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Continued from page 132…
Tuesday, July 21st, 1987, 7:40 P.M.
Saying ‘yes’ to making another album was the last thing in the world that Belinda thought she would be committing to when Jane walked into the kitchen. She was tired from working so much and depressed about Myles. The idea of going back into the studio for the next four or five months did not sound appealing at all. She wanted to spend more time with her daughter and get adjusted to domestic life for a spell; with or without Myles.
Jane knew that she had just thrown Belinda a major curveball considering everything that was going on in her life at the moment. The proclamation of working around her schedule provided only a small amount of relief. With that in mind, Jane decided to offer up a little more encouragement—
“You’re doing a great thing for humanity,” she said.
“Is that what I’m doing?” Belinda asked, feebly. She grabbed the back of a kitchen chair, pulled it out and sat down. Her frozen confection felt like an afterthought as it drooped down from her fingers.
“What’s the matter, Fancy?” asked Jane, moving over to rub Belinda’s shoulders. She could sense the desperation in her friend and already knew the answer to that question. “Thinkin’ about Myles?”
“Yeah… I can’t help it… I love him so much, Jane… I don’t want anybody else.”
Jane leaned over and wrapped her arms around Belinda’s neck from behind and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re going to be just fine, honey… Myles will come back and you’re going to have a wonderful family.”
Jane’s words were like that of a guardian angel. They always were. She then grabbed a chair of her own and sat down. She scooched it right up next to Belinda’s chair and started to caress Belinda’s leg near her knee in a caring, soothing way.
Belinda decided to alter the course of the conversation. Suddenly, she wasn’t in the right mood at that precise moment for any more deep consolation on the subject of Myles.
“I gotta’ tell ya, Jane.. I’m really not looking forward to working again right now… I’m tired. That sitcom was exhausting.”
“It doesn’t have to be right now,” offered Jane. “We can put it off as long as you want… It was just something I’ve been thinking about for a long time now. I don’t want Gina to feel left out of the creative process. She’s been ripped-off for so long now… This is the most important thing in my life right now as far as work is concerned… I don’t want her to feel left out.”
Belinda clearly understood Jane’s emotions and intentions. As she sat there in silence, absorbing and processing everything that Jane had just said, another thought suddenly popped up in her mind.
“What about our label?” she asked. “CBS has already terminated our contract.. So has Epic Records.”
“Fuck CBS.. And Epic Records… We don’t need them.. We’ll finance it ourselves,” Jane informed her.
Belinda continued to be a little nonplussed. Another pertinent thought entered her mind as well.
“But… the whole thing doesn’t seem to make a whole lot of sense,” she wondered. “If Gina wants to record a bunch of her songs, why doesn’t she just form her own band and release it as a solo? Ya’ know.. get some guys in there and make it more progressive?”
Jane did not have a definitive answer to this question.
“I don’t know,” she came back with as she shrugged her shoulders. “She wants the Go-Go’s to do it… She made that pretty clear to me.”
Belinda widened her eyes, made a cute face, and shrugged her shoulders as well.
“Okay.. whatever.”
The two of them continued to stare into each other’s eyes and smiled at their benevolent decision. They both felt flattered that Gina was insistent on the Go-Go’s making the album instead of going solo. Everything that Belinda had said about Gina finding her own musicians was exactly correct in that regard.
“What about the writing credits?” asked Belinda. “Won’t it look kinda’ strange for the people to see— “All songs written by Gina Schock?”
“She said she wanted it to say— “All songs written by The Go-Go’s,” answered Jane.
“But she’s missing out on all the royalties,” Belinda pointed out. “She’s missing out on all the moolah.”
“She said she didn’t care about that… Money is hardly an issue to any of us anymore, you have to realize that,” answered Jane. “Besides.. it all goes into the company, anyway.”
“And what about the label again?” asked Belinda, repeating her original inquiry.
“I don’t know,” said Jane. “We’ll let Charlotte handle that end of it.”
“Wouldn’t that be great if Charlotte owned a C.D. manufacturing plant,” Belinda posed. “Then we could get all the profits.”
“She probably does,” said Jane, amused. “Oh, excuse me. WE probably own a C.D. manufacturing plant. I keep forgetting that part.”
Belinda got up out of her chair and started to meander over to the kitchen counter. She took what was left of her Dreamsicle and threw it in the sink. She no longer had an appetite for anything. She stopped and paused in a reflective manner. As she stared at the wall behind the sink, Jane couldn’t help but notice.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
Belinda did not answer right away. She continued to stare at the wall before walking back towards the table.
“I don’t know, Jane,” she said as she sat down. “Sometimes… I get really sick of the business side of all this, ya’ know? There’s no purity in it… Especially with us… Now that Charlotte has made us so rich, there’s no goals left for us anymore… I feel like there’s nowhere to go but down… You know what I mean?”
Jane understood where Belinda was coming from. But that was only because they were currently talking about business and not about having fun. Jane decided to remind Belinda that there was more to music than just the materialistic rewards that were involved.
“What about creativity?” she posed. “That has nothing to do with business… There’s no end in sight with that… And we have that at our fingertips till the end of time… We don’t have to conform to the masses anymore. We can do whatever we want… Maybe we should make one of those twelve-minute songs like the prog bands do. That would show everybody.”
Belinda let out a small laugh as she leaned back in her chair. In some sort of a minute way, that didn’t sound like a bad idea to her. She leaned over, folded her forearms on the kitchen table, and addressed Jane in a sarcastic manner.
“I used to be poor, ya’ know.”
Jane was not about to accept Belinda’s little parable as a reasonable form of lamentation. She made a discerning face and answered back—
“And you hated every minute of it… Who you tryin’ to kid?”
Belinda looked back at Jane with a noticeable smirk on her face. She was naturally embarrassed by Jane’s perceptiveness.
“I’m trying to make a point here, Jane, and you’re ruining it,” she informed.
Jane just laughed.
Copyright 2024
by Clark Wright