Debut, p.19
Debut, page 19
The movie theater was empty when Sun-hee arrived. Selecting a prime seat in the fourth row, she was surprised to hear a knock come from above and behind. Looking up, she saw Steve waving at her from the projection booth window. Her stomach fluttered as she acknowledged him with a wave and a smile.
Surprisingly, the theater then went dark. Heavy curtains parted, revealing an enormous projection screen. Sun-hee watched with curiosity as the black borders surrounding it transitioned from a near square to a long, thin rectangle stretching clear across her field of vision. A film clip appeared. She recognized it as the song “America” from the original West Side Story. She’d seen both cinematic versions before, but never in this way. The vibrant energy of the clip arrested her attention immediately. Funny but also insightful, the classic dance battle focused on groups of men and women arguing over the merits of life in New York versus Puerto Rico. The performances were terrific, the dance mesmerizing. Not only did it produce a visceral punch, but the sheer size of the imagery ensured that even the slightest details had a massive impact on the experience. Elements that would have been lost in a home theater now had consequence.
As the clip ended, the lights came on. Though brief, the clip made a powerful impression. A few minutes later, Steve entered the auditorium. “Hey, Sun-hee. What d’ya think?”
“Brilliant.”
“Yeah, impressive, huh? Vanessa and I prepared a brief presentation for Danya. Hopefully, it will inspire her to help us. I’m not so sure.”
“It will.” Sun-hee had so much she wanted to say to him, but suddenly, her mind turned blank. An awkward silence passed as they both waited for the other to speak. She struggled to find an engaging conversation starter. The longer she contemplated, the further her mind drifted from anything remotely acceptable. Left with nothing to actually talk about, they both smiled uneasily.
“Have you talked to Heather?” Steve asked, eventually breaking the silence. “She’s planning on coming, right?”
Sun-hee’s stomach clenched in disappointment at this question. “I assume so.” This lack of a witty response, in Sun-hee’s mind, illustrated her difficulties trying to break from Heather’s seemingly inescapable gravity. Enthusiastic chatter soon heralded the arrival of her groupmates. As they settled into the theater, Steve’s eyes sparkled as he greeted Heather. Sun-hee watched their body language as they embraced. They looked so comfortable together. It was a far cry from last semester when their main singer was as likely to spit Steve’s name as say it. They’d known him for the same amount of time, but Sun-hee found herself totally eclipsed in his eyes by Heather’s shimmering star.
Since there was little time to waste, Grace turned the conversation to the upcoming meeting. Vanessa summarized their plan and briefed members on their anticipated roles. “To be honest with you, I doubt this will work.”
“This was your idea to begin with,” noted Grace.
“I know, but Danya can be picky. She may simply be humoring me.” This statement was met with groans. “I’m just saying,” Vanessa said defensively.
A half-formed idea came to Sun-hee’s mind. She stood and asked, “Where are the restrooms?”
“In the lobby, past the elevators, on your right,” Steve explained. “Don’t be long. Danya’ll be here soon.”
“What does she look like?”
“Mid-thirties, mixed-race, half-Indian,” explained Vanessa. “Dark, wavy hair to her shoulders. There’s a compass tattoo on her bicep. Why?”
“Just curious.”
Sun-hee exited the theater and surveyed the scene. During the next several minutes, a handful of students passed hastily by. None met the profile. A clock on the wall indicated five minutes past the hour. While at the drinking fountain, Sun-hee noticed a woman matching the description amble into the lobby. The stranger paused to orient herself, noting the theater door but bypassing it to continue onto the women’s room.
With that observation, the rest of Sun-hee’s plan fell into line. She debated its merits briefly before deciding to throw all the chips in. Taking a deep breath, she extracted her phone and used it to “converse” with an imaginary person on the other end. While entering the restroom, she spoke aloud, altering her voice in disguise. “I’ll be right over after this meeting.”
Sun-hee recognized Danya’s shoes under the stall door but saw no others. They had the room to themselves. As she made her way to the sinks, the charade continued. “It won’t take long. The choreographer we’re waiting on is late, and I’m beginning to doubt she’ll show at all.” She paused periodically to give her imaginary friend time to respond. “No, I have a feeling she’ll flake.”
Sun-hee turned on the tap to let some water run. “I don’t know. We could probably do better.” She ran her free hand under the water to splash it around. “Yeah, if she’s as good as Vanessa says, would she be teaching exercise classes?” Sun-hee turned off the water. “We’ll see. Listen, I better go. I’ll call you if this meeting is canceled.”
Sun-hee pushed a button on her phone to produce a beeping sound, then left. No sooner did she leave the restroom than she felt a tinge of guilt for what she had done.
“Nothing?” asked Grace as Sun-hee returned to her theater seat.
“She’ll be here soon.”
A beat later, Danya walked in, wearing a half-hearted smile and failing to mask her displeasure. As Vanessa provided introductions, Sun-hee watched her body language closely. Danya listened intently to each member as they spoke. When it was Sun-hee’s turn, she used a normal voice, which sounded distinct from her disguised one. Danya was flummoxed. The bathroom incident kept her unsettled for the entire meeting. Regret swept over Sun-hee as she witnessed the negative impact that her ruse had on the choreographer.
