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superstar: sings for everybody

this is another novel, I started writing months ago, it is inspired by a Chinese music fic and the Pixar movie Soul (one of my favorites) here I will put the music I like, and I will write a story about a Billy Carson, who was born late, ten years late, now music is his way of life. singing will inspire people because he has the system of a superstar. I hope that everyone will be inspired and create a series through their efforts, we just need to encourage each other to write, I hope that you enjoy it, I am happy to write, that the series is for you all. this is fiction and is an imaginatión series.

rollo1019to · Music & Bands
Not enough ratings
121 Chs

boxea lose yourself

Billy was resting on a bench, his head supported in a sign of total exhaustion. He wanted to take a deep breath, but his throat hurt as if he had a cold and the airways had closed.

"You sang amazing," Connor said, handing him a water bottle.

Billy couldn't speak but just smiled, as simple as that. Connor, who had been in the room listening to Billy, heard how they secured a contract just by hearing Billy in a couple of minutes. This kid is astonishing.

"Thanks, I almost passed out singing," Billy said.

Connor believed him. Now he understood Billy more than anyone else, with his strange way of being. The boy with the black hoodie and deep black circles under his eyes, in short, one of the few people who knew Billy, was this kid who had observed him for the last three months and had seen a bit of what Billy says with his actions.

"You're crazier than last time, you keep improving amazingly. I think the promise you made to your mom about quitting your job and living off music has never been as true as it is now," Connor said.

"It would be great. Mom cooks for me all day, she's the best cook in America. Haven't I told you? Then I'll sleep in until late and dedicate myself to doing what I love. Yeah, I'll tell everyone to screw off," Billy said.

"It would be great, telling everyone to go to hell and creating a country, a country without shitty adults," Connor said, laughing with Billy.

"True, to hell with adults. In my country, only beautiful girls are allowed," Billy said.

"We need that guy Jerry; he's our producer," Connor said.

"What! Jerry our producer? The raisin accepted us. This is incredible. Now I just have to do a concert and make money," Billy said.

"Teacher Spencer could have said we shouldn't rush. He only said a few words about handing the album to Atlantic Records, and it's simply amazing. Just being there will make us legends, or so I believe, from the expressions," Connor said.

"Atlantic Records is so amazing," Billy said.

"Apparently," said Connor.

Both boys fell into a comfortable silence, a comfortable silence between two people, the youthful friendship of two individuals that was strengthened by the simple act of walking together, sharing feelings, sharing hobbies, and a single passion that is music. Comfortable silence must be a typical behavioral facet for an introverted being and for another who is or was, introverted.

"You should put more feeling into the drums, you know, imprint your pain on them, as if the lights were waking up from a unique dream," Billy said.

"Hmmm," Connor said, transitioning into his mutative state. Taking him out of that serious place was impossible. When Connor decides not to talk, he simply doesn't talk; he just stays silent for a long time, looking like a zombie lost in time.

The song "Lose Yourself" is fantastic; it's ironic and strong. It is used to hit a punching bag or, in a different way, a way that cannot be understood. The first song is sad, the second is like a world-class fight, a fight between losing and winning. Every time he hears it in his mind, it feels like an incredible star, one of those that can only be understood in moments when you have to win or lose. That's the interesting thing about life; only one thing can happen, and that is to triumph.

"Did you record your drum section already?" Billy questioned Connor, who simply nodded.

"I see. I'll go see what the old folks are doing," Billy said, walking toward the recording door. Everyone was in a circle, and upon entering, everyone fell into a comfortable silence for them but uncomfortable for Billy, who had been resting against the wall for an hour while regaining energy.

"We're editing the demo, young Billy," Chomsky said, reviewing Connor and Spencer's drum recordings, putting them together into one song. But the timing was a bit off, and the cuts were here and there, with some breaks to listen to the song perfectly.

"Connor mentioned that the old man would be our patron," Billy said.

"We haven't decided yet, young man. I'll personally take the video to a record company, and from there, it depends on your talent and effort to make money," Jerry Wexler said.

"All right. I have another song in my head. I think I could sing it to surprise the record company. I have some ideas in mind, but nothing confirmed, so I'll sing this song, which is more like a solo. With some piano, it can be played, and it has a different vibe, but it will surely be a total success," Billy said.

"A total success! You're not being hasty; it's your first demo, lad," Chomsky said.

"Well, the second one now. Can you record it?" Billy asked.

Chomsky just gestured for him to proceed. A musician will always be tested, and if their second song isn't as good, it could be a problem.

