Just Carly
Copyright© 2026 by Marc Nobbs
Chapter 14: Westmouth - 23rd January 2014
Here Before Breakfast
Thursday, January 23 2014 · 7:46 A.M. · Westmouth · Private
I’m at River Bank.
I woke before my alarm, and for a moment I thought I could go back to sleep. Then I remembered what day it was and started hearing the beginning of the song in my head. After that, there wasn’t much point.
Harry said he’d already been there half an hour when I arrived. Ellie came in just behind me, carrying her bag over one shoulder and bags of breakfast supplies in her hands.
The band should be here in less than an hour. We’ll eat when they arrive, which seemed like an excellent arrangement last night but feels rather far away now.
My guitar is out. My notebook is open. I’ve checked the notes we sent yesterday, although I don’t know what I expect to discover in them this morning.
Harry has been getting the room ready. Microphones and cables are everywhere, and there are places for people who aren’t here yet. I keep looking through the window and hoping I’ll suddenly be able to see Roxie.
I want that. Being able to look up and see somebody I know is listening.
It’s a little strange how much I’m looking forward to working with people I’ve only spent one afternoon and evening with. But we had a good time on Saturday, and everything they’ve sent since has made me want to hear more.
I’m nervous too.
This was my idea. I asked them to come. They’ve rehearsed, got up horribly early and brought themselves all the way here, and I want them to feel it was worth doing.
I know I can sing the song. I’ve sung it plenty.
But I want to sing it well with these people, in this room, today.
Ellie has just asked whether I’d like coffee.
Yes.
And possibly a small advance on breakfast.
Everybody Fits
Thursday, January 23 2014 · 10:06 a.m. · Westmouth · Private
They arrived at half-eight with instrument cases, bags and a considerable number of opinions about London traffic before dawn.
Roxie hugged me. Sarah hugged me. Ronnie asked whether breakfast was part of the contract.
It was.
We had bacon rolls and coffee while they properly met Harry and Ellie. Charlie wanted to know what keyboard he’d be using, and Bones was looking through the glass at the drum kit before he’d finished eating.
I liked seeing everybody here. Even with coats still on and mouths full of breakfast, they made the place feel different.
Then we got them into the room.
That took a while. We had instruments to prep, things to plug in, and things Harry needed to hear separately. Everybody had headphones, and we spent some time making sure each person could hear what they needed.
I needed less of myself than Harry initially gave me.
Then more of Charlie.
Then a little more of myself again.
Apparently, I am quite particular before nine-thirty.
We played a short section several times while Harry listened and adjusted things. By then I wanted to carry on through the chorus, but we kept stopping in the same place.
Useful. Necessary.
Still frustrating when you’re ready to sing.
Finally, he asked us to go from the beginning.
I loved it.
There were little things to sort out afterward. The pause before one entrance felt longer with everybody playing than it had in the rehearsal recording. Sarah and I were doing something too similar on our guitars, so we worked out how to give each other more room.
We also tried the ending twice, with everybody watching Bones.
He seems quite pleased to have that responsibility.
My vocal is a guide for now. Harry wants me there so the band can follow me while we get their parts right, and I’ll record the vocal we intend to keep later.
I understand that.
I’m still singing it properly. I can’t give them half of what I’d give an audience just because we’re calling it a guide. That doesn’t feel right at all.
We’ve done a complete run, recording everything. There’s already a moment in it I want to hear again, where Roxie plays that little phrase I liked yesterday and I come back in after her.
It feels easy when she’s right there.
Now tea. Harry wants everybody to take ten minutes rather than keep finding reasons to stay in the room.
Bones has discovered the biscuits.
I hope Ellie bought enough. I quite like the chocolate ones.
We Have Something To Build On
Thursday, January 23 2014 · 12:37 p.m. · Westmouth · Private
Harry called lunch just as Ronnie was suggesting another take. He played back the one we’d just finished, and Ronnie stopped suggesting.
I think we have the main performance.
Harry thinks so too, although he’s being more careful about how he says it. There are things to listen to again and parts we want to give more attention to this afternoon. But we’ve got all the way through with everybody happy about how it feels.
That took most of the morning.
