Saturday, January 20
(Franco)
I woke up a little after five this morning and couldn't go back to sleep. So, I showered, and I'm sitting in my bedroom ready to go for the day, and it's only six o'clock. We don't have to be on the road to the studio until seven-thirty. Which gives me plenty of time to think.
And worry. I'm a quiet worrier like my dad—I blame him for the hereditary affliction. I tend to keep negative feelings tucked away behind my smile.
Today's significant. It's a day we all knew was coming, but refused to discuss. Sometimes when a situation is potentially explosive, it's best to leave it alone and deal with detonation at zero hour instead.
It's hard to think it was a year ago today that Kate died. Some days it feels like yesterday, and some days it feels much longer than a year—either way, it sucks. We all miss her. She was an unofficial, but integral, part of this band. Whether she was writing with Gus, or singing with us at practice, or cheering us on from the crowd or side stage at one of our gigs, she was part of us. We wouldn't be half the band we are if it weren't for her influence and inspiration. She pushed Gus, she pushed all of us, to be more creative, to play from the heart. I miss that.
And besides being crazy talented, she was one of the best people I've ever known. She would do anything for anyone, whether she knew them or not. And her sense of humor was off the charts. She left her mark on everyone, we're all better for having known her.
Today is a reminder of all that. The passage of time has healing powers, though. It can turn grief into gratitude. Giving thanks for knowing and loving a friend like Kate. The tattoo on my wrist is a reminder of her legacy and will be with me for the rest of my life. I look at it often, Do epic. Two little words that make me feel powerful.
Today I'll celebrate her. Jamie and Robbie will be with me.
It's Gus I'm worried about. This anniversary will mark the progress he's made. Or set him back like a sonofabitch. I'm scared to walk out of this room and find out which one.
I can hear his muffled voice through the wall. He's awake and talking on the phone. I can't make out words, but I would guess he's talking to his mom, Audrey. I'm sure she's celebrating Kate today, too. I'm glad she's the first person Gus is talking to today. If anyone can put you in a good mood, it's Audrey.
There's movement out in the hallway now, Jamie and Robbie must be up and around. I find them in the kitchen. Robbie is always quiet, but for the first hour or so he's awake he's zombie-like. I nod at him because speaking to him is like poking a bear with a sharp stick. He nods back, opens the fridge to pull out a Red Bull, and retreats with it to the bathroom to shower and rediscover his communication and social interaction skills.
"Morning, Franco," Jamie says when we're alone. There's a fragile look in his eyes, today is messing with him too. "You talk to Gus this morning? How is he?" He's not just wearing his heart on his sleeve, he's serving it up on a platter for the world to see. He's a good dude, who's just as worried as I am.
I shake my head. "Nope, haven't seen him yet."
He nods his concern and takes two English muffins out of the bag on the counter. The dude is addicted to English muffins and has two every morning, toasted with orange marmalade, no matter where we're at. He's like an eighty-five-year-old woman. When we travel, he brings his toaster for Christ's sake. "Want one?" he asks.
"Sure, why not. Let me in on this geriatric obsession."
The English muffin and orange marmalade is tasty, I can see the appeal now. We eat them while scrolling through the photos on our phones and sharing old pics of Kate. It's funny how many we have between the two of us. And in every single one, she's smiling like it's the best day of her fucking life. That's how she looked all the damn time. All smiles. And after trading shots for a few minutes, we're both smiling too. It's impossible not to. Her spirit is infectious.
"You still have the video of the karaoke battle between Kate and Gus in Minneapolis?" he asks.
I laugh. "Hell yes, that's one of my prouder moments. I'm keeping that video for-fucking-ever."
The video that I filmed one night when were in Minneapolis recording "Finish Me" with Kate the month before she passed, is buried deep in my history but I find it in no time and hit play. The footage that follows is priceless.
On the screen, the hotel suite we all stayed in is panned, and the following faces come into view: Keller, Kate's boyfriend; Gus; Robbie; Jamie; and Kate's friends Shelly, Duncan, and Clayton. They're all sitting on chairs and a couch forming a semi-circle—a rapt audience for the epic battle about to take place.
