Devil’s Music

Chapter 152: The Money Ghost and the Blues Club

Geon found the basement rehearsal room across from the club, following Sambo's directions. It appeared that the space, originally not designed as a rehearsal room, was situated in the basement of a regular commercial building, divided into several rooms. Having shown his face to the caretaker, Geon was led to a rather spacious rehearsal room and sat down on an empty chair, browsing information about 'a decade of soul' on his phone.

'Nine members, quite a large band, 'a decade of soul' is.'

Geon was recalling his conversation with Sambo while browsing through the search results about them.

"A performance, me? I'm just a student learning; I don't think I have the skills to perform on stage."

"Ha, your reputation alone is enough. The moment your name hits our rolling banner, our guests will surely increase."

"But won't that be a nuisance to the band?"

"Who do you think you are? You're someone introduced by Eric Clapton, not just any student. Your presence might even intimidate the band members with the image you've shown to the public so far."

"It's great that you're offering me the opportunity to perform... but why are you going to such lengths for me?"

"Ha, as I've said, I'm a businessman. I have a keen nose for profitable ventures. That's why I'm sitting here. To you, music might be an art, but to me, it's business. Music business, that's the reason for my current existence."

'Didn't seem like someone consumed by money, but I guess you really can't judge a person until you've dealt with them.'

Geon checked his watch.

'It's three o'clock. The band's rehearsal starts at four thirty, I came too early. Maybe I should practice a bit in the meantime?'

Geon connected his guitar, Haku, to the amplifier. The rehearsal room of a premier club featured a renowned amp, 'Marshall JCM 2000'. After connecting the jack and trying out a few notes, Geon smiled in satisfaction.

'The sound is killer!'

Geon played the riff section of 'A Decade of Soul's 'Knock on Wood'. His body moving to the lively rhythm, Geon then connected his smartphone to the amp and started playing along to the music, adding his own guitar ad-libs. Although it was his first attempt at improvisation and felt awkward, he soon immersed in the joy and fun it brought, taking out a notebook to write down the music score as it flowed through the amp. The score under Geon's pen started to turn a deep red color. Smiling at the color-changing score, Geon's expression turned curious.

'Black?'

Between the red notes, black notes began to find their color. The changing colors turned into notes mixed with both red and black, creating a chaotic blend. Geon pondered, 'Red represents passion and love, and black signifies emptiness and despair? What does it mean?'

Geon tried playing the riff as an ad-lib, following the emotions suggested by the score. The music that poured out was a direct reflection of the emotions the score intended to convey. After playing through one song, Geon stroked his chin thoughtfully.

'It feels right... but if I can't interpret the song correctly, then it's just skill.'

Suddenly, the rehearsal room door burst open, and two white men with guitar cases entered, looking at Geon in surprise. Both wore horn-rimmed glasses; one donned a beanie, and the other had his short blonde hair slicked back.

Geon stood up to greet them.

"Hello?"

The short blonde-haired man scanned Geon from head to toe.

"Ah, hello, Geon. We've been informed about you. But was that your playing just now?"

Geon smiled shyly.

"Oh, yes, just practicing for a bit."

The man in the beanie set down his guitar.

"Not just any famous person, then. Just a practice session and it's already at that level. I'm truly impressed. My name is Reece."

The short blonde-haired man followed, "Call me Lettie. Nice to meet you."

Geon smiled back and forth at them.

"Thank you for the opportunity, I'm Geon."

Lettie, momentarily dumbfounded, then said, "At first, I thought you were just a well-known student among the public, offering help at a student level... But hearing your play, my mind has changed. Looks like we might be the ones getting help."

Geon waved his hands dismissively.

"Oh, no. I really need a lot of help. My understanding of blues is still very shallow."

Reece took out his guitar and sat down.

"If Geon's understanding is shallow, what does that make us? We've been playing blues for over ten years but lack that level of skill."

Geon scratched

the back of his head.

"No, I still have a lot to learn. Playing isn't just about skill; it's about soul, right?"

Lettie laughed heartily.

"Well said! You already grasp the most important part of playing. So, what don't you understand?"

Geon composed himself before answering.

"I've listened to 'A Decade of Soul's music, which is mostly bright and passionate. Yet, strangely, I feel despair and emptiness in their music."

As Geon spoke, the door opened and a portly 70-year-old black man entered. Without looking at Geon, he said,

"That's blues for you. Because it's blues, you feel that despair and emptiness."

