Beat Girl

Chapter #24 | Beat Girl

Rather than give me any hints over the phone, Amy had waited till I reached her studio to tell me her big idea. She wanted me to do the sound for her fashion show. I was flattered and petrified all at once. I knew nothing about fashion shows, or fashion for that matter, which couldn’t be a good thing. Surely Amy wasn’t offering me this out of friendship? I didn’t want her to ruin her chances by letting me botch the sound up. To my surprise, she mentioned the rave at the art gallery as having inspired her. Then the realisation set in. I hadn’t twigged that she wanted me to actually DJ at the show. For some reason, I’d presumed she wanted me to play the piano. 

‘Yeah, and I was thinking it would be great if you were on the catwalk, too! So the whole show would be themed around being urban and irreverent,’ Amy enthused.

‘Maybe you’d be safer hiring a proper DJ?’ I pleaded.

‘You are a real DJ,’ Amy was not to be swayed.

‘I’d never refuse you anything, you’re like family to me,’ I replied. ‘I’ll do it, of course I will, but are you sure you know what you’re doing? Your whole future is riding on this one show!’ I hoped to bring her to her senses.

‘Then there’s no better or safer hands to place it in.’ Amy stuck her hand out to shake on it.

As I took her hand in mine, I realised this was the first time we had ever shaken hands. It felt a bit odd. Amy gave me some notes from her ideas folder so that I could start working on the sound. She was more intent on getting me to feel the vibe of the collection rather than showing me sketches of the garments. Amy knew that I would connect mood and words with music much easier than I would associate any notes with a dress or a piece of fabric. 

So, armed with several sheets of paper, I headed out, wondering what I had got myself into. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to help Amy out; I most certainly did. I’d do anything for her, and in all the years we’d known each other Amy had very rarely asked me for a favour. It was always the other way around, so I felt hugely indebted to her. But right now, what with juggling the gigs Toby was sending my way with my piano classes and practice, as well as the upcoming memorial concert, I felt like there was not enough of me to go around. I was stretched too thin as it was. My anxiety rising, I wondered where on earth I would find the time and the energy to do justice to this show. 

That evening, I looked at Amy’s files and began to slowly create a sonic picture of what she was trying to achieve. But I realised I’d need to pop over to Toby’s store to stock up on a fresh supply of vinyl, as none of the stuff I was familiar with felt just right. I needed inspiration. The following afternoon, therefore, I went over to Sway Records. Even though Toby wasn’t expecting me, he seemed to have something up his sleeve, as the minute I crossed the store threshold he stopped what he was doing and rushed over, leading me to the counter, where he instructed me to close my eyes. As I stood with my eyes tightly shut, all I could hear was the rustling of paper. It seemed to go on forever. 

‘I’m warning you,’ I said, ‘if I have to keep my eyes closed any longer, I might fall asleep.’ 

‘Is that the thanks a fella gets for going to the trouble of whipping up a little surprise for his gal?’ Toby said playfully, putting on a fake American accent. ‘Right, little Miss Impatient, put your hands out.’

I was expecting something light, so when a heavy load landed in my hands I automatically opened my eyes, for fear of dropping it. 

‘Jeez Louise!’

Toby grinned, gesturing for me to open the large parcel. I slowly peeled the wrapping paper and then removed a layer of tissue paper. Only when all the wrapping had been removed did I recognise what the object was – it was a box for carrying records. A proper DJ’s record box! As I lifted it, admiring it, I noticed that there was lettering on one side of it: ‘Beat Girl’. I liked that. It sounded catchy, and I wondered if it would even make a good DJ-ing moniker. Heather certainly wasn’t a hip-sounding name. I was genuinely touched and thanked him.