Kingmaker Arrives

George Slender walked into Pioneer Village, headed straight for his usual spot, ordered a single malt whiskey, and then leaned back in his chair to quietly watch the performance.

The singer on stage looked like a boy-next-door, with no aura of a star, easily lost in a crowd, which gave the entire performance a relatable charm. However, the faint sadness hidden in the melody was so genuine that George couldn't help but close his eyes and savor the lyrics.

George found himself pleasantly surprised.

Nowadays, there are more and more singers, but the threshold is getting lower. This is partly due to the grassroots fame frenzy sparked by "American Idol," and partly because the commercialization of the music market is accelerating. Music, as a commodity, is increasingly judged by the singer's appearance, commercial value, and market response, while essential elements such as singing skills, musicality, pitch accuracy, and songwriting ability are being neglected.

Yet, this boy-next-door had a remarkable sense of music. More importantly, the lyrics and melody of this original song were quite impressive. Such singer-songwriters are becoming increasingly rare, which is one reason why someone like John Mayer, who has some songwriting ability but isn't particularly stunning, is highly regarded by the Grammys.

Although George had only heard one song and couldn't draw a conclusion yet, he noted that the boy's pitch was a bit unstable, and it remained to be seen how well he handled higher notes. Moreover, it was uncertain if this song was a one-off success or just the tip of the iceberg of his talent.

Nonetheless, the appearance of such a songwriter was indeed a pleasant surprise. The music market needed more fresh blood like this. Otherwise, if music became a fast-food commodity, the market would become increasingly dull and lose its meaning.

After the song ended, Stanley came over and sat down in the empty seat next to George, wearing a familiar smile. George, ever critical, didn't hesitate to speak up, "Did you call me here just for this big boy?"

Though the performance was good, it was far from "jaw-dropping," certainly not worth a special trip. Had Pioneer Village fallen so low? Was the music market so bad that Stanley couldn't wait to invite him repeatedly to the bar to appraise a young singer with some songwriting ability?

"To be honest, I'm a bit disappointed," George said bluntly, showing no mercy.

Stanley, well accustomed to his old friend, didn't mind at all and instead chuckled, "As you get older, your patience seems to be wearing thin. If even you're like this, what can we expect from the market?"

His retort left George rolling his eyes but unable to argue back. He took a sip of his whiskey and refused to respond.

Stanley smirked but didn't jump to the main topic. Instead, he asked, "Have you had dinner? The usual?"

"Besides that one dish, the rest of your dinner menu is inedible," George replied disdainfully, waving his hand dismissively as if to shoo Stanley away like a fly.

After a "top-notch" performance, Ed finally calmed down. The enthusiastic applause from the audience was encouraging, and his subsequent performances steadily improved, returning to his usual level. Although thirty minutes sounded long, it ended in no time. Feeling both excited and a bit melancholic, Ed took a deep breath, "For the last song tonight, with the original singer's permission, I have adapted it to express my admiration."

After calming his inner excitement, Ed began strumming his guitar again. The melody started, and someone in the bar whistled, adding a touch of liveliness to the quiet bar, which made Ed smile.

"Ophelia," Ed chose this song not only because it was born the night he met Renly but also because it rekindled his determination to pursue his dreams. More importantly, Renly's songwriting talent amazed him once again. Whether it was "Cleopatra" or "Ophelia," the lyrics were poetic and beautiful, worthy of deep appreciation, and Ed truly admired him.

Clearly, Ed wasn't the only one in the bar who liked "Ophelia" and was familiar with Renly Hall. The whistling was the best response, and even Neil and others at the bar raised their hands, clapping to the beat, joining Ed's performance.

Performed with a guitar, "Ophelia" felt a bit thin. The joy and freedom in the melody were reduced, making the sadness and loss more pronounced, dancing in the clear guitar strings. Ed's singing wasn't stunning, but his voice had a narrative quality that brought the story to life with the rise and fall of the music, making the whole song vivid.

♫♪Oh, Ophelia, you've been on my mind, girl, since the flood

Oh, Ophelia, Heaven help the fool who falls in love♫♪

George's hand holding the whiskey paused in mid-air. This song truly brought a taste of surprise. The smooth melody, profound lyrics, and the contrast of joy and sadness revealed a mature and free-spirited talent, showcasing brilliant songwriting.

From a commercial perspective, the earlier "top-notch" song might be better due to its pop elements, making it more accessible to the public. But in terms of artistic value and song completion, George personally felt this song was slightly better, a song worth savoring.

Ed's performance was quite good, even better than the previous songs. The story behind the lyrics was deeply engaging. However, Ed's high notes were unstable, smoothing out the melody's edges and interpreting it in a narrative way—moving, but lacking some soul-stirring impact.

Objectively, Ed's storytelling was closer to life, like "The A Team," where simple metaphors and straightforward narratives hid his life insights. But "Ophelia's" story was more poetic and profound, akin to a thick "Complete Works of Shakespeare," requiring enough life experience and a calm mind to appreciate its depth.

Music creation not only reflects the creator's experiences and talent but also reveals the underlying heritage, culture, and even class, which is why music is considered one of the seven major arts.

George was more curious about how the original creator would perform this song. What kind of singer could write "Ophelia"? George pictured someone like Johnny Cash—world-weary, decadent, gloomy, seasoned, somber, volatile, possibly even a poet or literary creator… This further reminded George of Bob Dylan.

After the song ended, Ed took a bow amid the applause and then slung his guitar over his shoulder, speaking into the microphone, "That concludes my performance tonight. Next, I'd like to invite the original singer of 'Ophelia' to perform the original version. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Renly Hall."

George looked towards the side of the stage and saw a big boy in a white T-shirt and black jeans—a literal boy, his young face looking no more than a boy.

For folk music, which requires thought and experience, age is the greatest asset. A life of ups and downs is essential to shape the melody. People often say suffering is torture for life but a treasure for art. But this boy on stage looked under thirty—no, under twenty-five, which was unbelievably young.

Although there have been prodigies in history, like LeAnn Rimes, who amazed America at fourteen and won two Grammy Awards the following year, making her the youngest Grammy winner ever, LeAnn's style was country-pop, not folk.

George's first reaction was—it couldn't be this boy who wrote it; the real songwriter must be someone else. This explanation made more sense. But even if not the songwriter, simply singing the song requires enough life experience to grasp its world-weariness, as Ed's performance showed. Now this boy… was he going to sing "Ophelia"?

This wasn't some young people's "truth or dare" game.

George couldn't help but feel repulsed. He didn't like people treating music as a joke. Was it Ed's introduction mistake, his misunderstanding, or Stanley's misjudgment? Looking at the young boy on stage, George felt an instinctive dislike—his initial impression worsening, even though he knew the boy hadn't done anything yet.

First impressions are often so mysterious. A simple detail or a random action can lead to a judgment. But such a judgment can often determine countless relationships.

George decided: he didn't like this boy.