A Different Key

Walking home, taking the time to shout out something meaningless to a friend on the other side of the road, couldn’t stop the melody flying around in my head. The idea just sounded so good in my brain, sometimes with different variations, that I just “had” to work on it at home in dad’s studio after dinner. Mom’s hello followed by her telling me that her and dad were going out later on and wouldn’t be back till probably 2.30am or later, just made me more excited than ever.

Shortly after mom and dad left, I went back up to my room and started getting changed into my music clothes. I took a few moments to undo the back of my hair, before sitting infront of my make shift vanity to start brushing my hair with a soft brush until it gradually began to lustre. The theme in my head dictated no fancy face tonight, so I simply settled for a light makeover till I saw “Jane” looking back at me from the mirror. Having watched my mom do it countless times, I sprayed some of my perfume into the air just above me and proceeded to stand under it for a moment before walking towards my bedroom door.

Then, as Jane I calmly walked the short distance from the house over to the other building, where I unlocked it. Once inside and having turned on the wall switch, the studio magically appeared out of darkness. The gentle perfume I had on couldn’t compete with the heavy duty air freshener permeating the studio’s artificially fresh atmosphere. The air freshener though failed to entirely mask the smell of stale cigarette smoke, coffee and various junk food odours.

But at least I could slightly smell my perfume and my mood as Jane would never think of anything bad or yucky. Besides the studio seemed to smell “right” for making good music and I was in the frame of mind to do just that. Besides I had a pedigree of sorts musically speaking to live up to, because my dad had himself once been an exceptionally successful and well known musician when he was younger. Back then he’d work for months on end substituting for members of well-known rock bands if and when one of them had to leave a tour they were on due to illness, exhaustion, family problems or whatever reasons. He used to boast about how it wasn’t easy or cheap to hire him back then either, because he was always booked solid for studio recording sessions.

Whenever he was out touring with a band on the road, mom would be at home raising me and generally looking after dad’s finances. She did it so well he never ended up being one of those musicians you often read about who simply went broke once they no longer got asked to tour with bands or lost their instrument playing talent.

Because dad had wised up after fifteen or so years touring on the road, he decided that setting up a recording studio and producing other musician’s music was the way of the future. So he went and found, then purchased a spare ten acres out in the Boondocks, built a house along with another building that he fitted out as an elaborate state of the art recording studio.

Luckily for all of us (financially) dad’s skill at mixing and producing quickly gained him a reputation in the music industry for producing hit filled albums for musicians. I must be one of the few kids on this planet who could boast of having “jived” with famous musicians like G J Kale and Derrick Clapton and actually played as one of the backup rhythm guitarists on one song from Bruce Einsteins “Born to Jump” album.

Nowadays dad’s clients weren’t just rock bands or rock musicians. He’d branched out successfully to produce platinum albums for artists of different musical genres. Dad always liked feedback to see if he was on the right track and played the recording session music he’d done each day in the house afterwards to try and find out if mum and I thought it sounded as good as he thought it did.

So I not only got the chance to listen to final takes before the public ever had a chance to, but was lucky enough to be able to usually listen to the rejected takes, which if I liked one I’d copy it onto a disk of my own to muck about with.

Yesterday dad had played a song he thought was catchy, but definitely not a hit. “A good filler track” is how he deemed the song, but its catchy melody struck a chord with me. So much so that a day later I still couldn’t get it out of my head going to school.

Since I was old enough to hold a musical instrument in my hands, dad had (whenever he wasn’t touring) taught me not only how to play a number of musical instruments (most of which I was quite good at now) but also how to operate the sound mixing console boards in the studio.

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This evening, placing my CD copy of the recording into the console mixer’s disk player and listening to the song over and over, I began experimenting with sliding one lever or another of the mixing console up or down looking for the sound I preferred to hear. You see, by slowly altering the singer’s pitch as well as the volume of certain instruments, I thought I could find what sounded best for my tastes.

The recording artist yesterday had been a little known country and western musician, Tank Jefferies or some name like that, who dad told me and mom, had obtained some music company talent manager’s ear. The talent manager decided to take a gamble and see if the guy had “that” sound, which could be potentially turned into a big money spinner for the recording company. By using dad’s facility instead of his own corporation’s studio facilities, it meant that he could do it much cheaper than doing it in-house, so that if it didn’t work out, his reputation wouldn’t take a hit or be noticed in the boardroom.

