Devil's Music

The ice cube looks at memories and says in a bold tone.

“Curtis. My uncle was the son of a divorced woman. But you know what's funny? She hid her birth father as her uncle until Curtis was 15. ”

I asked with surprised eyes.

“Yes? So Curtis never met Dre until he was 15? ”

The ice cube nods and sighs.

“Phew, yeah, that's crazy, right? That's what my stepfather said when he was drunk. Your real father is Dr. Dre. ”

“So what happened? ”

“Maybe Curtis wanted to live as a rapper. Before he found out his father was my uncle. She's terrible, too. I can't believe the remarried guy was so poor that he didn't make any money and never contacted my uncle in his entire life. ”

“Was there no child support? ”

“Yes, my uncle sent me every month. He snatched them all up in the middle and blew them up with booze and gambling. ”

“So Curtis met his father when he was 15? ”

“No, thank God. We met at 21. He was a real star back then. I wasn't the kind of person who wanted to be contacted. ”

“Yes? 21 years old? ”

“Yes, he was fired every time while working at a convenience store, and he struggled from the restaurant to the market."

The ice cube stood up and folded its arms and pulled out a picture between the books in the library. He sighs as he looks at the photo, handing it over to the case. He said, looking at the two men who looked exactly like him in the picture.

“He was on the cover of the album. You two look so much alike. ”

The ice cube sat down again and said,

“The first day they met, they looked at each other for several minutes without saying anything to each other. I don't know about Curtis, but he wanted to see you. So far, I've had to pull over and take a peek. They talked about how they lived with each other for over two hours that day. ”

As Gunn listens to the Ice Cube story and looks through the picture, he says:

“Eventually, the two of them came together to make an album. Curtis was talented, and his uncle produced music of a completely different quality, so he was recognized. ”

“I see. Then why did you die? Have you had any foot soldiers?”

The ice cube lowers its head and gazes at its shoes, reserved for a moment. When the atmosphere got weird, the gun took his eyes off the picture and turned to the ice cube. The ice cube, which took a few moments, said.

“I was a drug addict. ”

When the shocked eye opens wide, the ice cube looks down and says.

“He's not sick. He's not an accident. He's a drug addict. So everyone pointed fingers, and nobody mourned Curtis' death. You think you're on your own. Well, you're not wrong. ”

Gun conserves his words and listens to the ice cube.

“But, you know, think about the parents who lost their baby. How much did it hurt? My son, who I've only seen from a distance for 21 years, now comes into my arms and he's dead before he even flew away. How did he feel? ”

When the ice cube sighs for a moment and looks at the ground, it carefully asks.

“So... that's when it started? at a time when creativity was out of control. ”

The ice cube shakes its head and says:

“It's a little different. Not to mention the shock of losing your son. The combined nature of the hip-hop genre with the personal history of your uncle. ”

When he sees the ice cube with a puzzled look on his face, he says,

“The hip-hop genre. It's a genre that talks about its life and laps out its thoughts and ideas. No matter how amazing the beats are, if you don't spit out the words of your life, you won't be able to reach out to anyone who hears them, even though the albums you produced in 2015 were rated as good quality records by critics. But Hip-Hop didn't approve. It wasn't an album that made a sound. ”

“Isn't that a compton album? I thought they were singing about the town Dre grew up in, right? ”

“Yes, but it's because you insist on telling stories that aren't real stories inside you that impact you don't have. You wanted to talk about your son. But an uncle who has already become a businessman is reluctant to be fingered by the public. I couldn't give my uncle's company the image right after Apple acquired it. ”

Thinking about how Dre must have felt, he closed his eyes quietly. In the head of the case, there was a mother who lost her daughter in Chicago. Dre probably felt that way. Though the degree of emotion varies from person to person, I thought the feelings of parents who lost their children would be similar.

When the Ice Cube got wrapped up in its own thoughts, it looked at the case for a moment, put on the headphones, and worked hard. For a long time they were immersed in their world without saying a word. The ice cube, which had been working nonstop for about an hour, suddenly took off its headphones and said.

“But, Kay, You know that song you composed. There's a vocal part there. Can you record a guide for us in case we need to record a vocal session? I'm not a singer. All you have to do is guide me with the emotions you were trying to save. ”

The gun rises from its seat with its eyes open, nodding.

