Rock party

As Hugo watched the group of young people before him, he recalled scenes from his past when he struggled for glory. They needed to travel to different cities for gigs, and since they didn't have their own transportation, they had traveled on slow trains, accompanied by a car full of poultry, and even hiked 15 kilometers along a mountain road. Of course, hitchhiking on the highway was also a common occurrence.

The five members of their band, in addition to their own instruments, often had to dismantle the drum set and help each other carry the pieces to hit the road together. Along the way, they would tease and joke with each other, carrying their heavy instruments like ascetic monks, their laughter echoing all the way.

In reality, life at that time was incredibly tough. Although it wasn't to the point of not being able to afford the next meal, their meager income always kept them struggling to meet basic needs. This was the reality of underground rock, the gap between dreams and reality. But despite this, they enjoyed every moment, even during arguments, fights, and moments of discouragement. They never gave up hope.

To put it bluntly, they relied on their passion to keep going, waiting for an unknown future. Perhaps it meant giving up their dreams and returning to reality, or perhaps it meant overnight fame and realizing their dreams. No one knew what the outcome would be. It was through this process that Hugo came to understand that not all dreams can come true, not all struggles yield results, and not all geniuses find success. Yet, fueled by their burning passion, they allowed Glory to experience a decade of the brightest years, from the age of fifteen to twenty-five.

Someone once questioned Hugo like this, "Is it worth it?" In fact, each member of the band had heard similar words from their parents because to most people, this was an incomprehensible pursuit. Chasing dreams was understandable, but persisting for ten years without any tangible achievements and refusing to give up, that was being stubborn.

Hugo remembered how Su Zinan, the lead singer of Death or Glory, had answered, "No, it's not worth it. I regret it now too. But I know that without experiencing it, I would never know this. So if I could go back ten years, I would still make the same choice and find myself standing here ten years later, regretting once again." If they had followed the conventional path and lived a routine life, these ten years might have allowed them to build their own careers and even lead a decent life. But such a life didn't necessarily equate to happiness.

Youth only comes once, and once it's missed, it's gone forever. Even though there may be regret at the age of twenty-five, if Hugo could go back to the age of fifteen, he would still make the same choice because that's what youth is about—impulsiveness, regrets, recklessness, remorse, and unrestraint—none of it can be missing.

Now standing on the streets of Los Angeles, watching the joyful smiles on the faces of these young people, a smile bloomed on Hugo's lips involuntarily. He missed these moments. Unlike actors who live the lives of strangers in front of the camera, singers are themselves, living their own authentic lives. Every melody, every lyric, every note is an emotional release from the depths of their hearts. This is the most genuine version of themselves, without any discounts.

That's why Hugo cherished these moments, standing with his excited and anxious companions on the street, waiting for a passing truck to give them a ride, or anticipating the upcoming performance in the evening. On one hand, they worried about whether the show would go smoothly, and on the other hand, they eagerly awaited their music to be appreciated by more people. This mix of emotions is what makes it so nostalgic.

"Hey, guys, is there a party tonight?" Hugo raised his voice and asked, his voice carried by the sea breeze and sunlight, attracting the attention of the group of young people before him.

The young people turned around, whispered to each other for a moment, and then started to laugh softly. One of them lifted his chin and said, "Buddy, we don't do ballet." After saying that, all the friends around burst into laughter.

Hugo looked down at his attire. He was wearing a white shirt, black jeans, and a pair of black high-top Vans skate shoes today. In fact, this outfit was more street style, and if he had changed to a loose t-shirt, there would be no issue. The key was that Hugo had chosen a relatively formal white shirt today, and he also wore a long coat. It did give the impression of a slightly younger person attending a music hall to enjoy opera or ballet. Such attire had nothing to do with underground music.

Unconsciously, Hugo laughed as well because he remembered how the members of the Death or Glory band used to mock others in the same way. It wasn't that they were overly aggressive, but the underground music scene had never been accepted by the mainstream. It was even rejected and discriminated against, which made them have to stick together, or they could easily be swallowed up in the bustling city.

