Morning in Funktown was quiet.
As if the tremors of last night had never happened,
the city wore its usual face.
How many had even noticed it?
Or perhaps—
it had already been treated as if it had never existed.
And still, time moved on.
The day began as though nothing had happened.
Sound moves something inside people.
That movement gives color to the world.
But emotion does not remain still.
Joy, anger, sorrow—
all of it continues to amplify.
The city did not reject this.
Little by little, it widened its capacity to hold it.
I am not a god.
I cannot control everything.
But I know this:
This city responds to sound.
And in the end,
that was the only means left.
So I gathered them—
those most sensitive to sound.
Their music truly rewrote the world.
It reconnected a collapsing balance
in another form.
And the same will happen again.
Instability will not disappear.
Emotion will not stop.
And yet—
new sounds will be born.
And each time,
the world will shift, little by little.
Not breaking,
but updating itself.
This city does not end.
This small universe
keeps moving,
together with the story.
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 piece was written as an epilogue to the story of Funktown.
“Rebirth” is less about restoring what has collapsed, and more about expressing the feeling of new contours emerging from within instability.
While centered around strings, I layered glitch noise to keep the piece from closing into something purely classical, leaving traces of a cyberpunk texture.
The simple three-beat rhythm also seems to support both the delicacy and strength flowing through the song.
Though the arrangement is dramatic, what I aimed for was not grandeur, but the quiet emergence of change.
The expanse of the strings, and the piano like ripples on water—somewhere in that in-between space, I feel the core of this piece resides.
“Rebirth” is both the endpoint of Funktown and a new beginning.
Whether we return or move forward, that answer does not have to be decided yet.
I would be happy if this song lets you touch that feeling of moving toward the future, even while swaying.
— maurice blue
Producer / Bluepiece Lab.
Single
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