The nights in Funk Town are always bustling.
But step into a back alley, and the quality of the sound changes. There, something other than dreams lies scattered about.
Equality was the fundamental design of this city. Yet, order and rules
could not protect every single soul that happened to fall through the cracks.
When night falls, he walks the alleys with a guitar bag slung over his back. There is no special reason.
It is simply that when he comes here, human voices draw just a little closer to their true feelings.
He should have been used to this scent by now. But tonight, it was different.
Deep within the damp air, a clear and distinct intent was mingled.
It was no coincidence. It was a scent with a purpose. Something that, by all rights, should not exist in this city.
No one around him noticed. The laughter and footsteps were the same as always.
He came to a halt and pulled out his guitar. He dropped a single sound quietly into the depth of the night.
As the melody expanded, he felt that scent recede, just a fraction.
It had not vanished completely. It had merely been pushed back.
For now, that was enough.
He begins to walk again. The night in the back alleys still had need of sound.
She believes in speed.
She hits the gas before she stops to wonder.
Fast machines and heavy sound are what she likes.
Given the choice to pause or keep driving without a clear view, she keeps going.
This band's direction is set by her voice.
She hardly speaks.
Low end is more accurate than words, for her.
Most of the time she's reading manga.
The rhythm of turning pages and a bass line have something in common.
Her feelings sit deep beneath the sound.
He can more or less do anything.
So nothing really ties him down.
People look up to him like an older brother; he doesn't pay it much mind.
He appears when the mood strikes and leaves the freest sound behind.
Piano is the oldest language he knows.
Everything else he picked up later.
Games, anime, and the real world blur a little at the edges.
His sound is precise and quiet.
His keyboard softens this world, just a little.
The longest-lived in the group.
The jokes are old; the rhythm stays new.
He runs his mouth while keeping time tighter than anyone.
The band stays on the rails because he never betrays the beat.
He's been in Funktown a long time.
He never steps into the spotlight.
Why he brought these members together still hasn't been told.
They say he was there when the city was still normal—and when it started to warp.
The moment I heard the first sound emerge, I had an immediate intuition: this is a song for the night. It possesses a certain stillness, yet carries a heat that brushes against the emotions. That ambiguous temperature naturally intertwined with the word "Nocturne."
Night brings various emotions to the surface. Thoughts that were left behind in the heart suddenly begin to take shape. I composed this piece while imagining the sounds that resonate in such a place.
While the lyrics depict a romantic relationship, it may not be an idealized form of love. Instead, a slightly distorted background and a sense of distance that defies words begin to seep into the nocturnal air.
As the night deepens, feelings do not necessarily become organized; rather, they expand quietly while remaining ambiguous. I would be happy if, after listening to this song, you could touch that soft, transient space just before sinking into sleep.
— maurice blue
Producer / Bluepiece Lab.
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