Metal Storm

Angelwings And Ravenclaws

      I slammed my notebook down with a loud "done!" as I quickly finished the last question on my history worksheet.
     It had been a week since the show and now we were busy working on our first tape.
     A short demo showcasing us at our rawest and loudest recorded right here in Svenn's room on the cheapest recording equipment that he could find.
     We were planning to release it around Christmas.
     Possibly the most ironic date to release a metal demo titled "Endless Cycle of Torment In Hell."
     Today, I was going over to Eric's house to work on a few songs with him.
Songs that would all maybe one day be on our debut album.
I'd written some riffs for fun before but had never really given them any real thought.
The prospect of serious songwriting was something totally new and exciting for me combined with the fact that Eric had wanted me to have a big part in songwriting if he liked what I came up with.
"Marlene, are you almost done? I still need to go and get groceries before your dad gets back from work," my mom yelled from downstairs.
"Yeah, I'm coming!" I called back.
She had grown surprisingly supportive of me playing in a band, probably happy that I finally had a friend group now and didn't bother the neighbours as much anymore.
Running downstairs, my guitar slung over my shoulder along with a notebook that Astrid had gifted me, I gave my mom a thumbs up and we headed for the car.
Eric had given me written directions to where he lived and as my mom drove, I called them out. Several times calling a bit too early or too late and having her have to make a U turn to get back on track.
"This must be the place," I said when we parked in front of a two story house painted in a light blue colour with a vast front yard surrounded by a glaring white picket fence. So unlike anything that I had expected Eric to live in.
My mom must have thought the same thing, asking if I was sure that I had brought her to the place.
"I'm sure it is. The house number matches the one on the paper that he'd given me," I said as I got out of the car.
"I'll stay here just in case this isn't the right place," mom said, "give me a wave if it's the wrong house."
I nodded, giving her a hug and thanking her for the ride.
Walking up the driveway, I hummed to myself wrapping my cardigan tighter around me as the cool fall breeze blew through my hair.
I stopped and rapped on the door, half expected some complete stranger to open it and tell me that I was at the wrong place.
Shortly, a middle aged woman with dark blonde hair tightly done up in a French braid.
"Oh, you must be Marlene," she said with a friendly smile, "I'm Mrs. Ohlsen, Eric's mother. Come on in."
I shook hands with her, noting her resemblance to Eric minus the dyed black hair.
"We're having lunch in an hour so you're welcome to stay if you would like," she said in the typical motherly fashion as I followed her inside.
"I'll see if I get hungry but thanks for the offer," I said.
Looking about the house, I saw that it was quite a nice one. Replicas of famous Swedish paintings hung on the wall along with pictures of Eric's family. I held in a laugh seeing how he much he stuck out in all the more recent pictures with his black hair and pouty expressions beside his smiling parents, grandparents, and little brother. A big fireplace was on in full blast in the living room and a grey cat was lounging in front of it on the patterned rug.
      Cozy and squeaky clean, it was so unlike Svenn's place.
     "Eric, honey, your friend is here!" Mrs. Ohlsen shouted up the staircase.
     I could hear loud stomping sound on the stairs before my bandmate made his way over to greet me.
     "Sorry that I was late," I muttered, "we kind of got lost."
      "Ah, that's alright," Eric said, gesturing up to the stairs behind him, "come on, I'll show you my room."
      We padded up the carpeted stairs before coming to the first door on the right side of the hallway.
      Eric opened it and we went inside.
     "Welcome to my den," he said, sitting down on his bed and patting the space beside him for me to join him.
      He had the kind of room that I'd always dreamed of having.
     Band posters and cutouts from magazines were plastered on the beige walls and an expensive record player stood in one corner and an acoustic guitar in the other.
     On a shelf, various records and tapes were neatly arranged in alphabetical order; Accept, Black Sabbath, Hellhammer, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, and even Motley Crue's first two albums.
"Shhh, don't tell Svenn that I love Motley Crue," Eric laughed going over to to his desk and taking out a notebook similar to mine, "he'd lose his shit if he knew."
"Your secret's safe with me," I said.
I mean who didn't have a few guilty pleasure bands?
