| Chapter Two: The
Recording Studio Since I had assumed financial backing on this venture I wanted to make sure everything went smoothly. I tried to keep myself busy with phone calls to other agents and bands, keeping busy, all the time thinking that this was a just another routine recording session. But I couldn't fool myself. I wanted to see her again and soon. I made sure that everything was ready for the session. I was a pro at this game but now I felt nervous and excited, as the engineer, Russ Bernstein, set up to Pamula's specifications. When the hour approached and she hadn't appeared, I grew agitated. (Listen) Tick Tock, You're Late.mp3 Where was she and when was she coming? I'm an important agent with better things to do, than sitting around waiting for her. Whereas, I would have left anyone else pulling this trick, but something kept me in the studio and in check. I calmed down, poured a cup of coffee and started to read the day's Boston newspaper that was left in the waiting room out front, on the coffee table. The face of a dead man looked up at me from the third page. I thought to myself "just another killing, better be careful until they catch the nutcake." I started to read about how the poor schmuck was killed, attacked near Piedmont Street in the Back Bay area. Police weren't saying too much, as the investigation was just underway. Something was gnawing at my brain but I couldn't shake it loose. Then the buzzer to the front door went off and Pamula gave a wave and a smile through the glass front door. I jumped up and let her in. There she was and everything else floated away. She looked too bright and too up, leading me to
wonder if she was on something. Somehow the room grew smaller with her presence. Her musky
perfume scent and brilliant style took over. She handed Russ some grooves she
programmed and instructed him on the specifics. Then she started playing her music along
with the prerecorded track she had brought and started strumming a hauntingly wanderlust
progression and sang "drifting without end
sailing away" (Take My Hand). (Listen): Take My Hand.mp3 Russ and I looked at each other in awe as we sat
behind the mixingboard, listening. Russ smiled and nodded his head, knowing I had indeed
found someone talented and unusual. She was a true pro, laying down track after track,
first rhythm guitar, than another, a superb lead solo, keyboards, and then played the bass
line on a 4001 Rickenbacker. Finally her vocal was added last as she said "to get the
most sphere from it." Her music cast a spell just as it did in the Club. Something
was going on. I was no longer in charge. I was one of the players and I was not sure that
I liked it. Or, did I? The music filled the studio playback speakers for what seemed like
minutes when in fact it was 4 hours. I couldn't move from my seat. I felt numb and I was
being drawn to her as if I was under her control. Finally the song "Take My
Hand" was completed, and we were all listening to the playback in the control room. I
looked up at her and our eyes locked as she was listening to her music. "Has the
darkness of a moonless night" she said after the tune completed and not really
comprehended her comment, I agreed. Both Russ and myself were aware that something was
happening. I wanted to run away but at the same time wanted to stay. I felt rooted to the
chair. I wanted her but I didn't. My whole being tingled with her presence. Everything was
a blur and then it was over quickly.
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