On June 24, 2004, the band arrived to refihe album they had released some time ago. Ohere, they recorded most of the songs, rehearsing them thhly. But Billy had an unstoppable pace, produg song after song, and the band simply pyed from dawn till dusk. Even the relentless Jack Sauce, who lived for parties, pyed the bass with wild iy, dedig at least five hours a day to it—minimum. It was madness, but whehey saw Billy sing, they were captivated, fueled by his energy to match it.
-The paparazzi, - said or.-Hahaha, I’m surprised they follow us even without Billy, - Spencer remarked timidly, overwhelmed by the sea of cameras surrounding them. tless lenses fshed. It seemed Sugar Egg had arrived that m with Jack Sauce. Both lived in New York, while or and Speayed with their grandmother. She adored Billy—the sweet boy melted her heart. Whenever Billy visited her home, she would prepare the fi meals and insist he stay in the guest room, which used to be Spencer’s.
-Do you have pns for the tour? - the reporters asked.-Billy Carson… his album.- show. -
They didn’t listen. One athetid the other was shy. They appeared like rock stars, ign the cameras in slow motion, but iy, they were just scared.
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Billy sat at the studio piano, fingers flying over the keys as he immersed himself in the music. Meanwhile, Jack was breaking the strings on his bass across the room.
-Damn kids, - muttered Sugar Egg, standing beside Michael Ockrs, whed.-They’re as reckless as ever. They csh hard, but they’re both friends and rivals. Sometimes, when I watch them, I think how amazing it is to see each of them stir something within, - said Gee Martin, one of the most renowned producers. But he wasn’t the only ohere. An Parsons resent, along with the legendary Joh Roibert, the producer who had been at Billy’s first cert and had ihem all to withe stars aligning for Billy.
-Who are you? - Sugar Egg asked, eyeing the gathered veterans, all of them producers as far as he khey’re the best producers a band could ever ask for, - Michael Ockrs expined. - On one side, we have Gee Martin, a legend known as the fifth Beatle. He came because Billy seemed like a kid with immealent. Then there’s An Parsons. God… these are all backstage rock legends. --They came for that sy, skinny kid who looks like a mosquito? - Sugar Egg quipped, making the producers ugh, and he ughed along. He had beore direct siting married.-That mosquito on stage is like Godzil on steroids, - said Gee Martin. - When I saw him, he transported me to a beach I visited with my daughter 10 years ago. That boy is a phenomenon, and I want to see his creative process. - He paused for a moment. - What kind of musi is he? Sensitive? Or irreverent? I want to see him. --He’s both sensitive and irreverent, a metal flower, - Sugar Egg replied, r with ughter along with the producers.
The band’s sed drummer acted like the retionship pass, adjusting his rhythm aing the tempo while softly inviting others into the versation. Billy made tless adjustments on his piano and guitar, establishing different rhythms for Spencer and or to follow. or, as thin as ever, spun his drumsticks in his fingers before heading straight for the instruments. Sugar Egg followed—it was time to rock.
The first song was “Irish Pub Song,” where it all took shape. It began with Billy’s acoustic melody, paired with a rapid bassline and Sugar Egg’s crashing cymbals, while or sat back, listening to the binations.
JoshRobertt listened ily, making a few corres. After a while, they pyed through the opening again. Billy added a flute track, and his voice owerful. But the most striking element was the drumming, which hit with the iy the song deserved.
-Let’s go with “Ain’t It Fun” (Paramore), - Billy told the band through their headphones.
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I don't miing you down easy, but just give it timeIf it don't hurt now then just wait, just wait a whileYou're not the big fish in the pond no moreYou are what they're feeding on
So what are you gonna doWhen the world don't orbit around you?So what are you gonna doWhen the world don't orbit around you?
Ain't it fun?Living in the real worldAin't it good?Being all alone
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This song feels like stripping bare in nature, standing with nothing but a body shimmering with light and roots weaving around it. The sun is on the skin, people are chasing the wind, searg for nourishment—the world is tered on a person who simply wants to see the sky.
Billy envisioned a forest where, from a high branch, a panther desded, tamed by the natural energy surrounding it. It wasn’t so different from the moments when two souls ected, a union of man a on a shared path to loss. A blink, and they find themselves ba the city.
-It would be great to sing this with Avril, - he thought as he struck a quick chord, while the producers watched the boy who was undeniably the embodiment of rock. That aggressive yet restraiyle—the lyrics were sparse, but that was Billy’s magic, transf them into a defiaion of authority. He hated those who tried to trol him, yet his songs carried subtle gestures of love, moments of pure enjoyment. The tradi resonated with everyone, closing their eyes and nodding along to the beat.
