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Published at 3rd of November 2021 09:40:18 AM


Chapter 1393: 1393

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"Five six seven, go!"

But the first four beats were not over yet—to be precise, at the third sixteenth note on the fourth beat, Fletcher interrupted the performance again, shook his head slightly, and expressed his denial. It was simply and neat, and the rhythm was cut off without being muddled. The pressure seems to be accumulating bit by bit, creating a feeling of shackles in the throat.

Unknowingly, Fletcher was already standing in front of Andrew, and there was only a set of drums between the two-his footsteps seemed to be pushing forward in line with the rhythm of speaking and the accumulation of pressure, and then He has already formed a one-on-one confrontation with Andrew. He raised his hands and gently pressed down, faintly feeling that he was patiently explaining the situation, "It doesn't fit my rhythm. It doesn't matter, don't worry. Let's do it again."

Fletcher began to beat the rhythm himself, "Five-six-seven, go."

Andrew listened to Fletcher's rhythm and started his own strike, but after a four-beat, Fletcher paused again and said plainly, "You're in a hurry. Do it again."

Andrew's muscles have tightened, "rush"? Why didn't he notice it?

The drumsticks just stopped, and then just before Fletcher hit the beat again, he struck the drum set again, seeming to be eager to show himself again, proving that his talent can still control the situation on the scene, but the sound of the drums appeared instead. Impatient and abrupt.

He immediately paused in a panic and looked at Fletcher; Fletcher raised his hands and gestured, his tone still remained gentle, "Not in a hurry. Are you ready?" Andrew didn't even realize he Nodding, "Very well, five, six, seven... go!"

It's another four beats.

Fletcher shook his head repeatedly, "You're dragging. That's it." Then he gestured with his eyes, as if to say: Do you understand?

Andrew quickly nodded to express his understanding, and then he couldn't wait to start beating again, but Fletcher immediately waved his hand and interrupted Andrew's hasty performance, "Wait for me to prompt."

This made Andrew's muscles completely tense. He realized that he seemed to be losing control, but the tension and panic in his heart could not be revealed. He must remain calm. Focus, focus, focus!

"Five six seven, go!"

It's the first four beats again, the **** seventeenth bar.

Fletcher's hands were clenched into fists, and he kept shaking his head, "Hurry up." Then he hit his hands again, "Five six seven, go."

wrong again.

"It's procrastinated. Five, six, seven, go."

Everything is like a nightmare of a ghost hitting a wall, over and over, over and over again, they are just trapped in place, like a cheap horror movie. Every time, Fletcher said that he was in a hurry, he slowed down a little bit, and then he dragged it down again; he then speeded up a little bit, but he didn’t expect to rush again, and so on, going back and forth again and again, forever Can't get out.

The sense of oppression began to accumulate layer upon layer. The more nervous, the more mistakes, the more mistakes, the more panic, and the more panic, the more nervous. The vicious circle can’t stop at all, just like deep A nightmare in a maze.

Didn't Fletcher say that he came here for a reason? Didn’t Fletcher say, just relax and enjoy? Didn't Fletcher say that he could catch up with Buddy Ricky? Didn't Flake say that his performance was very good?

So what is going on now? What happened to this? What did he do wrong? What's wrong with his performance?

he does not know. Compared to making mistakes, what is even more terrifying is that he doesn't know what went wrong, and how to coordinate the control of fast and slow? What's the matter with the third sixteenth note in the fourth bar? Damn sixteenth notes, what is rushing and what is dragging?

How to do? How to do!

Andrew's shoulders tightened completely, like an endless loop, and once again plunged into the same bar of performance.

The first four beats passed. There is no sound.

The second four beats passed again. Still no sound.

Andrew looked at Fletcher with his gaze, trying to confirm whether this is good news or bad news, and is his performance finally right? Is the rhythm just now Fletcher's rhythm? Wait, if that is correct, what is the rhythm just now? Where should Fletcher's rhythm be?

But Fletcher turned around. He couldn't see the expression at all. He could only judge from his back. He was hitting the rhythm with a nod, as if he was completely immersed in the melody.

This made Andrew even more vigorous, working hard to show his spirituality and talent, hoping to win Fletcher's favor again.

