WIP Wednesday 8
Aug. 10th, 2022 09:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
between_time_and_42I took a day off writing today to catch up on other stuff, but since it IS Wednesday, here's a little snippet of my Concept Album Extravaganza rewrite (currently known by the acronym SF: ALS. You'll find out what that stands for when I'm done with it and it's ready to be posted).
An abrupt guitar riff greeted Pink the instant he entered Studio Two’s control room. Unable to speak for the noise pouring out of the speakers, he hung back and watched the engineer work. From the back of the room, he couldn’t see the band down below, but they were certainly making themselves known. Drums, bass, and acoustic guitar swirled around Pink’s head, but it was the ferocious electric guitar that climbed its way into his chest and curled up there. A fist squeezed his heart. God, he remembered when his old group used to sound like this. Before the fame had come and the wall grew too high…
Pink found himself drifting closer and closer, until he was practically hovering over the engineer’s shoulder. Somewhere after the second verse, the song fell apart, and the engineer reached for the talkback button– only to meet Pink’s eyes. A visible jolt went through him.
“My god! Don’t scare me like that.” Pink could tell from the engineer’s expression that he recognized him, but there must have been something in Pink’s own expression that communicated how badly he wanted the engineer to keep his mouth shut in that regard, because he didn’t address him by name.
“What do you want?”
“Simon sent me from Studio Three to see if you had any speaker cables.” Pink gazed out the window down into the main room, taking in the band. There were four musicians total– a drummer, a bassist, a rhythm guitarist, and the lead guitarist whose licks had caught Pink’s ear. Both guitarists had vocal mics, but Pink hadn’t yet heard any proof of their use. Each member of the group was spread out, with the lead guitarist front and center, the drummer behind, and the other musicians to the lead guitarist's left and right, respectively.
“Oh.” The engineer slid off his stool. “I’ve got him covered, then.” He cast a curious sideways glance at Pink. “You working on new material, or…”
Before Pink could shut the engineer down with a stony stare, a bright voice carried through the speakers. “What’s the holdup, Bobby? We’re ready to do one more.”
Bobby hit the talkback button. “Sorry, it’ll just be a moment. I need to get some cables to another client.”
“Another client?” the voice replied promptly. Staring down, Pink could make out amusement on the lead guitarist’s face. “Who is it, then?” He looked up, shielding his eyes with a hand as if he were scanning for ships on the horizon. When his gaze landed on Pink, he waved. “Hey, you! Would you like to come and hear the band?”
Pink had to stop himself before he shook his head. He glanced at Bobby, who merely shrugged in an it’s up to you sort of way. Every instinct told him to refuse. He’d only left Studio Three for some speaker cables and a quick lunch. He had no business mingling with young musicians who would surely spend the conversation uselessly fawning over him without actually saying anything intelligent.
And yet… There was no harm in saying hello, if it was the expected thing to do. If it made him feel like less of a nutcase...
As Pink descended the stairs leading into Studio Two, he noticed several musicians standing up straighter and widening their eyes. Clearly they’d recognized him. The lead guitarist, on the other hand, maintained his composure, one hand idly fondling the guitar still strapped around his neck, and one hand at his side. Just like the other musicians, he was dressed plainly, a white button-down shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, but he wore his hair longer than the rest of the band, coal-black locks tumbling over his shoulders. He looked as if he had neither seen the sun nor eaten a hearty meal for a year, but the inviting expression on his face drew Pink closer. Although Pink’s presence had been unannounced, the man gave the impression of having been waiting for him.
Once Pink had gotten close enough, the man purred, “Hello.” He extended a hand, hanging relaxed at the wrist, and Pink took it.
“The name’s Pink.” In an inspired half-mumble, he added, “At least that’s what they call me.”
The man nodded, still wearing a compelling smile that suggested he already knew who Pink was. Which of course, he probably did– he’s a musician for God’s sake. Now that they were standing so close, Pink noted with interest that one of the man’s eyes was the color of the sky during a summer trip to the countryside, while the other was the color that the sky had been when Pink woke up in London that morning.
“Ziggy Stardust. Charmed.” Only when the man– Ziggy– squeezed Pink’s hand did Pink realize he had held the handshake too long. He let go at once. Ziggy Stardust? It wasn’t the most outlandish stage name that he’d ever heard, but it certainly spoke volumes about the kind of image that this band wanted to present.
