After entering the 21st century, the realm of music had become increasingly diversified and intricate. To meet the demands of the fast-paced internet era, music began to fuse genres: rock intertwined with hip-hop, pop merged with electronic, rhythm blues entwined with rap... Most notably, electronic synthesized sound effects gained prominence. Amidst this evolution, rhythm overshadowed melody, and the essence of music was silently transforming.
Such was the trend of the times, irrefutably giving birth to numerous exceptional compositions. Yet, it left one pondering with a tinge of regret, was there no longer a place for purer forms of music? Had the colors faded from those classic, vintage melodies? Was there no market for the simple, sincere, and unadorned tunes anymore?
During music's inception, it conveyed the full spectrum of human emotions, the sweet and bitter nuances of life, the tumultuous currents of destiny. Its enthralling power stemmed from encapsulating the authentic sentiments of each creator and singer. Figures like Bob Dylan and The Beatles etched themselves into history due to this authenticity. However, this purity was gradually waning.
It was like Sound City.
In the same manner, the song "Cleopatra" evoked a sense of Herbert's longing for a bygone golden age, mourning the loss of unadulterated music, and melancholically contemplating the uncertain morrows.
"But I was late for this, late for that, late for the love of my life. And when I die alone, when I die alone, when I die I'll be on time..." each lyric resonated with truth, earnestness, and sorrow.
The golden era of music had forever dissolved into the river of time, and music was following in the wake of Hollywood, as the tidal wave of commercialization began to seep into the once pristine heart of music. From rock to rhythm blues, history was rewritten; from folk to punk, transformations abounded. Trash rock, pop punk, soul pop, jazz blues—diverse genres had flourished. Once, music was about expressing the deepest emotions of the heart, touching the most sensitive fibers of the soul... but now, they had vanished.
[
I was Cleopatra, I was taller than the rafters
But that's all in the past now, gone with the wind
Now a nurse in white shoes leads me back to my guestroom
It's a bed and a bathroom
And a place for the end
]
Gradually moving into an exuberant melody, akin to the jubilant cheers of a carnival, it mesmerized, the entire world sinking into revelry and elation. However, the voice of Renly bore a subtle sadness, as if dancing alone in the surging crowd, sprinkling the ground with the bitterness of solitude and desolation amidst the lively steps.
Extreme clamor and extreme solitude, boundless joy and profound sadness, in this moment, they were vividly and grandly outlined. Breaking free from all restraints, defenses, and protections, it struck his chest with a fierce impact. Memories of the past two decades surged in an unguarded moment, catching him off guard, leaving him disheveled.
Before his mind could react, tears blurred his vision. Gazing at the empty recording studio before him, the former brilliance dissipated with the wind. "And a place for the end," how lightly it was spoken, yet how vast and magnificent it appeared.
The melody concluded, yet Herbert remained lost in his thoughts, frozen in place, battered and bruised, his eyes distant. That faint melancholy lingered in his heart, while the bitterness churned on his tongue. It seemed impossible to swallow down, as if time itself paused within the wisps of cigarette smoke.
"Herbert? Herbert?"
The voice of a summons interrupted Herbert's thoughts. He hurriedly lowered his head, concealing the turmoil in his eyes. He took a deep breath, then replied, "Wha... what's wrong?" Raising his head again, he appeared to regain his composure—at least on the surface—yet the tumultuous emotions within remained uncalmed.
"How do you feel?" Renly's voice came through the microphone, his eyes carrying a sense of inquiry.
Herbert hesitated, only then recalling. They were in the middle of a recording, they were working.
Upon reflection, Renly's singing seemed devoid of excessive embellishments, embracing simplicity. He stripped away trills, runs, and vibrato. Even in the song's sole moment of a high note, he abstained from using falsetto, singing with rawness, akin to an amateur singer, letting his voice belt out.
However, it was precisely this simplicity that conveyed the purest, simplest, and most genuine emotions within the song. Intense emotions surged through Renly's voice—crisp yet tinged with huskiness, warm yet tinted with a sense of loss. The emotions were subtle, like wisps of clouds and gentle breezes, yet they churned up formidable waves, overwhelming and unconquerable.
Was this recording flawless? Of course not. Herbert could point out dozens of errors and flaws. However, he didn't want to disrupt the inherent purity. After all the polishing, it felt like something was lost.
