Electric shock
In the midst of a dry wind swaying the colorful trees, we were gathered in a gymnasium that felt slightly chilly. It was an uncomfortable place with its oddly glossy floor and the reverberating sound it produced.
That day, my junior high school was hosting a cultural festival. Or more precisely, I'm not sure if it was a cultural festival itself or some mysterious event that incorporated a program where the student council president would perform. The memories of that day are vague. Usually, on the podium where the principal would give serious speeches, a band led by the student council president started playing, emitting a piercing sound—electric noise that I had never heard before—echoing throughout the gymnasium.
They were playing the school anthem. While most people neither loved nor hated the school anthem, I didn't have any particular emotions towards music itself. However, I was captivated by the sound produced by the electric guitar. At that time, when I hadn't even properly played an acoustic guitar, the sound of an electric guitar, which I heard for the first time, left a "sensation of fascination" different from mere "yearning" in my heart. That experience, where the air trembled and vibrated my eardrums, sounded more distorted than any distortion I had heard on tapes or CDs.
It's a common story to be impacted by a live performance held in the gymnasium of the middle school one attends. I have many moments like that.
Perhaps because I play music that sounds difficult at first listen, like Ling Tosite Sigure, it may seem like I don't feel anything towards ordinary things. However, I still cherish those moments when I am captivated by something familiar or popular. No matter how many experiences I go through, I always cherish that feeling of being moved when I first encountered music in those situations. In terms of creativity, it is important to be unique, but beyond that, I always think about whether the people who listen to my music will reflect on the day, the moment when they encountered "my music" and remember the person they were at that time.
Back in the classroom, our conversation revolved around how the seniors had played Mr. Tamio Okuda's "Easy★Rider イージュー★ライダー" multiple times after the school anthem, and they even started calling it "Easy." During those days when even trivial matters became funny stories, an invisible revolution lingered within me.
Commentaires