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Post by elizabeth lee on Oct 11, 2009 12:25:06 GMT -5
For any aspiring musician, the Music Composition room at the Chicago School of Visual and Performing Arts was a gold mine. Yes, it was meant simply to compose - usually on computers - however it had some of the best recording equipment money could buy, allowing musicians to record themselves playing or singing and upload it onto the computer. The recording equipment was why Elizabeth was huddled in the corner, her coat hanging over the chair, of the classroom on a cold, rainy, Wednesday evening. She was not just her to record however, she was also here to settle her curiosity as to how she sounded when she was recorded. She didn't want to assume that she sounded the same as she did normally because she didn't sound anything like herself on the phone.
Elizabeth clicked open the recording program and opened up a new document. She was sure that there were loads of tricks that could be performed on the program, but she only had need of the most simple one. The fingers on her left hand positioned themselves over the fretboard of her guitar, and Liz used her right hand to adjust the two microphones she had plugged in. She positioned the one which was going to pick up the guitar three inches away from the sound hole, and the one she planned on singing into was about just under an inch from where her mouth would be when she sat up straight. Now that the microphones were in place, the woman could start the recording, which was exactly what she did by hitting ''ctrl'' and ''r'' on the computer's keyboard.
Normally Elizabeth would play some country music, however she recently had gotten Tears In Heaven by Eric Clapton into her head and that was what she was going to play. She could just barely play the guitar for it, so it was going to be a challenge for her, which was a good thing. Nothing like a challenge to get the adrenaline flowing, eh? Elizabeth's fingers danced over the frets, pulling off the chords, hammer ons and pull offs she needed to, and her right hand strummed or plucked accordingly. "Would you know my name, if I saw you in heaven?" The woman's voice was loud but solemn, and her eyes seemed to zone out as she concentrated on her fingers on the fretboard. "Will it be the same, If I saw you in heaven?"
The whether outside was cold and unwelcoming, and while the song she was singing wasn't the most warming, there was an essence of comfort in Elizabeth's voice. In fact, she would not have been surprised if somebody were to find themselves drawn to it. Embarrassed yes, surprised no.
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Word Count: 456
Outift: click
Tag: Viktor Criss Smirnov
Notes: Sorry for the wait! |
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Post by Viktor Criss Smirnov on Oct 25, 2009 16:26:30 GMT -5
Criss was much the same way, aspiring and still wanting to follow his dream. While teaching wasn't it it was fun being able to teach the next generation. He often found himself wishing to huddle in the corner just to get away from the kids somedays. Outside his window he smiled at the rain falling. He was here late gradeing a few papers because he knew if he went home he'd never get them done. So he stayed late, that meant too that his sister had to. She was in the libary, with his laptop, working on a paper for a class.
Sitting there on his desk, rather than at, he had one of the books resting on a knee with a stack of papers there gradeing each. The most boring part of teaching for him, and he was sure was for the kids. He'd been there done that, more than once. As he sat scribling notes across the top of one page he hummed lightly to the toon that played in his head. He was one of those people who 'moved to the beat of their own drum'. For Criss that was true in more than one way. He truly did being a muscican have song and beats in his mind constantly, it was a testamony of his dedication to his work and passion the constant drum of beats and music in his mind. Sitting there gradeing he soon found himself tapping his foot lightly to that 'inner' beat as words formed softly on his lips just hardly above a whisper. The Russian slipped easily an unchecked from his lips as he didn't bother to curb or surpress them.
Soon the papers in his lap were forgotten as he tapped out the music in his head. His pen beat against the book and soon another pen was in his left hand as he 'played' the book like a drum. The rain outside beating on the window pane acompanied him like a band. His voice never raised, though he could sing he practiced restaint as he tapered off just sitting tapping out that beat. Smiling as he heard the beat of another drum and the strumming base of a guitar, his eyes closed he just continued to 'play' to the beat oblivious at the moment that not all of it was just that constant music in his mind. But something drew him almost abruptly from his drum solo. Blinking he sat there, his beat slowly tapering off, raising a brow he sat there. That music wasn't in his head, and here now there was a voice clearly not his own. He smiled again an made a 'hum' sound. Eric Clapton, good singer. Though Country wasn't his favorite type of music he had to admit that was a pretty darn good song.
The voice wasn't want he recognized but yet sounded familiar in a way, it was close too. Though he didn't want to embarrasse the owner of that voice he was curious of her and the music that lofted to his ears. Slowly he shifted putting his pens back in the black 'ace of spades' cup and put the book and papers on his desk before he uncurled himself. Quietly he made his way towards the source of the sound.
.... Word Count : 574 Muse Currently MIA Tag : Elizabeth Lee Random : Soooo Sorry for the delay Outfit : Click It
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