Looking up, Herbert observed Renly bathed in the studio lights. His youthful face carried a worldly weariness beyond his years. He recalled their recent debate. Renly insisted on simplicity in arrangement and believed that lyrics and performance were integral parts of a song, creating richer layers. Herbert opposed this, mostly due to his subconscious distrust of Renly. He didn't believe a twenty-year-old could comprehend terms like "world-weariness" and "loss". However, he was clearly mistaken.
With just a guitar, a single light, and a melody, seemingly even crude, she stood still, singing quietly. It was as if this was the most fundamental essence of music. Herbert was reminded of Bob Dylan.
"Very good," Herbert spoke into the microphone, yet he realized his voice was shockingly hoarse. He absentmindedly reached for the warm milk beside him, which had cooled down somewhat, and took a large sip. After the milk reached his throat, he realized when that milk had been placed there?
Not dwelling on it, he continued, "You need to pay attention to your breathing. During performances, your breath control is impeccable. However, in the recording studio, every detail is amplified. Although your breaths are discreet and natural, the microphone can still pick them up."
This was a common mistake among many newcomers. Renly was already doing well. Many singers struggled with breath control, with pacing and duration issues. This could be particularly taxing in the recording studio, especially for rock singers who were often heavy smokers. They would alter their singing styles, resorting to growls to mask the flaws in their breath control.
"Alright, I understand," Renly nodded. The recording studio was a new environment for him, even more foreign than the film set. There was much to learn from scratch. "Anything else?"
Herbert pondered sincerely. He could correct Renly's vocal technique, even address the nuances of his high notes, but... "No." Herbert spoke, then lightly nodded to reaffirm his decision. "No."
Renly gestured with an "OK" sign, then bowed his head to contemplate, pondering how to proceed with the upcoming recording.
Seeing Renly deep in thought, Herbert chuckled softly. "Renly, you don't have to worry too much. About ninety percent of singers record in sections, not in one continuous take. Some even record line by line. So, there's no need to be concerned about breath control."
A look of realization appeared on Renly's face. Curious, he asked, "But won't recording line by line make the whole song disjointed? Lyrics and melody are meant to be together. If you cut the entire song into numerous fragments, won't it break the emotional flow?"
"For electronic synthesized music, there's no such worry," Herbert said, not masking his aversion to electronic synthesized music. Pausing briefly, he had more to say, but he swallowed his words and changed the subject. "If you're ready, let's start the formal recording. Sing according to your rhythm. We'll record from the main chorus to the bridge for the first section and see how it sounds, understood?"
"Understood," Renly acknowledged, subconsciously picking up the lyrics on the music stand, trying to ease his nerves. After all, music wasn't acting, and it wasn't his primary expertise. He still felt somewhat unaccustomed. But as he picked up the lyrics, he realized they were for Foo Fighter's song, not her own. So, he put them back down.
Watching Renly's demeanor, Herbert eventually couldn't resist. "Renly, I don't know if you're a great actor, but I know you're a remarkable singer." He hadn't paid attention to his Emmy awards or watched "The Pacific". He only knew from Andy that acting was Renly's main job, nothing more. "You have the talent to become an exceptional singer."
Herbert wasn't used to praising others, but he tried to cover his embarrassment with a cough. He lowered his head, pretending to be busy, not wanting to admit that the cigarette in his hand had finally burned down to his fingertips. He hastily tossed the butt aside, feeling quite embarrassed.
Renly blinked, clearly taken aback by Herbert's praise. Then, seeing Herbert's flustered state, he couldn't help but chuckle. Speaking into the microphone, he teased, "Well, that's a disaster. Andy wouldn't want to hear that news."
Herbert burst into laughter at the jest, dissolving the awkwardness. "I don't need to worry about his reaction. What I need to worry about now is the recording work. We need to pick up the pace; this place charges by the hour."
"Haha," Renly laughed heartily too.
Collaborating with Herbert was quite an experience. Their ideas often sparked off each other, sometimes it was Renly leading Herbert, and at other times, the reverse. The first experience in the recording studio was a memorable one. Whether it was the historical significance of Sound City or the exacting standards of Neve 8028, it was a completely new challenge for Renly. Especially listening to his voice through the headphones while singing, the sensation was... eerie, or perhaps, marvelous.
The recording of "Cleopatra" and "Ophelia" was quicker than expected. Over four days, including a day off due to Foo Fighter's full-day rental of the studio, the two singles were successfully recorded.