Boyfriend lets out a cheery whistle as Girlfriend states her approval for the baby scratches he’s doing. Just to add a little more flavor, he does a scribble scratch right before the baby scratch, quick and fast and punchy, even going so far as pushing in a stabbing scratch before pushing the record forward. He snickers, the choppy sound adding a little bit of color to the lo-fi. Just before he answers Girlfriend, he goes for a chirrup, using the crossfader to cut in between his left hand’s movements before, as he pushes the record forward, reaching for the right record, bringing out a, ‘Get freakyyyyy,’ from the record at the end.
❝Hee hee.❞ Hardly could be considered a full on tune at that point. It’s honestly meaningless noise, but it’s fun!
He places his fingers to his chin in thought at her inquiry. ❝Christian rock,❞ he says to her, clearly indicating that his parents are into that. Which they definitely are. ❝Like…❞ He plays the typical chord progression from one of his tracks on the dial found in a lot of Christian rock to give her an idea, I, V, IV… They pretty much sound similar, so he’s sure just one will give her an idea. ❝Oh. Um… Hip hop. Maybe.❞ He actually doesn’t know exactly what his mother has planned, actually. He hadn’t checked. But those are his guesses, based on their song preferences.
❝BPM…❞ Christian rock doesn’t tend to have a high BPM, usually. Well, there is “No One”, now that he thinks about it. ❝How. Fast. Your lyrics?❞ In other words, how fast can Girlfriend manage it? That’s the most important part, because he can’t anticipate that his mom will take it easy on her.
She sighs dreamily at his showing off - so talented! What a lucky girl she is... Handsome, talented, and into music? Talk about a triple threat.
“Ooooh, I’ve heard that stuff before! Mm, okay-okay...” she presses a finger to her painted-cherry lower lip, tapping at it thoughtfully.
“Oh! How about.. Starting out with a slower BPM, and then picking up as it goes? Liiiike, um, maybe catching her off-guard?”
She reaches over to rap a rhythm onto his hand with hers, slow at first, then steadily picking up. Tap-tap, tap-tap-tap, ta-tap ta-tap ta-tap.
“What’cha think? Doable?”
