Torn by Stefan Petrucha Read Free Book Online Page A

hand.
    â€œOkay,” she said, putting the viewfinder to her eye. “Play it again. Just the same way.”
    Devin looked at her. “On tape? Why?”
    â€œI want a recording of our first hit song.”
    Devin laughed, figuring she was joking, but when not even Cody said anything, he did as asked and ran the song again, screwing up some of the picking in the middle as he became too aware of the camera.
    When he was done, Cody said, “It needs a chorus.”
    Cheryl shook her head. “It’s amazing.”
    â€œI didn’t say it was bad or good. I said it needs a chorus.”
    But does Cody like it? Devin wondered. They needed more songs if they were going to fill a set,and Devin was confident this was as good as any they had, even if it wasn’t exactly nu-metal. Had it worked as a distraction, though? Would Cody give Karston another night?
    Cody lifted the strap of his Les Paul over his shoulder, but he still wasn’t giving anything away. As he plugged into an amp and started tuning, he said, “We’ve only got until nine because of your big bad date, right, sweetie pie? Can we get started with the recording?”
    Phew!
    He’d gotten away with it, for the night anyway. Now it was up to Karston to make it through the recording session. Relieved, Devin flipped the switch that closed the garage door, and they got to it.
    Â 
    It was Torn’s first effort at recording tracks. The method was twenty-first-century crude. Devin had downloaded a mixing program called Track It! for thirty bucks. It would supposedly let them lay down as many different tracks as his laptop’s memory could hold. Then they’d mix down and convert the file to the coveted MP3, which Cheryl, Torn’s webmistress, could upload to their site.
    As they worked, the thought of the kids at Argus High School bopping with “Face” in their earbuds got Devin even more excited. With Karston and the new song on hold at least for the moment, they ran through “Face” twice, then recorded it whole hog through a single mike plugged into his laptop. The idea was that then they’d play individually, listening to the control track through the phones. That would give them one instrument or vocal per track, which they could mix to their heart’s content.
    As for Karston, maybe his mother’s tongue-lashing had set him straight, because he played through the song all three times flawlessly, or as close to that as he could come. It was always a little easier for him during rehearsal, when he was free to stare down at his fingers the whole time.
    As the evening progressed, Devin was thinking that not only had he dodged a bullet, they’d also be finished in plenty of time for his big date with Cheryl. With his folks gone, the band had agreed to split up at nine, to leave the two alone.
    But then a technical problem set in. The laptop, wicked cool though it was, couldn’t play back more than four tracks at a time without losingsynch, freezing, or crashing. Thinking fast, Devin decided they could mix down the rhythm and drums, add two more tracks, mix them down and so on. It was even cruder than they’d planned, but it could work.
    Cheryl and One Word Ben were naturals, knocking out their parts in two takes. Taking this as a challenge, Cody put down a lead in one. It was nothing like what he’d ever played before on the song, but it was great. It was like the guy hated playing the same thing twice.
    â€œNow the bass,” Cody said with a nearly imperceptible sneer.
    â€œNo,” Devin said. “I’ll have to mess with the equalizer to get a decent bass sound. How about vocals? With the vocals the settings are practically there already.”
    He could see an evil twinkle in Cody’s eye. “You’re the techno-geek.”
    The lead vocal was fine in the first take, but Cody insisted on two more, which brought them right up against the nine o’clock