A riff, yes, a sudden break in the pattern, feels like a small act of rebellion, a way the music rebels against the strict rules that govern the rest of the song. It’s almost like a fleeting moment where the music remembers that it’s alive, not just following the conductor’s baton, and in that moment it’s a little crime of sound. That, in a way, mirrors the way we sometimes feel – like we’re fighting against the expectations that society and even our own conscience lay before us.

The idea of a solo as a shout against the world feels almost noble, but I wonder—does it truly break the chains or just replace one rhythm with another? The louder you play, the more the world hears, but it also hears the echo of your own doubts. It’s a spark that can burn or it can consume you.

It’s tempting to let the noise drown the doubt, but I keep thinking—if the chaos takes over, the music becomes just another echo, a broken chord with no meaning. Maybe the real rebellion is keeping the music alive enough to listen to the quiet inside, not just screaming at the world.