An overly-eager artist being welcomed into the industry is taken on a bumpy ride as she learns life does not have as many sunny days as she thought. Within the process, she comes to learn that her tour guide is a lot more important to her than she e...
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December 28, 1983 Los Angeles, California
Christmas passed with a breeze. The holiday was really nice until my father almost set the tree on fire due to a light burning the wrapping paper on a present. I wrote a cute little song about it. It sounds like a reach but it sparked a previous thought in my mind. The metaphor created itself, disguising the origin of the idea. You see, I write my own songs. I tried for the most part to arrange my own pieces. It took me years to perfect my own arrangements but I have always had one thing in the bag. I've always sung live.
I was so impatient. I was always asking what the deal was with that boring ass artist development Atlantic had me going through every two weeks. My frustrations were brewing quickly. It started with the demo they said they'd use as my first single. It was never was released. I immediately got something that would knock their socks off. It was an old song I wrote in high school. After revising a couple of lyrics, I was positive they were going to let me release it. I knew for sure when I was in the studio with Jeff, my favorite engineer, recording it. It was the first time I recorded a full song in Los Angeles.
I come home in the morning light. My mother says, "When you gonna live your life right?" Oh mother dear, we're not the fortunate ones and girls they wanna have fun. Oh girls, just wanna have fun.
The phone rings in the middle of the night; my father yells, "what you gonna do with your life?" Oh daddy, dear you know you're still number one and girls, they wanna have fun. Oh girls, just wanna have...
I took off my headphones and he gave me a big thumbs up. We were about to do another quick run through when the door opened. Prince strolled in with interest in his eyes. How or why he was here was lost in translation to me. I hadn't seen that man since his little stunt he pulled at Emerald City. He walked in cautiously, exchanged a word with Jeff, and sat on the couch. I ignored him initially. I gave Jeff the signal to run the recording back and I went on to adlib behind the song's chorus. Prince wasn't stopping my work ethic.
That's all they really want, some fun; when the working day is done. Oh, girls, just wanna have fun. Oh, girls, just wanna have fun.
I took off my headphones and hung them around the microphone. As I walked over to him, I was hoping to hear a decent playback. There was something nerve wrecking about hearing my voice on playback back then, even when I was paid for every note that came out of my mouth. It was a discounted price but I still got paid much like how I still got nervous no matter what. I thought I'd always get nervous. That quirk nearly completely faded but, in that moment, I was sure that it was my eternal damnation.
"You wrote that?" I nodded as he tapped his foot. His silence was the reply to my nod. It was plain and simple yet somehow assuring. "That's going to send the radio in a tailspin." I didn't know how to take his words. Was it a compliment? Was it an insult? I had no idea what he meant by that. I now know he was telling me I had a hit. He told me before anyone else.
