chapter seven
TREY
My fingers grip the smooth surface of the sticks as I linger on the cymbals during the bridge of our new song.
The booth is dark except for the fluorescent headlight above our heads.
We don’t play by notes anymore though in the beginning, we’d strained to record all of our songs with traditional music notes.
Now, we play by ear and if at any particular moment we feel like taking the song in another direction, we follow the lead.
“Real love holds you when it’s dark out.
Real love never ever lets you cry-ay-ay.”
Some of our critics claim that our lyrics are redundant, our sound monotone.
I don’t know what album they’re listening to. It definitely can’t be ours because when Jace sings, he leaves his heart and soul on the floor.
It’s an extremely humbling experienc
