On the way to the Boneyard, James was trying his best to be objective about the Bernard Zephyr album he was listening to over his car speakers. They were never his style of music, but if Mitch was kind enough to offer him a contract, the least James could do was try to appreciate his music. Some of the stuff on the third album resonated with him (though he couldn’t get into the singer-songwritery vibe of it overall), but after finishing that while working he moved onto their second album and it became more of a slog. There was definitely talent, but it came with layers of production and focus-testing, the kind of stuff that reminded him why he hadn’t paid attention to pop charts in years.

	It was said that everyone who knew anything about the Philadelphia scene knew about the Boneyard, and everyone who knew about the Boneyard knew about its money problems. Even though James wasn’t a regular of the place, he was happy to see that Mitch was helping preserve a local institution and keep it operating. Navigating the neighborhood was rough, but once you knew the place you knew it was worth the effort. James found a parking space nearby, noticing that the place was busier than you’d expect at this early of an hour, judging by the cars parked around.

	During his brief correspondence with Mitch, James forgot to get the details of exactly what to do when he showed up. He thought while he got his bags out of the trunk of his car, and dragged them along as he walked up to the main door to the bar, not knowing how to get to the recording studio. A sign hung on the door, saying “Be back soon.” The door was unlocked, so James went in and found a seat among the empty tables. The place was quiet, but he thought he heard the faint sounds of a piano coming from somewhere, possibly in the basement underneath. 

	James liked to work at odd hours and for little periods of time throughout the day, creativity did not operate on a fixed schedule. He pulled out his laptop from his bag and wired up the audio interface, getting his rack mounted Modal and a Korg MS-20 set up to work with it. With everything set up he got to work on an old problem, trying to write a part that used all eight voices of the Modal to create a complex melodic line. It was slow going, but he chipped away at it, headphone on one ear listening to his work while hands frantically moved between the keyboard, the trackpad, and the nobs to tweak the endless parameters in pursuit of perfection. He was lost in his work, almost forgetting the fact that other people were coming here too.