A half-hour later, the members of Made in Heaven exited the theater. Danya had already departed, and the group was free to share impressions.
“See, I told you it wouldn’t work,” said a sorrowful Vanessa.
“It was worth a shot,” said Heather.
“We did our best, but I’m all out of ideas,” said Grace. “That was our Plans A, B, and C walking out the door.”
By this point, Sun-hee’s pangs of guilt were overwhelming. She felt compelled to fix the screw-up that she blamed entirely on her own interference. “Sorry to run. I’m going to be late for my bus.”
“No prob, Sun-hee. I’ll call you later.”
She quickly ran outside the building and searched for the nearest parking lot. Down the mall and near the southernmost campus exit, according to the directory. It was a longshot, but if she ran, it might be possible to catch Danya in time. Students on the walkways scooted to one side to avoid her magnificent charge. Upon reaching the lot, she scanned it. Classes had let out, and many students were simultaneously heading to their vehicles. But Danya had a distinct hairstyle. By applying that filter, she could focus on the best prospects. A minute later, her target was spotted two aisles away, opening a car door. Sun-hee once again found herself running furiously.
The car was backing out by the time she reached it. Sun-hee motioned for her to roll down the window.
“Didn’t I make myself clear?” Danya asked angrily.
“Before you go, I’d like to say something. It’s important.”
Danya arched her eyebrows but, instead of leaving, pulled back into the space. “Was that you in the restroom?” she asked.
Sun-hee nodded shyly. “I owe you a huge apology. I don’t know what came over me. I was so desperate to make things happen that I didn’t think it through.”
“Go on.”
“The truth is Vanessa adores you. And that’s saying a lot because there are few things she admits to liking at all.”
“I believe that.”
“She’s enormously talented but doubts herself. If she could only watch you work, I’m sure it would have a lasting impact.”
“At some point, every choreographer has to stand on their own two feet. No pun intended.”
“It’s not about teaching us the steps. It’s about understanding the intrinsic value of dance. And how it’s more important now than ever.”
Judging from Danya’s reaction, this statement piqued her interest. “And what is that intrinsic value?”
“That dance can communicate ideas that are difficult to articulate but which all humans can relate to. It transports us into new ways of seeing the world. It reminds us how important physical interaction is in our lives. That’s what we want to capture.”
Danya turned a side eye to Sun-hee in partial disbelief. “Vanessa said that?”
“We’ve talked about it.”
The car’s ignition shut off. Danya rested her arms on top of the steering wheel. “If I agree to do this for free, and I’m not saying I will, but if I do, it would have to be a one-time thing. Okay?”
“Teach Vanessa your process; she’ll blossom in ways you always predicted.”
* * *
Mindy had been looking forward to this recording session for a long time. This would be the first of two days spent laying down tracks for Made in Heaven’s second EP. It offered the group a chance to improve upon their debut release. The new songs were fun to play, and she anticipated good results.
“From That Day On” was chosen first as the more straightforward song. As with their first album, the B-side was written as a contrast to the higher energy promoted single. It was a rock-oriented power ballad about two people growing apart. Featuring a simple arrangement of acoustic rhythm guitar and muted synth, its understated beginning built to a soaring chorus before returning to a softer close. Rather than rap, Grace, this time, provided a reflective electric guitar solo.
Keeping true to its low-key nature, only the two most prominent singers were required. Heather had just finished recording her vocals when Steve approached. “You sounded great this time,” he said as Heather emerged from the isolation booth.
“Are you saying I don’t sound great every time?”
Steve blinked rapidly. “No, you do sound great every time.”
“Then why don’t you tell me every time?”
“Um…because…usually—” He pinched the skin at his throat. “Because usually, I’m overwhelmed by your artistry.”
Heather’s shoulders drooped. “So, you’re not overwhelmed by my artistry today?”
He stared at her blankly, his thought process thoroughly disrupted. Finally, he admitted, “I can’t possibly come out ahead in this conversation, can I?”
Heather stood straight. “There’s hope for you yet, Steve,” she said with a mischievous grin.
Mindy stifled a laugh. The poor guy was clearly in over his head.
The recording session itself, unfortunately, became contentious for far less playful reasons. As manager, Arnie felt compelled to bring a distinctive rock edge to the EP. He had argued for the band to adopt this approach from the beginning. The EP was designed to bridge the two units of Made in Heaven. The idea was to have traditional rock music the band could play while possessing enough of a dance groove to support the dance unit activities. They could choose to perform either way, depending on the situation. As with any hybrid, achieving balance was vital. This proved difficult because Arnie and Steve constantly bickered over where that balance should lie.
At one point, when the musicians had gone on a dinner break, Mindy had stayed behind to record the drum track for the B-side. She was awkwardly caught in the center of this tug-of-war as it reached an apex. The tinderbox exploded when Arnie insisted on drums with a clean sound, like the classic rock recordings of the 70s. He subsequently asked for them to be thoroughly miked. On the other hand, Steve wanted to recreate the 80s gated reverb sound that made drum tracks from that era so distinctive. His approach called for a more straightforward mic placement featuring a compressed, gated talkback mic. Both options were tried, first Arnie’s way, then Steve’s.
