章節 478: On the same wavelength
Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra authored the first modern novel in literary history, "Don Quixote".
In the story of the novel, knights had long since disappeared for over a century, but the protagonist Alonso Quijano became infatuated with knightly novels. He often fantasized himself as a medieval knight and took on the self-proclaimed title of "Don Quixote de la Mancha", the guardian of La Mancha, dragging his neighbor Sancho Panza into serving as his squire. He set out on quests, living a life of chivalry and virtue, performing various actions that were at odds with the times and perplexing to others. In the end, he awakened from his delusions, returned home, and died.
One was a mind filled with fantastical ideals, jousting windmills with a long lance to display the might of chivalry—Don Quixote. The other was someone who hoped to enjoy the pleasures of life, indulging in fine food and drink, and seeking wealth and status—Sancho. They represented laughable idealism and laughable practicality, raising questions that humanity could never fully answer: the conflict between ideals and reality.
Everyone mocked Don Quixote's obsession, scorned his overestimation of himself, ridiculed his madness, and rejected his detachment from reality. Everyone sneered at his stubbornness, ridiculed his stubbornness... Indifferently, complacently, contemptuously, disdainfully, step by step, they witnessed the withering of dreams. Little did they know that with the demise of idealism, the spirit and hope of society were also withering away.
That frail figure, tilting at windmills with a lance, was submerged in the torrent of time, like Sisyphus, who tirelessly pushed a boulder that could never reach its destination.
Don Quixote—this was the first thing that came to Renly's mind.
Days of lying in a hospital bed, greedily and longingly watching movies; days of solitude in the practice room, tirelessly honing the basics of acting; days of standing on a dilapidated stage, fully immersed in a performance even without an audience; days of earnestly studying acting, losing sleep and appetite, completely absorbed; days of becoming obsessed with acting to the point where the line between reality and illusion blurred; days of facing denial, rejection, and ridicule but resolutely refusing to give in; days of self-doubt and hovering on the brink of giving up...
It was as if he stood on one side, and the entire world stood on the other.
The conflict between dreams and reality, the contradiction between idealism and pragmatism, he walked this long and lonely path alone. The weight of reality made his shoulders nearly buckle, and every step was a struggle. He had stumbled and staggered all the way to his current position, but the future remained uncertain and filled with anxiety. The path ahead was strewn with thorns, and he still couldn't see the finish line, still couldn't stop moving forward.
He was like Don Quixote, madly chasing after an elusive ideal in this real world, absurdly unconventional, standing alone, pursuing a phantom dream. But he couldn't know if his fate would ultimately resemble that of Don Quixote—spiritually dead, with a despondent heart, realizing one day that he had accomplished nothing and then fading away.
Fortunately, he gradually discovered that he wasn't the only madman in this world.
Hazel Cross was one, Jennifer Lawrence was one, Jessica Chastain was one, Ryan Gosling was one, Rooney Mara was one, Stanley Charlson was one, George Slender was one, Herbert Jones was one. And so were the Eleven Studios.
Raising his head, Renly could see the radiance shining in the eyes of George and Herbert, like brilliant sunlight, sparkling and dazzling.
Herbert immediately grasped the underlying meaning hidden behind this name. A surge of emotions filled his chest, making him stand up uncontrollably, as if he wanted to do something, but ultimately he did nothing and sank back into his thoughts, his gaze gradually becoming unfocused.
Sound City, a music haven that had spanned half a century, eventually vanished into the current of progress, like a bubble bursting, silently exiting the stage of history. What had happened within it, and what those who had witnessed the course of history had experienced, only they knew.
George lowered his eyes with a sense of awkwardness. In that brief moment of melancholy, he tasted the ups and downs of the past decade. Only he knew what the three years of retirement meant, the sense of fading enthusiasm, the helplessness, and regret that gradually drained the color from his life, leaving it as dull as a stagnant pool with no ripples.
Don Quixote. Such a short name, yet so precise in its description. But the difference was that Don Quixote "awoke", returned to reality, and then languished until the end. He, on the other hand, would not.
Swallowing the surge of emotions that welled up in his throat, George raised his eyes once more and looked at the young man before him. Twenty-one years old, what a young, vibrant, carefree, and beautiful age it was, harboring limitless possibilities, as if all he had to do was spread his arms wide to possess the whole world. George firmly believed that Renly could.