Dad’s studio mixing console was allowing me to alter the recording artist’s voice for pitch and I was starting to think that the song should be sung (recorded) by a female instead of a guy, because to me, it sounded better the way I had fiddled with the mixing. In the end I rerecorded the song using the settings I liked the best for the song, while singing the lyrics in my “Jane’s” voice.

Then I began to compose using my guitar for accompaniment, counter melodies and harmonies that I felt could make the song even better. Keeping the rerecorded master aside, I added my musical instrument playing to create a different background harmony. Then by adding additional keyboard and synthesizer I felt happy with how the song now sounded with a female singing and having female backing harmonies accompanying it.

The end result was definitely “in another galaxy far, far away” from the one dad had finished off with the original recording. Tired but happy, I took a copy of “my” mix and headed back to the house to get changed into Michael before my parents got home, which would be around 2.30am and it was now pushing 2am. However in my satisfied state of mind, I entirely forgot about the other recording copy CD I’d done (I always took two), which was still in the mixing console’s player.

The fact that I forgot to remove one of my private CD copies wasn’t the only mistake I’d make that evening. Unbeknownst to me, dad had gone and installed security cameras in the studio (for insurance purposes) I found out later on. He’d never mentioned any of that to me, which he usually did.

The next morning saw my parents in the usual morning routine of dad (still somewhat bleary eyed) wolfing down breakfast before hurrying to the studio next door to continue recording. Mum made breakfast for me, before sending me off to school (if it was a week day, which today’s was) then go about keeping the house clean, or whatever else she needed to do to help dad.

So I endured my normal school bus trip, followed by another dreary day of learning. It was just like any other normal school day and never had me expecting when I came home after school, to have my mother tell me in an unusual tone of voice that she and I needed to have a private mother/son talk after I had changed out of my school clothes.

I had no idea what mum wanted to talk to me about as I was always careful in covering Jane’s tracks around my room and in the house. My school grades were good, so since I never played up or took drugs, I had no idea what mom wanted to talk to about.

I said I’d get changed and come back down and talk, before heading up the staircase and had almost gotten to my door, when I heard a song on the stereo that sent icy tentacles through me. I hurriedly closed my bedroom door before dashing over to look in my closet to see if Jane’s outfits (at the back) had been disturbed.

Relieved they didn’t appear to have been moved, I didn’t have the sense to think anything other than I must have left my recording from last night in my computer’s hard drive and mom had simply played it while cleaning up my room and taken the CD downstairs to play down there. Mom often did that with music that I bought from the stores or borrowed from friends at school, since we both enjoyed similar tastes in music.

But a quick look at my hard drove still showed the CD inside it. So I then decided that dad must have seen the CD I now realised I must have inadvertently left behind in the studio last night and handed it over to mom to listen to. Since neither CD had any writing on it, I began breathing normally again. After I got changed, I loped down the stairs into the lounge room where mom was sitting there waiting for me and stopped dead in my tracks at the image confronting me on the TV screen. There was Jane standing infront of a covered microphone singing one of the accompanying harmonies I had worked out last night.

My face must have already turned puce, before mom (with a knowing smile) inquired if I knew who the girl was singing in my father’s studio last night. I was too shocked at seeing myself (Jane) on TV to answer at first. Thinking quickly, I was about to answer mom, when she stopped me dead in my tracks by telling me that dad and her already knew about my private dressing up, but she was very impressed at how realistic I looked dressed as a girl.

Mum casually informed me “your dad had to explain to Tank about how his song had been rerecorded by a female artist after he left yesterday. Tank seems to prefer your version better than his and your dad had to think fast to tell Tank that he was just helping out a young local girl by allowing her to use Tank’s song for a private demo tape”, pointing to the TV screen “seems your voice suits country music”.

“Oh Crap” I was thinking as mum told me all this. It didn’t help when mom told me that Tank wanted to do a couple of remixes him and dad had already recorded, using the girl on the screen for back up harmony. So young miss your dad had to tell a little white lie about knowing this girl” pointing at my on the TV “and saying he’d see about arranging it.

“In fact Michael or do your prefer Michelle honey” mum asked with a smile, “your dad wants to meet this girl tonight at dinner, so you’d best go upstairs and start getting changed dear.” I started walking off to my room, frightened at the prospect of knowing that my parents knew about Jane when my mom’s voice called out to me “I’d suggest the pretty apricot blouse and a skirt honey and while you’re at it, I do like your hair the way it is on the security tape honey” mom advised me.

