Chapter 32
Myeongjeon plucked the guitar a few times. It was a song with a sorrowful melody based on the pentatonic and blues scales. The previous night, after wondering what kind of song he should write, he had been inspired by Gary Moore’s “Still Got the Blues” and written it in one go.
He hadn’t added the bass, drums, or keyboard yet, but the main melody itself was finished. It was somewhat guitar-focused for a band song, and he hadn’t even written the lyrics yet.
…Actually, to be precise, he had tried to write lyrics. No, to be even more precise, he had sat at his desk and thought about it for roughly three hours. As he mulled things over, he had scribbled down whatever lyrics came to mind.
But nothing came to mind at all. So for now, Myeongjeon decided to make do with humming.
‘Maybe I don’t have any talent for this sort of thing.’
That much was clear from the time he had named his YouTube channel “Guitar Heaven” and been mocked by an anonymous internet user. Hadn’t they said something like, [What are you, some geezer from the ’70s and ’80s? What the fuck is this?]
Thinking about it, Myeongjeon decided he might not have much of a gift for it. Looking on the bright side, he hadn’t had any talent for composition—or for the creative side of things as a whole—from the start… Now he was only untalented at writing lyrics, so that was good enough.
‘But looking at it from that angle… isn’t the song too old-fashioned too? Would a song like this even catch on?’
Comments like that had appeared on the songs he uploaded to YouTube too. [A high school girl playing blues? The vibes are insane…], [Her skills seem way beyond her years!] and so on.
He wasn’t sure what exactly was supposed to be insane or what wasn’t supposed to match her age, but it did seem clear that his music didn’t fit the sensibilities of his physical age—or of a ‘high school girl.’
‘Should I write a song that matches the current sensibilities?’
It wasn’t that he had never considered it. Myeongjeon didn’t particularly like trends, but he was the sort of listener who tried to keep up with them anyway.
In his opinion… after that city-pop-or-country-pop-whatever trend, Japanese music had begun creeping back into Korea. Rock was the same. People who liked Korean indie rock were isolated, and there weren’t many of them.
People tired of cookie-cutter idol songs—which Myeongjeon didn’t think were cookie-cutter, though most people did—went off looking for something new, then settled on music like that.
That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Who could say that one kind of music was good and another was bad?
Myeongjeon was surprisingly open-minded, so he had no intention of claiming that some genres were superior and others inferior. There were only his personal likes and dislikes, along with the aversion that arose from ‘history.’
What was unfortunate, however, was that the kind of music he liked and was good at had never once become popular in Korea.
Myeongjeon plucked the guitar for a while, then set it down again. Well, there was no point in worrying about what kind of music became popular.
In the end, what mattered wasn’t what kind of music it was, but whether the music was good or not.
To loosen up his fingers and take a break, Myeongjeon picked up his phone. There were a ton of KakaoTalk messages waiting for him.
Dain had sent him a message about the school-bullying matter: [I’ll send you the list of kids, so talk to them separately, and if they say they’re okay with it, set up a meeting.] There were also the guys incessantly asking what he was doing.
And then there was a KakaoTalk message from Iseo about the performance.
[We got a performance booked]
[They said they’ll send us the timetable and stuff once it’s finalized since we were added to the lineup]
[And they asked if we could do four songs instead of three because three might be a bit awkward]
Were they asking them to do one more song? They had already gotten their timing more or less aligned, so they could probably learn one easy song. The song wasn’t even finished yet, so they had time too.
[I think I’m fine with it, but we should ask the others first]
[Iseo, I’d like you to ask them]
[And I made a song]
Iseo was startled the moment she saw the message. How long had it even been, and he had already finished a song?
[You already finished a song?]
[Yeah]
[I haven’t arranged it at all yet]
[Can you let me hear it?]
A wav file appeared in KakaoTalk shortly afterward. Iseo put on her earphones and played the song.
What she heard was a powerful yet clean guitar sound. The feeling within it was melancholic, yet resolute… a kind of sadness that possessed self-assurance.
The humming, which had not yet taken the form of lyrics, lingered in Iseo’s heart and gently tickled something inside her.
Then a guitar solo strode forward from behind the vocal section. Iseo placed her hands on her lap and quietly listened to the performance.
‘Maybe I should’ve learned guitar…’
There were songs like that sometimes, weren’t there? Songs so good that they made you want to learn how to play them. Iseo thought this song belonged in that category too.
