The errors would not stop.
The more they were patched, the more new bugs emerged. Funk Town was supposed to be managed by a suite of high-performance AIs. Yet now, all of that intelligence was being overtaken by something else.
He stared at the code cascading like a waterfall. The scrolling was relentless. The warning chimes rang out—regular, persistent, and entirely meaningless.
"He knows."
The thought struck him suddenly.
An old, close friend. An ally who had maintained this city alongside him. But he never knew where the man had come from.
He had vanished toward some unknown destination, leaving behind cryptic words about "emotions."
Inside the server towers, a faint heat was rising. Just a few degrees higher than usual.
The system began to groan. Somewhere out of sight, someone was biding their time—Tegusune—waiting.
Waiting for the moment it all collapsed.
A cold sweat traced down his back.
"I can fix an error, but I guess I can't fix my own ego."
No one was listening.
He picked up his drumsticks. He closed his eyes. Aligning not with the code, but with his own heartbeat, he began to carve out a steady rhythm, more precise than any machine.
He didn't know why. But for that brief interval, the overheating waveforms quietly aligned.
As if the city itself had been waiting for the 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.
This song is centered around the theme of “bystanding”—the act of being a mere onlooker.
It’s about that sensation of watching someone get canceled or fail online, while secretly, somewhere inside, waiting for that exact moment to happen.
And at the same time, it captures the reality of never stepping into the ring yourself.
I’ve set that contradiction to a heavy funk groove.
The title, “Tegusune”, comes from the Japanese idiom “tegusune wo hiku,” which means to eagerly wait for an opportunity or to be on the lookout.
It also overlaps with the phrase “te wo komaneku” (to fold one’s arms and stand by idly), forming the very core of this track.
Sound-wise, it’s a funk track with a strong nod to 70s and 80s disco.
Amidst the bouncing bassline and four-on-the-floor rhythm, I left a scent of faded, vintage disco, paired with a cold, detached perspective.
I feel the line “Tegusune hiiteru Midnight” (Waiting on the lookout at midnight) truly defines the entire atmosphere of the song.
“Tegusune wo Hike” is not a song meant to judge anyone; rather, it’s a reflection on oneself.
Are you waiting? Or are you just unable to move?
I hope you enjoy the track, including that ambiguous, blurry boundary.
— maurice blue
Producer / Bluepiece Lab.
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