Slide Guitar Tsunami
A venue with about 250 seats, no standing room—just chairs. It was an anime song-focused band concert, the first in ages since COVID, and the place was packed.
"Might sell out from on-site tickets today. How many were left after presale?"
"About 40."
"So we've sold 30 on-site already? Damn, that's not bad. I was bracing for a loss."
"Tickets started flying out a few days ago out of nowhere. Still didn't think we'd sell out..."
250 seats might sound small, but it was a big deal. On-site at 25,000 won, presale at 20,000—a sellout meant around 5 million won in revenue. Sure, venue rental and band fees would eat into it, but turning a projected loss into profit? Who wouldn't love that.
Yeongsin eyed the stragglers trickling in. If it'd been a loss, he'd have wondered why he bothered and fantasized shaving all those bushy heads with clippers. But profit? Suddenly he wanted to hand out free drinks. Not that he would—might flip back to red ink.
"Maybe the new additions? Tickets seemed to vanish after announcing the extra lineup."
"You think?"
These were rookies with no paid gigs under their belt. That much pull? Yeongsin figured it was just better value with more bands.
But they were good. Not your average anime cover band. Especially that guitarist...
Seonghyeon unzipped his parka as he settled in. No moshing in seats, but airing out helped in the stuffy hall. More people than expected. He'd come because a friend in one of the bands begged, "Please show up... tickets aren't selling." He liked anime and anisongs fine, but dropping 20,000 won on this? Felt steep.
How good could amateurs be anyway... Real pros wrote the originals. Amateurs could try hard, but matching pros? Nah. Even with "live magic" or "reinterpretation" talk, originals ruled.
Glancing around, Seonghyeon noted more women than he'd guessed for this scene—first time for him, so who knew. Heard female band otakus were booming lately, even self-inserting as protagonists. Guess otakus were otakus.
And Ayoon, oblivious to the misunderstanding, stared at the stage, nerves buzzing.
Today's gonna be good.
She was a fan of some band game. Used to just vibe to idols, but one song flipped her world. (Shockingly good, in her book.) She poured her soul into it—albums, SNS, even scouting Japan trips for lives. But cash-poor college life meant no flights, tickets, hotels.
So she hunted local fixes: anime cover shows for that live fix.
This one's promising.
Cover quality varied, but standouts existed. One was on tonight's bill.
Solata never disappoints!
She clenched her fist, scanning the lineup pamphlet. Familiar names, then a newbie: Group Sound.
They're doing Bocchi the Rock.
Rookies tackling that? Expectations dipped.
"Thank you!!"
The leader's chipper voice rang out, but her face wasn't smiling. Polite claps from the crowd—perfunctory after a lackluster set.
Band harmony was key: vocals, guitar, bass, drums... maybe keys. One weak link, and even great playing turned to noise. Every band knew this—even fresh ones learned fast. Soloing wrecked it; comics romanticized it, reality didn't.
But that last band? Forgot the memo. Everyone freelancing.
First act was solid, though.
Seonghyeon pondered amid the murmurs. Amateurs with enough skill to book this messing up basics? Pressure? Ayoon figured not—250 seats weren't intimidating, especially for pros like these. Rehearsal drama?
"Thanks for waiting. Next up..."
MC hit the stage, silhouettes of four for the third slot.
"Covering hits from the buzzed anime Bocchi the Rock—unprecedented all-girl high school band...!"
Murmurs of hype. Ayoon: High schoolers? For real? Skill wouldn't matter if true.
"Introducing... Group Sound!"
Excited claps, lights out. Spotlight hits: black long-haired girl in black hoodie, pants, guitar. She stared down, plucked.
A note climbs the scale—then explosive riff blasts.
Original scene recreated!
Cheers erupt. Signal-free solo, but earned. Cymbals crash, full band kicks in.
Changes? Rhythm guitar to keys, lead to vocals. That's it. Felt better even.
Steady bass/drums. Tasteful keys subbing rhythm—subtle tweaks. Unshakable lead: familiar tone, perfect groove. But more: the guitar wove the whole band's soul.
Unfurling deliberately, her tempo.
Post-third song: delayed roar, thunderous applause like finale.
Insane!
Ayoon: Where've they been hiding? Nowhere—this level doesn't hide. Fans would spam "Just heard the craziest shit."
First show for them, bet.
She fired up SNS.
Lights up briefly. Lead guitarist grabs mic from stand.
"Last song, then."
Someone yells: "Nooo!!! One more!!!"
Laughter, scattered encores. She chuckles low.
"Want more? Remember our name. Someday, somewhere—you'll hear Group Sound again."
Riff restarts, vocals join familiar tune.
Another original recre?
Seonghyeon was hooked—he knew the anime scene well. Expected recre.
Bottleneck's tricky, tho. Wiki said advanced; casual players couldn't. Memorized maybe, but...
Even that'd be enough.
Heart racing, he watched. Build to climax, rhythm keys solo—cheers anyway.
There it is...
Lead unleashes string one, furious picking.
Recreating that?
No actual Onigoloshi, but spot-on. String done, slide bar scrapes into solo.
"Woooah!!!"
Bigger cheers than keys. Recre ends, softer roar. She reconnects mid-gap.
Dive next?
Everyone thought it. Faithful recre meant dive—but seats? Crash?
Lyrics end. Original finale, so claps, cheers.
But music kept going. Applause fades.
Myeongjeon tilted her head, smirking. Broken string? Glass bottle slide to continue... clever, real technique.
But wasting slide like that? Criminal.
Let me show you what slide really is.
Her ring finger's glass: 5cm long, under 1cm thick. Simple cylinder.
But in master hands? Beyond 21 frets, 12 notes, 23k chords—infinite tones. Guitar becomes omnipotent.
Left hand flies. Slide wail, endless bluesy shift from prior metal. Free high-low roam, low-key.
No dissonance. No room for it. Music stops feet; overwhelming? Paralysis.
Miss this? Gone forever. Moths to flame—audience drowned in the tsunami.
Build: impossible highs, band crests. Waterfall drop, wave crash... sea breeze claws, gone before you turn.
Peak: keys glissando scrape—done.