If you listen to Eric Clapton's 'Layla' while reading, you'll be able to immerse yourself deeper into the story.
ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ
"So, what's with this brat? The leader?"
A bald young man holding a bass asks me, his tone thick with irritation.
"An active idol. And a very close acquaintance of mine."
"Is it okay to bring a girl to our very first rehearsal? I get you're at that age where the blood runs hot, but still."
"Oh? Did I not mention my age? I'm 16. The girl you're glaring at is 13."
"An active idol...? 13 years old...?"
Upon hearing this, beads of sweat form on the bald man's scalp. He suddenly looks lost, clearly frazzled by the fact that he was acting hostile toward a child.
"Wait, man, you're 16? This is a complete ragtag crew, isn't it?"
"Among instrumentalists, your skill is your age."
"Still, 16 is a bit..."
The university students look anxious, realizing they were recruited by someone much younger than them. But the world of musicians doesn't operate on seniority; it's all about the hierarchy of talent.
If you're good enough, they'll call you 'sir' regardless of age. In that sense, I feel like I need to crush their egos a bit.
.
.
.
.
.
Eric Clapton's 'Layla.'
It's a song composed by Eric Clapton specifically to woo the wife of his friend, George Harrison.
It carries one of the messiest backstories in rock history. George Harrison's wife, Pattie Boyd—ignored by her husband—tried to make him jealous and inadvertently ended up seducing Eric Clapton, resulting in this song.
To put it bluntly, it's a song Clapton wrote to pull off an 'NTR' on his best friend. Meanwhile, George Harrison was busy making moves on another friend's wife—Ringo Starr's, to be exact.
Musically, this track lacks flashy technique, but it's perfect for showcasing a guitarist's ability to dial in a tone. The guitar solo, seemingly designed to steal another man's wife, is legendary among guitar nerds.
While it isn't ideal for a pure technical flex, technicality usually fails to move anyone who isn't a fellow gearhead anyway. To the average listener, speed only elicits a mild, 'Oh... his hands move pretty fast.'
I plugged the cable into the amp and adjusted the guitar's tone.
The truth is, even the original artist, Eric Clapton, plays this song with various different tones.
'If the creator plays it however he wants, it shouldn't matter if I do the same, right?'
Instead of half-heartedly mimicking his tone, I plan to play it with my own style.
And I won't play the original version; I'm going for a rearranged version where the guitar is much more intrusive. Since the original is a vocal track, playing it straight as an instrumental can feel hollow.
I play a bit faster than the original, utilizing a heavy, growling overdrive. An ear-piercing guitar wail resonates throughout the rehearsal studio.
If you strip the vocals and play only the accompaniment, the song loses its 'bite' and becomes flat. This is because 'Layla' is driven primarily by vocals until the melodic part signaled by the piano coda begins. To fill that void, I chose a thick overdrive tone.
Singing with the guitar instead of a voice.
That is the purpose of my performance. If I show them this level of skill, they won't try to look down on me. I might have been an E-rank session player, but I was always strong when it came to these kinds of 'tricks.'
With the buzzing hum of the guitar, the vocal part begins.
There are no lyrics, yet the imagery is vivid.
Masterpieces are masterpieces for a reason.
"What...? I've never heard this song before."
"Did he write this?"
I continue playing, channeling the emotions Eric Clapton must have felt when he composed this.
The friend and the friend's wife. Two people drifting apart due to George Harrison's infidelity. And Eric Clapton, watching it all unfold.
Clapton begins his courtship, fueled by an emotion that could be either possessiveness or pity. Even though she was his friend's wife.
Like this, [Love] paralyzes human reason.
The pre-recorded drum, bass, and backing guitar tracks roar. I loved this song most in my previous life. Despite the scandalous background, where else can you find a love song this desperate?
The image of a person kneeling down, pleading with their crush, comes to mind.
Telling them that unlike 'that person,' I will never hurt you.
Promising to devote an entire life to that one person alone.
Eric Clapton likely had those thoughts while creating this masterpiece.
As the melodic lines replacing the vocals end, the atmosphere of the song begins to shift. This is where the piano coda usually pivots the mood.
The mood changes, but the core imagery remains.
The rocky edge subsides, transitioning into a lyrical, soulful sound.
I had a lover in my past life too.
The kind of lover where, because we had no money, we shared pieces of hotteok on Christmas instead of a common cake.
I remember her paying the bill while I stood there agonizing over a few measly cents. That was my previous life.
A life I couldn't have endured without a blind, stubborn self-conviction that I would eventually succeed.
It's not technical, nor is it a high-speed shred that shocks the listener, but I melt my experience into every single note. The kind of sentiment that only someone who has tasted nothing but failure can produce.
With a final thud of the drums, the music draws to a close.
There are no longer any band members questioning me.
Applause echoes throughout the rehearsal studio.
.
.
.
.
.
I finish the performance and look around, only to see the purple-haired girl's face drenched in tears.
'But Ai, why are you crying?'