novellhall Chapter 275 Emma Stone [5000]
Chapter 275 Emma Stone [5000]
Chapter 274 Emma Stone [5000]
7:30.
The first guest came in.
He was an elderly man with gray hair, leaning on a cane, sitting at the far end of the bar.
He ordered a bourbon and then turned down his hearing aid by one notch.
At 7:45, a couple, in their early twenties, arrived. The girl was taking pictures with her phone, while the boy was studying the wine list.
At eight o'clock, all twelve tables were full.
Eddie glanced at Chen Xun and gestured with his chin toward the piano.
Chen Xun sat down.
The bar was dimly lit, with only the old-fashioned table lamp above the piano illuminated.
The brass lampshade has a layer of soot accumulated over the years, and the light falling on the piano keys looks like melted butter.
He didn't announce the program or look at the sheet music; he just started playing.
Blue in Green.
Miles Davis's 1959 version.
The harmonic progression is a nine-bar cycle, so minimalist that there is almost no melody.
His left hand malfunctioned again.
The B was played where it should have been B, which is natural.
But that raised semitone appeared suddenly in the harmonic background like a bolt of lightning.
When the drummer came in, he lightly brushed the paddle.
The bassist came in too, and the root guitarist walked very slowly.
At this moment, the three instruments met amidst the wrong notes.
The drummer and bassist felt that the song they had been playing for many years was experiencing a resurgence of energy at this moment.
The drummer stopped playing regular beats; he was waiting for Chen Xun.
He took this well-worn standard piece to who-knows-where.
The old man who was drinking bourbon put down his glass.
He has been listening to jazz for fifty years.
I've heard Miles himself perform live at the Hollywood Bowl, and I've heard Bill Evans play "Waltz for Debby" while drunk at the Country Vanguard Club.
He knows what proper playing is and what textbook-level improvisation is.
But the young man on stage at that moment, with his wrong notes, reminded the old man of how he felt when he first heard jazz fifty years ago.
After "BlueinGreen" finished playing, the bar was quiet for a few seconds.
Then the girl in the couple suddenly whispered, "Is this 'Blue Passion'? It's different from any version I've heard before—"
The boy shook his head: "I don't know, but it sounds nice."
At 8:45, a little girl in a striped dress walked in with her mother.
The girl was about seven or eight years old. She was holding a bunch of wildflowers she had picked from the roadside. The flower stems were tied with rubber bands and were already starting to wilt.
She tiptoed and leaned over the bar, and the bartender bent down to listen to what she was saying, then smiled and pointed to the piano.
Chen Xun is playing "Misty".
As he played the middle section, he caught a glimpse of a bright color out of the corner of his eye.
The little girl stood by the piano, holding the bouquet of wildflowers in her hands, looking up at him.
He didn't stop.
He continued playing chords with his left hand, while pointing to the floor next to the girl with his right hand and nodding slightly.
The girl carefully placed the flowers next to the piano bench, stepped back two paces, and put her hands behind her back, as if she had just completed a sacred mission.
The bartender took a picture with his phone.
When Chen Xun finished playing the last note, the girl clapped.
Scattered applause broke out.
Then the whole bar burst into applause.
The drummer put down his drumsticks and said something to the bassist.
The bassist suddenly laughed.
During his break, Chen Xun squatted in the back alley of the bar and drank water.
Eddie followed him out, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "Where are the child's flowers?"
"In the violin case."
Chen Xun pointed to the instrument case: "Take it back with you when you leave."
Half past ten.
The performance has ended.
Chen Xun helped pack up the equipment.
The bartender suddenly handed me a glass of water: "A customer asked tonight if we could reserve a table for next week."
Eddie laughed: "He's not a regular, he's a big star."
"That's a pity. Old Bill said it was the best piano he had heard in the last five years."
It's a bit of a shame about the bartender.
Old Bill was the old man who drank bourbon whiskey.
Chen Xun put the wilted wildflowers into the car and started the engine.
I got home and sat on the sofa.
Chen Xun breathed a sigh of relief.
He took out his phone and found a bunch of tweets.
I clicked on it and took a look.
All the posts related to him are #ChenXunPlayingPianoOnTheBeach#.
So fast?
Clicking on it, the first tweet is a photo of a little girl offering flowers.
"The touching moment tonight."
Shared 2.7 times.
The comments section was filled with all sorts of reactions: "Oh my god, how did Chen Xun lose so much weight?"
"Did he leave the entertainment industry to become a street performer?"
