Chapter 46
“How??”
Iseo looked at Suyeon. Suyeon’s unwavering, resolute gaze made it clear that this was not something she had said casually.
“There are two ways. First, we could add a bass solo line to the two original songs we already have. But I don’t think that would be very good.”
“Why?”
“For one thing, our songs weren’t written with the bass as the focus. Of course, we could still rearrange them to add a bass solo line or emphasize the bass more. But that would be a lot of work. Besides, once we change one thing, we might end up having to revise the entire song.”
Myeongjeon was not thinking that the songs he had made possessed a perfect balance and would collapse the moment even one part was removed, or anything like that.
But while making small adjustments during a performance was one thing, reworking the overall lines often required massive revisions.
It was one thing if the revisions turned out well, but if things gradually started sounding strange as they were changed… eventually, they would reach the point where they no longer knew what was what.
“Besides, even if we made those changes, I don’t think they’d have much effect.”
“Then what’s the second?”
“The second is to choose a different cover song. One centered around the bass.”
The song they had chosen this time was Guns N’ Roses’ “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” which reflected some of Seoha’s tastes. They had gotten it to a decent level, but they had not mastered it completely.
“It’s not impossible if we schedule things really tightly.”
“Then shouldn’t we go with the second option?”
“No, that means there’s time to practice. It doesn’t mean we can practice it perfectly within that time.”
Seoha answered Hyeona’s question. Myeongjeon thought the same.
“She’s right. That’s the problem. We might not be able to practice properly.”
Having time to practice was not the same as being able to practice perfectly. Of course, Myeongjeon could have memorized everything within that amount of time and spent several days relaxing, but weren’t the other girls different?
“If we keep practicing the cover song as it is, we’ll be able to perform it at a pretty decent quality. We might even be able to add some of our own color beyond the original. But that’s only an expectation. If we had to perform it right now, the quality would be pretty disappointing.”
Myeongjeon looked at Iseo. The more he spoke, the more troubled her expression became.
“But what if we choose a new song… I do have a rough idea of what song we could do. Anyway, what if we choose something new and practice it, but it doesn’t work out? What if it isn’t good enough to take onstage? Then there’s no way back.”
“So you’re saying… it would be difficult to do that. Maybe it would be better to just keep doing what we’ve been doing…”
At Iseo’s words, which came out sounding almost like a complaint, Myeongjeon shook his head.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.”
Iseo might have taken it that way, but that was not what Myeongjeon had intended. What he wanted to say was headed in a different direction.
“If that had been my intention, I would have simply told you to endure quietly. That your skills were already good enough. I wouldn’t have needed to bring this up at all. Right? What would be the point of warning you in advance about something you can’t do, then saying you can’t do it for this or that reason?”
Iseo listened silently. What was Suyeon trying to say? She had said something negative about the suggestion, then said that giving up would be better, only to deny that was what she meant.
So what was she supposed to do?
“Well, up until now… I’ve been leading you as your leader. You didn’t know much, and you didn’t really have any opinions of your own. But for us to function properly as a band, every member needs to have a sense of self.”
“A sense of self?”
At Iseo’s question, Suyeon tilted her head slightly.
“I’m not saying you have to immediately raise an opposing voice, or that I have to lead the band in whatever direction you want. But if you have a direction you want to pursue, you need to be able to speak up until we decide what we’re going to do.”
There were countless bands, in both the East and the West, that had failed because they could not do that. Someone’s opinion was ignored, while someone else’s was overvalued.
If the result was good, one might say that the process did not matter. But conflicts in human relationships that arose during that process had a way of rendering everything meaningless. Why had Pink Floyd broken up?
Even though Roger Waters had created countless masterpieces and led the band toward success, the other members ultimately could not accept a dictator.
“If there’s a direction you want to take, speak up. Someone else can show you what that path looks like. But if you want to walk it, the person who wants to try has to speak up. Other people can’t decide in your place.”