I slowly trooped up the stairs, wondering if dad was going to throw me out of the house when I turned up for dinner as Jane. But while I was scared of dad’s anger, a part of me was glad that my parents actually knew about my crossdressing. If mom’s reaction was anything to go by, then maybe she might be able to keep dad from punishing me too severely.

Still I or should I say Jane was “out” now so the best thing to do would be to make as good an impression on dad and mom as Jane and see how the chips fell.

So I took extra special care with both my hair and my makeup, even doing a slight underline under both bottom eyelids to accentuate my eyes. Putting nail polish on my fingernails I decided on not painting my toes, because I’d be wearing stay ups along with my only pair of heeled shoes (about 2 inches and enclosed at the front). I put my hair up in a similar style to yesterday evenings and chose a light frosted pink lipstick which I felt was my colour for all my (limited) outfits. A quick kiss on a tissue then saw me nervously opening my bedroom door and walking outside towards the staircase.

When I walked back into the lounge room, the TV was showing Jane playing a keyboard as the sound accompanied me/her. Mom was out in the kitchen, so with no one to see me, I took the time to look at Jane (as other people would see her) for the first time. The tape was in black and white, which in a way I felt didn’t flatter me very much! But aside from the obvious light make up which didn’t hide Michael entirely, I felt that Jane didn’t look like “a guy in drag” although I’m certain that Tank would have been suspicious of her, unless he was blind.

Finally summoning up the courage I (really it was Jane) approached the kitchen so as to confront mom (and dad if he was finished for the day). My walking quietly into the kitchen followed by “what’s for tea mom” in my Jane voice, had my mother turning round and freezing in stunned bewilderment, at the appearance of her unknown daughter.

“Oh my, honey you look………..like a teenage girl” mum gushed out, before rushing over to give me a hug and an air kiss, then starting to talk to me as if I was her daughter instead of her son. Mom led me over to the table where after we were seated, remarked on everything about my appearance. My blouse, my skirt, my makeup, which she said I did better than her and had to tell her how I did it. Within a few minutes we were talking about female things as if I’d always been her daughter.

When mom asked me if I called myself Michelle, I made her smile telling her I preferred the name Jane. So from that moment on mom said her and dad would only call me Jane for the rest of the day. When dad appeared in the kitchen, he was confronted not by one but two women, one of which he had only seen this morning and even then only in black and white. Like mom had, he stood in stunned silence, trying to comprehend if the girl infront of him was actually his son Michael, who certainly didn’t look a bit like his son now.

Mom laughed uproariously at my dad’s dazed expression. “What’s the matter dumdum, cat got your tongue. Come over and meet your daughter Jane”, which broke the ice and saw dad coming over to give me a gentle squeeze and a kiss on top of my head. He then sat down across from me at the table shaking in head in disbelief, while my mom smiled back at him and I even managed a nervous smile, knowing that whatever dad thought in private, at least he wasn’t going to throw me out of the house.

Dad finally found his voice. “I’m not really sure what to say right now…….Jane? I mean your mom told me about a year ago that she thought you might be dressing up in female clothes and against my better judgement I agreed not to say anything. Of course that was provided you only did it around the house and never in public, I was willing to allow you your little secret fantasy. But looking at you now……I mean I don’t have to tell you I’m shocked at how realistic you look.”

“And I’m even willing to overlook that you forced me to have to lie outrageously to Tank Jefferies about helping a young local girl get started in the music industry by letting her record a demo of one of his songs as a trial, without his written consent. I’ve got to tell you” and here he chuckled momentarily, “you know he actually likes your version more than his Jane” and dad smiled at me.

Then chameleon like, his tone of voice changed and he sounded serious “BUT what I’m NOT willing to overlook is how you’ve been keeping your musical abilities hidden away from me for so long! That young lady, I’m not willing to forgive” and with that dad smiled at me and I finally started to relax.

When mom made me help her get dinner ready, which entailed putting on a pinny so I didn’t ruin my clothes, I understood it to be a test and did my damnedest to talk, walk, act and behave like a teenage girl. Normally as Michael, I’d wolf my food down quickly when I ate. But as Jane, it was with tiny mouse bites, all of which I felt my mom approved of. Dad even offered me a glass of wine with my meal, which was a complete shock as he’d never offered me a glass of wine or even a beer as Michael. True it was only a half glass, and I didn’t like the taste very much. But I guess it was dad’s way of showing he didn’t appear to mind Jane being at the dinner table for the evening.

