Looking at the young people in front of him, Hugo recalled the early days of Glory to Death's struggle.They had to perform in different cities, and since they didn't have their own transportation, they rode on old green trains, traveled with a car full of poultry, and considered truck cargo containers a luxurious option.They even walked fifteen kilometers of mountain roads and frequently hitchhiked on highways.Besides their own instruments, the five members of their band often had to dismantle the drum kit, with the other four helping each other so they could all hit the road together.Then, along the way, they would tease and joke with each other, carrying their heavy instruments like ascetics wandering across the country, their joyful laughter echoing along the path.Life back then was incredibly tough; although they weren't starving, their meager income meant they constantly struggled to meet basic living needs.This was the reality of underground rock, the gap between dreams and reality.Yet, they thoroughly enjoyed those days, and despite arguments, fights, and frustrations, they never gave up hope.To put it bluntly, they lived on pure passion, awaiting an unknown future—perhaps abandoning their dreams and returning to reality, or perhaps their dreams coming true overnight with instant fame.No one knew the outcome.It was during this process that Hugo realized not all dreams come true, not all struggles bear fruit, and not all geniuses succeed.Even so, with that same passion, they kept Glory to Death going for a decade, from fifteen to twenty-five, their most brilliant ten years.Someone once asked Hugo, "Was it worth it?"In fact, the parents of every band member had said similar things, because to most people, it was incomprehensible.Chasing a dream was understandable, but persisting for ten years, still having nothing to show for it, yet refusing to give up—that was stubbornness.Hugo remembered Su Zinan, the lead singer of Glory to Death, answering, "It wasn't worth it, and I regret it now.But I know that without experiencing it, I would never have known this, so if I went back ten years, I would still make the same choice, and then stand ten years later, regretting it again."If they had followed societal norms and lived a conventional life, those ten years might have allowed them to build a career or even live comfortably, but such a life wouldn't necessarily equate to happiness.Youth only comes once; miss it, and it's gone.Even standing at twenty-five, filled with regret, Hugo would still make the same choice if he went back to fifteen, because that's what youth is: impulse, regret, recklessness, remorse, and defiance—all indispensable.Now, standing on the streets of Los Angeles, seeing the joyful expressions on the faces of these young people, a smile naturally bloomed on Hugo's lips.He missed such moments.It was different from acting, where an actor stands before a camera portraying the life of another unfamiliar character, experiencing a life they might never touch.But a singer is themselves, living their own completely authentic life; every melody, every lyric, every note is an emotional release from the depths of their heart.This is their truest self, without any pretense.Therefore, Hugo missed such moments: standing excitedly and nervously on the street with his bandmates, waiting for a passing truck to give them a ride, or anticipating the evening's upcoming performance, simultaneously worrying if the show would go smoothly and hoping their music would be appreciated by more people.This complex mix of feelings made him so nostalgic."Hey, guys, is there a party tonight?" Hugo asked, raising his voice.His voice carried on the sea breeze and sunshine, attracting the attention of the young people in front of him.The young people turned to look, whispered a few words to each other, and then started to chuckle softly.One of them raised his chin and said, "Bro, we don't do ballet."After he finished speaking, his friends around him burst into laughter.Hugo looked down at his outfit.Today, he was wearing a white shirt, black jeans, and black high-top Vans skateboard shoes.Actually, this outfit was quite street style; if he had worn a loose T-shirt instead, it would have been fine.The main point was that Hugo had chosen a relatively formal white shirt today, and his outer coat was a long trench coat, making him indeed look more like a high-end person attending an opera or ballet in a music hall—just a younger version.Such an outfit had no connection to underground music.Hugo couldn't help but laugh himself, remembering how the members of Glory to Death used to mock others in the same way.It wasn't that they were overly aggressive, but the underground music scene had always been largely rejected, even ostracized and discriminated against by the mainstream.This forced them to stick together, otherwise, they could easily be swallowed by the city's noisy currents at any moment.So, instead of retaliating, Hugo raised his voice and replied, "You mean this?"With that, Hugo stood on his tiptoes and clumsily mimicked a ballet pose, performing a pirouette.Of course, Hugo was not at all professional; he had no connection to ballet, so he looked very awkward, and his movements were incredibly comical.Naturally, the young people all burst into laughter, their youthful laughter mingling with the roaring engines passing by, like clear, transparent waves crashing against the asphalt road, blooming one after another.After two turns, Hugo spread his hands and shrugged, "If it's that, I think I should reconsider my plans for tonight."The young people were softened by Hugo's humorous retort.The first young man who spoke took two steps forward, "So, amateur pastime? Wall Street background, dabbling in garage music?"The young man was tall and athletic, like an agile leopard, his wheat-colored skin glowing faintly in the sunlight.He carried a large black bag on his shoulder, which, judging by its shape, was either a guitar or a bass.The young man looked at Hugo through the bangs of his black curly hair, with a hint of subtle provocation."Wall Street? That would be great if it were true."Hugo lifted his right foot, showing his skateboard shoe to the young man in front of him.Wall Street businessmen wouldn't choose such athletic shoes, and given Hugo's young age, it wouldn't be easy to make a career on Wall Street.So Hugo responded with this direct sarcasm."Don't you know the Beatles also played rock and roll?"The young man had been mocking Hugo for wearing a shirt, like a businessman, but in fact, many British rock bands wore shirts and ties, and the Beatles were one such example.So Hugo retorted.He then added, "Just because I don't dress like Kurt Cobain doesn't mean I don't know anything, does it?"The young man's two consecutive attacks were met with an unyielding response from the other party, who even counter-attacked, making him seem like an insider.The young man was a bit unsure and once again scrutinized the neatly dressed man in front of him.Hugo noticed the young man's undisguised gaze, spread his arms, and said frankly, "I hope tonight's party is worth it."A teasing remark was carried by the wind to the ears of the young people behind, and another burst of laughter erupted.Someone shouted, "Pepe, tell him.He's not a cop."Hugo chuckled, lifting his trench coat."See, I didn't bring my badge or my gun."The young man named Pepe finally couldn't hold back, and a smile blossomed directly on his face, a bright, sunny smile from the coastline beach that spread from the corners of his mouth to the depths of his eyes.The young man lowered his head, took a flyer from his pocket, hesitated for a moment, and handed it to Hugo, casually saying, "Old man, hope there are no surprise inspections tonight."Then he turned and left briskly.The young man's last remark was actually a joke about the "police" comment earlier, but Hugo knew that many underground rock parties were quite private, often attended by many minors, and with the chaos of alcohol and drugs, the police were very fond of surprise inspections—of course, provided they received a tip-off.So, their caution was understandable.Watching the young people gather again, laughing and chatting with each other, Hugo waved the flyer in his hand, called out a loud "Thank you," and then brought the flyer closer to examine it.The flyer was quite simple, just black and white print, with "AL Bar, December 23, 1992, 8 PM" written in the center.Around this text, numerous names of singers and bands were densely printed.After a quick glance, Hugo saw several familiar names: The Cranberries, Green Day, Rancid...These were all well-known band names in the future.Besides them, there were also some familiar local Los Angeles band names, like At The Drive-In.It was clear that this was a massive party, and not a small one.In fact, music flowed slowly through the city's pulse in Los Angeles, but Hugo hadn't had the opportunity to experience it before because this scene was relatively closed off.Those without connections were destined to remain on the outside, let alone integrate into it.Unexpectedly, Hugo had stumbled upon such a rare opportunity today, which made him quite excited.Not to mention how thrilling it was to see those familiar bands, just the thought of re-integrating into the local rock scene was enough to make Hugo jump for joy.