     "So far, I've gotten these three riffs written down along with some lyrics," he put forth, sitting down beside me and opening a page in his notebook with guitar tabs scrawled all over it.
     As he rambled on about the music that he had gotten down so far and wanted to use for our demo, I found myself only half listening to what the guitarist was saying and stealing a glance at him, noticing small details that I hadn't really noticed before.
     His unusually thick eyelashes, the slight up-tilt of his nose, his blue eyes which were the colour of the stormy Northern sea, the tiny barely visible freckles on his slim arms....
     He must have caught me staring at him cause he shook his hair into his face and looked away, a pink blush creeping into his cheeks.
      "Uh- um it's probably best if you hear me play it on guitar," he stammered.
       "Yeah. I think you're right," I managed to say, not even sure why I had been staring at him and why I had felt that strange light flutter in my stomach in the first place.
        "Here, this will give you a much better idea of what this shit might sound like," Eric said, plunking down on a chair and placing his guitar on one knee.
     He played a few riffs that he'd written.
     They sounded quite good.
     The kind of riffs that you'd just want to headbang to and if he had been playing them on his electric guitar, I think I would have just straight up moshed right in his room.
     "I like them a lot. They'd definitely work in a song, probably a heavier song though. A headbanger I mean."
     "Oh yeah, that's what I was thinking too. I've also been listening to lot of Bathory lately and they always have this creepy intro thing or whatever for all their albums before the actual song kicks in," Eric said, pushing his hair out of his eyes, "I haven't talked about this with the others but what are your thoughts on doing some kind of short intro where it's a sample of something like a woman screaming or a bell tolling or some shit like that?"
     I propped my elbows up on my knees, surprised that he was asking me before anyone else for input.
"We can give it a shot. It would help set the mood for the album," I replied.
"Yeah, absolutely. I'll mention to the others, see what they think. After all, we gotta let our fans know what they're in for even before the fucking song starts," Eric said with a grin, "now let's see what you've got written."
Opening my notebook, I gave it to him and watched as his eyes scanned my riffs and lyrics.
     "This one," he said, pointing to a song I had written a few weeks ago out of pure boredom. I had written only the rhythm section for it so far but it had been one of the few songs that I'd actually been somewhat satisfied with after I had played it out on my guitar, "I think we can turn it into something really fucking great."
      "Wait, seriously."
      "Yeah, seriously. This riff sounds like it would fit into a slower song which is exactly what we need for an album closer."
      "Eric, you know, I randomly happened to write this song when I was bored without any real intention of writing something impressive," I said, shaking my head.
He looked me me in disbelief.
"Well, keep this up cause it's really fucking killer," Eric said, handing back my notebook to me, "can I hear you play it?"
I took my guitar, feeling a little shy playing my riffs in front of him.
Taking a deep breath, I played the intro and then the riffs which I felt would work for a chorus.
"Fuck yeah," Eric beamed, fist bumping me, "this is some shit that we can work with. I can figure out the lead section and Ace could probably just play a simple drum beat. Nothing too complicated since this will probably be a slower, more ominous song."
"Thank you, man," I said, "I didn't think that you'd like it but I sure am glad that you do.
      Eric frowned a little, pressing his thin lips together as if thinking of what to say.
      "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself," he finally began, "you're a fantastic guitar player and from what I've seen you know how to write one hell of a riff. If you weren't this good, I wouldn't have been so willing to let you play for our band. Shit, I would love to have you help me write the guitar sections for our next album. If you would like to, of course."
I'll be honest, I was somewhat shocked that he'd liked the stuff that I'd wrote down so far. I'd never been that confident with my songwriting so it was a shock to me that he'd been so open to using my riffs on a future album and an even bigger shock that he wanted me to have such a huge part in songwriting.
      "I'm flattered," I said, "thank you so much, Eric. I appreciate this opportunity and I'd love to help you with songwriting. And honestly, you're right, I should try to be more confident."
      "Yeah, no problem at all. I'm happy to help."
      I think it was at that moment, in Eric's bedroom that I'd realized that I had found a real friend. Someone truly special. Someone that I could trust. And all in the same guy who I had first thought of as bossy and abrasive and as I was sitting in my moms car, driving back home, I once again felt that weird little flutter in my stomach.