When desert was eaten and the table cleared away, dad said the three of us should go into the lounge room and talk everything over. I was then informed that mom and dad would see me in there after I loaded the dishwasher, which is where I found them occupying the main lounge when I walked in as dad indicated that I should sit in the lounge chair just across from them.

Thinking this was another test, to see if I could sit down in a lady like fashion, had me cautiously sweeping the back of my skirt under me as I carefully sat down, legs together at the knees and angled slightly over to one side. Mum’s slight nod towards me showed I passed the test, although I had no idea how easily I’d be able to get back up out of the chair without showing something, even though my skirt was knee length on me.

Once we were all settled, dad quickly turned the TV off so I didn’t have to be distracted at seeing my image there. He then started the twenty questions game (along with occasional interruptions from mom) until he was finally satisfied I wouldn’t intentionally embarrass my parents dressed as Jane if someone called round to see them (or me). He laid out quite strict ground rules for the appearance of Jane, which I was quick to agree to, not noticing the angry look coming over my mom’s face.

When dad said, “Since you’ve got the rules in your head now young lady, you can be Jane of a weekend”, I simply nodded my head in agreement, especially since he would still allow me, or Jane, to use the recording studio whenever I/she/we wanted, as long as it wasn’t being used at the time. Mum however didn’t seem to be satisfied with any of this.

“Excuse ME Daniel (my dad), don’t I get a say in any of this?” mom asked. “I kind of like the idea of having another female influence around the house dear. For sixteen years, I’ve been up to my neck in masculinity around this house and I have to tell you, I’ve liked having a daughter to speak with tonight. And you know I always wanted us to adopt a girl after we found out another baby was dangerous for me.”

“So for that reason Dan I’m not willing to let Jane only be allowed to turn up on weekends. Not by a long shot mister.” Dad seemed quite surprised although mum was nowhere near finished speaking yet. “Honey, she’s already told us that she’s not sure about her future, but that she likes where she in right now. But I’m not personally willing to allow Jane to be in the house at all” and I slumped back in my chair not realising until now that mom had actually NOT really liked Jane at all this evening and had only been appearing to behave like she did so as to make me feel less embarrassed.

“No, I’m not willing to allow Jane to stay in this house and that’s final” and then mom smiled…..”Unless it’s all the time or when she has company that she doesn’t want to know about her. I want a daughter Dan, and I’m not willing to lose the one sitting infront of us and that’s final”.

She looked over at me and told me “I want the two of us to go shopping for some clothes tomorrow”, adding that I could take Friday off school (almost unheard of by mom). Wow….. I wasn’t going to argue and dad must have thought the same because he meekly surrendered his rules about Jane being around the house, all to mom’s satisfaction.

She winked at me and smiled the sign of a mother and daughter understanding, before telling me that she had better not see me as anything other than Jane, except on school days, where I’d be expected to change into Jane’s clothes, as soon as I got home.

When I was going upstairs to bed, mum called out that she had something for me and that she’d be up in a moment. Once upstairs I carefully put away my clothes, leaving my blouse out for hand washing in the morning, which was unusual because I’d normally have had to wash it while I showered and hang it up behind the closet to dry. I’d just got changed into my pyjamas and was headed for the bathroom to take off my face, when mom’s voice from behind the door announced she was coming in.

As soon as she closed the door she said, “I thought so Jane, I didn’t see a nightie in your closet to sleep in”. Mom then handed me something soft and flimsy. It turned out to be a pastel green coloured short nightie with matching bottoms in a polyester fabric, as she informed me we’d be buying a few more sleep outfits for me to wear tomorrow. I waited for mom to leave but she didn’t move an inch. “Well go on honey, put the nightie on for me” which had me telling her she had to leave first, which was my first mistake in almost four hours.

“I’m your mother Jane and I birthed you, changed you, looked after you when you were sick and god knows what else, till you were almost 14 and I can assure you that you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before. Besides which, tomorrow you’ll be getting almost naked undressing infront of women you’ve never met before, so consider this a rehearsal. Strip missy or I’ll change my mind and no more Jane or any new clothes” I was tersely informed. So I did, in-front of my mom’s penetrating stare and for whatever reason I’d had of being worried about being naked infront of my mom, seemed to disappear.

