NOVEL NEXT Chapter 28
Despite the vague sense of unease that began to grow toward Ogata-san, it was merely a sense of discomfort, not unpleasantness. As a result, I ended up learning a lot from him until just before the live concert began.
Things like:
– Today’s live show would be a “taiban” event, meaning multiple bands would be performing.
– The unique characteristics and highlights of the participating bands, with Avant-Garde at the forefront.
– Recommendations for indie bands and tips on how to spot bands that might take off.
– “Live house” (small concert venue) anecdotes and stories of past troubles and difficulties.
The range of topics was vast. Ogata-san was a skilled conversationalist, and despite my initial discomfort, I found myself listening intently.
—
“──Well, it’s about time. Make sure you enjoy yourself!”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Before I knew it, it was almost time for the live concert to start. The extra time I had gained from Chiaki-san’s earlier outburst had vanished before I realized it. …And let’s not make a comment about how the manager seemed to be slacking off most of the time.
Though, to be fair, he did try to justify it. He apparently likes to run things with plenty of extra time built in, including the opening time, because he hates last-minute chaos.
He also mentioned something about making sure that even the staff can handle things on their own if there’s no trouble.
—
“It’s about to start.”
“Yeah, it’s getting crowded. I’m glad we came early.”
I could hear snippets of conversation from the nearby audience. Though not loud enough to hear every word, I could tell by the lively tone.
Looking around, there were noticeably more people than when I had entered the venue. It wasn’t full, but it was certainly much more crowded than the scene right after the doors had opened.
Most likely, the crowd would only continue to grow from here. Or rather, to be precise, it seemed like the audience would rotate depending on which band they came to see.
Either way, the energy in the live house was undeniable. For someone like me, who openly identifies as an indoorsy type, the atmosphere was foreign, a completely new experience.
—
“This is incredible…”
—
I’ve never been one to attend events. Sure, I might have gone if a friend invited me, but otherwise, I never went to events regardless of the genre.
I’m sure I’d enjoy it once I got there. But the hurdle to actually go is just too high. I enjoy subcultures, but I’m the type who’s content with watching shows online.
Manga, light novels, anime, games, VTubers, streamers—I consume all these forms of media. But not to the point of buying merchandise or attending events.
It’s not because I’m stingy. I buy products, spend on games, and donate to streamers. I do splurge within the bounds of my hobbies.
But that’s where it ends. It all happens within the confines of my computer or smartphone screen. That’s how entertainment is for me.
—
“Oh, it’s starting!”
“It’s here, it’s here!”
—
And that’s why this enthusiasm felt out of place. The increasing excitement in the air around me made me restless. The rising tension among the crowd, which was almost palpable, made my skin tingle.
It’s the sense of being in the moment. Like watching the opening of a hit anime, especially one of the standout episodes. Or like watching the highlight moments of a classic film right before they unfold.
—
“We are Lumberjack! Let’s have a great time today!!”
—
The men who stepped onto the stage. They were the band assigned to kick things off. …I’d never heard of them. Sure, Ogata-san had given me a brief overview, but at the end of the day, it was just knowledge. I had no real understanding of the band.
I’d only just heard their name. I’d heard what kind of music they were known for, but I didn’t fully grasp the genre to begin with. It was the kind of shallow understanding where you vaguely think, “Oh, I’ve heard of something like that before,” but can’t quite place it.
I wasn’t even at the level of being a casual fan. No, I should just admit it—I didn’t understand at all.
—
“Alright, for our first song! 【Terpsichore】!”
—
My shallow preconceptions were being rewritten. The thin layer of prior knowledge was now being fleshed out by the music itself.
—
“……”
—
The strumming of the guitar. The pounding of the drums. The deep, crawling sound of the bass. The vocals, carrying all of it forward.
—
“…Whoa.”
—
I was genuinely impressed. I don’t know much about musical technique. But to be honest, it seemed rougher compared to the music I usually listen to.
But that’s understandable. After all, it’s a completely different playing field. The music I typically listen to is popular, successful music.
The artists I listen to are successful, the cream of the crop in the music industry. Even I, a novice, can understand that comparing them isn’t fair.
The vocals don’t have the same power as singers on music shows. The playing doesn’t have the cohesion or impact of bands that top the Oricon charts. The lyrics don’t have the addictive quality of Vocaloid songs that have reached millions of views online.
—
“…Whoa.”
—
There’s nothing particularly captivating about this band. Compared to the famous songs I know, they’re clearly inferior. There’s nothing about them that pulls me in.
—
“So this is…a live show…”
—
And yet, here I am, enjoying it. …No, that’s not quite right. I’m being made to enjoy it.
—
“Alright, next song, here we go!!”
—
What makes up for the band’s shortcomings is the enthusiasm of the surrounding audience. The fans, I assume, their excitement is infectious, stirring something within me.
This is what they call crowd psychology. It’s simple, and even though I’m aware of it, it’s hard to resist.
It’s not that I can’t resist, but there’s no point in doing so. “Those who watch fools dance are fools too, so if you’re going to be a fool, you might as well dance”—this is probably something like that.
To add to it, the closed-off environment of the live house also amplifies this feeling.
Unlike the image of a large concert in a dome, this live show was much smaller in scale. The capacity was small, and on top of that, there weren’t even enough people to fill it.
Even so, when people are packed together, heat builds up. And because the venue itself is small, it doesn’t take much for that heat to reach its peak.
From there, it just boils over. The energy of the venue rises on its own, and the audience, in turn, gets carried away. That’s the kind of situation this is.
—
“…I get why some people love indie bands now.”
—
There’s a charm unique to live houses. I’d heard that argument before, but now that I was experiencing it, I could understand.
Of course, there are probably other ways to enjoy it, like discovering hidden gems that haven’t made it big yet. My thoughts might just be the product of someone getting swept up in the festive atmosphere around them.
Still, it’s an experience worth having at least once in your life. That’s how much value I feel it holds. At the very least, that’s what I thought.
—
“…I guess I should thank Chiaki-san.”
—
Though, I’m sure this wasn’t her intention. She probably just wanted me to see her hobby and appreciate how great it was.
Enjoying an unknown band’s music while holding a drink and getting swept up by the excitement around me—it made for quite a memorable first experience.