"Isn't this that shabby bar in Venice? I went there last year, and the piano was out of tune to outer space."
"Am I the only one who noticed his shirt was wrinkled? It's so heartbreaking—"
"Is there a video? I'd like to hear how he plays."
Chen Xun had only been browsing for a short while when he discovered that someone had already uploaded the video.
I don't know which customer took this photo.
The image quality is blurry, the sound recording is terrible, and the camera is shaky.
In the video, Chen Xun is facing away from the camera, so only his profile and his fingers on the piano keys can be seen.
The wrong notes in the audio are clearly identifiable.
Professional music critics were quick to react.
Hei Zi also found materials against Chen Xun:
An account verified as a "Berklee College of Music graduate" posted a long article: "Just a passerby, without bias, giving an objective evaluation of Chen Xun's piano skills."
Hand shape: Amateur level, wrist collapsed, little finger raised.
Key touch: Poor force control, weak high frequencies and muddy low frequencies.
Rhythm: There are many dragging beats, and the rubato is overused, making it seem like the player doesn't know how to play fast.
Wrong notes: At least four obvious wrong notes were caught during the harmony of "BlueinGreen", including but not limited to the 7th and 16th measures.
Pedals: They were never cleaned properly throughout the entire process.
Conclusion: This level of paid performance is truly exploiting the audience's nostalgia. It is suggested that Mr. Chen Xun focus on his acting career; music is not suitable for him.
This tweet was retweeted more than 6,000 times.
The comments are divided into two camps.
"They didn't charge any fees; the performance was free. What's this talk about exploiting nostalgia?"
"You think you can play badly just because it's free? That's an insult to jazz."
"I suggest Chen Xun and Taylor Swift collaborate; one plays the wrong guitar, the other plays the wrong piano—a perfect match."
The next morning, Rob called: "Did you see the news?"
Robert asked.
"I saw it."
Chen Xun was eating breakfast: fried eggs and toast.
-
"Should we issue a statement saying that you're practicing for the role, not performing in a formal production?"
"Need not."
"Those music critics are really rude—"
"They're right."
Chen Xun took a sip of coffee: "I did play it wrong. My hand position was wrong, and the pedal wasn't cleaned properly."
Rob was silent for a few seconds: "I think you played very well. I watched that video too. Even though I don't know anything about jazz, my eyes welled up with tears after listening to it."
Hearing that Chen Xun remained silent on the other end of the phone, Robert's tone became somewhat agitated: "This isn't an excuse!"
Rob seemed to have been wronged: "That's how art is sometimes. You can play it perfectly but it's empty, or you can play it full of flaws but it makes people want to cry."
"The audience isn't stupid; they can tell which music sounds good."
"So there's no need to explain. They'll understand when the movie is released."
hang up the phone.
Chen Xun opened Twitter.
A new reply has appeared under that music critic's tweet, and it has been pinned to the top.
The profile picture looks familiar.
It was the bartender who filmed the video at the bar that night.
"I'm the person who filmed the video, and I've also been a waiter at this bar for twelve years."
"Sir, you are absolutely right. Mr. Chen Xun did indeed play many wrong notes."
"But none of the fifteen tables of guests left early that night."
"We have a long-time customer named Bill who has been listening to jazz for fifty years. He said that this is the first time in recent years that he has listened to piano music with tears in his eyes."
"The little girl who presented the flowers was saying down below that the uncle was playing the sound of stars falling."
"You have a diploma, you understand music theory, and you can distinguish between B-flat and B-flat, but do you know what the sound of falling stars is? If not, I suggest you come and hear it live."
This reply received 1.2 likes.
Chen Xun stared at it for a long time.
Then he turned off his phone, got up, and went to his studio.
Eddie had scheduled piano practice for the afternoon.
There's another performance tonight.
When Chen Xun arrived at the studio, Eddie was hunched over the piano, seemingly tuning something.
"No new piece to practice today."
He sat down on the piano bench, unusually serious: "Go through the parts you played wrong last night."
Chen Xun sat down at the piano.
The panel popped up the moment he touched the key.
[Continuous training detected]
[Master experience transfer efficiency +35% is now active]
[Bug Correction Acceleration Mode Activated]
For the next three hours, Eddie barely stopped.
-
"In this passage, Bb is not an ornament, but an anchor point. If you play B naturally, the harmony will flow."
Chen Xun returns.
As the finger falls, B flat sinks into the low register.
[Harmony perception accuracy +9]
A purple attribute orb dropped.
