Invisible string

Chapter 2: the interview

“You got this, okay? Just talk about your work, tease the album, and that’s it,” Chris said.

“Right. Easy peasy,” she replied, and off they went.

They were heading into a radio show—almost like a podcast, with all the mics and headphones. Hazel always felt self-conscious in interviews. On stage she was free, in her element, when she was writing music or talking to fans. But interviews—with reporters, cameras, and questions—were different. And difficult.

“And we are live.” Suddenly, a red light went on in the room, where it was just Jason, the interviewer—named Nick—and Hazel.

“Good afternoon, everybody. Let me just say, we are so thrilled to have you here with us in Chicago. You just did a show last night, which I went to, by the way, and it was amazing—maybe the best concert I’ve ever attended.”

Hazel raised an eyebrow, her trademark dry humor slipping into her voice. “Oh, okay… now we have to live up to that forever. No pressure.”

Jason chuckled, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Yeah, this’ll haunt us every tour. Thanks, man.”

Nick laughed along with them before leaning forward. “So, you’ve been touring for over a year now…how it has been for you?”

“Tiring,” Hazel admitted with a faint shrug. “But also, apparently, people like what we do. That’s weird, but I’ll take it.”

Jason gave a quiet, self-deprecating grin. “Yeah, I mostly just nod and try not to trip over the drum kit.”

Hazel smirked at him. “Which he does very successfully… most of the time.”

Nick laughed again, shaking his head. “Fair enough. Let’s talk about Car Radio. It’s really resonated with fans. Can you share a bit about what the song means to you?”

Hazel’s voice softened slightly, losing some of its usual sarcasm. “Yeah… I wrote that song about being alone with your thoughts. About sitting in silence and realizing your brain can be its own worst nightmare—your worst enemy. It’s about the anxiety that sneaks up when there’s nothing to distract you, nothing to escape your thoughts… except maybe music.”

Jason nodded quietly beside her. “And apparently, a lot of people hear it and go, ‘Yeah… that’s me.’”

Hazel leaned back, her eyes drifting as if recalling the memory. “Exactly. People screaming those lyrics back at us? It’s surreal. I wrote that at 2 a.m., after a frustrating day—where, by the way, I actually did get my radio stolen. And now it’s being screamed by hundreds of people. It’s… intense.”

Nick tilted his head, curiosity in his eyes. “Hazel, it’s rare to see frontwomen in bands—and even rarer to hear a woman scream in songs like you do. Do you get that a lot?”

Hazel’s dry wit returned instantly. “Yeah, apparently it’s shocking. I scream because the song demands it. Not because I enjoy terrifying small children… though sometimes I do.”

Jason smirked. “It’s terrifying when she’s right in front of you, actually.”

Hazel laughed, shaking her head. “Thanks, Jason. Always happy to have my terrifying side validated.”

Nick leaned back in his chair, amusement in his expression. “How do you balance touring, writing, and all of this success?”

Hazel gave a half-smile, half-sigh. “Coffee. Lots of it. And staring at notebooks until words magically appear. Sometimes I stare so long I forget what time it is… which explains why we’re late for everything.”