It seemed senpai had gone home after club activities to change.
She wore high-waisted, calf-length trousers and a white T-shirt tucked into them, which emphasized the size of her chest that hadn’t been apparent in her sailor uniform.
—Is she the type who looks slim in clothes…!
I unintentionally swallowed hard and almost stared at her chest in agitation, but I pretended nothing was wrong and headed toward our destination with senpai.
Senpai seemed very interested in the large piece of luggage I was pulling on a carry cart.
“…Where are we going now?” Contrary to her curiosity, senpai questioned me while maintaining her usual cool demeanor.
“Where we’re going now is…
over there!” The place I pointed to was a live house.
Fluorescent neon signs, an ominous staircase leading to the basement.
Above were (normal!) massage parlors, offices, and tenants; the whole building was stained brown and dirty, full of the atmosphere of a mysterious, suspicious building.
Our destination was on the first basement floor of this multi-tenant building.
Senpai looked the building up and down, then noticed a sign placed on the street.
The sign read: “Regular JAZZ Session Event, participation fee is one drink per song!” “…Jazz?” Senpai asked me anxiously.
It seemed she didn’t listen to jazz much.
Although jazz’s history is shorter than that of brass bands or classical music, an enterprising spirit and a sense of progress are always swirling within the industry.
—Of course, there is also the kind of jazz you dress up to listen to.
That’s fine in its own way, but jazz players are always trying to create—and are always seeking—new sounds and new flows.
I had a jazz guitarist acquaintance who once surprised me by creating a DJ-like sound effect by rubbing the strings of an electric guitar.
The history of the electric guitar is less than 100 years, but it’s surprisingly long—about 80 years.
Various playing styles and sounds have been tested, but when I learned that you could produce that DJ sound on an electric guitar, I realized that the guitar is still an instrument full of possibilities.
That’s how greedy jazz guitarists are for new sounds.
And while “jazz” can mean many things, this live house holds regular sessions where the songs don’t change much, but the players and instruments do, constantly creating new sounds.
—And it seems they record the live sessions and publish them on a video site the “next morning.” Incidentally, this “next morning” is the key.
During the performance, everyone is hyped up.
Everyone has the excitement and confidence unique to sessions and ensembles, thinking, “I think I did pretty well yesterday, didn’t I?
Am I a genius?” I think everyone who has experience with an instrument feels this way.
Then, once a night has passed, the excitement of the performance is calmed by sleep, and at a stage where they’ve become calm— —Through the recorded audio, —their “confidence” is shattered.
If you don’t understand what I mean, please go to a karaoke box, sing your heart out, record it, and listen to it the next morning.
—You should understand what I’m trying to say.
“Well, let’s go,” I said with a smile, beaming at Mizore-senpai, whose expression didn’t change much.
Mizore-senpai gave an anxious nod and followed me into the shop.
“Welcome!
Oh, it’s been a while since I saw you~” —Have you been well?
The master, who seemed mentally active despite his thinning hair, casually asked about my recent situation.
I haven’t been able to come lately because I’ve been busy with club activities, but there was a period when I used to hang out here and session with various people.
Thanks to that, I gained a lot of skill and an eye for judging others’ abilities.
Since then, I’ve been a customer on a first-name basis with the master and his staff.
“And who is this?” The master asked me to introduce senpai.
“This is Mizore-senpai, a senior at the school I go to.” “…Hello.” Unlike the cheerful manager, Mizore-senpai answered looking a bit nervous.
“Welcome!
It’s your first time at our shop, right?
Please enjoy yourself!” With that, the master handed us the sheet music and the setlist.
Incidentally, the setlist is decided by the master’s own judgment and bias, taking into account requests from the customers.
I handed the setlist and sheet music to Mizore-senpai.
Then, unlike her usual cool self, her eyes widened in agitation.
“…This.” Mizore-senpai pointed at the sheet music for me.
Only the song’s beat, progression, breaks (empty parts with no sound), key, and the chords for each measure were written there.
“Today, we’re all going to enjoy improvised music.
Why don’t you forget about the brass band and try it with me?” I took Mizore-senpai’s hand and urged her to prepare her instrument in an inconspicuous part of the seating area.
We don’t use the dressing room on session days like today.
We move directly from the seats to the stage.
That said, the stage is only about 20cm high, and the railing for the front row is low, so the distance is close enough that you could touch the performers if you wanted to.
I also began my preparations, taking the guitar out of its hard case and putting the strap over my shoulder.
I connected my effectors (machines that change the tone of an electric guitar) to the shield (the guitar cable) and started tuning the guitar.
Mizore-senpai watched my practiced movements with a surprised look, quite different from her usual calm expression.
“…Can you play the electric guitar, too?” I answered shyly.
“Y-yes…” It’s embarrassing to be stared at so intently.
Perhaps because I was embarrassed, I decided to focus on my preparations more briskly than usual.
The guitar was a domestically produced, handmade guitar.
While many front pickups (the construction of an electric guitar is surprisingly primitive; the vibrations of steel strings and the current created by magnets called pickups are amplified by an amp to make sound.
The front pickup is the magnet in the middle of the guitar) don’t have good “sound clarity” (meaning it doesn’t crowd out the sound range of others in a band ensemble and can be heard clearly without raising the volume), this guitar had sharp high-end clarity and could produce a clear sound.
Being handmade, the craftsmanship was meticulous, making it a fine guitar.
There are indicators called inlays inside the frets to make it easy to tell which fret you’re playing, but no effort was put into them; it was truly a piece that embodied simplicity and sturdiness.
As a side note, the inlays embedded in the fingerboard (the part you press the strings against with your left hand if you’re right-handed) are a major factor in the visuals, and some manufacturers put a lot of effort into them.
Even though they have nothing to do with the sound.
But standing on stage affects the visuals of the performance, so it’s not something that can be ignored, though I personally think they have poor sound cost-performance.
In addition, the neck material was made of hard wood, so it wouldn’t budge even if handled a bit roughly.
Just so you know, guitars made of soft wood can have their necks snap if handled roughly, but that was never an issue with this one.
(As a side note, the repair cost at that time is about 40,000 yen or more.
It’s quite expensive.) It was one of my favorites.
Even the appearance—a gradation of brown and black called “sunburst”—was understated and hard to get tired of.
It was quite tasteful.