Fletcher stood by the doorway, holding the folding chair with his right hand, and the motion of his jaw stepping on the beat still did not stop. The whole person looked very enjoyable and very comfortable. Without warning, he lifted the folding chair. The chair, like throwing a frisbee, turned and flew away in the direction of Andrew.

Andrew, who played the drum seriously, slowed down for a while, and then saw the folding chair flew around like a drop of blood. A strong sense of survival suddenly burst out, and he quickly bent down and hugged his head with his hands. After making a defensive posture, you can feel the air waves roaring by the helicopter propellers overhead.

"call."

The sharp and incisive wind swept past with great strength, and then the folding chair slammed into the wooden wall behind, making a muffled noise, knocking down everything next to it. Everyone in the rehearsal room was frightened, and the trombone and horn saxophones began to lose their tune.

Andrew was even more critically hit by one hundred thousand points.

Life is in danger. He really felt the danger of life hanging by a thread. He stuck his head out in shock, and looked around carefully. The action of continuously swallowing saliva faintly revealed the fear and panic in his heart, flashing quickly. The pupils even exposed the anxiety and timidity.

what happened?

What happened just now?

Andrew hesitated to sit up again, and then he saw Fletcher standing right in front, staring at him blankly. Andrew was wronged and at a loss. He didn't know the situation at all, and his slightly trembling pupils squirmed. Fletcher glanced, but quietly moved away because of fear, but Fletcher's intent eyes seemed to be able to swallow him alive at any time, and he had to move his gaze again to face Fletcher squarely.

He swallowed his saliva again, trying to relieve his tension, but it was too difficult.

Inhale, exhale; inhale again, exhale again.

Fletcher showed his strong anger in just two movements. He was very angry. He is now angry. Even if he just threw the chair, he still can’t vent his emotions. He needs it now. It broke out, whoever hits the gun will die extremely ugly.

Obviously, now Andrew hit the gun.

Fletcher tried to stay calm and once again supported his chin with one hand. "Do you know why I threw a chair at you just now? Neiman?"

Andrew knew the answer inwardly: He made a mistake. But the problem is that he doesn't know where he went wrong. Now his head is a mess and he can't think at all. He can only stammer, "I...I don't know." The violently shaking pupils leaked out of his heart Of uncertainty.

"Of course you know." Fletcher said categorically.

Andrew held his breath, closed his lips tightly, his eyes condensed slightly, no one noticed, he secretly adjusted his breathing, as if he was cheering for himself, and then tried his best to keep his words steady." Rhythm?"

Fletcher took a big breath, his right hand was constantly rubbing his chin, "Did you rush or drag?"

Andrew's expression froze in this way, blinked slightly, and said hesitantly, "I...I don't know."

This answer completely angered Fletcher~www.novelhall.com~ and strode over, his murderous eyes seemed to have put Andrew on the gallows, "start counting."

"Five-six-seven..." Andrew closed his eyes involuntarily, the ubiquitous sense of fear firmly surrounded him, and even his voice began to tremble slightly.

"Count to four hell!" Fletcher's voice was tense to the extreme, and his anger penetrated bit by bit, "Look at me!"

Andrew turned his head stubbornly like a robot, trying to keep his eyes wide open and watching Fletcher, but the focus and focal length were falling apart bit by bit. His light brown eyes were glowing with light, just like fawn spots. Innocent and fragile than usual, he still tried his best not to look away, and then...started to count.

"One two three four. One two three four."

When the count had just begun, Fletcher raised his right hand and slapped it severely, but when he was about to land on Andrew's face, he shook it over Andrew's head.

The next second, "Ka", Damien's voice yelled out, he hugged his head in annoyance, and let out a depressed exclamation, "jk, oh, jk, what's the matter? What's the matter! Everything is fine, isn't it? Jk!"

Simmons himself hugged the big bald head, and all the anger and all the irritability disappeared like a tide. He stood upright in a gloomy manner and looked at Lan Li, who was close at hand.

He couldn't do it, and he couldn't do it after all. It was now, and the slap happened at this time, but Simmons was still unable to shake it off. At the last moment, he could not help but brake suddenly. He knew this was wrong, but he could not control his emotions, those panic. And timidity, the emotion that should have appeared in Andrew, but fell in his heart.

This is really too difficult.




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