After capturing the audience's enthusiasm live, I focus on Kate standing before them with a microphone, while I announce the rules. "Tonight's battle pits amiga," she raises her fists up over her head, taunting her opponent, and the crowd goes wild, "versus amigo." I boo Gus loudly and his, "This is rigged, goddammit," is loud enough that it's picked up on the video. I laugh through his protest and continue with the rules. "Each contestant will sing one song. The only criteria for song choice is it must be insanely sexy. Sorry, Gus, I know this puts you at an immediate disadvantage, since you struggle desperately in that arena. Winner will be decided by applause and will be forever hailed as Karaoke Royalty and will reap whatever benefits the title generates, including, but not limited to, taunting the loser unmercifully."
Kate, despite being tired as hell from a long day in the studio, is bouncing on the balls of her socked feet. She was always that way, like there was so much happy energy buzzing inside just waiting to be unleashed on the world. "Without further ado, I give you, Kate Sedgwick."
I prop my phone up on a table off to the side to capture all the action and hit play on the karaoke machine. The TV screen lights up with the lyrics as the first note plays. I picked the song for Kate. And I've never been more pleased with myself then when Gus immediately groans, "I'm fucked."
"You lose," I wholeheartedly agree as Kate starts singing "Sex" by The 1975.
Because she's here amongst her closest friends, I know she'll play to the crowd, and she doesn't disappoint. She goes down the line and pauses on each person, directing lines from the song at them personally. Which, frankly, leaves us all a bit jealous of Keller. By the time she's done, Clayton's blushing wildly, Gus is graciously accepting his defeat, Keller's on his feet applauding, and I'm high fiving Kate for an outstanding performance.
I hit stop on the video because that's where it ends. Gus didn't even sing his song—he conceded, punched me in the shoulder, fucking hard, and hugged Kate instead.
"It's hard to believe she's gone, isn't it?" Jamie says, bringing me back to the here and now. "How could someone that full of life, have it taken, robbed," he corrects, "from her? It's not fair."
I shake my head as my smile fades. "It's sure as hell not fair."
"I need another English muffin," he says it like they have healing properties.
"Me, too."
Robbie rejoins us as we're finishing up and we move to the living room to wait for Gus. It's almost time to leave and worry's set in again. We stand as a united front of concern and support when Gus walks out of his room. He looks relaxed, but I can't read him. "Morning. You okay, big man?"
He nods. "I'm okay, dude." He is. I can hear it in his voice. "I'm always gonna miss her, but she's right here." He pats his chest. "Which has me thinking, I know we're supposed to finish up 'Judgment Day' today, but I think in Bright Side's memory we should just jam. We should just play. See what we come up with. You know that she's been watching us in the studio. So today, let's do something she loved."
That's the best idea I've heard in a long time, and apparently, I'm not the only one because Jamie and Robbie are nodding their agreement beside me. I head for the door, ready to get this Kate celebration underway. "Let's do this. I'm officially declaring it Kate Day."
It's mandatory that Kate Day begins with coffee, because it was the girl's life blood, so we hit up the drive thru at Starbucks on the way to the studio.
Our producer, MFDM (the Motherfucking Dream Maker), is reluctant when Gus pitches his idea that we jam today, but it's short lived because he had a soft spot a mile wide for Kate too.
It begins with Gus and his acoustic guitar. He's strumming one string of notes and humming another. His musical mind is a complex space. And his talent is scary. I can see the gears turning in his head and whatever he hears inside is ten steps ahead of what he's playing. He quickly swaps out his acoustic for his electric and immediately starts adjusting his effects pedals and delay until they mimic the sound he's looking for. When he begins playing again, I can hear it coming together and my head's bobbing along to the beat that I'm tapping out on my thigh. Gus nods to me and gives me instruction to play along. It's a struggle at first—what he wants and what I'm playing are two different things—but as he talks me through it, and I make adjustments, it doesn't take long before I can hear his vision. And I'm all over it.
Over the next several hours Jamie and Robbie join in, and a new song is born.
And by two o'clock in the morning it's birthed. Recorded. Its name is "Redemption" and it's aptly titled. This entire album feels like redemption. We're coming back stronger than we were before. This is it. This is our moment. And the best thing is, we all feel it.