"I hope you liked my new composition," I said, smiling modestly. Requests to play again did not take long to come. I expressed my sincere gratitude but refused to play again. Everyone sighed with regret. I saw admiring and, at the same time, uncomprehending looks on the faces of Vikki, Maxwell, and Alexandra.
Creating a special piece was indeed a very difficult task! Some even believed that all the best melodies had already been invented. Music has existed for countless years, and it would seem that history itself suggests that nothing more original, touching, or inspiring can be composed.
Many of the currently popular composers dared to call their works exclusive, although their creations consisted of already familiar pieces and, frankly, were too ordinary. Nowadays, composing something original and surprising everyone with it is a very difficult task.
Only a few professional composers managed to release one—at best, two—successful works a year. Despite the fact that my first composition was received with delight, many believed that luck or a happy accident contributed to its birth. They did not expect that I could give the world another, no less beautiful piece of music.
When I announced that I would perform something new today, I saw fear of disappointment on the faces of those present. They did not want to witness my failure. Inspiration is fleeting, so composing something worthwhile at once did not seem realistic to them. But having heard my new performance, they realized it was possible. Everyone in the hall was amazed and very happy.
"Well, what do you think?" I asked, turning to Mr. Harris.
"You have produced another magnificent composition, Alex," Maxwell said in a monotone. "But I have a question for you: why did you give it a title in Spanish?"
"Hm... I just felt that it was more correct…"
"And I, once again, feel that you are a precious diamond," said Madame Alexandra.
"You flatter me," I responded modestly. I was waiting for Victoria to speak. All this time, she did not take her eyes off me, as if she wanted to see me from the inside and figure out where I came from.
"Not bad," Vikki whispered quietly. "Remember, when your album becomes popular, you will give me your first interview!"
"Of course... It sounds like you are sure that my album will definitely become popular?"
"As if you're not sure of it? Not only I, but everyone present here agrees that you are a pianist from God. Come on, tell me that you do not agree with this."
"These melodies that I performed... I would not say that it is entirely my merit. These works were already in my head." At my last words, the journalist raised her red eyebrow.
"Yes, I know—it sounded as if God himself placed them there. Eh, let's consider that I am simply quite talented…"
"Well, fine," she gave me a slight smile. "Well, since the filming is over for today, I think I will go. I still have things to do at the editorial office. And you, what are you going to do?"
"I need to record a composition in a recording studio. Sir Maxwell promised to help me with this." I glanced in his direction and received an affirmative nod.
"Good luck." Having said goodbye to the others and kissing me lightly on the lips, she left the restaurant. We also did not linger and went straight to the recording studio that Uncle Maxwell had built.
It was located closer to the outskirts of the city. To be honest, I did not know what exactly I should expect. Although Mr. Harris told me that this building was a little specific, I did not think that it could surprise me. But when we arrived, my chin almost hit the floor!
No, seriously—this was something! The house consisted of two parts, depicting two musical instruments: a transparent violin and a translucent piano. This architectural composition, due to its size, was clearly visible even from afar.
"The building is made of transparent and black glass," Sir Maxwell began describing the architectural miracle. "Let's go. There were two reasons for choosing this form—the symbolism of the instruments and their pragmatism. The shape of the piano allowed the best possible distribution of space for the recording studio, and the shape of the vertical violin made it possible to place a staircase in it, as well as, of course, an elevator."
Finding ourselves inside the transparent violin, we followed up. "Many wanted to buy this building from us, but Alexandra and I stood our ground and refused to give it up. This was built for our son, that's why we are so attached to this place," Mr. Harris indulged in memories. "But this building can't be empty forever. Perhaps our acquaintance is some kind of fate... Well, what do you think about the building?"
"I'm delighted! I have a feeling that this house was created especially for me. I apologize for these words—I didn't mean to insult the memory of your son."
"Nothing. This once again proves that Alexandra and I did the right thing in deciding that this house needed an owner like you."
Usually, a standard production studio included a work area, a sound engineer's room, a reception room, and a recording room. But this was not only that. The building had a guest hall, an exhibition hall, and a small dining room. There were a variety of musical instruments here; one might think that a grand exhibition was planned.
True, the room was a little dirty. A thick layer of dust had settled on the instruments, the floor, and the untouched furniture, indicating that the house had not received guests for quite some time.
"I think it would be a good idea to tidy the place up. I'll hire the right people to clean it," Maxwell said in his usual gruff voice.
"Don't bother. Leave the problem to me."
"No, I'll do it," he declared in a tone that brooked no argument. "There are things here that are dear to us. I'll take them with me, leaving only the essentials." I agreed, and Sir Maxwell led me to the recording room.
Everything was quite neat here. Cables, air conditioning, soundproof walls, soundproof doors—everything had been professionally installed. Also, almost all the necessary equipment was present: a condenser microphone, a microphone amplifier, a studio monitor, effects pedals, a mixing console… The only drawback was that all this equipment was outdated.
Their more modern counterparts had already come out, but for us, to clearly record the sound of the piano, this was enough. Having turned on all the necessary equipment, I sat down at a digital piano with a synthesizer function. I played "River Flows in You" many times until we were satisfied.
Having removed excess noise and made the sound clearer, the composition was finally ready. It was 6 p.m. Without wasting a second, I went to the film crew to hand them the finished work.