“Okay, great. A guide.”

An ice cube was printed with a semi-colored, lyric-written paper. The ice cube, which waited for the paper to come out in front of the printer and then caught it as soon as it came out, handed the paper to the gun and said.

“This is where Verse1 ends a little tight. The vocals will be bitten before the rap part is over. So you're gonna have to beat a little faster. The rap side has left the primary recording, so you can go in and listen to the rap. I'm gonna go in there and give you a track, so practice a few times. ”

When the gun saw the part distribution described on the paper, it entered the recording room, used the headphones, placed the paper on the stand, and signaled to the ice cube visible outside the window. The ice cube receiving the signal gives a micro instruction connected to the inside.

“I'm going to play you a rap part recording, so take a listen and figure out the rhythm. ”

The gun nods, and a beat from 'Dog Poop’ echoes on the headphones. As the thick bass of the ice cube's slightly slower lap flows out, the gun smiles. It was because it was the original lyrics of the emotion he was trying to make. After the ice cube resurfaced to Verse 1 and the first Bridge stopped playing, Mike said.

“How's the beat? It's gonna be a little hard to get in there. You want to hear it again? ”

When the gun raised its hand and drew an Xza, the Ice Cube said:

“I can hear you just talking. You don't have to do anything. ”

Gun said with an awkward smile.

“Oh, right. I didn't know this place looked like a microphone. ”

“What's behind the wind screen in front of you, not the microphone? ”

“Ah-ha-ha, I see. ”

“Well, maybe you should go record it for practice. I'll give you the track.”

The gun nodded and the track resumed. At the end of the rap part, the beating starts with a hand hitting your thigh.

Humiliation in overeating of comfort

(Overeating of comfort, overcraving)

"Money is a short pulp exploding in speed"

(Money is a fleeting beef that explodes at high speed)

"The sweet fruit I ate is not money but my joyful life"

(The sweet fruit I eat is not money, but my happy life)

I thought that I was just practicing recording outside the recording room, and looked away for a while, the ice cube stopped without looking back at the gun and opened its eyes wide. After the vocal part was complete, the ice cube suddenly stopped music as it saw a gesture behind the recording room window. The voice in the recording room rang.

“I can't feel it yet. Now, when I was arranging this, I tried to express my beliefs about myself, but I think that the emptiness of all living elderly people in the world is more appropriate. Let me try again. ”

The ice cube opens its mouth to hear the case. Gun put on headphones, held position in front of the wind screen and gestured to the ice cube as the music did not come out. The ice cube, which was watching the gun for a long time, was surprised by the gesture of the gun and pressed the play button urgently.

Again, the sound of music was heard and the voices of the case were full of voices, but the song filled the workshop with the wisdom of those who realized the truth of life. The ice cube stares at you dazed with its eyes wide open and its mouth slightly open. After removing the headphones, the gun comes out of the workshop, gazing at the ice cube, smiling, and turning off the play music button.

“What are you doing? You're not gonna record this? ”

The ice cube sits down and looks down at itself, smiling.

“Wow, who are you? ”

“What is it, Kay? Haha”

“Y-yeah, I know it's Kay, but... this doesn't make any sense. Why haven't you made your debut yet? What are you doing studying more? You're studying to succeed, aren't you? You can still succeed. ”

The gun shrugs.

“I couldn't decide what music to play. You have to learn and decide everything. ”

The ice cube shakes its head and covers its eyes with its hands.

“Phew, you're a genius. I don't understand what the geniuses think. ”

After the gun grinned, he said after checking the track with the mouse on the PC that the ice cube was manipulating.

“What, you didn't press the record button for the second time? ”

The ice cube raised its head and looked at the PC screen.

“Oh, sorry. I was surprised.”

The gun smiles and goes back to the recording room.

“Please record properly this time. ”

Gun put the vocal track back on the track played by the ice cube. After finishing the recording at once, the ice cube that you saw outside muttered as it piled up to the sound of the double track.

“If I told you about this guide, which singer would say he would do it? Ha. I'd rather put up Kay's name and put out an album. ”

“Son of a bitch, I'm going to insult his Korean fans. Arthur.”

The ice cube's eyes turn toward the sound from behind, and Dre leans against the door of the workshop and folds his arms.

< 112: Drop The Beat! (5) > End

case: 21185