California Nights

Two

The songs had been coming to him just fine for quite some time now. He felt like he’d done what he’d set out to achieve in the beginning of his career. He was finally living up to both his and the public’s dizzyingly high standards. He argued that he didn’t need Glenn anymore. He’d made it over five years without him, and had done quite well to boot. Not that Glenn needed him anyway. He has an album on the way, while Don’s struggling with the same problem that nearly dragged them under a decade ago: What the hell do we do now?

He missed Glenn’s near instantaneous ability to turn some lyrics on a legal pad into a cinematic work. The thrill of it drove Don mad; they had succeeded in bringing a rough vision of the song to life. If that happened without much hindrance, they had something pretty damn good. He missed Glenn’s knack for telling you when something was shit. The connection and magic they had enjoyed as a songwriting team had earned them nods to McCartney and Lennon as one of the best in rock n’ roll.

But success brought pressure and great expectations. The combination was a loaded gun, pressed into their backs, waiting to cut them down with a quick squeeze of cold, hard metal. The suits running the record company didn’t give a damn about “the creative process”. They cared about the music, all right. The gold records and the sound of cash in their pockets was music to their ears.

The struggles recording The Long Run had chipped away at their friendship until the glass shattered under pressure and the misshapen shards of broken glass embedded themselves in each others’ stomachs. It’s a terrible analogy to make, but it illustrates the pain of facing the end of your livelihood, trying to stop the bleeding and failing. Being doubled over in pain, scowling while tears prick the back of your eyes, waiting for the end to come that couldn’t be avoided. 

He told a reporter their relationship had disintegrated because “we stopped communicating, and that’s death.” For the sake of the band, they couldn’t afford to be friends. They were business partners tasked with keeping a company both together and productive, while dealing with their own personal shortcomings as they went and struggling to better their best. It was no way to have to handle a situation. It was do or die by this point, and something had to give. Don was the chief writer and lead singer by this point, yet conceded control of the band to Glenn. Undoubtedly lonely at the top of the mountain, Glenn was simply sick of being hated.