What is the root of the difference between music manufactured by agencies and the music of a band? It stems from freedom and honesty. Music and groups created by agencies are meticulously planned and organized solely for commercial viability. Ultimately, as products strictly designed by capital, they become riddled with [lies] that have nothing to do with the artist's own ego.
On the other hand, bands are organized and disbanded freely; because of that, they are frank and sincere. A band's ego is not distorted by an agency. To affirm one's true self and reveal it honestly—that is the rock 'n' roll that determines a band's charm.
That is why a rockstar is not created simply by playing guitar and singing with a few stage moves. It is an ego filled with self-conviction and the resulting dignified presence that truly makes a rockstar.
And in this world, while there may be stars, there are no rockstars. That was my impression after exploring the outside. Rockstars can exist even among idols. This is because the criteria for a rockstar are an honest, sincere, and confident appearance full of self-conviction. However, the idols of this world, for some unknown reason, are filled with nothing but [lies].
In a world where genuine liars are treated like rockstars, I slowly solidified my resolve: I would show them what a real rockstar is. A lie is just a lie.
.
.
.
.
.
.
'I've made the decision, but... where do I even start?'
Usually, on streets where young people gather, you'd see youths carrying band instruments, singing praises to their youth. But in this world...
'Forget youths with instruments... I don't even see anyone carrying a common acoustic guitar?'
The streets were filled only with youths dancing to loud music or singing over machine-made MR tracks.
'Surely there must be people who play instruments... Does the concept of a band simply not exist? Should I head to an instrument shop after all?'
I stopped a pedestrian to ask for the location of a nearby instrument shop. There's usually at least one in every major downtown area. It had to be around here somewhere.
"Excuse me, do you happen to know where there's an instrument shop nearby?"
"An instrument shop...? Instruments are mostly for music majors, so they'd probably be near the universities."
"Only for music majors...? Even things like electric guitars?"
"Electric guitar...? Oh, you mean those guitar-shaped things that make that weird, distorted static noise?"
"Uh... yeah... I guess so?"
"I'm not really sure. Maybe if it were a wooden guitar used in concert halls, but otherwise..."
A wooden guitar used in concert halls? He probably meant a classical guitar. Classical guitars produce a deeper, more elegant sound than folk guitars, but they use nylon strings and are harder to play. If classical guitars were more famous than standard acoustics, it meant instruments were likely viewed as tools only for formal recitals.
Ending that train of thought, I asked the pedestrian one more question.
"Are instruments only used for recitals in Japan?"
"What? Of course they're used in recitals. Where else would you use them?"
"Are there things like... bands?"
"Bands? Oh, are you hurt? I don't have any Band-Aids on me..."
"Ah... no, never mind."
It seemed this wasn't just a world without rock; the very concept of a musical 'band' didn't exist. Otherwise, there would be no reason to bring up bandages in the middle of a conversation about instruments.
'Man... this is going to be a problem.'
To become a rockstar in this world, I would have to be like The Beatles. It wasn't just about making good music; I would have to personally popularize the basic blueprint of a band—the harmony created by guitar, bass, drums, and vocals.
'Fine, let's do it. I have the sheet music for countless great songs in my head.'
.
.
.
.
.
.
'Ding-ling.'
The clear chime of a bell welcomed me as I pushed open the door of an instrument shop. I had always loved visiting these places. Even when I was just a nameless session player, stepping into a shop and catching that dusty yet clean scent of wood made me feel like my identity as an artist was being validated.
"Excuse me, do you sell guitars here?"
"Ah, yes! Of course we do! Is this what you're looking for?!"
The shop owner seemed unusually excited, as if he hadn't seen a customer in ages.
"Do you have any guitars other than the nylon-string ones used for recitals?"
"Other guitars...?"
"Maybe a steel-string guitar with 14 frets? Or one that uses electricity to produce sound?"
"Ah! We do! You must be majoring in an incredibly niche genre! Gwahahaha!"
"Ah... yes... I'm a bit unique."
Fortunately, it seemed the instruments themselves existed. Was it really just the 'band' format that was missing?
"I'd like an acoustic guitar, then. A Gibson would be even better."
"You really are a unique one... Gibson guitars have such a rough sound that only the most eccentric players use them..."
"I'm a bit of a rough guy myself."
"Ah, yes! Understood! I've been having a headache because I couldn't sell this one anyway. I'll bring it right out!"
The guitar the owner brought out was a Gibson J-45. It was a model that usually cost well over 4 million won, representing the most standard Gibson sound. With its powerful projection and punchy resonance, it was perfect for creating a masculine, raw vibe.
"How much is this one?"
"Hmm... it usually goes for about 400,000 yen... but since it's just collecting dust, just give me 100,000 yen! Gwahahaha!"
"For this precious thing?"
"An acoustic guitar made by Gibson? It was destined for the scrap heap anyway. I only kept it because collecting instruments is a hobby of mine."
"I'll take it immediately. You take card, right?"
"Card? This shop doesn't have a card reader!"
Ah... that's right. This was Japan in the early 2000s. Dammit.