Billy began his transformation into flesh, a great leap from predisposed thoughts to pouring his heart, giving his entire being to one thing: fulfilling the themes of the song.

My name is Billy, not Bill, not kid,

From a young age, I felt lost, but now... I'm like a beast fighting to break free and show what it means to be a music star.

Look

If you had one shot or one opportunity

To seize everything you ever wanted in one moment

Would you capture it

Or just let it slip? Yo

The start of the song, with those low and strong words, is just the moment when the audience gets hooked, to explode with a machine gun of words that, in short, tell a story.

His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy

There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti

He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready

To drop bombs, but he keeps on forgettin'

The song contracted to the intense rhythm he was accustomed to—a rap song with strong beats. The old folks were less impressed by the development style, but it's still a good song by their standards. Although they prefer rock compositions, this one isn't bad. It has long lyrics and strong compositions that develop the songs in a good way.

What he wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loud

He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out

He's chokin' how everybody's jokin' now

The clock's run out, time's up, over, blaow

Snap back to reality, ope, there goes gravity, ope

There goes Rabbit, he choked, he's so mad, but he won't

Give up that easy, no, he won't have it

He knows his whole back's to these ropes, it don't matter, he's dope

He knows that, but he's broke, he's so stagnant, he knows

When he goes back to this mobile home, that's when it's

Back to the lab again, yo, this old rhapsody

Better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass him and

Billy took a breath and continued spitting the lyrics of his song.

"That's rap. Hip hop," Jason Fox said.

"It is. Since the '90s, it has been popularized, but this song is different," Peter Wolf said, the most modern of the four gentlemen, even surpassing Spencer by 16 years. He was up to date with trends and had listened to some records of these songs.

yourself in the music

The moment, you own it, you better never let it go

You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow

This opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo

yourself in the music

The moment, you own it, you better never let it go (go)

You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow

This opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo

You better

His soul's escapin' through this hole that is gapin'

This world is mine for the takin', make me king

As we move toward a new world order

A normal life is borin', but superstardom's

Close to postmortem, it only grows harder

Homie grows hotter, he blows, it's all over

These hoes is all on him, coast-to-coast shows

He's known as the Globetrotter, lonely roads

God only knows he's grown farther from home, he's no father

He goes home and barely knows his own daughter

But hold your nose, 'cause here goes the cold water

These hoes don't want him no more, he's cold product

They moved on to the next schmoe who flows

He nose-dove and sold nada, and so the soap opera

Is told, it unfolds, I suppose it's old, partner

But the beat goes on

Da-da-dom, da-dom, dah-dah, dah-dah

...

The chorus, one, two, one, and two, played forcefully again and again without stopping, but the way he sang was charming, even for the old folks, due to the power of his inspiring vocals.

...

yourself in the music

The moment, you own it, you better never let it go (go)

You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow

This opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo

yourself in the music

The moment, you own it, you better never let it go (go)

You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow

This opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo

You better

No more games, I'ma change what you call rage

Tear this motherfuckin' roof off like two dogs caged

I was playin' in the beginnin', the mood all changed

I've been chewed up and spit out and booed off stage

But I kept rhymin' and stepped right in the next cypher

Best believe somebody's payin' the Pied Piper

All the pain inside amplified by the

Fact that I can't get by with my nine-to-five

And I can't provide the right type of life for my family

'Cause, man, these goddamn food stamps don't buy diapers

And there's no movie, there's no Mekhi Phifer, this is my life

And these times are so hard and it's gettin' even harder

Tryna feed and water my seed, plus teeter-totter

Caught up between being a father and a prima donna

Baby mama drama, screamin' on her, too much for me to wanna

Stay in one spot, another day of monotony's

Gotten me to the point I'm like a snail, I've got

To formulate a plot or end up in jail or shot

Success is my only motherfuckin' option, failure's not

Mom, I love you, but this trailer's got to go

I cannot grow old in Salem's Lot

So here I go, it's my shot, feet, fail me not

This may be the only opportunity that I got

yourself in the music

The moment, you own it, you better never let it go (go)

You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow

This opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo

yourself in the music

The moment, you own it, you better never let it go (go)

You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow

This opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo

You better 

....

The song unfolded while the old folks made notes in a notebook. "It needs a piano. Billy has a piano, and he's a good composer. He crafted the melody for the first song and might have thought of the melody for the second song. He's very talented," Spencer said.

"Bring him the synthesizer from the music room on the first floor," Chomsky told Spencer, handing him the keys.

...