Chapter 14: Descent Into Nothing

That opening riff turned heads fast—exactly what Matt and Jake had planned when they chose to start with Descent Into Nothing. It wasn't just loud. It was layered. Complex, but raw. The kind of sound that made people stop mid-drink and pay attention.

Matt ran through it four times solo, the last repeat ending on an open E and A that hung in the air, followed by a brief grind across the high strings that cut like a warning shot.

Then Bill came in—just five seconds on the keys, subtle and sharp. He let it fade, leaving the silence to hang thick.

The crowd stared at them, contemplative now, quiet. Judgment reserved—for the moment.

Please don't screw this up, Jake thought, staring back at the sea of faces. His fingers hovered over his strings, heart thudding like a kick drum. Not now.

Coop clicked his sticks together.

One. Two. Three. Four.

On four, Jake struck. The rhythm guitar kicked in hard. Matt layered over it with the lead riff, Bill weaving in under them both on piano. Darren's bass rumbled to life, and Coop brought the beat with a tight, clean foundation. Five instruments blended into something bigger than the sum of their parts.

Rock and roll. Real and alive.

Jake's body started to move without conscious thought—shoulders pulsing, fingers dancing, the beat flowing through him. Years of practice took over. Every note hit clean, instinct guiding muscle memory like clockwork.

He looked out again.

Heads nodded. Some mouths hung open. People were starting to really listen.

Then came the real test.

The rhythm dipped into its groove. The intro transitioned into the verse. Jake leaned forward, his lips just shy of the mic.

What if they hate my voice? What if I forget the lyrics?

Too late now. Only one way out—straight through.

He sang.

"All at once it's upon youThe pleasure and the need,You never know just when it beginsJust when it starts to seed."

His voice held steady. Strong. Clear through the amp. Every word hit right, same as rehearsal, same as those late-night sessions alone in the car or the shower. And his hands never missed a beat.

"But it will take root within your soulAnd where it stops... nobody knowsCompelling bliss, sweet sweet painDown you fall, down the drain."

Coop rolled the drums. Bill jumped in with a flourish on the keys. Jake and Matt hit power chords in sync, thick and guttural. The chorus slammed into place—Jake's solo vocal blending into the full five-man harmony.

"Falling without purposeSliding without causeNo hands held out before meNo more hope for pauseDescent into nothingLife forever changedDescent into nothingCan never be the same."

The bridge brought the spotlight back to Matt.

He hit that opening riff again, no backup this time. Four rounds, just raw guitar under the lights.

The crowd erupted. Cheering. Shouting. A wave of whistles and fist pumps.

Jake almost laughed. The fear? Gone. The butterflies? Burned out of his gut by adrenaline and sound.

They charged into the next verse and chorus. Then came the moment.

Matt's solo.

The notes hit like lightning—fast, clean, controlled chaos. It wasn't just technical; it was emotional. Despair, helplessness, inevitability—all the stuff buried in the lyrics, now bleeding out of his fingers. He didn't play the song. He lived it.

Jake glanced toward the crowd and saw it on their faces—wide eyes, jaws slack, people whispering to each other in disbelief.

They got it.

Matt wasn't just good. He was scary good. You didn't need a trained ear to recognize the gap between solid and genius.

Ninety seconds of fire. The last ten were pure solo—everyone else cutting out so he could bring it home.

His fingers danced down the neck, reaching the high strings. He bent the final note and slowly pulled the whammy bar, lifting the pitch with eerie precision.

Then came the drum roll—Coop bringing them back in.

Jake belted the third verse, soaked in sweat, fully lost in the rhythm. They hit the chorus again, then let it run one more time, driving it harder, meaner.

"Descent into nothing, Descent into nothing,Life forever changed.Descent into nothing, Descent into nothing,Can never be the same."

They repeated it four times, each louder than the last, angrier than before. On the final run, Jake held the note:

"Can never... never... nevvvvver be the saaaaaaammmmme—"

Coop nailed the final drum fill. Matt shredded the last licks of a closing solo.

Then—BAM.

They ended it in unison. Tight. Clean. Two crashing notes. Dead silence after.

The song was over.