"Pedal? What you just said about not needing a pedal at all, letting the notes breathe on their own."
Chen Xun released his right foot.
[Physical Coordination +9]
[Pedal usage accuracy +5]
Two more attribute orbs fell.
Chen Xun discovered that under this focused teaching, his improvement speed skyrocketed!
"Watch your wrist. Your wrist collapsed when you played the third song last night, so your high notes are weak."
Chen Xun adjusted his posture.
Raise your wrist three millimeters, and the force will travel from your shoulder blade to your fingertips.
The high C fell, unlike last night when it sounded light and airy.
[Technical accuracy +5]
Eddie didn't speak, but Chen Xun clearly felt Eddie's mouth twitch.
Eddie practiced until 4:30 before finally closing the piano lid.
"That's enough for today. If you keep practicing, you'll end up twisting yourself into a pretzel."
He lit his first cigarette of the day.
Chen Xun chuckled awkwardly.
Although he has made great progress today, he still often plays the wrong notes.
Compared to those who have studied piano since childhood, he still lacks a lot.
Fortunately, he only needs to be portrayed in movies, rather than actually becoming a pianist.
Chen Xun moved his aching fingers.
He looked down at his hands.
My ten fingers have suffered unprecedented torment these past few days.
Are you going again tonight?
Chen Xun was looking forward to the performance that evening.
"nonsense!"
Eddie exhaled a puff of smoke: "Old Bill said he's bringing his wife tonight."
"That old lady is very picky; she heard Bud Powell live in Paris fifty years ago."
"You better give me a good performance. If you mess up, where will I put my face?"
At 6:30, Eddie's pickup truck headed towards Venice Beach.
Chen Xun sat in the passenger seat with sheet music on his lap.
They took the same old road as yesterday, but strangely, there were many more cars on the road.
Turn onto the boardwalk.
The car suddenly slowed down.
"What's going on?"
Eddie poked his head out.
The road ahead is completely blocked!
From the boardwalk entrance, the crowd stretched along the shoreline towards the lifeguard hut.
It was packed with people!
There were young people holding up their phones, parents holding their children's hands, elderly people pushing walkers, and even a few teenage reporters riding skateboards with DSLR cameras around their necks.
Eddie rolled down the car window.
The sounds from outside rushed in.
The noise of conversation, laughter, and someone even shouting that it was that pickup truck!
More people turned to look.
"Fuck!"
Eddie swore.
Chen Xun looked out the window at the crowd.
He saw many young faces.
Someone was holding up a homemade light sign with the words "WeChen" crookedly written on it.
Someone wearing a collaboration T-shirt with "Ancient One" stood there, craning their neck to look in the direction of Pikachu.
The pickup truck crawled slowly through the crowd.
Chen Xun saw someone raise their phone and take pictures through the car window.
He heard people outside the car whispering, "It really is him!"
"This is the first time in all my years of acting that I've received so much attention!"
The drummer leaned out from the back seat, his voice trembling slightly.
"So you're saying we're famous?"
The bassist was filled with excitement.
"It's Chen Xun who became famous!"
Eddie turned around and yelled at him in an annoyed tone.
The bassist didn't mind at all: "Chen Xun becoming famous is the same as us becoming famous, it's all the same!"
Four burly men wearing fluorescent vests appeared at the entrance of the lifeguard hut.
It looks like the security personnel were temporarily hired by the bar owner.
The bartender, who usually just wipes glasses behind the bar, was gesturing wildly at them, indicating something.
Eddie parked the car in the back alley where he usually unloaded goods.
There were also a dozen or so people standing there. When they saw him get out of the car, the crowd automatically took two steps back, but their eyes were fixed on Chen Xun.
"Teacher Chen Xun!"
A young man wearing glasses mustered up his courage and said, "I'm a senior at the USC School of Cinematic Arts. You taught us our elective course 'Acting in Front of the Camera,' and Jack is my roommate!"
Chen Xun recognized the face.
I have indeed seen it in the classroom.
"Do you have homework tonight?" he asked.
The boy paused for a second, then laughed: "No, Jack said he handed it in for our group."
The bartender emerged from the back door, drenched in sweat: "Good heavens, you've finally arrived!"
"People started coming in around 4:30 p.m. I thought they were coming to drink the Tuesday special, but they were all asking if Chen Xun was playing again tonight."
"Old Bill's wife got a seat two hours early, and now there are at least—at least—"
He glanced at the dense crowd outside the alley: "At least three hundred people!"