“Well you don’t take after your father I’m here to tell you Jane. You haven’t got much down there honey, but don’t feel too bad, because it’ll make it that much easier for you to wear girl’s tight jeans and shorty shorts dear. We’ll just have to see about helping you out up top” gently cupping my left chest, “and don’t expect me to turn you into an oversized bimbo either. I should think a B cup would be just about right for you.” Once I was changed into the nightie and panties, I revelled in the soft slinky feel before mum asked me to show her how I took my make up off, telling me to follow her to the bathroom across the hallway, which I meekly did. My behaviour just then seemed to bring a smile to her face.

Once in the bathroom mum explained to me how a girl should have a moisturising regimen, none of which I had any idea about, which I was informed I would now do so from that night onwards religiously, or face having my derriere tanned red, my mother sternly assured me. As I dried off and led mom back to my room, I got into bed where she gave me a kiss on the cheek and tucked me into bed, (mom hadn’t done that since I’d been 12 years old) wishing me pleasant dreams as she closed the door.

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Usually my alarm went off at 7am every morning. So mom’s voice outside my door, telling me to get showered and dressed was something of a rude awakening. It was nothing compared to the shock of having my mother help me to get dressed though. My wardrobe consisted of only 3 pairs of panties and I’d used one of those last night. So I had to try on both pairs before mum decided which one would be best for today.

I then had the humiliation of having my mom carefully push my testicles up inside me before telling me to strip again, then making me go with her into the bathroom. There she turned on the cold water and taking the shower wand, directed it over my groin. My natural walking gait was already sensitive, (with my testes forced up inside me) so along with an obviously placed nearby ice cube on the window sill, then placed it in the palm of her hand, before sliding it over my now shrunken to almost nothing penis as well as around my groin.

When I slipped into the pair of panties mum chose for me to wear, the front of my panties were almost flat. To be safe mum demonstrated to me how a sanitary napkin in my underwear would remedy even that and pulling my knickers down around my knees, proceeded to demonstrate how to do this in the future, before pulling said knickers up around my hips again.

“I can’t wait to take my daughter to buy her first bras” she excitedly told me, “but first we have to get you some help up there”. When she had chosen from my very limited clothes selection what I was to wear today, she told me to get myself ready while she went and got dressed. When Jane walked into the kitchen, dad was there eating breakfast. He approved of the clothes I was wearing and asked me to tell my mom not to put him in the poor house shopping for me today, before heading off to the studio next door.

About two hours later, I was walking alongside mum through a shopping centre twenty miles from our house, nowhere near our regular shopping mall. Mum first of all took me to a Target department store, where after looking at several types and styles of bra purchased one which she told me would allow me to be able to be fitted for breast forms elsewhere, saying once I had those we could go shopping for much nicer bras to wear.

Mom then guided me to a prosthetics store that specialised in women who had had mastectomy operations, telling me that she along with the store manager were going to help me select the best type of breast forms for me to wear. Mom simply took the newly bought brassiere out of the small plastic Target bag and placed it in my trembling hands, for me to hand over to the store manager who would then show me how the different types of inserts looked inside my brassiere’s cups. When mom and I finally walked out of the store I was proudly supporting (actually it was my bra which was doing all the supporting) a pair of B cup soft gel breast inserts.

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I’d always heard of the phrase “shop till you drop” but never understood how it had originated. By the time mum drove out of the shopping mall’s carpark, we’d spent almost 5 continuous hours trying on clothes, shoes, bras, wigs, makeup in any store that sold women’s fashions located in the mall, that saw my dad’s bank account diminishing by well south of $3,500, before mum was satisfied Jane had enough clothes to get by with, qualifying that by saying “at least for the immediate future”.

When I got home and upstairs to my room, mum helped me rearrange my closet space there. Then getting me to help her, got an old set of drawers down from out of the attic, so I would have enough clothes space to put all my new clothes away. I was then instructed to take a shower and get dressed in whatever outfit mom placed on my bed for me to wear, which was what dad and Mr Jeffries saw me in when they came into the kitchen at about 3pm for a celebratory winding up session drink.

