From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Undoubtedly, this was an unbelievable scene—

During the performance, the band was assembled piece by piece; stagehands built the stage on the spot, changed the lighting, deconstructing the entire performance in a live broadcast.

It was truly eye-opening!

At this moment, all the confusion and difficulties were resolved. August Thirty-First Band constructed the performance in a return-to-basics manner, kicking off the second half of the 46th Grammy Awards ceremony.

The curtain fell.

The lights dimmed.

And then, Anson began tapping the body of his guitar again, a gentle yet firm rhythm flowing like a stream. He stood in front of the microphone and hummed softly.

“Oh oh oh, oh oh oh…”

The melody, unbelievably seamlessly connected, re-entered the rhythm of "Viva la Vida."

However, slightly different from expectations, the stage lights slowly narrowed down, eventually focusing solely on Anson, leaving only a small round light, like an astronaut's helmet, enveloping Anson's head—

Visually, it looked as if only Anson's head was floating in mid-air.

This was indeed… unbelievable, presenting an incredible visual effect in an extremely minimalist way.

Finally, it went out, and the entire venue plunged into darkness. Only Anson's humming extended into the endless chaos, causing the entire Staples Center to fall silent. There was no sound, no movement, even breathing seemed to have disappeared.

Yet, no one was distracted. Thoughts stretched out in the darkness, exploring the mystery and depth of the black hole. From sight to hearing to touch, everyone entered a subtle atmosphere, immersed in their own world, slowly falling.

Snap.

The lights came back on.

This time, there was only one, a light placed on the front edge of the stage, shining upwards, casting Miles's figure onto the backdrop behind him, like a towering giant.

Miles began to play the cello, melodious and magnificent. Different from the previous gentleness and tenacity, at this moment, it burst forth with a majestic momentum. The roof of the Staples Center opened, and the starry sky sprinkled down.

Then, one light went out, and another light came on.

This time, it was the keyboard.

Lily's figure was projected onto the backdrop, covered in sweat but with a smile on her face. Her fingertips danced lightly and nimbly on the black and white keys, and the flowing melody rippled across the eardrums—

“Hearing” those ripples of light.

The melody transformed into power, injected into the chest, bubbling and boiling in the blood.

Next, it was the bass.

Connor was so focused and so immersed, holding the guitar as if embracing a lover, his body slightly leaning back, using his whole body as support, holding up the bass, yet revealing a chic and unrestrained posture.

The string sound dragged the thoughts, slowly falling.

The red light gently rippled, gradually transforming into blue.

Hearing and vision combined perfectly, yet collided with unbelievable sparks.

Finally, it was Anson.

In the projection of the blue light, Anson was hidden behind the drum kit, his eyes flashing with bright light, some cunning, some joy, some brightness.

This Anson was unfamiliar, yet he was someone people yearned for.

The rapid and dense drumbeats were like a shower falling on banana leaves in the hot summer afternoon, mixed with heat and joy, venting down. The scent of sunshine and soil permeated the air, but it would not make people flinch. Instead, they were ready to rush out, running barefoot through the raindrops.

Open your arms and dance.

Involuntarily, uncontrollably, the body jumped up with it.

Thump thump thump, thump thump thump—

It was Miles.

The blue light lit up at the same time, and the figures of Anson and Miles were projected on the screen.

The cooperation of the cello and drumbeats was slightly thin, but Anson and Miles had a tacit understanding. Both of them lightened their movements, gently and delicately narrating.

Anson's singing, in the melody, chanted, stepping in the footsteps of a bard.

“I used to rule the world, seas would rise when I gave the word, Now in the morning I sleep alone, Sweep the streets I used to own.” (Note 1)

The bass joined, steady and heavy.

Sweating profusely, faces flushed red.

They were all like drowned rats, but at this moment, no one cared about this matter, and even completely forgot that the Staples Center was full of guests, and completely forgot that this was the stage of the Grammy Awards ceremony.

At some moment, they entered a state of selflessness, and everything became simple.

Only them, only themselves and the instruments, only the band and the music. They were so immersed in the performance that they established a connection with their souls and their playing. Those notes naturally flowed from their hearts.

Everything else was no longer important.

This was a purity, a pure happiness.

“Was king and country on my string, Who would ever want to be so lonely?, I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing, Roman cavalry choirs are singing, Be my mirror, my sword and shield, My missionaries in a foreign field.”

“For some reason I can't explain, Once you'd gone there was never, never an honest word, And that was when I ruled the world.”

Clang clang clang, bang bang bang.

The bells and drumbeats intertwined, goosebumps involuntarily popping out madly.

In sight, one could clearly see the happiness and joy in Anson's eyes, without concealment or embellishment. The stars and sea shone brightly in the depths of his pupils.

Following Anson's gaze, Miles and Connor exchanged a glance, and the corners of their mouths both turned upwards, their smiles blooming naturally.

The cello and bass intertwined, from gentle and soft to surging, the collision of strings intertwined with each other, and the collision of mellow and passion, classical and modern produced a strong spark.

There was no singing, no vocals, only pure instrumental performance, but such a performance stirred the entire Staples Center.

One by one, they were dumbfounded, involuntarily opening their mouths wide, staring blankly at this scene, bathing in the baptism of music, losing themselves.

Dong dong dong. Dong dong dong.

Drumbeats, enter.

It was Anson, but he did not destroy the harmony, but joined the ranks of Miles and Connor, hitting the soul's echo.

Once, and again, crossing time, breaking space, hitting hard under the heart, a kind of emotion that language cannot describe instantly burst out, and in the blink of an eye, it swept the mind mightily, completely losing the ability to resist and soaring freely in this storm.

Note 1: Viva la Vida – Coldplay