We did a couple of complete takes after tea, then came into the control room to listen. It was crowded. Roxie stood behind my chair, Sarah leaned against the wall, and Charlie seemed to be listening with his entire face.
I kept looking at people when I heard something I liked. Eventually Ellie told me I could make notes instead of trying to catch five sets of eyes.
There was plenty to like. There were things to fix too.
We’d been making the first chorus quite big, which was exciting when we played it. Listening back, though, it didn’t leave us much further to go. Harry asked whether we could keep a little more in reserve.
Ronnie and Bones tried something together. Sarah changed what she was doing underneath Roxie. I sang with them, and suddenly the later chorus had somewhere to arrive. Nobody had to give a speech about it. We tried it, listened and understood.
I love working like that.
There was one take where the first half felt wonderful and then we rushed a little. Another where the ending was exactly what we wanted, but I could hear everybody being careful earlier on.
The last one felt like we’d stopped checking ourselves quite so much.
I could hear Bones holding us steady. Ronnie was doing something beneath the guitar that made the whole chorus feel good to sing over. And Charlie left that little opening after my line, just as we’d discussed yesterday.
I didn’t have to hurry out of his way.
The space for the cello is there too. We listened to that passage once with the temporary part Harry made, then again without it. I’m glad we planned for it before everybody came. There’s room for another musician to join this without us having to pull apart a performance we love.
Chloë arrived late in the morning.
She was very good about it. Waited until we’d stopped, said hello, then asked Harry where he wanted her.
He put her in the control room, where she could watch without anyone needing to entertain her, as she’d promised.
Roxie recognised her immediately, of course. Charlie became rather formal when they were introduced. Chloë seemed to notice, because she asked him about all the instruments he plays and listened while he answered. He was much more comfortable by the time she asked about the saxophone.
She watched the last take. When we came through to listen, she sat quietly while Harry played it. I could see her foot moving.
Afterward she said, “That works rather well, doesn’t it?”
I asked whether she liked what we’d done with her film song.
“Very much.”
Then she asked to hear the last chorus again. I was pleased about that. More pleased than I managed to say.
Now we’re eating sandwiches, with everyone talking over everyone else about the morning. Roxie has asked Harry a question about a guitar sound, and Charlie and Ellie are discussing something they’d like to try after lunch.
There’s still plenty to do. More work on the guitars and keyboard, then my vocal. Harry still thinks we can get what we need today. For the first time, I can hear enough of it to believe him.
I’m trying to eat instead of going back in there.
I want to hear it again.
Paul Has Gone To Collect A Cello
Thursday, January 23 2014 · 3:58 p.m. · Westmouth · Private
And its owner, obviously.
I tried to go with him. Apparently, once you’ve put the back seats down to accommodate a cello, there isn’t necessarily room for an enthusiastic singer as well.
So, I’m here, waiting.
I should write down how we got to this point, because quite a lot has happened since lunch.
Chloë had to leave. Glenn was here by the time Paul arrived, and we’d gone back to recording. Ronnie and Bones had finished their parts, and Roxie, Sarah and I were working through some of ours.
The bridge took a while.
There are moments when what your hands want to do and what everybody has agreed your hands should do become two different things. Sarah was getting frustrated with herself. We kept going, and when we finally got through it the way we wanted, Ellie’s voice came into my headphones telling us we’d nailed it.
I thanked the girls.
Then I looked through the glass.
Paul!
I hadn’t seen him since Monday morning. I’d thought about seeing him all day, but somehow I still wasn’t prepared for him to be standing there.
I took off my headphones and went to him.
Rather quickly.
There were people in the room. I remembered that after I’d kissed him.
I’m not sorry.
I wanted to introduce him to everybody, although Glenn had already introduced him to Harry. Apparently, Harry has decided Paul is “the muse.”
He kept calling him that.
Paul then recognised Ellie from Goosebumps, which delighted me. For a moment he looked as excited to have identified her as I’d been to see him, and she seemed pleased that somebody remembered.
Then Harry said he and Ellie had enough to put together a rough version and wanted twenty minutes to work on it.
We went to the pub.
