noveldepot Chapter 53 Album Recording
Chapter 53 Album Recording
Li Si'an spent a full day and a half in Xu Zheng's studio.
The first shot took a lot of effort—he described the scene with his eyes closed, and Xu Zheng drew it out after listening. If it wasn't right, he would change it until it was exactly the same as what he had in his mind.
And so it went, one after another, talking about one and drawing one, then moving on to the next. There were fifteen shots, each requiring him to talk for almost twenty minutes, and Xu Zheng would then spend another half an hour drawing them.
Xu Zheng went to the cafeteria to get food, and the two of them sat next to the easel and ate two meals together.
He drew until after 8 p.m. on the first day, completing nine shots. Li Si'an took a taxi back to the shop, and rushed back early the next morning to continue drawing the remaining six shots.
By noon the next day, all fifteen shots were completed.
Xu Zheng pushed the sketchbook over, and Li Si'an flipped through it from beginning to end. The ward, the concert hall, the cell phone, the piano, the drooping hand—every frame matched the scene in her memory.
Xu Zheng lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair. "This isn't over yet. This is just a draft; it'll take another two or three days to refine it."
Li Si'an counted out five hundred yuan from her pocket and placed it on the easel. "Deposit. Call me when it's fixed, and I'll come pick it up."
He tore a piece of paper from Xu Zheng's desk, wrote down the shop's phone number, and handed it to him. Xu Zheng took it, glanced at it, and casually slipped it into his sketchbook.
"Okay, I'll let you know when it's fixed."
Li Si'an stood up, stretched her back which had become stiff from sitting for two days, and pushed open the door to go out.
The July sun was so bright it made the corridor blinding. He squinted as he went downstairs, hailed a minivan at the school gate, and got in.
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On July 12th, the weather was stuffy and humid from early morning, like a steamer.
Li Si'an woke up at seven o'clock. Tang Yun was still asleep. He quietly got out of bed, went to the bathroom to wash up, and cleared his throat in front of the mirror.
Hmm, he's doing alright. He hasn't touched a drop of alcohol these past two days, nor has he eaten anything spicy or oily. He even resisted eating the sunflower seeds Tang Yun offered him.
At eight o'clock, Zhou Weidong's Santana was parked in front of the store. Li Si'an opened the car door and got in, and Zhou Weidong glanced at him.
"How's your throat?"
"no problem."
"Don't be nervous." Zhou Weidong started the car.
"Old Sun may have a bit of a temper, but his skills are genuine. He's recorded songs by Cui Jian, Mao Amin, and Liu Huan. Just sing whatever he tells you to sing, don't argue with him."
Li Si'an nodded.
The car drove east along Xiwai Street, passed Xizhimen, and turned into Pinganli.
Yude Hutong is hidden south of Pinganli Street. It is a narrow alley with old-fashioned gray brick bungalows on both sides and a few bicycles parked at the base of the walls.
The car wound its way through the alleyways before finally stopping in front of a drab little building.
This building looks quite old, with gray brick walls and old-fashioned wooden window frames. The exterior paint, however, is quite bright, so it must have been painted recently.
There was no sign at the entrance, only a metal door with a polished, shiny finish.
If Zhou Weidong hadn't led him inside, Li Si'an would never have imagined that this was one of the top recording studios in China—China Record Corporation's Stone Tablet Recording Studio.
Pushing open the door, you enter a small foyer. The floor is paved with old-fashioned terrazzo, and a metal cabinet stands against the wall with a telephone on top.
A middle-aged woman wearing glasses peeked out from behind the counter. Zhou Weidong said, "I've made an appointment with Lao Sun." She nodded and gestured with her chin toward the corridor.
The corridor was not very bright, and the fluorescent lights overhead were humming.
On the walls on both sides hung some framed photos, black and white, color, including pictures of singers singing with their eyes closed in front of the microphone, panoramic views of bands recording in the studio, and some signed record covers.
Li Si'an glanced around and saw Cui Jian, Mao Amin, Liu Huan, and some other faces whose names he couldn't recall but which seemed vaguely familiar.
At the end of the corridor was a heavy, soundproof door covered with dark gray sound-absorbing cotton, and an old-fashioned brass handle, polished to a gleaming shine. Zhou Weidong pushed the door open, and a distinctive smell wafted out.
It's not a musty smell; it's the smell of wood, electronic components, smoke, and countless hours of music all mixed together, thoroughly pickled.
The recording studio is divided into two rooms, an inner and an outer one. The outer room is the control room, about twenty square meters in size, dimly lit, with a mixing console that is more than half a person tall against the wall, densely packed with faders and knobs, like an airplane cockpit.
Next to the mixing console stood a 24-track reel tape recorder, the tapes as big as a washbasin, with brown tape heads hanging down.
Several pairs of monitor speakers were piled up in the corner, dark and covered with a thin layer of dust.
A middle-aged man in his fifties was sitting in front of the mixing console, wearing headphones, holding a pencil in his hand, writing something on a sheet of music.
He was wearing a faded dark blue work uniform with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his thin forearms.
His hair was gray and cut short, his face was thin with high cheekbones, his eyes were slightly sunken, and his mouth was turned down. He didn't look like someone easy to talk to.
Zhou Weidong walked over and patted him on the shoulder.
"Old Sun."
Old Sun took off his headphones and turned around. His gaze swept over Li Si'an, from her face to her shoulders, and from her shoulders to her throat, as if he were assessing the quality of a musical instrument.
"Is it him?"
"Li Si'an." Zhou Weidong stepped aside. "Si'an, call her Teacher Sun."
"Hello, Teacher Sun."
Old Sun grunted in agreement, offering no further pleasantries, and gestured with his chin towards the inner room. "Go in. Let's try shouting first."
