Chương 599: Dreams never die
Renly hadn't lost his sanity. Even though "Fast 5" had been a box office hit during the summer, and "Cleopatra" was still dominating the Billboard singles chart, Renly knew that, fundamentally, after two years in Hollywood, he was still not much different from a newcomer. His current attention and popularity were like bubbles accumulated in a short period.
The number of his fans wasn't high, and as for music fans, that was probably even less so.
From the beginning until now, music had always been just a hobby. The recording of "Cleopatra" was a kind gesture, and it had never changed. In Renly's eyes, this amateur interest was deeply personal, self-contained, and special. Collaborating with George on "Don Quixote" was more like an act of self-amusement for a small group of dreamers.
To say that anyone would come specifically to support an independent album like "Don Quixote" was incredible, even more so to think that people would come to Village Vanguard to support his performance. But at this moment, everything was unfolding right before his eyes.
Entering Village Vanguard, it was a bustling scene. Stanley Charlson was energetically shouting, "Move, move." He was directing everyone to move all the tables and chairs in the bar into the warehouse, clearing the entire space. Neil Tuson and his kitchen crew were carrying large barrels of beer, with Neil shouting, "Make way, make way."
On the stage, George Slender was waving his hands forcefully and shouting, "No, no…" nonsensically, not even knowing what he was objecting to. Meanwhile, Ed Sheeran sat at the edge of the stage, intently adjusting his guitar, completely out of sync with the noisy surroundings, yet entirely in his element.
In his line of sight, there were no large posters, no deliberate decorations, and not even obvious signage. It was convincing enough to say that they were about to host a ballroom dancing competition. This made Renly start doubting once again: Were William and the others sure they hadn't come to the wrong place? Or perhaps this was an April Fools' or Halloween prank taken to an extreme? Or maybe it was a fan meet-up for Ed Hyland, considering that Ed was tuning his guitar right now?
"Hey, Renly!" Ed raised his head, and amidst the brilliantly lit bar, he instantly spotted Renly, who still seemed a bit dazed. His cheerful expression burst forth, and without even putting down his guitar, he stood up and jogged over to Renly. "Hey, how did you get here?"
Ed greeted Renly with a big hug, but the significant height difference forced him to tiptoe to reach Renly's back. It was a comical sight.
Renly regained his composure slightly. "So, what's going on here? Can someone update me?"
Ed widened his eyes, and his furry face lit up like an exploded kiwi, exaggerated and vivid. "Of course, it's for "Don Quixote"! Jesus Christ, although I knew it all along, it's truly a perfect album, damn it! I can't describe my feelings; all I can say is you've made me completely surrender."
"I thought you said something similar the first time we met." Seeing Renly making jokes now, it was evident that he had fully snapped back to reality. But jokes aside, he looked up at the noisy bar. "Are you sure? They didn't come for your new album?"
Ed's debut single, "The A Team", had been released in April. Once it hit the music scene, it quickly climbed to the third spot on the UK Singles Chart, almost as if it had skyrocketed to that position. Even though Ed's main activities were still concentrated in the UK, the headquarters of his record label, Atlantic Records, were in the United States, and they undoubtedly wouldn't overlook the American market's potential.
If Ed were the guest of honor at the party today, then Renly thought it all made perfect sense. Whether it was the financial might of Atlantic Records or the immense popularity "The A Team" had garnered, including the attention Ed himself had received on his YouTube page, today's extravaganza could be reasonably explained.
"No, even though my album "+" is officially releasing next Monday, it's only in the UK. I'm heading back to London next week to start promoting the new album." Ed summed up his recent situation with a simple sentence, and there was an uncontrollable excitement in his expression. "Renly, up until now, I haven't formally said "thank you". If I hadn't met you, I don't know how my music career would have turned out."
"You would still have become a great singer," Renly said truthfully. In the previous life, Ed's popularity and achievements were undeniable.
But Ed thought Renly was being modest. As he looked at Renly in front of him, he wanted to say more, but he ultimately didn't know how to express it. He could only let out a long sigh, hiding all his gratitude and emotions deep inside. "Today, today's the day for you. Believe me, all those enthusiastic fans outside are here for you. Do you remember what you told me back then? Truly heartfelt music will eventually be understood by someone. Maybe not many, but it does exist."