When the song ended, Iseo hurriedly picked up her phone and sent a message.
[I’ll write the lyrics for this]
[Didn’t you say you were going to write lyrics for another song I made before?]
[No, that one was just; this one is for real]
Myeongjeon wondered. Should he let her handle it? When he had told her to try writing lyrics for that earlier song, it was because he hadn’t really cared what happened with it.
But this song was for the band…
‘Still, keeping the song to myself isn’t going to make lyrics appear. I’ve already tried that. Looking at it that way, I suppose it would be fine to let her try.’
Thinking that, Myeongjeon sent a message agreeing to it.
* * *
[You got a performance booked?]
[Yep]
[Oh my god you got it so fucking fast no wait it hasn’t even been that long since we talked about it]
[But what do you mean we have to practice one more song?]
[They asked us to do one more song]
[Wouldn’t three songs be enough?]
Hyeona genuinely thought so. It wasn’t a solo concert; they were just squeezing into someone else’s lineup. Wouldn’t three songs be enough? Still, the side that wanted something had no choice but to give way.
[Actually, I’d sounded them out before because I wanted to do a performance]
[But everyone seemed to want to take a break, so I only tested the waters. When I contacted them properly this time, they said we should do four songs]
[So I’m asking if everyone’s okay with it]
[I don’t really mind, I guess…]
While exchanging messages, Iseo opened YouTube. Even though some time had passed, the views on the video of their first performance were still climbing rapidly, and plenty of comments were still being posted.
The early comments had been from people who didn’t know what anime or otaku meant and had simply assumed they were Japanese songs. These days, by contrast, comments like [Ha… I’ve been an otaku for sixteen years. If only I could meet people like this even once ㅠㅠㅠㅠ] and [Could you come perform at somewhere like Seoul Comic World?? Pleaseㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ] were appearing.
Iseo was quite satisfied with the reaction. Wasn’t this a faithful recreation of the original? No, hadn’t they performed well enough to make other people want to see them too?
[The comments seem pretty positive on YouTube and stuff]
[If we say we’re appearing this time, won’t people come flocking?]
Iseo’s KakaoTalk messages were filled with wildly optimistic fantasies. Hyeona, however, thought differently.
That might be true if you thought YouTube’s reaction represented the entire internet, or the entirety of the otaku community. But reality wasn’t like that. YouTube was only a surface-level community.
Hyeona clicked on a post. It had racked up a fairly large number of views and recommendations.
[Are these kids objectively any good at music?]
(School performance video.avi)
(Screenshot of YouTube’s most-liked comment)
Are they honestly good enough to get comments like this??
- Get rid of them
- Sorry for being Korean ㅠㅠㅠㅠ
- They’re trying hard, at least
- Hmm; are they really that good?
- Another Bocchi the Rock lol
- Where the fuck do these bitches get off playing guitar lol
There were posts like that on social media too…
[(Screenshot of video comments) They aren’t at the level of getting comments like this;;]
[Normies are making way too big a fuss]
[They were pretty good for high schoolers lol]
[They must’ve worked hard editing it]
[Honestly, it pisses me off when Koreans imitate Bocchi… like this ㅡㅡ]
[Now even fucking normies are pulling this shit]
And so on. Hyeona considered whether she needed to show Iseo this, then decided not to.
Someone who went as deep into the internet as Hyeona might be able to handle it, but a half-Muggle like Somat wouldn’t be able to withstand such genuine malice. Instead, Hyeona decided to mention it in passing.
[There are some people saying our performance was nothing special…]
[Why? We were good]
[Even objectively, we were good tho[]
[Some people just see whatever gets popular and go, ‘Ugh, it’s nothing—why are people making such a fuss…’]
[Of course there aren’t many people like that]
[There are just lots of people who rain on the parade and ruin things]
[Besides, there are probably people who say you can’t know from seeing just one thing]
‘That could be true.’
That was what Iseo thought. There were so many different kinds of people in the world, after all. Some people even opposed things simply for the sake of opposing them.
‘Then for this performance, we need to show a better version of ourselves—and better bass playing. We have to make it so they can’t even bring themselves to say things like that.’
Of course, there were people who called even the Beatles an overhyped band, so regardless of how good Iseo became, their band was destined to keep getting criticized. But if it had motivated her, wasn’t that a good thing?
