With the Chipmunks on top of the singles chart, Dave asked us if we would end our residency at Pete's. "Liberty was uncomfortable with the concept of the Chipmunks as a performing act," recalls Simon. "Especially since the music we were performing was significantly removed from the novelty pop feel of the Chipmunks' first single." We had another meeting up in the treehouse, and decided that it was worth losing our regular gig to keep Liberty happy. We played a farewell weekend at Pete's, then moved our instruments back to Mrs. Gorman's basement for the time being.

When Dave had scored a hit with "Witch Doctor", Liberty Records had pushed him for a follow-up single. He eventually had managed to write another song, but it was only somewhat in the same style, and it hadn't really done well. So, once "The Chipmunk Song" became a smash, the label didn't just demand another song. They demanded another song of exactly the same kind, as soon as he could possibly write it.

This wasn't that surprising, but it ended up being a bit of an issue. You see, Simon had "discovered the muse", as they like to say, and had begun writing an original song for the first time. And rather than being a simple pop song, Simon (being Simon) spent much of December 1958 working on a rather intricate love song. He wrote it from the vantage point of a man in Venice who had been spurned by an Italian girl. The man then hired a gondola to paddle him through the canals. As the various landmarks passed by, he thought about how different men and women were, and wondered if it was actually a miracle that the two sexes ever managed to reach any common ground. Simon spent much of the month working on the bridge of "What Chance Love", which was going to be sung in Italian. He was consulting with a few people who spoke the language, trying to get the feel of it just right.

In retrospect, it's a bit baffling that Simon would think that Liberty would ever consent to the Chipmunks recording such a song. We had exactly one hit to our name, which was a novelty Christmas number. The idea that Liberty Records would completely switch gears and let us sing a heart-wrenching bilingual vocal showcase was more than a little far-fetched. But Simon had his reasons, even if they were entirely personal.

"Love," he admits. "Or the adolescent equivalent thereof. I had developed an infatuation with a fellow student in my biology class. I had made a rather clumsy attempt to woo her, and not surprisingly, she had spurned me. This resulted in me channeling my somewhat-typical teenage angst into composing a sweeping romantic number. And I foolhardily hoped that recording it would encourage this student to reconsider."

When he had finally finished it, we took it over to the Seville house. Dave looked the song over, picking out the melody on his piano and mumbling through the lyrics. When he finished, he told Simon his song was "very pretty", but he didn't think it would work as a follow-up to "The Chipmunk Song". However, Dave promised Simon that he'd write a love song for us to sing.

Which, somehow, ended up being "Alvin's Harmonica".

The backing music was actually a bit reminiscent of Simon's song - there's a vaguely Italian lilt to it. But Dave's lyrics were...well, let's say "simple". It was like a child's idea of a love song. In one of Dave's most baffling lyrics ever, he had us sing "and when we want to get a kiss, we take them through for popcorn". "I've had people ask me what the hell that means for half a century," says Alvin, "and I don't have any idea. Just know that I've never managed to get a kiss using popcorn, ever."

All of this would've been embarrassing enough for Simon. But then, in an effort to duplicate the success of our Christmas single, Dave decided to recreate the Alvin-wrecks-the-recording bit throughout the record. Alvin interrupts the proceedings by playing riffs on his harmonica, arguing that he'd rather do that than sing. Then Simon and I sing "cha cha cha", Dave pretends to throw a fit, and the song finally fades out. "Suffice to say I was under no illusion that I could win any student's affections with this drivel," says Simon candidly.

All three of us thought the song was terrible. We recorded our vocals with our eyes firmly on the sheet music. If we had looked at each other, our eyes might have rolled out of our head. I remember smirking every time Alvin said "not again" at the outset, as it echoed what I was thinking during each take. After five takes, Dave and Mr. Waronker were finally satisfied. I thought it sounded awful, and I was certain the song would stiff.

"Alvin's Harmonica" reached number three on the Billboard pop chart. In addition, it re-charted three more years at Christmas time, even though there's nothing Christmas-y or even winter-y about the song. Shows what I know. To this day, it's my least favorite of all of the Chipmunks singles. The record was credited to "David Seville and the Chipmunks", and I was a bit put out about Dave claiming top billing over us.

At the time, I was actually more upset about the flipside. Simon's suggestion that we record "What Chance Love" for the B-side was ignored. Instead, Dave pounded out another piano instrumental. And this time, he didn't invite me to play on it - he used session musicians instead. I tried to console myself by noticing that the title of the new flipside - "Mediocre" - summed up how I felt about the tune itself. It just didn't have the groove that "Almost Good" had.