"Renly!" A surprised shout pierced through the noise and excitement of the bar, instantly capturing everyone's attention. Nathan Press strode over, holding a crate of red wine that he had forgotten to put down, and approached Renly directly. "When did you come back? Why didn't you call me? I could have picked you up at the airport." Sweat dripped from Nathan's forehead, his face lit up with a smile, and he exuded an overall light-hearted vibe.
Upon seeing Renly's figure, everyone nodded, waved, and smiled in their own way. Stanley and George temporarily paused their work and walked toward Renly. However, before they could get closer, Neil rushed over as if he were riding a cyclone, giving Renly a massive hug while shouting, "Crazy, crazy, crazy!"
Renly rolled his eyes in speechless exasperation: Who was really the crazy one here? The innocent person standing there trying to figure out the situation, or the one screaming like a circus clown?
Neil instantly deciphered the meaning behind Renly's expression but paid it no mind. He jumped up and down excitedly. "I told you, I told you!" It was as if he had foreseen this day two years ago, and the joy and pride of that accomplishment were racing through his chest, ready to burst out at any moment.
There was no need for Renly to ask, as Neil eagerly continued, "I knew it. Truly heartfelt music is bound to be heard by someone. After "Don Quixote" was released, I just mentioned it on Facebook and YouTube. Do you know how many copies the album sold in the past two weeks?" Before Renly could even open his mouth, Neil impatiently blurted out the answer, "Six thousand copies! Jesus Christ, six thousand! Two thousand in the first week, four thousand in the second week! Oh my God!"
Neil grabbed his own hair, and even now, he still found those numbers incredible. Even Renly was not an exception.
The slump in the North American music market was a common phenomenon. Although there were indeed top-tier pop stars who sold over half a million copies of their albums in the first week, or even more, and albums with weekly sales exceeding a hundred thousand still existed, they were a minority among the minority.
If you looked at the sales statistics from the Recording Industry Association of America, you would discover the truth: the average sales figures for the top twenty albums each week were around twenty to thirty thousand copies. Selling ten thousand copies was enough to secure a spot in the top fifty, no doubt.
Of course, nowadays, album sales also had to account for digital streaming, among other data, which would accumulate to boost sales figures further and reflect in the Billboard album charts. However, overall, the average sales figures for the entire market were at this level.
Now, the weekly sales of "Don Quixote" had reached four thousand copies?
Without any publicity, without any radio airplay, and even without any official news, an album had silently sold four thousand copies in a single week? Accumulating to six thousand copies in two weeks? If this wasn't a miracle, then there was nothing else that could be called one.
Subconsciously, Renly turned to look at George, casting a questioning gaze. On George's serious and stern face, there was a resolute and bright light. He didn't nod or shake his head; he just raised his voice and said, "True music never dies. Perhaps it may go through a low point, perhaps it may be shrouded in darkness, perhaps it may gradually fade away, but it will never disappear, never. Dreams are like this, and so is freedom."
There was no direct response, but it vividly displayed the passion and fervor deep in George's heart. Renly knew that Neil was speaking the truth. Renly involuntarily opened his mouth slightly, but found he couldn't speak. A rush of warmth flowed through his chest—gentle yet surging, calm yet wild, tranquil yet frenetic.
Dreams never die. Such a simple phrase, yet it carried the weight of a thousand mountains, pressing on one's chest, driving people crazy, making them intoxicated, moving them to tears. Don Quixote's ethereal dream of knighthood, in the midst of this absurd and unrestrained reality, had finally come true.
Renly's heart trembled slightly, and his gaze began to sparkle.
"...Renly, Renly, Renly!" Neil's excited voice continued to ring loudly, forcefully pulling Renly's attention back. "Take a look, do you see the surging crowd outside? Do you know? They've all come for you, or to be more precise, they've come for "Don Quixote". These are true music lovers, true dreamers! Unbelievable, right? But it's all really happening! It's really happening! Ahhh!"
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