The inner room was the recording studio, more than twice the size of the control room. The wooden floor was slightly springy to the touch, and the walls were covered with pieces of sound-absorbing cotton, gray and brown, arranged in a staggered pattern.
A grand piano stood in the corner, its lid propped up, the keys slightly yellowed. In the center sat a microphone, a Neumann U87, its silver-gray mesh cover gleaming matte under the light.
Next to the microphone stood a headphone stand with a pair of AKG monitoring headphones hanging on it, the leather on the earcups worn smooth and shiny. The music stand sat directly in front of the microphone, empty, waiting for him to put something on it.
Li Si'an walked over and put the earphones on her head. Old Sun's voice came through the earphones, muffled, as if through a layer of water.
"Sing a couple of lines, anything is fine. Let me hear your voice first."
Li Si'an stood in front of the microphone and closed her eyes briefly. Behind the glass window of the control room, Old Sun sat in front of the mixing console, a pencil in his hand, while Zhou Weidong stood beside him, arms crossed.
He began to sing. He didn't choose his own song; he sang "The Crescent Moon." This song is often used for auditioning because its pronunciation is very suitable for showcasing vocal resonance.
"In the distant night sky, there is a crescent moon. Beneath the crescent moon, there is a winding little bridge..."
After singing four lines, Lao Sun called for a stop through his earpiece.
"Alright."
Li Si'an took off her headphones. The soundproof door opened a crack, and Lao Sun poked half his body in, his expression slightly more relaxed than before.
"Nice voice. Clean, and thoughtful." He walked over, circled Li Si'an halfway, and patted him on the back.
"Don't hold back when you sing. The breath comes out from here—" He tapped Li Si'an's lower abdomen, "not squeezed out from your throat. You have the foundation, you're just too tense. Relax a bit."
Li Si'an nodded.
Old Sun returned to the control room and gestured to him through the glass. Li Si'an put his headphones back on.
"We'll record 'Fairy Tales' first today. Did you bring the sheet music?"
"I brought it."
Li Si'an took the sheet music out of her bag and placed it on the music stand. Old Sun glanced at it through the glass and nodded.
"Let's go through it once. We won't listen to you sing, just listen to how your voice sounds in the studio. Sing freely, it's okay if you make mistakes."
The accompaniment coming from the headphones wasn't the final arrangement; it was a simple piano piece that Lao Sun had made on the spot to get a feel for the music.
The piano music spread through the headphones, clean and warm, every note clear and bright.
Li Si'an took a breath.
"I've forgotten how long it's been since I heard you tell me your favorite story..."
After singing the first verse, Lao Sun called for a stop through his earphones.
"Stop. You didn't hold the breath properly when you pronounced the word 'long,' it just fell off. Do it again, this time don't think about the word, just focus on the breath. Let the breath rise from your dantian, hold it, don't let go."
Li Si'an tried again. This time he focused all his attention on his breath, and when he sang the word "jiu," he tightened his abdomen and steadily supported the breath.
"Okay. That's right this time."
He meticulously examined each note, one by one. Old Sun's ears were incredibly sharp; he could tell just by listening through the glass which word wasn't properly supported by breath or which note had the wrong resonance.
He wasn't in a hurry. He broke down each word one by one, and when he was done, he had Li Si'an start over. He would sing it once, stop, say a few words, and then sing it again.
By the fourth take, Li Si'an felt she had sung well enough. Old Sun remained silent for two seconds in the earphones.
"It's better than before. But in the chorus, the word 'xiang' in 'you have to believe' should resonate upwards, not downwards."
"You're just using your voice, no. Use this—" He tapped his temple, "send the sound here."
Li Si'an tried it. She raised the resonance point upwards, making the sound seem to come out from between her eyebrows, rather than being squeezed out from her throat.
"Yes! That's it! Remember this feeling!"
Recording continued until noon when Lao Sun called a halt. Li Si'an took off her headphones; her throat was a little dry, but she wasn't too tired. Lao Sun pushed open the door, carrying an enamel teacup.
"The morning went well. Keep it up."
He took a sip of tea and looked at Li Si'an.
"You've got a good foundation, kid. You just need more practice. The studio is different from the stage. On stage, you can put in ten points, but in the studio, seven points is enough. The microphone is more sensitive than your ears; it'll pick up whatever you give it. Sing quietly, don't shout."
Li Si'an nodded.
The recording continued in the afternoon. Over and over again, Lao Sun marked the score with his pencil, noting which word's breath was wrong, which note's resonance position was off, marking it all.
Li Si'an's voice gradually found its rhythm in the studio—not the kind of singing meant for hundreds of people in the audience, but for the microphone. The voice didn't need to be loud, but it had to be steady and accurate, with every note landing where it should.
Around 4 PM, the voice recording for "Fairy Tale" was finished. Li Si'an took off her headphones; her throat finally felt a little tired.
In the control room, Lao Sun played back the recordings from the beginning. Through the glass, Li Si'an heard his own voice flowing from the monitor speakers—better than he had imagined.
Clean and clear, the high notes in the chorus were held steady, without any wavering or cracking.
Old Sun pressed the stop button and nodded to him through the glass.
"Alright. That's enough for today. We'll record 'Running' tomorrow."
Li Si'an came out of the recording studio, and Zhou Weidong leaned against the wall of the control room with a smile on his face.
"How is it?"
"It's alright." Li Si'an rubbed his neck.
Old Sun placed the enamel teacup on the table. "Your nephew has potential. Keep practicing, and he'll amount to something great."
Zhou Weidong chuckled and patted Li Si'an on the back. "Let's go. Go back and get some rest; we have to continue recording tomorrow."