At Myeongjeon’s firm words, Iseo seemed to fall deep into thought. Hyeona looked at her worriedly, while Seoha showed little expression. If anything, she looked as though she felt the moment had finally arrived.
“If we do a new song, does that mean Sweet Child O’ Mine is scrapped?”
“Not exactly, but… I don’t know what will happen. Actually, I’d been planning to have this conversation a little later.”
Myeongjeon ran a hand through his hair as he answered Seoha’s question. In his opinion… giving these girls a sense of self might have been a little premature. Perhaps it would be better to simply charge straight toward success instead of bouncing all over the place.
‘But that wouldn’t be any fun.’
If he had wanted to do everything alone, there had never been any need to form a band in the first place. Myeongjeon could simply do everything himself and hire the bassist and the others as session players.
But hadn’t he decided on the very first day after awakening that he would not live that way? That he would make music for the sake of enjoying it. Success, auditions, YouTube… Those were all just things that came along on the side.
“Then I think it might be better to try. I want to show people what I can do, too… I practiced until I was fucking dead. And yet they’re sitting around posting things like that on the internet.”
“Hmm. Is everyone in favor?”
At Iseo’s words, Myeongjeon asked the other two a question. Both girls nodded.
“Practice is going to become much harder than it is now. And there’s also the risk of failing the performance.”
“Well, even if we fail, there’ll be a next time! Our skills aren’t going anywhere, are they?”
“That’s true.”
What Myeongjeon had learned from living for several decades was that life, bands, and music all had to be viewed in the long term. There was no such thing as something that absolutely had to be done at this exact moment. There were no opportunities that appeared only once in a lifetime.
“Then what song should we do?”
“I have one in mind. I don’t know if you’ll like it, but it’s the kind of song that will make people who don’t know much think, ‘Wow, their skill really shines through.’”
Seeing Suyeon grin, Iseo somehow felt that the smile was ominous. It had the feeling of, ‘Go on, suffer a little.’
* * *
Club Paradox. More than thirty years after opening, it was one of the prides of Hongdae’s live-club scene… and also a gateway for rookie bands.
Since it welcomed any genre as long as the performers were a band, one day it might be acoustic music, the next rap metal, then J-rock, and then death metal. In the words of its regulars, it was a ‘goddamn genre dump,’ and that was precisely what made the place so appealing.
And for the past few days, Paradox had been attracting the attention of the ‘Hongdae band scene’ and its ‘rookie-band enthusiasts.’ That was because of the new band, ‘Group Sound,’ that would make its appearance at today’s open mic.
“Why aren’t you selling alcohol? I came here to drink beer!!”
“Today’s first act is a high school girls’ band, so we decided not to sell alcohol until they’re done performing.”
“A high school girls’ band is performing? Holy shit.”
There were audience members who had come looking for alcohol without a second thought and suddenly heard the news,
“Um… this is Paradox, right?”
“Yes, that’s right~”
There were people who were somehow stepping into a band scene they had never visited before,
“They’re coming today?”
“Yeah. I checked the timetable.”
And there were old hands who had set foot in Hongdae more times than they could count and sincerely longed for a new wave to rise. For all sorts of reasons, people of every kind were waiting for the first slot of Paradox’s open mic.
And there was one more group waiting for that first slot.
“Ah!! Fuck, I’m going crazy. I’m so nervous!”
“Does it have to drive you crazy…?”
Iseo plucked the bass this way and that, then suddenly let out a shriek. Hyeona, startled, answered in a tiny voice. Myeongjeon chuckled at the sight, then glanced toward the area outside the stage. It was not an enormous crowd, but for an open mic, quite a few people had shown up. Maybe seventy or eighty.
“Is everyone ready?”
While the four of them were chatting, a man knocked on the green room door and entered. His appearance showed the passage of quite a few years, and his clothes seemed to proclaim, ‘I’m a metal fan!!’
“Yes, we’re all ready.”
At Myeongjeon’s words, the man gave him an OK sign with his hand, then spoke.
