from them. And they’re going to fucking love them.
The two groups agreed to meet for lunch in the lobby of the Hilton hotel in downtown Providence, which was where Jake, Pauline, and the Nerdlys were staying. On the drive back to the hotel, the group from Los Angeles talked over what they had just seen. All had a favorable opinion.
“So ... we go for this?” Jake asked at the end of the discussion.
“It’s still a big gamble,” Pauline said. “We’ve done the math. They’ll have to sell more than five hundred and fifty thousand CDs before KVA gets into the black on them. That is considered extremely high risk for an unknown band, particularly one that will not be touring in support of the CD.”
“Understood,” Jake said, “but I have faith in my ability to predict success and in my ability to promote their album. They sounded amazing. You heard that, right?”
Pauline nodded. “They did sound amazing,” she admitted. “And I have faith in you as well ... you know that ... but five hundred and fifty thousand? That’s a lot of CDs to sell.”
“They’ll sell them,” Jake assured her. “The public is going to love them.”
“I vote we proceed with the project,” Nerdly said. “They have a unique sound and I think the world is ready to hear them.”
“Right,” said Sharon. “And I can’t wait to start putting their tracks down. I’m very excited by this.”
Pauline sighed. “All right,” she said. “We already have Celia’s go-ahead as long as the rest of us are unanimous in moving forward. Far be it from me to be the hold out. Let’s sign them if they’re willing.”
“Hell to the yeah,” Jake said, and then winced. “Sorry. It just slipped out.”
The members of Brainwash sat on one side of the table. The representatives of KVA Records sat on the other. Everyone, at Jake’s suggestion, was drinking iced tea.
“Rule number one when dealing with sleazy record company executives such as ourselves,” Jake told them, “is do not drink alcohol or use any other intoxicating substance prior to or during any meeting. Drink your booze and smoke your shit after an agreement has been reached.”
“We don’t do much shit smoking ourselves,” Jim said. “The five of us seem to get ‘randomly’ chosen for drug testing an awful lot.”
“Especially after we come off tour,” Stephanie said. “I don’t think a September has gone by that didn’t find me peeing in a jar in a bathroom with blue toilet water.”
“I take it the school district still has not embraced your art?” Jake asked, remembering their discussion about that subject back in Boston on that fateful night.
“We are the biggest thorn in their side that they have,” Marcie said with a chuckle. “The district, the PTA, and a good chunk of the ‘good citizens’ of Providence all think we’re evil personified because we sing rock and roll music.”
“And because I’m a lesbian,” Stephanie put in. “Or at least they believe I’m a lesbian. I’ve never actually admitted it before.”
“They do jump to some pretty big conclusions,” Jim said.
“Exactly,” Stephanie said. “Just because a girl has short hair, wears jeans and flannel shirts, never dates men, is a PE coach, has been known to frequent gay bars in Boston, and has a ring of female symbols tattooed around her bicep, they go right to the lesbian thing. What can you do?”
“Don’t forget the Subaru Forester,” Marcie put in. “You drive the number one lesbian car.”
“Only because it’s practical and gets good fuel mileage,” Stephanie said with a chuckle.
They all had a laugh over this.
“Trust me,” said Jim. “The district would fire each and every one of our asses if they could find any reason whatsoever. Only the fact that we’re damn good teachers and our students love us—they think we’re cool—keeps us hanging in there. That, and we don’t give them any ammunition.”
“We are the subject of endless rumors, however,” Marcie said. “The most prevalent one is that Jim, Steph and I regularly engage in group sex with each other.”
“Do you?” Nerdly asked, intrigued by the very thought.
The two women looked at him harshly for a moment, but then saw in his face that he was merely curious, not sexually harassing them.
“Not regularly,” Marcie said with a smile.
Jim and Marcie laughed as if this was the funniest thing they had ever heard. Jeremy and Rick were pretty amused by it as well. Jake laughed with them, but he sensed that there was a little more than a joke implied by Stephanie’s words.
“All right,” Pauline said. “Enough about Subaru Foresters and lesbian love ... as appealing as the subject can be. How about we talk some business here?”
“All right,” Jim said. “Let’s talk.”
“We all like your music,” Jake said. “We’ve been listening to the demo CD you sent me and we were all impressed with what you just played for us. I’ve been impressed with you since the first time I heard you. I wanted to get you signed back then. Unfortunately, the powers-that-be of the time did not include me. The suits of National Records that I tried to get to sign you would not even listen to your demo, not even after I begged and pleaded with them to. Do you know why?”
“We don’t look good on camera,” Jim said. “That’s what we’ve been told every time we’ve tried to hook up with an agent.”
“That’s correct,” Jake said. “That is exactly what they told me. ‘Brainwash will never amount to anything, no matter how great their music is, because they don’t look good in a music video’. I felt that was bullshit then, and I feel that is bullshit now. Now, however, I’m part owner of my own record company and we can do whatever we want. And what we want to do is have you record a CD for us and we’ll see if we can sell it. We want to put my theory that good music will still trump image to the test.”
“And you want us to record this album over the summer?” Jim asked.
“That would be ideal,” Jake said. “We have a connection with Oren Blake II.”
“He’s your baby’s daddy, right?” Marcie asked Pauline.
“That’s right,” she said. “He put the little clump in my belly. And he owns Blake Studios in Oregon, where Jake and Celia recorded their past two albums. He’s out on tour right now, but I believe he would be inclined to help us out with studio time over the summer break—for his usual price of five hundred dollars per hour and three percent royalties on all CD sales in perpetuity.”