George had been an old friend of Stanley's for many years and a regular visitor to Village Vanguard. Occasionally, when Stanley found suitable talents, he would invite George to take a look. Last year, after Renly's performance of "Cleopatra", Stanley had actually wanted George to come to Village Vanguard, but Renly had been busy all this time, so the plan never materialized.
Thinking about this, a thought struck Stanley. "Renly had released two singles before, I don't know if you've heard them—"Cleopatra" and "Ophelia". Besides these, he has performed several other pieces in the bar, all of which were well-received. By the way, that 'Charlie Boy' that Dave mentioned before, that's also Renly's creation."
Stanley deliberately avoided eye contact with George, and George's brow furrowed. He clearly wasn't satisfied with this answer. However, as the conversation unfolded, his thoughts began to churn, and eventually, he turned his gaze directly toward Renly. It seemed his earlier astonishment and annoyance had vanished. "Tell me, "Charlie Boy" is also your creation?"
"Charlie Boy" was a song Renly had created a long time ago. Its theme revolved around the Vietnam War, with "Charlie Boy" being the U.S. military's term for the Viet Cong soldiers. The lyrics urged those soldiers not to easily believe in the government's call to enlist, emphasizing that it was a bottomless pit of war. Through such lyrics, the song opposed war and advocated for peace. This song was well-known in Village Vanguard.
Although Stanley's words earlier had been sparse, for George, they were enough. "Cleopatra" and "Ophelia" were titles related to Shakespearean stories and history. "Charlie Boy" had connections to history, culture, and society. Coupled with the "Los Angeles" tune Renly had just performed, one could catch a glimpse of Renly's cultural depth and creative sources.
Just as George had assessed, not anyone could create tunes. Renly had clearly developed such abilities.
Although he had posed a question, George didn't wait for Renly's response. He continued, "Be it "Charlie Boy" or the "Los Angeles" piece you just performed, these are not songs that will be warmly embraced by the market. For the general public, these songs lack popular elements, catchy hooks, and even deviate from mainstream tastes. If it were still the era of folk music's dominance, these songs might have become favorites at Woodstock. But now, it's the 21st century. Only true music enthusiasts, only those who genuinely pause to listen, can taste the flavor within the melody and lyrics."
George's words still carried a confrontational stance, but once he stepped into his professional field, his passion, urgency, and focus were equally apparent.
Since their interaction began, his discussions had consistently revolved around music. Peripheral matters never entered his view. It was clear that he was an incredibly pure professional musician—the type who would disregard everything for the sake of music. He was a person for whom the world was either music or still music. This was why he had directly confronted Renly from the outset.
In fact, Renly was the same way. Whether in the production of "The Pacific" or "Buried", he was fully immersed in the world of performance. Other trivial matters held no meaning for him.
"That's precisely the kind of music I want to produce," George finally revealed his purpose, his eyes gleaming with undeniable determination. "You see, we should create an album like this, entirely rooted in history and literature. As if we were troubadours, starting from the overture and ending with the finale. We'll blend insights into life and the turbulence of existence, embodying the very essence of music—expressing the most genuine and complex emotions deep within the human heart."
Gazing into George's bright eyes, sincere and urgent, his single-minded focus was admirable. His unwavering dedication to his profession and dreams earned respect. Stanley was like that, Heather was like that, and even the recently acquainted Ed was like that. Because Renly himself was the same.
"Are you sure? For an album like this, I don't think any record company would be willing to produce it," Renly's tone softened slightly. He was always more tolerant toward those who were dedicated and wholly immersed in their profession and dreams. Stanley was such a person, Heather too, and now Ed as well. Because he himself was also like that.
"Indeed, what you said is true." George didn't use flowery words, he straightforwardly admitted, "But what's the point of making an album just to cater to the market? There are countless young, talented producers who can create astonishing pop songs using electronic devices. This is also a skill. However, how many are willing to calm down, meticulously refine the quality of music, and genuinely seek the soul of music? I hope to produce an album like this again. Some might think Bob Dylan is outdated, but I firmly believe that a classic is a classic, no matter the era."
Renly couldn't refute.
True classics not only withstand the test of time but also withstand the scrutiny of generations. Just like Michael Jackson or The Beatles, their music never faded. On the contrary, it grew more enchanting with the passage of time.