What was even more commendable was that George was well aware that the decision to produce this album had been made precisely because Renly's music was different from the market trends.
Not because Renly's music style was folk, but because the hidden depth within Renly's music not only rekindled the soul and essence of excellent music but also reignited his passion for music. This was a characteristic that was completely different from the mainstream music of the current market, to the point of being considered obsolete.
In other words, this was an album that was destined not to perform exceptionally well in the market. Just like Don Quixote.
In the midst of questioning and disdainful gazes, standing firm and unwavering, persistently and passionately chasing one's ideals, even if those ideals had fallen behind the times. This persistence and dream weren't just Renly's, or George's, or Herbert's, but the spiritual core that ran through the entire album.
George couldn't think of a more fitting name than "Don Quixote".
"Just this name," George replied. All the surging emotions, all the sentiments, all the excitement, condensed into such a simple sentence. Only those still bright eyes betrayed the true emotions within.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Renly's mouth.
He knew that making an album and shooting a movie were the same in principle. If he chose a major company, they would undoubtedly impose more constraints for commercial reasons, conforming everything to the pursuit of "profit." But by choosing an independent company, the exploration and pursuit of art would take precedence, leaving more creative space for artists.
Fortunately, he had met George. If this was to be the only album in Renly's career, he would still choose George, and that was his honor.
From conceptual selection to establishing the theme, this was originally the most important and most challenging part of an album. Sometimes it took two months or more just to make these decisions, but they had spent less than four minutes from Renly saying "Don Quixote" to George nodding in agreement. It was like a lightning strike.
Bo Ya excelled at playing the qin, and Zong Qi excelled at listening. What Bo Ya played, Zong Qi must obtain. After Zong Qi's death, Bo Ya declared that he would never find another soulmate in the world, so he broke his qin strings and never played again in his lifetime.
This is what is meant by the rarity of finding a soulmate. Three like-minded comrades-in-arms had taken a solid first step on their collaborative journey.
George didn't pause and immediately entered a working state, saying, "Now, what we need to do is select the songs according to the theme." George rubbed his temples and sighed, "This is going to be a difficult task." Although he didn't want to admit it, the truth was that he felt regretful about eliminating any of the songs. That's why he needed Renly and Herbert's help.
"Herbert?" George's gaze fell on Herbert, but Herbert didn't react and remained frozen in place. He had to raise his voice and shout again, "Herbert!"
Herbert finally snapped out of it. "Huh?" When he saw the looks from Renly and George, he shook his head vigorously, revealing a self-deprecating smile. But he didn't explain anything and, after regaining his composure, went straight to the point, saying, "What's going on?"
"Song selection. We need to start selecting songs now," guided by George, the three officially entered the album production phase.
Unexpectedly, the work that had progressed so smoothly hit an impasse after entering the song selection stage. Because they couldn't give up, and they couldn't choose, they were stuck in a dilemma.
From the initial list of twenty-seven songs provided by Renly, George selected eighteen, and Herbert picked twenty. Among them, there were as many as seven songs that both had chosen, leaving twenty-three songs that had been chosen by at least one of them, with only four songs being eliminated.
From this, one could glean the extraordinarily high average quality of Renly's composed songs. It's worth noting that both George and Herbert were seasoned veterans who had seen it all in the industry. Their discerning, picky, and accurate judgment had long been validated by time and the market, without a doubt.
And this was just the first part of the challenge.
What was more important was that they had to select ten songs from this list to include in "Don Quixote". This ignited a fiery debate.
George insisted on including the song "Los Angeles" in the album, but Herbert believed that this folk tune didn't match the overall tone and style of the album, not even its spiritual core. Herbert had a particular fondness for "Budapest", but George felt no connection to it, considering that the song had too much of a pop feel and disrupted the album's cohesiveness.
Both George and Herbert were enamored with "Old Pine", a simple and refreshing folk song that was wonderfully beautiful. It conveyed the message that life was more than just the daily struggles but also contained poetry and distant horizons.
Even though the overall temperament of the song didn't quite fit the album, both of them wanted it to be included. The problem was that an album only had ten slots, and each one was exceedingly precious. This meant that they would have to let go of "Old Pine"...
Ten songs, could it really only be ten?
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