Mr Jeffries seemed surprised to see me there, before he finally recognised who the girl who had recorded his song was. Mom thinking quickly introduced me as Jane Seymour (her maiden name) which after his first scotch and water saw him “telling” dad, that he wanted to take him and me back into the studio to listen to the tracks he had recorded. Mom was invited along as well.

Dad reluctantly agreed, although privately displaying both to mom and I his displeasure over having to do what Tank asked him. But fifteen minutes later dad was again wearing his studio manager face as he played each track. At the end of it, Tank asked me if I’d like to do a “one off” of another of his songs and asked me which one I’d like to record, which he suggested I could then add to any demo tape resume for any future auditions I had to attend.

He calmed my father’s protestations by infront of dad, immediately phoning up the same talent manager who organised his own studio time with dad and asking if he could over run his cost budget by another $1,000, because he had spotted someone worth listening to and that the record company would get first right of refusal!!

What eventuated over the following FOUR hours and after several changes and additions to dad’s original master recording of Tank’s music was that Tank Jeffries deemed me to be an emerging talent that he wanted me to sign a letter of intent so as to allow him to become my manager and agent.

Dad quickly quashed any of that on the head, telling Tank that I was simply at best a background musician and he was being paid to produce a hit album for one Tank Jeffries. Besides my dad informed him, if Tank allowed Jane Seymour to record a version of one of his songs, he’d always be getting the royalties share as writer if any of the three songs I’d recorded was ever played on air.

The songs I chose to record of Tank’s weren’t the ones he wanted me to sing. I had far different and wider musical tastes than Tank and thought the two songs I chose were also his poorer efforts, which he wouldn’t object to if either didn’t get released commercially. I had already decided to sing one in a slower tempo and the other in a faster tempo, ala The Girls Next Door “Slow Boat to China”.

Dad (along with Tank) learnt just how much I actually knew about studio mixing, while Tank also marvelled at my “virtuoso” (his words not mine or my dad’s) musical instrument playing ability. Mom willingly helped out with additional harmonies, which was a surprising first for me, as I had no idea until then, that mom had actually been a singer herself when she was much younger.

Tank said he would have preferred to have had his own musicians backing me, but since they’d already packed up and left, he settled for dad and me breaking down the original recorded track and rejigging it to suit my amended two versions. It should have ended right there that night, but Tank demanded a copy of each of my two finished versions along with my first recording, which unknown to dad or I, he eventually passed along to the talent manager who had initially arranged his recording sessions with dad.

When I finally got into bed that Saturday evening around midnight, the buzz from both the recording session as well as shopping with my mom still had me having trouble closing my eyes and getting to sleep. If I could have, I would have always wanted every day to be just like that Saturday. Mom and dad for the rest of the weekend got to enjoy having Jane around the house instead of Michael. Mom treated me like her own life sized Barbie doll the next day, while dad felt he had to be extra protective towards me, especially when he took mom and me out on Sunday night for tea.

To say school on the Monday was a huge let down, would have been understating the situation. I’d enjoyed being Jane so much over the weekend, that then to have to go to school as Michael had me asking mom to let me stay home (just for today “pretty please”). But mom was adamant about my attending school, although I think she felt my disappointment. But she reminded me that I always had home to come back, to where Jane could explore her new found freedom.

And I did too. As a matter of fact from then on I led two separate lives. The 1st was as Michael, a 16 year old schoolboy who existed Monday to Friday during school term hours. The 2nd was Jane who lived during the times I wasn’t at school or involved in school activities. Even then Jane was somewhere nearby, usually in the form of my underwear which saw me wearing women’s underwear almost all the time under Michael’s clothes except if it was Gym day at school.

Dad and “definitely” mom were now accustomed to Jane’s presence around the house. Apart from my now much closer relationship with my mom, it saw even my dad inviting his newly found daughter into his studio after hours where he’d play the music recorded that day, asking for my opinion on something or other which almost always ended up with the two of us jamming privately, or else reworking parts of recorded songs to see how they sounded under another type of musical arrangement. I’d say that about 1 out of 5 of our arrangements ended up in the final master tape, which was kind of thrilling in itself.

Dad also, recklessly in my opinion, introduced me to musicians he was working with as Jane Seymour, a student looking at trying to work her way into the industry, without any thought about my nervousness at possibly being “outed”. It never helped my cause when he’d often get me to go sit in the recording area and ask me to play a particular part of a song on the guitar, using the studio’s speaker to tell me what he wanted to hear played.