* * *
The day of the performance.
“How are the bands this time?”
The bands had come for their pre-show rehearsals, while the event planner, Youngshin, watched them go about their business. When he turned his head, the representative was looking at him.
“Hard to say. They’re all bands I’ve seen a million times. Well… you know too, sir. You’ve seen those three bands before.”
“Still, there is a new team, isn’t there?”
“There are two teams we haven’t performed with before, but one of them is a veteran and has only not performed with us before… Their skills are just so-so.”
“The otaku bands around here are all like that.” Youngshin sighed. It was an event he had planned with no small amount of ambition, but he hadn’t managed to put together a satisfying lineup.
“Still, one of them is a complete newcomer.”
“I don’t know. I watched the video too, but… videos can be edited. And they were added at the last minute, so I doubt they’ll be in very good shape.”
Youngshin scratched his head. When the initial inquiry had come in, he hadn’t watched the whole video, only enough of it to get an idea. They played well enough to meet the booking requirements, at least.
‘Could they really be that good? Videos are usually edited, and YouTube has plenty of people who overhype things.’
Just then, the first band finished its rehearsal. The staff and organizers applauded politely. The band members came down, slightly sweaty.
“How were we?”
“You were fine. We’ll look forward to your performance.”
At Youngshin’s words, the band members nodded with slightly relieved expressions.
‘I was worried because we didn’t have enough time to rehearse together, but I guess we weren’t bad.’
Carrying their instruments, they entered the band waiting room. Familiar faces were gathered there.
“Oh, Sein! Long time no see~”
“Nice to see you! How many months has it been? Three? Was the last time we saw each other in Hongdae?”
“Keep in touch~”
They exchanged the sort of “Let’s grab a meal sometime” small talk people made with acquaintances. They knew nothing would actually come of it, but this was a small scene. No matter what level they were at, they had to maintain at least some connections.
In the middle of that, another band opened the door and came inside. Four women whose faces no one had ever seen before.
The people in the band waiting room reflexively looked them over. The keyboardist was… ordinary. The drummer… at least she was passable. The one following behind looked like she played bass. Her makeup was a little heavy, and her appearance had a vibe that didn’t fit this sort of place, but… she was pretty enough.
And then there was the last one. When they saw the girl who appeared to play guitar, they were slightly shocked.
She didn’t look like someone who would come to a place like this to play otaku-band songs. Had she come to the wrong place? Or was she an otaku-circle princess (Footnote 1)? But all four of them were women, so that didn’t seem likely either.
“Uh… this is our first time meeting you. Are you in a band, by any chance?”
“Ah… yes. Uh…”
“Oh, nice to meet you~! We’re a complete rookie band. This is our second performance!”
The bassist gently pulled the hesitant keyboardist back, then popped out from behind her and greeted them. The greeting was returned somewhat awkwardly.
“What’s your band called?”
“Band name… are we sticking with that?”
“Do you have another name? There’s no particular reason to change it.”
The bassist turned around and asked the others when they were asked for the band’s name. The guitarist standing behind them answered in a slightly cold voice.
“Our band’s name is Group Sound.”
“Group Sound?”
“Yes. Group Sound.”
“Ah… so you’re the ones.”
When the final poster had come out, there had been a mysterious name on the lineup that he had never seen before. So this was the identity of that band, the band member thought.
“Oh, then are you the band that’s supposed to play four Bocchi the Rock songs?”
“Ah, yes! That’s us.”
“Wow, that’ll be hard. They aren’t easy.”
It was easy to be fooled by the anime’s laid-back atmosphere and its premise of a ‘band formed chaotically around a single beginner,’ but…
In truth, Kessoku Band played songs that were quite difficult for beginners. The drums, the bass, and the lead guitar all had difficult parts.
The rhythm guitar was probably the easiest. But even that was fairly difficult since the rhythm guitarist also handled the vocals.
And yet four high school girls were going to play those songs—difficult music with two members who looked completely unrelated to music.
‘Do they think they’re actually Kessoku Band?’
It was only natural, in a way, that every other band there would doubt their skill and whether they could actually play those songs.
‘They sure look like they don’t believe us at all.’
That was what Myeongjeon thought as he looked at the expressions on the other people’s faces.
Well, it couldn’t be helped. Thinking that other people can’t do what you can’t do is an unavoidable habit of people with limited ability…