With a couple of hit singles under our belts, life at school had started changing. Well, actually, it didn't change all that much for Simon and me. Simon was still the bookworm, and I was still the awkward kid. We just were now the bookworm and awkward kid who sang on those goofy Chipmunks songs. But Alvin had started becoming BCOC - big chipmunk on campus. He had always been the kind of guy to sort of thumb his nose at his teachers when their backs were turned. But once our recording career started taking off, Alvin was pretty much doing it to their faces. His grades began slipping, and he was spending more and more time with what used to be called "the unsavory element". "I guess you could say I was flirting with juvenile delinquency," he admits, "even if I don't think I was truly a delinquent myself. I didn't join a gang, or vandalize stores, or anything like that. But I was hanging out with some rougher types. A bit strange that they would accept a rodent into their ranks, considering the childish stuff I was singing on record, but then again, my 'acting out' was pretty childish, too."

Once "Harmonica" became a hit, Liberty Records had the three of us recording songs a lot more often. One of the first recordings we did was a David Seville-penned song called "Chipmunk Fun". It was basically just a litany of things that we supposedly liked. I got to mention that I liked swimming (which I did) and bowling, which I probably would have liked if I were strong enough to throw a bowling ball. But I also had to sing that we "liked to ride ponies" and a few other things that none of us actually cared about at all. And once more, Alvin was made to "ruin" the song by singing that he liked to break dishes and fight with squirrels, which led to yet another David Seville end-of-song meltdown. (Believe it or not, there are still people who think we three chipmunks are prejudiced against squirrels because of that one line. I wonder if they think we all like breaking dishes, too.)

Probably my favorite song that we recorded during this time was a song from our own not-long-passed youth - "Ragtime Cowboy Joe". Not much rehearsal was needed for that one, as all three of us knew it by heart. But, not surprisingly, Liberty rearranged the song to include Alvin shooting a cap gun, and Dave telling him to knock it off. (These songs had already become boringly predictable.) It is a bit funny that Dave never points out that the gun Alvin is shooting is a toy. All you hear is Dave saying "Alvin, put down that gun" like a bored hostage negotiator.

"They made us do, like, thirty takes of that song," complains Alvin. "Not because of our singing - we nailed that from the beginning. But Mr. Waronker kept saying my spoken parts were too hard to understand. 'Can you say it slower? And clearer?' I was sick to death of reading those lines, so I finally just over-enunciated them like crazy. 'They're...getting...away!' And they liked it like that for some reason."

"Ragtime" became our third single, and it managed to get up to number seventeen on the singles chart. A respectable showing, but it seemed like the public was starting to grow weary of the basic Alvin-ruins-Chipmunks-singing concept. That said, "Ragtime Cowboy Joe" remains a bit of a nostalgic favorite with me, and I remember getting excited when it popped up on an episode of ALF during the 1980s.

But for every song like that, there were at least three more that I really wasn't a fan of. Dave often selected children's songs for us to sing, which I would have been fine with. After all, we had discussed having us record specifically for children back at the outset. But the lyrics and arrangements often got revamped to make them...well, more "The Chipmunk Song"-y. That was true even for something as simple and straightforward as "Three Blind Mice". (That's a rather bizarre song for three chipmunks to sing, now that I think about it.) In that song, mixed in with the lyrics about tail dismemberment, Dave asks us why we had put blindfolds on the mice, and then tells Alvin to "get out of the tuba". I would try to explain that to you, but I'm not entirely certain I could.

One day, we came home from recording "Old McDonald" as a cha cha (a form that was quite popular at the time), and Simon asked me to meet him up in the treehouse. We just lay on the floor staring up at the ceiling for awhile, as Simon figured out how to say what he wanted to say. Finally, he spoke.

"Theodore, do you recall your wish?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I want to make music."

"Are you satisfied? With the present turn of events?"

I didn't answer right away. Instead, I mulled over the dozen or so songs we had recorded. "Well..." I finally said. "I'm happy that I get to record music with you and Alvin. That's kind of what I wanted all along."

"The choice of material does not displease you?"

"Well, I don't know. Isn't this something that Dave suggested we might end up doing anyway? Recording children's songs?"

"Yes, but not with Alvin displaying his sophomoric antics."

"...yeah, I guess."

Simon looked over at me. "Let us clarify your original wish. What would you prefer to be recording?"

I looked back at Simon. "Well, I wouldn't mind this stuff at all if we could do it straight. With Alvin just singing and Dave not getting angry at the end of every song."

Simon shook his head. "I did not ask you what you would not mind. I desire to know - what do you wish to record?"

I lay back down and stared at the ceiling again, letting my mind wander. What did I love doing, musically? When was I happiest? Finally, I hazarded an answer. "I'm happiest when us three are playing rock and roll, like we did at Pete's. And my favorite time in the recording studio was dashing off 'Almost Good' with Dave. That was fun. It was like..." I trailed off, trying to find the right words.

"There were no expectations outside of your artistic statement?" offered Simon.