Pink looked to the other musicians, but none of them stepped forward. He wondered if they were truly Ziggy’s band, or merely hired help. The fact that none seemed willing to engage suggested that they weren’t Ziggy’s band, since session musicians would be used to meeting and working with all kinds of artists. The presence of a big name star wouldn’t be able to faze them. When he glanced over, though, Ziggy caught the look, and waved at the other musicians. “Come on, there’s no need to hide! Come and say hello to Pink.”
“How about we run through that middle section again?” the rhythm guitarist announced, while Pink muttered something along the lines of “it’s fine.” Session musicians they were, then. Ziggy shook his head as he turned back to Pink. “All work and no play.” He adjusted his guitar strap. “So Pink, are you here at Abbey Road for business or pleasure?”
“Business, mainly.” Pink fought the urge to slide his hands into his pockets, to slouch. Even giving up such an obvious piece of information made him feel exposed. But dammit, he ought to be able to say that much… The word too found a foothold in his brain, and he gestured to the band.
“Is this your third? Fourth?”
“Second,” Ziggy replied, catching on quickly. “If all goes well today, we may have a new single on our hands. And you? What sort of album are you making?”
“Final.” Before Pink could say anything more, Ziggy’s drummer hit the snare. “Hey, can we start again?”
Ziggy rolled his eyes without looking at the rest of the band. “Terribly sorry. I suppose you ought to run along then, before these gentlemen take it into their heads to go on without me.” He turned back to the band, and Pink crept back to the stairs. That was that, then. Ziggy Stardust had been discovered, explored, and dismissed with. And yet, Pink didn’t want to leave the room.
An abrupt guitar riff greeted Pink the instant he entered Studio Two’s control room. Unable to speak for the noise pouring out of the speakers, he hung back and watched the engineer work. From the back of the room, he couldn’t see the band down below, but they were certainly making themselves known. Drums, bass, and acoustic guitar swirled around Pink’s head, but it was the ferocious electric guitar that climbed its way into his chest and curled up there. A fist squeezed his heart. God, he remembered when his old group used to sound like this. Before the fame had come and the wall grew too high…
Pink found himself drifting closer and closer, until he was practically hovering over the engineer’s shoulder. Somewhere after the second verse, the song fell apart, and the engineer reached for the talkback button– only to meet Pink’s eyes. A visible jolt went through him.
“My god! Don’t scare me like that.” Pink could tell from the engineer’s expression that he recognized him, but there must have been something in Pink’s own expression that communicated how badly he wanted the engineer to keep his mouth shut in that regard, because he didn’t address him by name.
“What do you want?”
“Simon sent me from Studio Three to see if you had any speaker cables.” Pink gazed out the window down into the main room, taking in the band. There were four musicians total– a drummer, a bassist, a rhythm guitarist, and the lead guitarist whose licks had caught Pink’s ear. Both guitarists had vocal mics, but Pink hadn’t yet heard any proof of their use. Each member of the group was spread out, with the lead guitarist front and center, the drummer behind, and the other musicians to the lead guitarist's left and right, respectively.
“Oh.” The engineer slid off his stool. “I’ve got him covered, then.” He cast a curious sideways glance at Pink. “You working on new material, or…”
Before Pink could shut the engineer down with a stony stare, a bright voice carried through the speakers. “What’s the holdup, Bobby? We’re ready to do one more.”
Bobby hit the talkback button. “Sorry, it’ll just be a moment. I need to get some cables to another client.”
“Another client?” the voice replied promptly. Staring down, Pink could make out amusement on the lead guitarist’s face. “Who is it, then?” He looked up, shielding his eyes with a hand as if he were scanning for ships on the horizon. When his gaze landed on Pink, he waved. “Hey, you! Would you like to come and hear the band?”
Pink had to stop himself before he shook his head. He glanced at Bobby, who merely shrugged in an it’s up to you sort of way. Every instinct told him to refuse. He’d only left Studio Three for some speaker cables and a quick lunch. He had no business mingling with young musicians who would surely spend the conversation uselessly fawning over him without actually saying anything intelligent.
And yet… There was no harm in saying hello, if it was the expected thing to do. If it made him feel like less of a nutcase...