Usually the recording artist and his backing musicians were by then sitting back in the sound booth listening and giving their own opinions to the ideas dad was floating to them. The experience was both an adrenalin rush as well as terrifying at the same time. I both loved and feared it, but also found it addictive and just couldn’t say no to ever doing it.

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But after about two months of this Jane was so much at home helping dad after hours in the recording studio, that I sometimes caught him looking at me in ways fathers should never look at daughters. I don’t think it was sexual arousal. It was more the sort of thing where a guy looks at a girl and wonders what they wore under their clothes, which I used to be guilty of myself more often than I’d care to admit, with girls at school.

Sometimes dad confirmed my thinking, usually when he thought he’d been caught out and he’d remark on the outfit I was wearing. He’d say the clothes I had on either suited me, or sometimes that they were a bit risqué and I should never wear them when there were clients in the studio.

What I never expected to have happen, since it was several months since Tank Jeffries recording session had ended, was to have dad inform me one evening that Crazy Music Recordings seemed to like my tape Tank had sent them and someone was coming out to talk with me and my agent.

That was when dad informed me that “he” was now my agent and that he didn’t want to lose a possible source of new income from using his studio facility, by saying he couldn’t get back in touch with Jane, or that I was really his son dressed as a girl who sang well and did illegal covers on artist’s rejected song takes!

Mom was as reluctant as I was about meeting up with a recording company’s talent manager dressed as Jane. Like dad she thought I might have had a gift (of sorts) musically, but still felt things were moving way too fast for any of us to control anything that my happen from the guy coming here to see me and dad. Dad didn’t push her, but showed me the persuasive manner that had served him so well in life, by finally getting mum to agree to the meeting and helping me to prepare for it.

And so it was that eight days later (again on a Friday afternoon) Jane, her agent “and his wife” met with Rick Daring of Crazy Music Recordings. Mom and dad had spent most of the previous Saturday and a lot of Sunday helping me to record several more songs for Rick to hear. My agent’s wife (mom) continued to wow me, both with her vocal singing abilities which had been long dormant, as well as her ability to make smart suggestions as to phrasing or harmonising. Dad felt the same way I did and often asked her for ideas before I had the chance to do so.

The four songs I added to the three I’d done with Tank’s permission, allowed dad to present a wide spectrum of commercial music tastes for the Crazy Music Recordings manager to choose from. This would normally have been a foolish mistake, but dad was keen to show off not so much my talent, as his own for being able to produce different genres from the same recording artist. Dad also wanted to create a sample disk he could then offer to clients about using me as a local backing musician that would see me get paid for playing on recording sessions…….(financially smart for me)

The meeting turned out to be anticlimactic as although Rick said he was interested in signing an E.O.I. (expression of interest) agreement with me after hearing my demo tape, said the main purpose of his visit was actually to arrange to send a lot more work to dad’s recording studio at an agreed rate, so that Crazy Music Recordings had another small independent recording studio they could send potential artists to, to get their initial recordings on tape.

Mom took an admittedly dejected Jane Seymour away with her and left Rick and dad to hammer out an agreement in writing over the charging rates per day to use dad and his facility. I wasn’t sure how to handle what had happened because I’d been privately hoping that I’d be offered a “multimillion dollar recording contract" and had instead been introduced to “Reality Street”. After Dad saw Rick off he came in to tell mom and I what had eventuated.

He also explained to mom and me what the E.O.I. meant I could do, with dad’s help. It turned out the E.O.I. would enable me to record 5 songs using dad’s studio, which while being paid for by Crazy Music Recordings would then be owned by them for distribution commercially via retail outlets or electronically. Either way I’d get royalties off of any songs purchased after the first 10,000 overall sales (to recover my initial recording costs since they’d be paying dad for his time using the studio). So at least I’d get to record some more songs and then. Hey, who knows what could happen.

The following Tuesday saw me coming home from school to come back down stairs after changing into Jane and have dad tell me (he’d already spoken to mom) about how his studio now had a solid 4 months of booked out recording time, thanks to Crazy Music Recordings which was absolutely brill. Dad told me that with my school’s long break coming up, he’d like me to be available to play on sessions as required, which I’d get reimbursed for by his company, once I was a signed union member of the local artist’s guild which he handed me the filled out paperwork for, needing only my signature.