Mika and the Studio

When I sat down inside the studio, I slowly started realizing how important this moment was. Nervous and excited, I slowly walked to the electro-acoustic guitar that was prepped for me. It was a pale wood color, somewhat like my own guitar, that was lying there inviting me to play. Its clean condition made me slow down before grabbing it. Mr. Hiroaki, watching from behind the studio window, sensed my hesitation.

“Go ahead,” he said over the microphone. I heard him clearly over the crisp headset that he provided. “We got lots of those. Well, not lots, but enough.”

I then picked up the guitar and instantly felt its beauty. As much as I liked my own guitar, it had been a long time since I had played with such instruments outside of music stores.

“I hope it's to your liking…” he said over the headset. Mr. Hiroaki knew exactly what to say to snap me out of my worries and make me feel grateful for the opportunity instead.

I sat down and took a few deep breaths before warming up my voice and testing the guitar. It was perfectly tuned, so there was nothing else for me to do other than to start singing.

And I did, even though it was a bit rough at first. I wasn’t used to the sterile environment of a studio, with the dry air, muffled sounds, and the walls that trapped me inside. I felt out of place without the beauty of nature surrounding me while playing. I pulled out a song notebook and some of my notes on my phone and played a few songs. Mr. Hiroaki simply followed along, smiling occasionally. Over the course of my recordings, a few people had walked in and out of the recording studio, no doubt helping him mix some of my songs, and eventually a session pianist walked into the studio.

“Why don’t you focus on singing for the next few songs, just show him your notebook and he’ll follow along.”

“Oh, sure,” I answered, hesitant. I’d never played alongside anyone, and someone who could pick up my songs that easily was definitely intimidating.

I re-recorded some of my best music, singing my heart out, taking sips of water and resting in between songs. It was a bit exhausting to sing this much in one go, but I knew that if there was ever a chance, this was it.

“You don’t have to force it, we can continue some other day, don’t you worry,” said Mr. Hiroaki kindly. He was incredibly accurate with his observations of me. And while that was reassuring, it was also making me feel like I couldn’t hide anything at all from him.

“I’m fine, I got some more in me,” I said with a smile, “Besides, this is… kinda fun.” And I meant that, I had never been in such an environment. It was incredibly intimidating, scary, and my life’s future felt at stake, but it was just as amazing as I thought it would be.

After a couple more songs, I saw a girl furiously charge into Mr. Hiroaki’s part of the studio. I couldn’t hear anything they were talking about but I could tell from her body language that she was displeased and not very respectful to him. They kept arguing as I looked at them awkwardly, and then I looked at the pianist who had been accompanying my songs, who made it seem like the argument was completely normal. The girl arguing with Mr. Hiroaki was a petite girl around my age, wearing a t-shirt with a pattern I couldn’t make out, and some tight shorts that looked like they were for dancing or exercising. Alarmingly, I noticed her sometimes pointing at me while they were still arguing.

They exchanged a few more heated words and eventually she snatched the mic off of Mr. Hiroaki's hands and spoke loudly over it.

“You!” she said, with no concern for politeness. I was startled by her loud voice. “Give me the best you got.”

I looked over at the pianist, thinking she was talking to him.

“Me?” I asked, not knowing who she was talking to.

“Yes, you. That guy is just there to help you, so, you.”

I then looked at Mr. Hiroaki, who seemed resigned and simply shrugged, and signaled me to do as she asked.

I sang the song I thought was my best. It was a simple love song that I had thought about years before, but I really liked the chord progression on it, and it was easy enough to pull off even in the state I was in. The pianist helped along accordingly, and overall, despite me being tired, I was satisfied with what I did. The girl, looking attentively through the studio glass that divided us, didn’t seem too impressed.

“Did you write all of that yourself?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered nervously.

She then put the mic down, argued with Mr. Hiroaki for a couple more minutes, and then charged out of the room just as she had entered. It was as if a summer storm had blown into the studio, poured its water and wind on us, and then left a mess in its wake.

Mr. Hiroaki took a few seconds to recover from his conversation. “Don’t mind her,” said Mr. Hiroaki with a reassuring tone, “She’s one of those… picky kinds.”

I wasn’t thinking too much about her, but I definitely had felt the pressure, and hoped I had done a good job in front of both of them.

“We can continue some other time, let’s just stop for now, thanks, you two.” Mr. Hiroaki instructed us to end the session.

The studio pianist left unceremoniously, while I made sure to leave the instruments as I first saw them. Mr. Hiroaki then made his way towards me and we started talking once more.

“Want to take it home?” he said, offering the instrument I had bonded with for the past couple of hours.

“No, it’s fine, I can’t betray my own guitar, you know?” I said jokingly.

Mr. Hiroaki simply laughed, amused.

“Well if you ever need one, feel free to take it.”

His kindness felt like a bit too much, but I dodged some of it by smiling and laughing instead.

“Well we’re done for now, want to take a quick tour of the rest? There’s a lot of amazing things happening that I need to check up on, want to tag along?”

“Sure!” I said, excited. Despite trying to be cautious, I wanted to make the most out of the chance I was given. I didn’t know if I was ever going to be able to come back. Mr. Hiroaki kept asking about my dreams and needs for music as we toured the building, looking at a variety of artists and technicians at work.

“What about just writing music for others, would you be happy with that?” Mr. Hiroaki asked.

“I’m… not sure. It’s my music you know? I want it to come from me, for some reason.”

“I understand,” he said as he nodded. “Ever thought about going virtual?”

“Virtual?” I asked, confused about what he was talking about.

“Have you ever seen Vtubers?”

“I have, but not too much. To be honest, I don’t understand it.”

“What is there to understand?” Mr. Hiroaki said, confused. He then tried to come up with an explanation for me. “Think of it as controlling a puppet, except you’re…” He paused for a moment trying to fix his comparison. “Well you do control the puppet, but you also are the puppet. A cute 3D puppet made just for you! There’s a lot of people that love them! It’s a fairly new thing, so we can explore that.”

“A… puppet?” I was still confused by Mr. Hiroaki's words.

“Yeah well, maybe that's where this started? But we have some amazing tech for this! Here, let me show you instead, it should be easier than talking about it.” Mr. Hiroaki, unable to contain his excitement, led me to a studio down the hallway, opened the door, and let me inside.