As Pink descended the stairs leading into Studio Two, he noticed several musicians standing up straighter and widening their eyes. Clearly they’d recognized him. The lead guitarist, on the other hand, maintained his composure, one hand idly fondling the guitar still strapped around his neck, and one hand at his side. Just like the other musicians, he was dressed plainly, a white button-down shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, but he wore his hair longer than the rest of the band, coal-black locks tumbling over his shoulders. He looked as if he had neither seen the sun nor eaten a hearty meal for a year, but the inviting expression on his face drew Pink closer. Although Pink’s presence had been unannounced, the man gave the impression of having been waiting for him.
Once Pink had gotten close enough, the man purred, “Hello.” He extended a hand, hanging relaxed at the wrist, and Pink took it.
“The name’s Pink.” In an inspired half-mumble, he added, “At least that’s what they call me.”
The man nodded, still wearing a compelling smile that suggested he already knew who Pink was. Which of course, he probably did– he’s a musician for God’s sake. Now that they were standing so close, Pink noted with interest that one of the man’s eyes was the color of the sky during a summer trip to the countryside, while the other was the color that the sky had been when Pink woke up in London that morning.
“Ziggy Stardust. Charmed.” Only when the man– Ziggy– squeezed Pink’s hand did Pink realize he had held the handshake too long. He let go at once. Ziggy Stardust? It wasn’t the most outlandish stage name that he’d ever heard, but it certainly spoke volumes about the kind of image that this band wanted to present.
Pink looked to the other musicians, but none of them stepped forward. He wondered if they were truly Ziggy’s band, or merely hired help. The fact that none seemed willing to engage suggested that they weren’t Ziggy’s band, since session musicians would be used to meeting and working with all kinds of artists. The presence of a big name star wouldn’t be able to faze them. When he glanced over, though, Ziggy caught the look, and waved at the other musicians. “Come on, there’s no need to hide! Come and say hello to Pink.”
“How about we run through that middle section again?” the rhythm guitarist announced, while Pink muttered something along the lines of “it’s fine.” Session musicians they were, then. Ziggy shook his head as he turned back to Pink. “All work and no play.” He adjusted his guitar strap. “So Pink, are you here at Abbey Road for business or pleasure?”
“Business, mainly.” Pink fought the urge to slide his hands into his pockets, to slouch. Even giving up such an obvious piece of information made him feel exposed. But dammit, he ought to be able to say that much… The word too found a foothold in his brain, and he gestured to the band.
“Is this your third? Fourth?”
“Second,” Ziggy replied, catching on quickly. “If all goes well today, we may have a new single on our hands. And you? What sort of album are you making?”
“Final.” Before Pink could say anything more, Ziggy’s drummer hit the snare. “Hey, can we start again?”
Ziggy rolled his eyes without looking at the rest of the band. “Terribly sorry. I suppose you ought to run along then, before these gentlemen take it into their heads to go on without me.” He turned back to the band, and Pink crept back to the stairs. That was that, then. Ziggy Stardust had been discovered, explored, and dismissed with. And yet, Pink didn’t want to leave the room.
no subject
Date: 2022-08-11 07:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-08-12 03:39 pm (UTC)Pink is not used to opening up to anyone, and as will eventually be revealed, he has some valid reasons for wanting as few people as possible to know where he is and what he's doing. But all that will be explained later. Anyway, yes, these things add up to making him feel awkward when talking about himself.
I'm so happy you love Ziggy so far!! He's one of my favorite characters I've ever written, his voice is just so enjoyable for me. I have a very specific intent to how I want to portray him in this version of the story, so I'm working hard to make sure he comes across just as I want him to.
no subject
Date: 2022-08-14 12:22 pm (UTC)Ohhh, I see. I feel bad for him now, I hope he's ok, and I'm glad I know he'll be alright eventually.
I'm happy you enjoy writing Ziggy so much! I'm truly enjoying him so far, and I'm looking forward to getting to know him better!
no subject
Date: 2022-08-17 11:09 pm (UTC)Speaking of which, I can't say more about that but yeah, I'll get into his backstory in other parts of the story... it isn't a very happy one (although yes, he'll be okay by the end).
Ahhhh thank you! This story is very fun to write so far!
no subject
Date: 2022-08-24 01:31 pm (UTC)I'm glad you're having fun writing this! ^^
no subject
Date: 2022-08-26 03:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-08-31 02:33 pm (UTC)