Twenty minutes became half an hour. Paul introduced Glenn to the local beer. Glenn seemed less convinced by it than Ronnie, Bones, and Charlie, who went off to find the brewery and buy some to take home.
I’m glad they’ve enjoyed more than our biscuits.
When the rest of us got back, Paul and I sat together on one sofa. Roxie and Sarah were opposite us. Glenn was beside us, and Harry and Ellie were at the desk.
It felt strange having Paul there for that part.
He’s heard me perform. He’s heard songs I’ve written. But he hasn’t been sitting beside me while we decide what a recording needs. I wanted him to like it, and I wanted him to hear why I’ve been so excited.
Harry played the beginning of Saturday’s performance first.
Then he played what we’ve recorded today.
My guitar starts it, but the piano comes in with a little of the chorus melody before settling underneath. Then the drums and bass, then Roxie’s guitar. I’d heard all those parts being made. Hearing them put together properly was something else.
Glenn said it was different.
I said I liked it.
I do.
I kept looking at Paul, waiting for him to say something. He wanted to hear the whole song before deciding, which was perfectly reasonable, though it meant I had to be patient while Harry actually played it.
There are backing vocals now. Little moments from Charlie’s fiddle. My voice sounds so clear, and I can hear what the guitars are doing without feeling as though I have to fight them.
There were places where I caught myself listening to the song rather than inspecting my own singing.
That doesn’t happen every time.
Harry still wants to work on it. He thinks Charlie might get a better sound for those passages using one of the studio’s classical violins. And he isn’t convinced we need the cello.
He wants to hear it before deciding.
So do I.
Very much.
When it finished, Paul said he liked it. He thought he might prefer it to the movie version. I was pleased enough that I probably ought to have let him finish before responding.
Because this is close to what I’ve been trying to explain. Close enough that I can finally play something instead of talking around an idea, so I told Glenn I thought this was the sound I wanted for the album.
He’s worried.
He likes the recording. He said that. But liking a song in this room isn’t the same as knowing what the people who bought my first two albums will think of it. I understand why he keeps asking that question. Those people matter to me too. I don’t want them to feel as though I’ve forgotten them because I’ve come here and heard something new.
But I came here to try something new.
I can’t keep asking Harry and Ellie to help me change things, then retreat every time we make a change I actually like.
Glenn asked what happened if the risk didn’t work and I said we could go back to what we knew for the next album. That sounded very confident coming out of my mouth. I know it wouldn’t feel quite so simple if it happened. It assumes I-40 take up their option for the next album, and if this one doesn’t work, then they might not.
I know that’s a possibility. But...
I’m willing to try. To take the risk.
Then Paul suggested releasing this version and letting people hear it. Perhaps the acoustic one too, so we could find out what they responded to.
I loved that idea!
We’ve already done so much of the quieter recording. We could let people hear two different approaches to the same song, and their response might tell us something useful before we finish an entire album.
Nothing has been decided. Harry immediately reminded us that today’s recording isn’t ready. But it gave us something to talk about besides guessing whether everybody would hate it.
Then we got back to the cello.
I asked Paul whether he’d spoken to his friend from the quartet. He had. She’d said she’d give it a try.
Her name escaped me while I was explaining to Harry why I wanted her.
Alannah.
Lana.
I felt ridiculous. I’ve spent days thinking about the sound she made, and when I needed to say her name aloud, I had to ask Paul.
Harry said he could get a session musician here this afternoon. I know he could. But I want to hear her.
I watched her playing on Saturday. I could see how much she cared about what she was doing. That stayed with me alongside the sound itself.
So, Paul called her.
She’d just finished an exam. Her fourth this week. She’d been planning to do absolutely nothing this evening, which sounds entirely fair. So I asked whether she’d like to come to a recording studio instead. She wanted to know what we were doing to a song that was already number one. Also fair.
I tried to explain the experiment, and why I thought her cello might belong in it. She asked sensible questions about how it would work. Would she get time to practise? How long might it take?
Harry spoke to her about the part. A few bars in four places. He asked about her playing, and once she mentioned what she’d performed for her grade eight, he sounded completely satisfied that she could manage it.
Glenn offered fifty dollars an hour and she asked what that was in real money.
Harry settled it at fifty pounds.
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