“I’ve been running Paradox for nearly thirty years, and this is genuinely my first high school girls’ band. Thanks to you, I even had to visit the police substation. They told me I couldn’t sell alcohol until you were done performing.”
“Really? Ah, we should be the ones selling you drinks~ What a shame. Right?”
The others nodded at Iseo’s words. The owner chuckled along with them.
“You’ve prepared three songs, so I’ll give you thirty minutes, just as announced beforehand. You’ll have five minutes for setup, including the time it takes to get onstage. Pace yourselves between songs, say hello, do some banter, and promote yourselves a little. That should be the general flow. But…”
After explaining how the performance would proceed, the owner suddenly began mumbling as he looked at Myeongjeon.
“What’s wrong?”
“Um, by any chance, are you really Teacher Myeongjeon’s student…?”
Again? Myeongjeon looked up at the ceiling instead of answering. Nearly everyone he had met lately in connection with guitar had just sat there and asked him questions like this, and it was driving him insane with frustration.
Was he Vincent van Gogh or something? Why did they keep saying things like, ‘Gasp, Teacher Myeongjeon, why did you leave us so young?’ after he had died? Instead of pulling that shit, they should have listened to his music while he was alive.
Of course, even if they had listened, they probably would have said something like, ‘That Teacher Myeongjeon’s songs are only this good??’ and pretended they had never heard them. That was obvious.
“Ah, I understand.”
At Myeongjeon’s attitude, the owner bowed as though he alone had figured something out, then left the green room. When the girls looked at Myeongjeon, asking what was going on, he did not answer.
* * *
“Hello, we’re Group Sound. It’s nice to meet you all. This is our first time meeting you—actually, it’s our first time performing on a stage like this at all. Our first stage was at school, and our second was at an anime performance.”
The performance began. Iseo helped Hyeona and Seoha with their setup while stealing glances at Suyeon as she handled the stage. Suyeon skillfully answered the audience’s questions while buying time for the setup.
“You’re so pretty!!”
“Pretty? Thank you. But aren’t high school girls supposed to be pretty? It’s the golden age of life. Still, objectively speaking, I am somewhat exceptionally attractive. I won’t deny that. Anyway, our performance has gotten some attention, so it seems like quite a few of you came to listen. We only have a few songs, but we’ll do our best not to disappoint you…”
The setup was complete in the meantime. Iseo picked up her bass and walked to the front of the stage, stepping onto a monitor speaker. When someone shouted, “The bassist is pretty too!!” Iseo bowed her head in thanks.
She curled and uncurled her fingers several times, thinking about what song she would play today. It was a song that posed some physical demands, but was not impossibly difficult. In return, however, it could put the bass’s presence on full display.
Then Iseo focused her attention. It felt as if she were submerged in water, with the sounds around her gradually fading away. She paid no attention to whatever Suyeon was saying. Suyeon was only buying her time so that Iseo could concentrate.
Regarding the first song, Suyeon had said this before the performance.
“We’ll put the cover song first.”
“Uh, shouldn’t we save it for last to give the bass more impact?”
“If you’re thinking purely about the impact of making people go, ‘So that’s what she can really do!’ then yes.”
Suyeon twirled a pen. It slipped from her hand and landed on the A4 sheet listing the order of their roughly thirty-minute performance.
“But if we do that, people will probably spend the first two songs thinking, ‘The bass isn’t anything special…’ So we need to lead with the cover song.
And more importantly, we’re doing this open mic to gain live experience and promote the band. We’re not doing it to show off your skills. You mustn’t forget that.”
At that, Iseo had nodded.
It was undeniably true. In the end, they had come to perform here to make the band called ‘Group Sound’ known.
When Suyeon finished speaking, a brief silence fell.
Then came the sharp clack of drumsticks crossing. Clack, clack, clack, clack.
‘But at least the first song is my stage.’
With the signal to begin, Iseo plucked the bass roughly. Following her movements, an intense sixteenth-note bass line drenched in fuzz tone burst from the speakers and began vibrating the floor.