Paige
TOP-LINE: The lead vocal part in a track
The screaming is soloud onstage it feels like my bones are shaking. Youssef slips a pair of headphones over my ears as the last stagehand makes a final adjustment to the wiring and then heads for the wings.
They have all my stuff here. I don’t know how Youssef managed to make it happen, but they must have grabbed my gear out of the storage room I put it in after my set. I run a hand up the side of my Ableton Push, half-expecting it to be some kind of illusion, but it’s real.
I raise my eyes and stare into the audience as Youssef starts speaking into the mic. I’ve never played for a crowd this big. There’s a whole ocean of faces stretched out in front of me.
“This is Chanly!” Youssef shouts. “Remember that name!”
And then he hands the mic to me.
I shake my head and refuse to accept it. I don’t talk during my sets. I’m not one of those DJs who greets the audience or shares anecdotes between tracks. I let my music speak for me.
Plus, I’m kind of terrified, and I don’t know if any words would come out even if I tried.
Youssef flips a switch to shut the mic off for a second and pulls one side of my headphones away so he can speak into my ear. “You should sing it.”
I gape at him. “What?”
It’s too loud to hear his laugh, but I watch him do it.
“I know you did the vocals,” he says into my ear again. “Paige, you have an amazing voice. This is your song. You should sing it.”
I start analyzing the logistics before I can stop myself. It wouldn’t be that hard to remove the recorded vocals and do them through the mic instead. I’ve practiced it at home, actually. I’ve imagined this moment a hundred times. I know I can do it. I’ve dreamed of adding live vocals to my sets since I first started gigging.
I also haven’t sung in front of anyone since the last audition I did as a teenager.
I shudder as the memory rolls through me. Youssef squeezes my arm.
“I’ll be right here.”
I glance at him and hear his words from earlier.
This is it. This is when the lights come on.
This is when I stop living life on someone else’s terms. This is when I stop hiding. This is when I show the world—and myself—who I truly am and what I can do.
I take the mic and fit it into the stand on top of the booth. Youssef whoops and flips the switch again.
I hover my hands over the controls. I close my eyes. I breathe deep. I let the roar of the crowd fill my ears and flood my system. The rush of familiarity swoops through me, shooting up my spine until every nerve in my body feels so awake and alive it’s almost painful.
And then I start to play. I build the track up, altering it a little, adding a few complexities and repetitions until it’s time for me to sing.
The song bursts out of me with so much force I almost lose my balance. Before I even know what’s happening, I’m pouring everything I have into the words I wrote one night all alone in my tiny apartment bedroom.
I’m singing for the scared little girl in the car on the way to another audition. I’m singing for the girl screaming at her mother and losing the only sister she’d ever known. I’m singing for the girl hurting so bad she didn’t know what to do except hide the pain in hoodies and headphones. I’m singing for the girl wrapped up in Youssef’s arms at a train station, listening to promises that would shatter far too soon. I’m singing for the girl who got a second chance and took it. I’m singing for the girl I am today: bold, free, and so fucking strong I know nothing can break me.
“So who are you gonna be when the lights come on?” I ask the crowd, and they echo the words back to me.
I already know my answer.
* * *
Youssef hashis arm around my shoulders. We’re in the Luxe green room. It’s filled with industry people and a few minor celebrities I vaguely recognize. My new manager, Shonda, is running around making as many connections as possible as everyone asks questions about me and Youssef, but I’m not really in business mode tonight.
I still feel like I’m drugged, buzzing on the craziest of uppers that only comes from crushing a gig. Everything is blindingly bright and full of possibility.
