Chapitre 22: Music Maker
As the music of A$AP Rocky reverberated through the studio, Arell found himself lost in a world of rhythm and rhyme. With pen in hand and a notepad before him, he scribbled furiously, the words flowing effortlessly from his mind to the page.
Each beat seemed to pulse in sync with his heartbeat, driving him forward with unrelenting energy.
The lyrics took shape with every line, each word carefully chosen to convey his thoughts and emotions.
Arell's voice echoed softly in the room as he recited the verses, testing out different cadences and inflections until he found the best flow.
As the hours passed, Arell's creative energy showed no signs of waning. Arell delved deeper into his own psyche, exploring the intricacies of his thoughts and emotions. His pen danced across the page, weaving together words and melodies.
As he finished one song, he allowed himself a moment to chill, basking in the satisfaction of creation.
But even in his moments of relaxation, Arell's mind remained active. He couldn't help but think about the current music landscape and the types of songs that were dominating the charts.
Versatility, he realized, was key to success in the ever-changing world of music.
As he contemplated this, Arell thought about versatile artists who had managed to carve out their own unique niches in the industry. He admired their ability to transcend genres and experiment with different sounds, recognizing that in a world where gangsta rap and traditional rap could only take you so far, versatility was the key to longevity and relevance.
Artists like Drake and Alicia Keys came to mind, their ability to seamlessly blend various genres and styles captivating audiences worldwide. Arell admired how they effortlessly navigated between R&B, hip-hop, and pop, constantly reinventing themselves while staying true to their artistic vision.
Reflecting on the dominance of pop and R&B artists in the mainstream, Arell couldn't help but contemplate the broader appeal of their music.
While hip-hop undeniably held its ground as a major force in the industry, Arell pondered the limitations of rap. It often struggled to gain traction beyond niche audiences, overshadowed by the broader appeal of more diverse and relatable content.
His thoughts drifted to artists like Kanye West and A$AP Rocky, whose music currently filled the studio with its pulsating beats.
Even these big names in rap, he observed, didn't confine themselves to a single style or sound. They embraced experimentation, pushing the boundaries of their artistry to keep their audience engaged.
He thought about the importance of versatility in music, not just in terms of genre-hopping but also in the exploration of different themes and storytelling approaches.
It was this willingness to evolve and adapt that allowed artists to maintain relevance and captivate audiences across various demographics.
He couldn't help but let out a sigh, his thoughts weighing heavily on his mind.
"Things to consider for the future," he muttered to himself, the words hanging in the air as he reflected on the path ahead. He knew that if he wanted to expand his reach and delve into genres like pop or R&B, he'd need to start honing his vocal skills.
'Though, my voice stat isn't bad.' He mused, his eyes glancing over at the system screen.
Rapper Stats
Flow: 60 ———> 61
Voice: 61
Lyrics: 43 ———>44
Production: 64 ———> 65
Performance: 40
Freestyle: 42
Songwriting: 41 ——> 43
"Sixty one," he mused aloud, nodding in acknowledgment. It wasn't a bad score by any means, but he knew there was always room for improvement.
As Arell's eyes scanned rap stats page, he noticed something else, multiple of his stats had received improvements causing a sense of satisfaction washed over him.
"Flow 61, Lyrics 44, Production 65, my stats are improving so fast," he murmured to himself, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. The numbers didn't exactly reflected the progress he had made during his practice session in the studio, he supposed the swift increase was due to his hidden statuses.
As Arell sat back in his chair, a sense of contentment washed over him. He took a moment to relish in the progress he had made.
With a quick sip of water to refresh himself, Arell felt ready to tackle his next challenge. He navigated to his music production software and loaded up a beat, anticipation coursing through his veins.
As the familiar melody filled the studio, Arell closed his eyes, allowing the rhythm to wash over him. However, as he sifted through the beats, none seemed to resonate with him. Frustration crept in, and he felt a pang of disappointment with each new track he tried.
"Why is this so difficult?" he muttered under his breath, his brows furrowing in frustration.
With a drawn out sigh, he decided to push through the frustration and give it one more shot. He selected a beat that seemed to have potential. A bone-rattling hi-hat drilled on every off-beat, setting a frantic pace. A booming kick drum slammed on every downbeat, shaking the very foundation of the studio. A melody, played on a synthesizer, creating the foundation of the track.
