"…So, doesn't that sound better?" Ollie swung the door open, not missing a beat, spinning right back into the mix with the band. His eager words picked up the rhythm instantly, like he was worried his quick absence might've stalled us.
I didn't answer from my spot at the foot of the bed. Instead, I raised a hand for silence, tilting my head to catch Cliff and Maxim's playing—Cliff on electric guitar, Maxim on bass. My hands hovered over the keyboard, not touching down yet, head cocked as I listened hard. My face was all focus, lost in thought, totally unbothered by Alice showing up.
Ollie didn't mind my hush signal. He zipped his lips, tiptoed to the other bed, and grabbed his snare drum—
The motel room's way too cramped for a full drum kit, so Ollie hauled in a couple of snares as a workaround.
He shot a glance at Cliff and Maxim. "…Let's take it from the top, first eight beats. I'll jump in at the fourth."
No extra words needed—they snapped into gear, restarting the run-through. The focus in their eyes showed no trace of last night's all-nighter, though the faint red streaks in them told the tale. It'd been a night full of sparks flying .
That sleepless, candlelit grind had us in a trance. Even Alice walking in couldn't break the spell.
Trailing Ollie into the room, Alice's lens caught the buzzing, packed scene unfolding.
Her head was spinning with a million questions—she couldn't keep up—but she clocked the vibe instantly. Smartly, she kept quiet, easing the door shut and lifting her camera. She tucked into the dead corner behind it, no time to scout angles or lighting, just trying not to mess with whatever we were cooking. Silently, she let the lens do the storytelling.
Once she settled, her mind raced—how should I frame this? What's the shot?—but every move risked throwing us off. She ran through options, shot them all down, and in the end, just stayed put, filming from where she stood. For now, she shelved the ideas and locked in, soaking up the scene playing out.
The melody was turning into a song.
Last night, what Alice heard me sing was raw, real, gripping—unpolished but already heavy with feeling. Now, the track taking shape right here was whole, layered, alive. Just instruments, no lyrics yet, but her mind flashed back to me singing solo by the pool—alone, pouring it out.
Still rough and simple, but you could feel the alchemy of something coming to life from nothing.
This was magic—turning the ordinary into gold . Alice couldn't miss it, wouldn't. For a documentary, sometimes the story outweighs the framing.
Like right now.
And it wasn't done yet—this was still unfolding. The four of us swapped ideas, tweaking details bit by bit. Almost every run ended with a pause to talk it over; every try meant someone adjusting something. No one sat it out—we were all in the grind.
It wasn't easy, but the energy was electric.
You could tell my takes held their own against Ollie and Maxim's. I jumped in every time, pushing us all forward. Sure, Ollie and Maxim nailed it more often, but I didn't back off—kept throwing my voice out there, steady and sure. Like I was learning, growing, right in the thick of it.
Alice loved this kind of moment. The motel room had zero charm—no time to fix lights or angles—but that raw, messy backdrop just made the focus pop even more.
Before long, we forgot she was there. Even Ollie blanked on the fact he'd let her in. The camera faded away completely, and we slipped into that flow state—real, unfiltered, just us.
No sleep.
After a full night of grinding, the arrangement for "In My Blood" was finally wrapping up. Clashing ideas and thoughts kept the inspiration pumping—time didn't matter anymore, not even hunger registered. We were all in, no breaks, no food.
On the arrangement, my vision won out in the end—but I compromised too—
Ditched the acoustic guitar and went with electric instead.
That kept the vibe I wanted while dodging Ollie's concerns. Problem solved, clean and simple.
Plus, we tweaked a ton—how to pick instruments, how to layer them.
Start with vocals solo, then the electric guitar slips in to back it up. Next, snare drums tap in—mimicking a heartbeat, but dialed back to not steal the show. Then bass rolls in, followed by the kick drum… building it up, layer by layer.
Chorus hits, piano drops, and bam—depth and dimension kick in. The melody soars, letting all the emotion in the lyrics spill out loud and free.
The bones of it were mine, but the details? Maxim and Ollie brought killer ideas to flesh it out.
Picking instruments was just step one. After that, we had to write parts for each—every instrument's score is different. The more pieces, the tighter the notation needs to be, so it's rich but clear.
That whole sleepless night was us hammering that out—finishing the songwriting and arranging. Finally, we could test it live: syncing instruments, balancing dynamics, rhythm, volume, emotion—everything needed tuning.
"Play the melody through instruments, but make sure they mesh—blending into one big, inspired whole."
That's the soul of a live band gig. It's what we rehearse and refine over and over.
For One Day Kings, we've got the chemistry down. But a brand-new track? Time's the key to nailing it—
And time's exactly what we don't have right now.
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