-The kid has an uny ability to capture emotions, - Gee Martin remarked, recalling Nirvana’s cover of a David Bowie song. Though Bowie’s inal was loved, it didn’t leave the same imprint as Nirvana’s version, which today many mistake as their own. Kurt’s haunting presenfused the song with a differeion. Billy did the same. In this piece, he represented a friendly rage, a shared ahat everyone carries.
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Ain't it fun?Living in the real worldAin't it good?Being all alone?
Ain't it good to be on your own?Ain't it fun? You 't t on no oneAin't it good to be on your own?Ain't it fun? You 't t on no one
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The trick is to ignore everything else and focus on one small point, p every emotion into the microphone, eling the chaos of someone on the brink of disaster.
-That’s his success. But let’s not fet his greatest strength is the crity of his voice, blended with that gravelly tone made for rock, which emerges when he pushes his vibrather hat’s uniquely his, - said An Parsons, paring Billy to past talents he had represented. Each had their rhythm, their voice, and that individuality was fasating. In the end, success lies in differences. Some artists strike like anvils, again and again, f something out of lyrics, rhythms, and ces. It’s so allegorical and abstract that success feels like a fleeting light esg the nebu of failure—a rare occurrence.
????????????????Ain't it fun?Living in the real world
Don't g to your mama'Cause you're on your own in the real worldDon't g to your mama'Cause you're on your own in the real world
Don't g to your mama'Cause you're on your own in the real world
Don't g to your mama'Cause you're on your own in the real world
Ain't it fun, ain't it fun?Baby, now you're one of usAin't it fun, ain't it fun?Ain't it fun?
Ain't it fun?Living in the real worldAin't it good? (Ain't it good?)Being all alone
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Billy infused his performah serenity and a hint of love. At one point, he imagined Merche as she had been the night before—her sweaty hair ging to her delicate skin, her smile lighting up her face, the feeling of passion still lingering in her expression. It was a moment of crity, appreciating a good night, giving love freely, and knowing that if tomorrow ended everything, he was happy for the present. With no clear or visible future, it was about making a statement.
He brought that rebellion and reciliation to the music, adding a sensuality often fused with fri, impulsivity, e. They’re so different—sensuality arises from a feeling that demands immediate frontation.
For the eion, this could be mistaken for the fri of something inprehensible, leaving them with a taste of awe and disgust, as if standing before a great mountain they felt pelled to climb. Their bodies moved instinctively—a foot, a hip, a neck. It was impossible not to respond to these emotions. Meanwhile, the band threw themselves into the music, their fingers flying, and drums pounding. They cshed in a guerril war of sound. or, for instance, added a rapid 1/16 note beat for ara punch. Together, they created a masterpiece.
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Ain't it fun living in the real world?('Cause the world don't orbit around you)Ain't it good? (Ain't it good?)Being all alone
Don't g to your mama (Run to your mama)'Cause you're on your own in the real world (Don't g)Don't g to your mama (To your mama)'Cause you're on your own in the real world
Don't g to your mama
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To reach this point, they pyed the song three times. The band had so many songs that they worked tirelessly, rehearsing eae thousands of times until it was etched into their very being. Their red blood cells khe rhythm of every track.
As they followed Billy’s lead, they also rebelled, adding their personalities. They adjusted Billy’s arras with what they thought worked better, bringing vitality and charisma—qualities prized in jazz, now finding their way into Billy’s rock. This uability intoxicated the producers, hearing a sound so close to Billy’s visio uhe band’s, driven by their shared desire to belong.
????????????????'Cause you're on your own in the real world (This is the real world)Don't g to your mama'Cause you're on your own in the real world (This is the real world)
Don't g (This is the real world) to your mama'Cause you're on your own in the real worldDon't g to your mama (Don't you cry)'Cause you're on your own in the real world
Don't g (Don't you go, don't you g)Don't g (You're on your own)Don't g (Don't g to your mama)Don't g
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-That was sensational, - Billy said into the band’s headphones as they prepared for the rack. It was one of their singles, “Best of You” (Foo Fighters), followed by their Spanish rock songs and a Puese track. What better way to drive the crowd wild than singing in their native nguages? Singing in Spanish came naturally to Billy, and his Puese had improved, giving him fidence. But he waited to sing, curious to see what the band would bring to the table.
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