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“And … um …” Clint seemed a bit taken aback. “What happened next? I mean, there are eighteen songs on the album! How long did it take you to record them?”

“Four weeks,” Andrej replied.

“Oh, yeah?” Tristan looked at him with a surprised expression. “You remember that so precisely?”

“Yes, remember? Iggy celebrated his birthday with us.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Four weeks? And? How long were you in the studio?” Clint asked.

“Fifteen days.”

“That was quick.”

“Well, the label only wanted to grant us a maximum of ten days,” Andrej explained. “Renting a studio costs money. And they want to keep production costs as low as possible.”

“In the end, the songs for the album were recorded in eleven days,” Tristan added. “But we recorded three more songs. While we were at it.”

“And what’s it like? Nightstalker in the studio. How should one imagine that?”

“Ha!” Andrej laughed. “You get to know each other all over again. Tristan and Leaf are two absolute perfectionists. Especially with the solos, our guitarist didn’t show himself any mercy.”

Tristan smiled, glad that Andrej still took it with humor. Andrej had also gotten his share when he recorded his bass lines in the sound booth.

“And now the next tour is coming up. Are you excited?”

Tristan drank from his orange juice and let Andrej do the talking.

“Of course, we’re excited,” the bassist replied enthusiastically. “It’s gonna be awesome. Exhausting, but awesome. As far as I know, a few more concert dates were added yesterday. All in all, we’ll be on the road for about nine months.”

“You must have enjoyed your time at home. Or have you already given up your apartments with the gypsy life you lead?”

“I would never do that!” Andrej exclaimed, laughing again. “You need a place to come back to. That’s very important!”

Tristan felt a tugging pain in his chest. He had returned once after the tour, when everything had been normal, and a second time just two days ago. He hadn’t lasted three hours in his apartment and had finally sat down on Leaf’s balcony. As distant as their relationship was at the moment, Leaf was his home—the only thing he had left.

“Tristan?”

“What?” Tristan glanced up, first at Clint, then at Andrej. He had drifted off in his thoughts, didn’t know for how long, and didn’t know what he had just missed.

“The ‘City Song,’” Clint said. “Can you tell us more about how that came about?”

Tristan cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. The fact that “City Song” was so popular surprised him, as it hadn’t even been planned as a single. Maybe they should reconsider releasing it. “That was, um, more of an accident.”

Clint chuckled, and Andrej smiled as he sipped his beer.

After discussing the first single, “Silverlights” and their first big hit, “Acid,” which they had gained worldwide fame, Clint reached for the headphones again and held one cup to his ear.

“And in case you out there have forgotten how cool ‘Acid’ is, then listen up carefully now. We’ll be right back. And then we’ll talk about tour life, more music, and family. Plus, you still have the chance to win three tickets to the concert on Saturday at the Whisky! So stay tuned!”

Family?

Tristan was glad he wore sunglasses as he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the radio host. A quick glance at Andrej told him that he was also becoming suspicious.

When Carol finally arrived at the interview, Tristan felt a weight lift off his chest. Not that he completely trusted Carol, but he felt a little too outnumbered when faced with four radio people.

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