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.
この曲は、“傍観”をテーマにした楽曲です。
誰かの炎上や失敗を眺めながら、その瞬間をどこかで待ってしまう感覚。
そして、自分自身もまたリングに上がれずにいること。
その矛盾を、ファンクのグルーヴに乗せました。
タイトルの「手薬煉」は、「手ぐすねを引く」を漢字にしたものです。
「手をこまねく」という言葉も重なり、この曲の核になっています。
サウンドは70〜80年代ディスコを意識したファンク。
跳ねるベースと4つ打ちのリズムの中に、少し古びたディスコの匂いと、冷めた視線を残しました。
「手ぐすね引いてる Midnight」という一節は、この曲の空気を決定づけたと思っています。
「手薬煉ヲ引ケ」は、誰かを裁く曲ではなく、自分自身を見つめた曲です。
待っているのか。動けないのか。
その曖昧な境界線ごと、楽しんでもらえたら嬉しいです
— maurice blue
Producer / Bluepiece Lab.
Single
Album