Slowly, I nodded. "Yeah. We just came up with a song, and we pounded it out in the studio. It was a lot of fun." Simon nodded, and I asked, "So...what are you going to do?"

"At the present, nothing. I am a chipmunk under contract, and I will do my utmost to create the appearance of a happy little chipmunk under contract."

I wasn't sure I understood what he meant by that, so I just said "hm" noncommittally.

"It would probably behoove you to do the same. Put on a brave and smiling face for Liberty Records."

"Well, I don't hate this stuff..."

"Nor do I. Not at present, at any rate. It is not what I would prefer to record, but I can tolerate it. But there are nine months left on the contract, and there will no doubt be plenty of 'Old McDonald Cha Cha's between today and October."

I mulled that over a bit. Yeah, this could probably get pretty old come Halloween. But I could probably handle it until then. "Well, what happens in October?"

"I am still formulating my plan of attack, and I believe it prudent to keep the cards pressed to my chest for now."

"Aw, come on, Simon. You can trust me."

"Yes, I am fairly certain that you are trustworthy. But I feel it unnecessary to burden you with potential schemes that may alter significantly, or be completely overhauled, before they are even implemented. So allow me to continue to ruminate on this on my own for the present time."

"Well, OK. I trust you."

Simon smiled. "Excellent. Whatever the future holds, there is one activity that we should undertake."

"What's that?"

"We should resume our instrumental rehearsals. With an added emphasis on creating our own compositions. Your work with Mr. Seville on 'Almost Good' suggests that this may be a lucrative vein that might be exploited."

I beamed a bit at what at least sounded like a compliment from Simon. "Thanks." But then I thought about Alvin - how he was slacking on his homework, and generally acting like a big shot. "You think we can get Alvin to do that?"

"Perhaps. But if he proves unwilling to follow us in this endeavor, nothing is preventing us from working on the material as a duo."

"A duo?" I repeated, confused. "Just bass and drums?"

"Or guitar and drums. It is only necessary to compose and arrange the material. Additional musicians might be introduced at a later date should the need arise."

I frowned a bit. I hadn't really thought about it, but he was right. We could soldier on without Alvin if necessary. But the idea still seemed a bit wrong somehow. "I'd rather it be with Alvin," I mumbled.

Simon paused for a second, and then sighed. "To be honest, I also would prefer to work with Alvin. But one must make alternate plans in the event things do not occur as we wish they would."

As luck would have it, our conversation more or less coincided with a phone call from Mrs. Halliday, Alvin's American history teacher, revealing that Alvin had flunked his last pop quiz. Mrs. Gorman tended to be rather permissive as foster parents went, but one thing she was adamant about was us keeping our grades up. Alvin was given a long stern "talking-to", which ended with him grounded until his grades improved. Simon interceded on his behalf, asking if he could at least rehearse with us in the basement - for a couple of hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and for several hours on Saturday afternoons. Mrs. Gorman, feeling that Simon and I shouldn't be penalized for Alvin's poor study habits, agreed to let him join us.

The first Saturday after that, Mrs. Gorman had a volunteer function to attend. Just after she left, Simon suggested Alvin come downstairs with us to see if we could get a song or two written. Alvin just tied his sneakers and grinned. "Nah, I'm heading over to Larry's. I'll be back at five, long before Mrs. Gorman gets back."

Simon and I both looked aghast. "You fully intend to violate the terms of your agreement?" Simon asked.

Alvin waved that away. "What Mrs. Gorman don't know won't hurt her."

Simon set his jaw and said, "Very well. We shall discover how Mrs. Gorman responds when I reveal your deception upon her return."

Alvin's face fell as he stood up straighter. "You wouldn't dare," he challenged.

Simon walked over, and put his face about an inch from Alvin's. "Try me," he growled. He then spun on his heel and entered the stairwell down to the basement. I followed him down, with a long look back at Alvin. I hadn't seen these two act like this in at least three years.

Once downstairs, I sat down at my drum kit as Simon stomped over and slung his bass guitar over his neck. "That fool brother of ours is more than welcome to sabotage his own career," he muttered. "But I refuse to allow him the opportunity to sabotage ours."

I paused, holding my drumsticks in my paws for a minute. "You're really gonna squeal on him?"

Simon stared evenly at me through those large glasses of his. "Should it become necessary? Yes, without hesitation."

I mulled that over a bit. If Mrs. Gorman ever found out that Alvin was playing hooky during our rehearsals, we'd all be in major trouble, and perhaps we'd be grounded, as well. I nodded at Simon, letting him know I understood.

But before Simon could say anything else, Alvin walked in. As he grabbed his guitar, he looked expectantly at Simon. "So?" he asked. "What are we starting with?"

I smiled. "'Chipmunk Rock'," I said, tapping out the tempo. A few seconds later, the room was filled with us making music. Crisis averted, I thought. But much as I wished things would were settling down, they would only continue to get rockier.