[Reference Track: Freeze by MaseratiGoKrazy]
He pulled up some of the lyrics he'd written earlier reading over it, his eyes scanning the words on the page. The verses were filled with references to money, women, some lines even incorporated basic math.
Satisfied with his work, Arell donned his headphones and made his way to the microphone. The beat thumped through the speakers, filling the room with its infectious energy as he prepared to lay down his verses.
"City lights gleam, shadows creepin' on the scene, Another night in the jungle, gotta stay frosty, stay keen."
He rode the beat with practiced ease, his words painting a vivid picture.
"Got digits on my phone, yeah, the money counter hummin', But stacks ain't everything, gotta keep your circle jumpin'."
He paused for a breath, letting the beat build before dropping a verse.
"Count rhymes like I counted stacks by the ten, Now I got equations flowin', smoother than a Benz."
"Stack knowledge like I stack cheddar, yeah, the formula's tight, Got rhymes dividin' haters, leavin' nothin' but the mic right."
A sly grin spread across Arell's face as a playful idea struck him. He leaned into the mic, his voice taking on a mischievous edge.
"See these haters lurkin', shadows in the night, Think they slick, dissin' on my flow, ain't nothin' but a fright. But hold up, let me break it down, a lyrical equation, How to deal with negativity, a simple demonstration."
He paused for a beat, letting the suspense build as the hi-hats hammered relentlessly. Then, with a playful bounce in his voice, he launched into his counting sequence.
"One: I see you there, talkin' that trash, negativity in the air."
He took a quick breath, the beat leaving him no room to dwell.
"Two: Get that negativity outta here, ain't got no time to spare."
His voice held a touch of amusement
"Three: Birds of a feather flock together."
"Four: Please don't talk to me, i'ma by myself, type."
"Five: flowin' smooth, don't need your help." He ended the verse with a flourish, noticing that the drums would now kick in again he took a quick breath
The icy beat pulsed, propelling Arell forward. He transitioned smoothly from his playful hater-dissing to a new topic. A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes.
"Knowledge stacked, rhymes like cheddar, flow tighter than a vault," he bragged, his voice dripping with confidence. "But hold up, gotta switch gears, a different kind of vault."
The drums pounded in, signaling a shift in the song. Arell adjusted his tone, a playful grin replacing the earlier edge.
"Baby shower time, yeah, gotta celebrate life, But listen up, solo act, no need for' wife."
"Used to chase thrills, hustle hard, pockets on empty. One, two," he rapped, his words tumbling over each other. "Drugs and solo dolo, money piled high with a big comma. Three, four."
He paused for a split second, the beat leaving him no room to dwell.
"But them streets ain't the answer. Five," his voice dropped a notch, a hint of seriousness creeping in. "Top shotta dreams fade, gotta focus on somethin' new. Six."
The rapid-fire delivery stopped, replaced by a more measured flow.
"So bring the bring bottle, the whiskey… the party's gonna be lit, on rise, watch how this story gets writ!"
He continued launching into his verses. Painting vivid pictures and boasting about his connections and lyrical prowess using metaphors about counting money.
As the last note echoed through the studio, leaving a powerful silence in its wake. Arell fell back in his chair, a satisfied grin plastered across his face.
With a sense of anticipation, Arell reached for the playback controls, eager to hear how his performance had translated onto the recording. As the music filled the room once again, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to be enveloped by the rhythm and flow of his own creation. As the playback filled the studio with the familiar beats and rhymes, Arell couldn't help but feel a sense of pride wash over him.
The track sounded better than he had anticipated, his words flowing effortlessly over the pulsating rhythm. Yet, as he listened intently, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease creeping into his mind.
Some parts of the track didn't quite sit right with him. Perhaps it was the way certain lines landed, or the delivery of particular verses that felt off-key. Despite his initial excitement, Arell found himself scrutinizing every aspect of his performance, searching for areas that could be improved.
With a furrowed brow, Arell contemplated whether to continue working on the track or take a break. The hours spent practicing had left him feeling drained, both mentally and physically. He longed to push through and refine the song further, but his weary mind urged him to step back and recharge.
After a moment of deliberation, Arell decided to heed his body's call for rest. He knew that pushing himself beyond his limits would only lead to diminishing returns. Instead, he opted to take a break, allowing himself time to rejuvenate and return to the track with a fresh perspective.
Stretching his arms above his head, he felt the tension begin to dissipate from his muscles.
With his tiredness beginning to wash over him, he made his way across the studio, he pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway being greeted by the chatter of his friends in the living room.
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