Eddie, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, didn't even notice that half of the ash had fallen.
The drummer leaned against the back of the truck, looking as if he had just heard he had a terminal illness: "I've been playing drums for forty years. I've performed in nursing homes, mental hospitals, and strip clubs where people throw shoes at the stage when they're drunk."
"But this is truly the first time for so many people!"
The bassist didn't speak, but his hands holding Fender were trembling.
The bars are already packed, so if they still choose to perform indoors, it will definitely affect the performance.
It's too crowded!
Just then, the bartender's phone rang.
He answered the call, mumbled a few "uh-huhs," and then hung up, looking at Chen Xun: "The boss said there's definitely not enough room indoors, and the fire department will impose a fine, so he asked if we could—perform outside?"
"There's a small square about 20 meters east of the boardwalk, which is usually used by street performers. He contacted someone who can temporarily run electrical wires there."
Chen Xun looked at Eddie.
Eddie tossed his cigarette butt into an empty can: "Why are you looking at me? I'm your accompaniment."
The drummer took a deep breath: "I—I need another pair of in-ear monitors; I forgot to bring the old one."
The bassist didn't say anything, but his expression clearly showed he was very willing!
"no problem!"
Chen Xun nodded in agreement.
Chen Xun, who joined the band temporarily, suddenly became the backbone of the group.
Twenty minutes later.
The plaza has been initially set up.
The makeshift stage was made of a few planks of wood, covered with old carpets from the bar's inventory, and weighed down with sandbags at the four corners.
The two portable fill lights were borrowed from the souvenir shop next door.
Eddie brought the stereo out of the pickup truck.
A pair of JBL speakers that had been with him for twenty years, with wood chips on the edges of the cabinets, but the sound quality was still clear.
The audience formed a semi-circle.
More than 300 people consciously left a passageway, like neighbors attending a community concert.
In the front row sat old Bill and his wife, who was wearing a pearl necklace.
The old lady was holding a program list.
It was handwritten by the bartender on A4 paper.
The second row consists of several students from USC.
Jack sat in the most conspicuous position, holding up a light board that read "Teacher Chen Xun is the best in the universe".
Behind them were various faces.
Construction workers in overalls, a young mother pushing a stroller, two Japanese tourists supporting each other, and seven or eight journalists with professional cameras and media badges around their necks.
Further on, more people stood on the outer edge, some on bicycle seats, some with their children on their shoulders.
Hundreds of eyes gazed silently at the makeshift, simple stage.
Chen Xun sat down at the piano.
The sea breeze blew in from the Pacific Ocean, carrying a salty and damp smell. The sound of the surging waves drowned out all the noise on the boardwalk.
There was no old-fashioned lamp overhead, only two yellowish fill lights, which cast a long shadow over him.
He closed his eyes for three seconds.
When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer Chen Xun.
It's Sebastian.
That jazz pianist who searches for the right answer on an out-of-tune piano, a stubborn soul who would rather play wrong than let every note be infused with his heartbeat.
The first song has ended.
The effect is perfect!
The audience began to applaud.
It's getting more and more heated.
The applause lasted for almost a minute.
Chen Xun remained seated on the piano bench without moving.
His fingers were still hovering above the keys, maintaining the posture they had when the last note fell.
The sea breeze blows from the Pacific Ocean, its salty scent mingling with the lingering notes of the harp strings.
He heard someone in the crowd shout, "One more song!"
"Teacher Chen Xun is awesome!"
A figure wearing a baseball cap in the audience sighed.
Damian Chazelle pulled his hat brim down a bit.
He stood at the edge of the crowd, leaning against a rusty lamppost, his hands in his jacket pockets.
The red-haired woman beside him wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, sunglasses that covered most of her face, and her chin was slightly raised.
-
"Is it him?"
Emma Stone lowered her voice, almost drowned out by the applause.
Chazelle did not answer.
He was staring at the person on the stage.
Staring at those hands hovering above the piano keys, hesitant to fall.
Chazelle was in a band during his university years.
For several years, he stayed in the basement rehearsal room at Princeton, practicing until his hands were calloused, and his roommates complained.
He finally admitted that he could never become Buddy Ritchie in his lifetime.
He later sold the drum set and bought a Super 8mm camera.
He looked at Chen Xun, the drummer, and the bassist on the stage.
The three of them had an incredible understanding of each other.
"Do you want to say hello now?"
Emma asked in a low voice.
"No!
'
Chazelle looked at Chen Xun, anticipating the upcoming performance.
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