Free Gone Bad by Lesley Choyce Page B

“I’ll try to sweet talk her on this one.”
    I didn’t really know what I was agreeing to. I mean, the guy had a good point — about the money and stuff. I still didn’t care about the words in the songs. I had my eye on the end of the rainbow and I didn’t want to get off course.
    Alex and Kelsey were finally in tune. Barry was sitting on some boxes in the corner.
    â€œI’m gonna be sending a sample of your work soon to T.O.,” Giles said to Kelsey. “I think we have a fair sampling of your rough stuff but I’d like you to come up with a couple of tunes that aren’t quite so far off the centre.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?” Kelsey asked.
    â€œYou know. Something more commercial, more pop. They’ll want to hear a balance of songs. They’ll want to know if you’re a one-hit wonder or a versatile band that can be groomed.”
    There was that dog word again. Yuck.
    â€œI had a couple of ideas I’ve been working on,” Alex jumped in. “Listen to these chord riffs.”
    Alex whipped off some basic chord structures and suggested a rhythm to me. It was kind of light, kind of air-head danceable but I found myself going along for the ride. Giles was smiling now. Alex was smiling. Barry and Kelsey were looking at us like we had just transformed into the Lunenburg Polka Band. I knew exactly what had happened just then. Alex and Giles had come up with a little plan. I had joined the conspiracy and we were heading one step closer to the middle of the road.
    Giles had his glasses off. He winked at me now. I felt like I had just let the Prunepits for Morality have a cause to celebrate. But, hey, it was just a temporary compromise. And I was willing to go for it if it meant getting a contract with D and D. It wasn’t like selling out or anything. It was just learning the ropes.
    Kelsey hammered on a whole pile of keys at once. “What is this putrid slop?” she screeched.
    â€œIt was sounding good,” Giles said.
    â€œCome on, Kelsey,” Alex complained. “You always initiate all the songs. I’d like some input for once. Let’s roll with this. You and I can write the lyrics. We can work on it.”
    â€œI don’t like it,” she said. “It’s not us.”
    â€œWe have to learn to grow — creatively, I mean,” Alex said.
    â€œThis isn’t growing. This is something else.”
    â€œI say we do a few more commercial tunes that Giles can send to T.O. with the other stuff,” Alex said.
    â€œAnd I say we don’t back down for anybody. We stick to our style of music.”
    â€œOkay,” Alex said. “Let’s take a vote.”
    It was democracy in action. Only problem was there were three of us. Alex was on one side of the barbed wire fence. Kelsey was on the other. And my butt was squarely on the ragged metal edge of the top wire.
    â€œI’m with Alex,” I said. Sure, I felt like a traitor — big time. But I figured it would be worth it in the long run.
    So Giles paid Barry to record us again in his basement — two new tunes that Alex wrote, with some coaching from Giles. Kelsey wrote the lyrics but Giles took an axe to them and changed them around so they sounded like a lot of that drippy nonsense on C100. Kelsey wasn’t pleased but she went along with it grudgingly. Giles made the promise that if we could get our foot in the door, then we could go back to doing anything we wanted to. The only difference was that we’d be getting some real gigs, we’d be making some real money, and we’d be on the road to rock music heaven.
    The tunes were bland, the music so-so, and the drumming like something out of a can. But Giles loved it and sent the noise off to Toronto.
    Meanwhile, Giles had met with the PFMM and told them about our new direction. He told us it was “damage control” but he wouldn’t tell us exactly