After the second attempt, Arnie stood his ground. “Okay, yeah, now put it back.”
Mateo jumped to fulfill this request, but Steve blocked him as he approached Mindy’s drum kit. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“It does sound better,” said Mateo.
“Sounds better? But does it sound right?” countered Steve.
Arnie dashed into the live room shouting, “Let him go. He’s gotta reset mics.”
“I don’t remember making that decision,” said Steve.
“I’m the manager!” countered Arnie.
“Who’s paying for exactly nothing, I’ll point out.”
“We did it your way last time. Lookit what happened. Now we do it right.”
“It’s my project. And the music was sublime last time.”
“We got nothing out of it.”
“Quality had nothing to do with that.”
“First, you blow the pick, then you blow our chance for the festival. Why should I trust you?”
“The project originated with me, and I’m paying for it. You agreed to help, is all.”
“I was there from the start.”
“What trip are you on? How is this in any way your idea?”
Mindy looked at Mateo, who could only shrug. The two watched helplessly as Arnie and Steve regurgitated weeks of bad blood. As the clock ticked on, the attacks became more personal. It hurt to listen to them.
“What do you say, Mindy?” Arnie asked after they had been at it for a while. “Full sound is better, right?”
She threw her hands in the air. “Leave me out of this. I didn’t write the song.”
“We’re getting nothing done by arguing,” continued Steve.
“Then move out the way. Once I’m done, you’ll have a hell of a track.”
“I won’t let you take over this project. It’s not even your song. Can you even articulate the vision, or are you making this the Arnie Johnson show?”
“You should be so lucky.”
“No, Arnie, I mean it. I’m done.” He stood with his chest puffed and huffing. “This collaboration is not working. I’ll kindly ask you to leave. We can hash over it later, but time’s short tonight. This arguing is counterproductive.”
Arnie stared coldly at him.
“Mateo, will you prepare the recording as we rehearsed it?” The engineer returned to the control room but not without expressing his frustration with a head shake.
“Okay, give me another run-through,” said Steve.
Mindy was glad to finally return to drumming. As she played, Arnie grabbed his belongings and left without uttering another word.
18
MODULATIONS
Despite their unresolved choreographer problem, Made in Heaven forged ahead with plans for filming the music video. Heather wanted to avoid a repeat where they’d have to compromise at the last minute to beat a deadline. If the dance aspect remained a sticking point, at least they had time to work on the music properly. The group held an internal discussion and decided to promote “Feel the Heat” as their second single. With the B-side track already recorded, the band focused solely on perfecting their A-side performance before heading into the studio again for the second session.
The song was an unusual bird. Conceived as a hard-driving hybrid of 80s synth-pop spiced with hard-rocking guitars, “Feel the Heat” was propelled by a constant dance beat and a melody exhibiting few peaks or valleys. Rich power vocals were to be supported by strummed guitars through the bridge. The opening featured a chantlike chorus with distinctive whistling. Steve called the motif ‘a refugee from a spaghetti western’. He predicted it would become the song’s iconic hook.
To prepare thoroughly, the number of band rehearsals was increased sharply. For one such practice, Heather had booked time at the Bird’s Nest, a renowned campus hangout perched on the edge of the SIU bluff. The rehearsal itself ended early. She was pleased with how “Feel the Heat” was turning out. The musicians had added nuance to the song; performances were tight.
As for the video, a production planning meeting was scheduled immediately after the rehearsal. Steve had news to deliver, and there were many details to nail down about the desired aesthetics. Heather figured the outdoor terrace at the Bird’s Nest, with its breathtaking city views and idyllic weather, would put everyone in a productive mood.
She noted with interest Vanessa’s presence at the meeting. The dance major continued participating in group activities despite Danya’s rejection of their overtures. It was almost as if Vanessa hoped to be part of Made in Heaven but didn’t want to openly admit it. Officially, she still hadn’t accepted the invitation but regularly voted on group decisions. Nobody seemed to mind her presence. They recognized her value and didn’t want to jeopardize matters by highlighting this minor technicality.
With Steve’s arrival still moments away, costume designer Marielle arrived toting new design sketches. She had been tasked with creating three outfit concepts that fit the description: confident, flirty, powerful, charming, and playful. Seizing upon these cues, Marielle ignited the girls’ imaginations.
“You know how to make us look thin and pretty,” said Erin.
“I love how you take individual body flaws and turn them into strengths,” said Grace.
Factions sprang up around two competing visions. Mindy, Erin, and Heather rallied behind the most feminine look. At the same time, Vanessa, June, and Grace threw their weight behind the sportier option. The tension in the air was palpable, threatening to erupt into a full-blown argument. Sun-hee, however, came to the rescue with a clever solution. The idea suited Marielle, who agreed to adapt each outfit to the wearer’s liking while retaining a harmonious theme. Crisis averted, for now.
“The material I have is predominantly black, white, and red. Do you have a preference for —”
Before she could finish her question, Steve arrived, hungrily munching from a bag of chips. “Mind if I join you?”