"But that's an impossible task," a smile surfaced on Renly's face. He pondered if he might end up like this thirty years from now—holding onto outdated concepts, stubbornly clinging to those "unattainable" dreams, stubbornly persisting in honing his skills through solid craftsmanship, and gradually falling behind the pace of the entire era due to stubbornness.
So, was this a good thing or a bad thing?
Seeing Renly's smile, Stanley, sitting nearby, let out a gentle sigh of relief. The tense atmosphere had finally eased, and it was heading in a positive direction. This was a good thing. "If it were simple, it wouldn't be challenging, right?"
George gave Stanley an affirmative look, agreeing with a slight nod, and then continued, "I hope you can complete the entire album's creation. No, I insist that you handle all the creative work entirely according to your vision. Meanwhile, I'll be the helmsman, offering some guidance on direction and opinions on details. The album that ultimately emerges—I hope..."
George thought seriously for a moment and then shrugged. "I hope it will allow people to catch a glimpse of your thoughts, much like perusing a grand masterpiece. It might seem boring, or it might seem simple, perhaps even perplexing, but it will truly reflect the essence of the soul."
Renly had to admit that in this short conversation, he had changed his initial mistaken impression of George. The determination, the passion, even greater than his pursuit of acting, all were more steadfast. People often said that those who persist in their dreams, work diligently, and wholeheartedly dedicate themselves are the most handsome or beautiful in the world. Now, George was showing Renly his "charm".
"As for the record companies, management companies... those tedious matters, leave them to me, alright?" George's expression of disdain made Renly chuckle. To describe record companies and management companies in such a way was truly unique among music producers.
Between the lines of text, Renly truly felt George's seniority and professionalism. Clearly, George wasn't a simple individual.
"But the problem is, I don't have enough time right now, nor enough creativity," Renly's words nearly made Stanley jump up in excitement. His heart raced within his chest. Could it be that his persistent efforts were finally about to succeed? "I am an actor, and I have a series of upcoming projects. Acting is my primary occupation."
Renly didn't explain in detail. Not to mention the future work arrangements, just the imminent Telluride Film Festival and the subsequent New York Film Festival, he wouldn't have time in the near term.
"Foolish!" George was as straightforward as ever, his eyebrows furrowed. He scorned Renly's identity as an actor. However, this time he didn't directly attack again. "If you insist on wasting your life on meaningless pursuits, that's your choice. Time is not the issue. We can slowly produce this album. How many songs do you currently have on your creative to-do list? I mean, songs with both melody and lyrics."
That cutting bluntness made Renly chuckle, a hint of helplessness at the corners of his mouth. Yet, he didn't argue, "I'm not quite sure. I don't have the habit of recording my creations."
This was the absolute truth. Many of Renly's compositions were scattered and lacked proper documentation. "Cleopatra" and "Ophelia", those two singles, managed to be recorded, but it was more due to chance than intention. Other songs composed during that period weren't properly documented.
George gave Renly a quizzical look, his expression tinged with a melancholy that mirrored Stanley's own sentiments. Now, George seemed to finally grasp what Stanley had been feeling over the past year. Stanley couldn't help but smile at the irony of it.
"No habit of recording creations?" George felt as if his heart was bleeding. Take the recent "Los Angeles" for example, even though it was just a short piece, these spontaneous and inspired creations were even more valuable. If they were to be forgotten like this, it would undoubtedly be a regret for the audience. "Young man, can you promise me something? Develop the habit of jotting things down whenever inspiration strikes, even if it's just a fragment. Many times, life's insights are the wellspring of music. This is the best bridge to resonate with people and the greatest charm of music."
Renly shrugged, noncommittal.
George felt a pang of frustration, took a deep breath, and managed to hold back his temper. "So, can you list the songs you remember in your mind? It would be best to jot down the sheet music and lyrics as well, and then hand them over to me. How about that?"
"I'll give it a try," Renly responded, his reservations clear. Seeing the shocked looks on George and Stanley's faces, he had to explain, "I'm heading to the Telluride Film Festival the day after tomorrow." The two of them looked gloomy, so Renly gestured toward the figure standing at the bar counter. "I think Ed is not bad, what do you think?"