The boys were having no luck recapturing the performance Richie had missed and now with frustration mounting producer John Haddon was losing his cool.
Something he almost never did.
It’s not like no one had ever goofed before. It wasn’t the first or last take this band would ever lose and John got paid by the hour, so why would he care?
John’s heightened sense of aggravation was proof that he was trying to captain a ship he could sail the entire world with.
Not just any ship but a Luxury Liner.
The band had a sound and a style that only needed a little polishing to be hugely successful.
Their first single had gained them a small amount of notoriety.
Their lack of a visual presence - a move Venom Records had used to try and control them backfired and made the band more noticeable.
Richie Statler and John Haddon had brought to the table the remaining skills necessary to tie it all together.
That’s why everyone was so frustrated.
They knew what they had they just couldn’t capture it on the tape. It sounded lifeless. No energy, no punch or drive.
After what seemed like take sixty three of “Hate Myself 4 Luvin’ U” Haddon threw a chair across the room grabbed a cigarette and stormed out of the control room.
Richie leaned back in his chair behind the board and rubbed his eyes. He was going blind trying to figure out why he couldn’t capture what was happening live in the room.
It didn’t matter anyway. After the take they lost Haddon hadn’t been happy with any of the takes and if he was being honest with himself, he had only kind of liked one take a dozen or so back.
The band sat dejected in the studio.
They felt like the wind had been taken out of their sails and nothing was going right for them either.
“Why don’t we call it a day?” Stix said looking at the exhausted group.
“John’s definitely not happy, Richie’s fried and we’re playing like a high school dance band doing mediocre covers of bad pop tunes.”
Skullen agreed. “I haven’t played with any conviction in two hours. I feel like I might be dragging the band down tempo wise.”
Johnny “Rottun” Bonz chipped in behind him. “I’ve been laying back on the beat and it’s probably forced you to drag the tempo to keep me in time.”
Fingers stared at everyone of them as they waited for him to chime in.
“What? I haven’t missed a note all day.” His sarcasm so thick it was dripping down the walls.
Tyred Tendonz sitting in the corner did a pick scrape on his Gibson SG guitar ending it with really powerful open E Chord.
“See?” He said as he stared at the band with a very serious look on his face. “I nail that intro every single time but you won’t let me play it. That’s the why the song is failing.”
A pregnant pause and then the whole room exploded with laughter.
They were just about to start up again when Tammy Powell came into through the control room.
With the look in her eyes the band knew she hadn’t brought them dinner and good news so they called it quits and had a band meeting.
Tomorrow would be a brand new day.