So instead of retaliating, Hugo answered in a loud voice, "Are you talking about this?" After speaking, Hugo tiptoed and clumsily imitated a ballet pose, performing a pirouette.

Of course, Hugo was not a professional, and he had no connection with ballet whatsoever, so he looked awkward, and his movements were comical. Naturally, all the young people burst into laughter, and their youthful laughter mixed with the roaring sound of engines, like clear and transparent waves crashing against the asphalt road, blooming one after another.

After spinning twice, Hugo spread his hands and shrugged, "If that's the case, I think I should reconsider my plans for tonight."

Hugo's humorous retort softened the group of young people. The young man who spoke first took a couple of steps forward, "So, just a hobby? A Wall Street background playing garage music?" The young man had a slim and athletic figure, like an agile leopard. His wheat-colored skin emitted a faint glow under the sunlight, and he carried a large black bag on his shoulder, which could be guessed to be either a guitar or a bass. The young man looked at Hugo through the bangs of his black curly hair, with a hint of provocation.

"Wall Street? That would be great if it were true." Hugo lifted his right foot and showed his sneakers to the young man in front of him. Business professionals on Wall Street wouldn't choose a pair of athletic shoes like this, and it's not easy for someone as young as Hugo to build a successful career on Wall Street. So Hugo used this direct irony to strike back. "Don't you know that even the Beatles played rock?"

The young man had been mocking Hugo for wearing a shirt, resembling a businessperson, but in fact, many British rock bands wore shirts with ties, and the Beatles were one of the representatives. So Hugo retaliated and immediately continued, "I may not dress like Kurt Cobain, but that doesn't mean I don't know anything, right?"

The young man's consecutive attacks had been calmly countered by the other party, and he had even been counterattacked himself. It seemed as if the man before him was an insider. The young man became somewhat uncertain and took another look at the well-dressed man in front of him. Hugo noticed the young man's unabashed gaze and spread his arms, saying calmly, "I hope tonight's party is worth it."

A teasing remark reached the ears of the young people behind, followed by another round of laughter. Someone shouted, "Pepe, tell him. He's not a cop."

Hugo chuckled and opened his coat. "Look, I didn't bring my badge and gun."

Finally, the young man named Pepe couldn't hold back anymore and burst into a smile. That radiant smile, bathed in the bright sunshine from the beach, extended from the corners of his mouth to the depths of his eyes. Pepe lowered his head, took out a flyer from his pocket, hesitated for a moment, and handed it to Hugo, casually saying, "Old man, hope there won't be any surprise inspections tonight." Then he turned around briskly and left.

The young man's final remark was actually teasing the earlier joke about the "cops", but Hugo knew that many underground rock parties were relatively secretive, and often involved underage attendees and the chaotic presence of alcohol and drugs. Therefore, it was understandable that the police would conduct surprise inspections, provided they received a tip. So their caution was not unwarranted.

As Hugo looked at the young people gathering again, conversing cheerfully, he waved the flyer in his hand and said loudly, "Thank you," before taking a closer look at the flyer. The flyer was simple, printed in black and white, with the words "Al's Bar, December 23, 1992, 8 PM" written in the center, surrounded by numerous names of singers or bands.

With a quick glance, Hugo recognized several familiar names: The Cranberries, Green Day, Rancid... These were bands whose names would become well-known in the future. In addition, there were some local bands from Los Angeles with names that seemed somewhat familiar, like At the Drive-In. It was clear that this was going to be a wild celebration, and not a small one at that.

In fact, music flowed slowly through the pulse of the city of Los Angeles. It was just that Hugo hadn't had the opportunity to experience it before because this scene was relatively closed off. Those without connections could only stay on the outside, let alone try to integrate into it.

Unexpectedly, today Hugo had unexpectedly obtained such a rare opportunity. This made him quite excited. Not to mention how thrilling it was to see those familiar bands, just the prospect of reintegrating into the local rock scene was enough to make Hugo leap with joy.