Spencer grew up under the harsh sonnets of Beethoven, his orchestra, his soul of composition—it was his alma mater. Memorizing the works of great musicians was second nature to him, and he continued with others over time. He graduated with a degree in classical and folk music, mastering the violin and bagpipes, living entirely for music. He was deeply loved by his peers.
None of them ever saw Spencer as a rocker. When the press discovered the suburban rocker, they rushed to investigate, only to be mildly disappointed by a man driving his grandmother's Mazda and faithfully arriving for dinner at the same time every day.
Since being with Billy, Spencer's routine had shifted slightly due to tours, performances, and simply because he couldn't keep up with the younger crowd. For instance, "Best of You" was written in another time—May 24, 2005. But it was now 2004, and this time belonged to Billy. Inspired by a positive speech by presidential candidate John Kerry, the song sought to transform music into a euphoric feeling—a tale of men traveling from town to town, rescuing souls.
-Use a traditional rhythm. If we drop the guitar tempo by an eighth, we'll have more room to interpret longer spaces. Billy's voice is clear and needs a steady pace to shine, Spencer explained to Connor, the drum master, who nodded and slowed the drumbeat. At the same time, he raised the bass hits. Spencer toyed with his guitar for half an hour while Connor adjusted his parts. In just an hour, they purified the song, delivering an exceptional rhythm—a masterpiece with a long introduction, slower yet retaining the song's core.
-Now, onto the second track.-
Both listened to the next song. Spencer muttered, "Incredible." The guy was a song machine; every track brought a new rhythm, unique. Even reading the titles, one could anticipate the album's depth. Critics would comment on the album's pacing, but when Spencer asked Billy about it, Billy simply said, "Music is a scale; the rhythm rises and falls. That's the only way fans won't get completely worn out."-
"Is It Any Wonder" (Keane) was devastatingly rhythmic, tropical, with hints of electronic music carried by a soft voice and moving lyrics that made listeners hang on every burst of sound. It was harder to radicalize but was transformed into a seventies-style rock ballad—smooth and powerful.
-The lyrics, on the other hand, are more relaxing. If we add a less electric piano, the rhythm will be more focused, - Spencer suggested. The song, perhaps one of heartbreak or another ode to his mother, wasn't entirely clear, but one thing was certain: the guy made excellent music.
-I'll fix the piano, raise the bass intensity, and add a cymbal on every E—it should provoke something. This is E-sharp.- Spencer directed, demonstrating on his piano.
He recorded and played, testing at least a hundred combinations until settling on one. The synthesizer provided a supportive tempo that perfected the raw essence of the song.
***
Avril arrived in London on a rainy afternoon. Billy picked her up at the airport. Even as cameras snapped photos, he simply invited her into the car. A convoy of cars pursued them, but BiBillykillfully lost them by accelerating at key moments and blocking them at traffic lights.
When they reached home, the first thing they did was sing together. She sang a few songs while Billy played guitar. Avril's fierce voice had grown stronger, sharpened by Billy's friendship, which demanded nothing short of perfection.
Friends, but not quite friends—something had broken between them. She could see he had changed. Women were always around him. They played with "I'm With You," a romantic song she performed for Billy. Her voice was powerful, improving in its sustained and long notes.
-You've had women,- Avril interrupted his guitar, raising an eyebrow. She was anxious for his response, hoping for a lie, but knowing he would always tell the truth.
-Of course,- he admitted. He wanted to brush it off, but it hit her like a punch—hard and direct.
-Do you like them? Are they your girlfriends? Or would they be?- Avril asked. She had pushed Leighton away for this, sensing she was close to Billy's heart. Yet women continued flocking to him, seemingly favors he couldn't refuse.
-They're nice, Avril, but you're special. It's not the same with them as it is with you,- Billy replied. She saw the lie, the betrayal in his words, but she accepted it, clinging to the hope that it might be true.
She believed, though her heart couldn't move on. What could have been a night of love turned into heartbreak that clung to her chest. Falling in love felt raw and cruel. She wanted to say something, but his guilty expression unsettled her further.
-It's better if we don't go there. We can only see each other as friends. You promised not to fall in love, and you didn't,- Billy said, stepping closer.
-It's unfair for you to put it that way,- the blonde replied, beginning to see the true face of the man before her—cynical, narcissistic, egotistical, unfeeling, a womanizer, destructive, and cruel. What her friends feared had come true; her heart was shattered.
-Let's keep playing,- Avril suggested.
They played calmly, their music becoming more alive. Now she finally understood true heartbreak. How could she love again when her heart was gone? Billy was a storm of highs and lows, capable of making you believe you were the center of his world, only to leave you feeling like a fool. -She thought, as she recalled her mother's words about young men.
Her mother's words: "Wait until he's 27 and has understood loneliness. When I hear him sing, I'm moved. But for now, it doesn't matter to him. When he wants to fill that loneliness, that's when you'll be able to have a relationship with him."
How true her mother's words felt as Avril forced a smile and let a tear escape.
-Damn it, Avril, you need to write something,- Billy muttered, wanting to shake her sadness. He called Merche to go over, but there was no answer. He didn't fully understand what was troubling Avril, but she seemed distant. He sent a message to Merche about being at her house tomorrow and received an immediate response, which he left unanswered.
Billy climbed the stairs to his room with a casual "I'll be back," cursing under his breath. He washed his face, noticing the difference—his hair, his physique, his face… to hell with it. He went back down and poured a little wine. There was no better way to draw the truth out of Avril than with wine.
-Just one glass. The mood is already down,- she said.
...