Geon stood up and greeted him.

"Hello, I'm Geon, looking forward to practicing together starting today."

The kindly-looking elderly man adjusted his light-colored sunglasses and smiled.

"Nice to meet you. I'm William. I've heard about you in advance."

William unfolded a portable chair next to Geon and sat down, breathing heavily as if the movement was strenuous for him.

"Have you ever played the blues?"

"Yes, I was fortunate enough to meet a great teacher and learned all the scales."

"Ever performed?"

"No, I haven't had the opportunity yet."

"But you were able to interpret the emotions conveyed by the blues? Not just from books but by playing a song? Which song was it?"

"'Knock on Wood.'"

"I see. A good song. Full of upbeat lyrics. But you sensed despair and emptiness in it? You're quite something. Who's your teacher?"

"Uh... Eric Clapton."

Reece and Lettie stood up in shock.

"Eric Clapton is your teacher?"

Geon smiled awkwardly.

"Well, I only studied with him for a few weeks, so it feels strange to call him my teacher, but yes, he taught me the blues scales.

Reece and Lettie were speechless, and William commented, "Hmm... So the rumors about you being a genius are true? If Eric Clapton taught you, it must be."

"Tease? Who's that?"

"Our band's female vocalist. The only woman in the band."

"Oh, she knows me?"

"Of course. You performed at the zoo orchestra recently, right? Tease went there. She's been talking about you ever since. When Sambo asked if he could fit you into the band's practice, it was Tease who welcomed you with open arms."

"Ah, I'm grateful to her then, haha. I'll have to repay her kindness."

"Married, so be careful, haha."

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that, haha."

William took off his sunglasses, pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, and began cleaning the lenses before returning to the conversation.

"Let's get back to what we were talking about. You were asking why a song full of passion could contain despair and emptiness?"

"Yes, William. It's a bit confusing because the emotions are so contrasting."

"Have you ever seen the movie '12 Years a Slave'?"

"Uh... I haven't seen it yet."

"You should watch it when you can. It might help you understand."

"I will, William."

William offered Geon a cigar from his case, but Geon declined.

"I don't smoke."

William, seeming a bit disappointed, lit one for himself.

"It's a top-quality Cuban cigar. I don't offer these to many. You're missing out on a great opportunity."

Geon just smiled, and William continued after exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"During the Civil War, the white plantation owners, outnumbered by the black slaves, often resorted to systematic violence to maintain efficient control. Despite this, they always felt tense because of the physically superior slaves, leading them to exercise even higher levels of violence and eventually banning conversations among the black slaves."

William took another deep puff of his cigar, blowing smoke from his mouth and nose.

"Blacks, who had lived freely in Africa, found themselves in a suffocating predicament, living worse than animals in front of the barbaric whites' guns. Can you imagine the frustration? Africans, who once roamed the vast savannas and hunted, needed a way to express anything to survive the hard labor and to stay alive. So, they started pouring out their grievances to the heavens, which became known as 'field hollers,' the work songs of the slaves."

Geon asked, puzzled, "Field hollers? That's the first I've heard of it."

"It's an old term, young friend might not know it. Anyway, it was a spiritual song where the blacks, almost unable to converse with their fellow men, had to engage in unwanted labor, expressing their pain, frustration, and sorrow to God. The white plantation owners didn't particularly stop them since it wasn't a conversation but a song to endure painful work."

"Field hollers evolved through the Civil War and the Industrial Revolution into two genres: the religious 'gospel' and the secular 'blues.' Gospel, as you know, became a genre adding soul to hymns, while blues sang about secular, everyday life."

After unloading his explanation in one breath, William took another deep inhale from his cigar.

"Some say blues lyrics are crude. They fail to realize how much the field hollers reflected the cruel reality. You know, regional folk songs also have many secular lyrics?"

"Yes, the folk songs from my homeland, Korea, often have quite bold lyrics."

"That's right. Blues started with direct lyrics for that reason. Most blues music incorporates despair and emptiness because it's rooted in the pain of black slaves."

Geon looked thoughtful for a moment. William watched him silently smoking his cigar, giving him time to ponder. After a while, Geon spoke,

"Can people who are not black understand and express that sentiment through music?"

William chuckled and pointed at Reece and Lettie.

"Do they look black to you?"

>

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