Memorial (3)

“Hello. The weather has warmed up considerably, hasn’t it? At this rate, it’ll be summer before we know it. The world and the weather alike seem to be changing a great deal. When I was young, spring was unmistakably spring, and fall was unmistakably fall, you know.”

“It’s been quite a long time since I met Teacher Myeongjeon. I’d heard rumors that his health wasn’t good, but one day I couldn’t reach him. When I asked around, I learned that he had passed away. It was nothing short of a bolt from the blue. Once the grief had passed, we had arrived at this moment.”

“In any case, I’d like to welcome you all to this suddenly organized memorial concert for Teacher Seo Myeongjeon. To commemorate Teacher Myeongjeon, who left his mark on Korean music, many musicians have sent us messages, if only by video…”

The concert began, and one of the people Myeongjeon remembered climbed onto the stage as the MC and began to speak.

Most of the people who had sent video letters were famous musicians who had either recorded sessions for him or merely encountered him in passing. Some of the famous musicians who had been close to him came in person as well.

Seeing everyone flocking here to mourn him and doing this and that, Myeongjeon did feel a little touched. No one was paying them, yet they had gathered like this to remember him. Wasn’t that something to be grateful for?

‘The problem is, I’m actually alive right here, yet they’re calling me dead and holding all this for me. It’s a little surreal.’

Myeongjeon twisted a lock of his hair and went into the waiting room. Since the concert was expected to last about three or four hours, there were plenty of people inside.

The noise of people chatting reminded him of a funeral home. Old men gathered around a table, opening shrimp crackers and bottles of soju. Young musicians who had been dragged here sat around without even understanding what was going on. People bustled back and forth, busy with the concert preparations.

Some people did take an interest in Myeongjeon, but after he tried a few of the things he considered ‘what high school girls these days do’—only saying, “Oh, yes,” and making a show of not being interested—most of them went back to minding their own business.

“Ms. Suyeon?”

The person who stopped Myeongjeon was a member of the concert staff. The staff member held up a sheet of paper with several song titles written on it.

“Are you performing these songs today?”

“Yes. And there are one or two more, but…”

“There are more? Do you have sheet music for them? You’d need to give us the scores even now for that to be possible.”

“No, I’m going to play them as guitar solos.”

The staff member walked away with an awkward expression, and Myeongjeon sat down and took out his guitar.

‘Maybe I’ll practice a little…’

In the noisy waiting room, he lightly plucked the guitar so quietly that no one could hear it. The faint guitar sound gave him the illusion that he was playing alone in a city square.

‘So this is what they mean by “vibes.”’

When he had asked, “Why on earth are we going through all this hassle?” Iseo had shouted, “Vibes are important!!” while Dain had said things like, “Wouldn’t it be better if it were pretty, too?”

If he had still been the original ‘Seo Myeongjeon,’ this was something he would never have understood. But perhaps the months he had spent living alongside those high school girls had influenced him. He felt as though he was gradually beginning to understand what this “vibes” thing was.

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

While absentmindedly picking through the songs he would play that day, Myeongjeon suddenly heard a slightly high-pitched voice from somewhere in the corner of the waiting room. Even as everyone’s attention turned toward it, the voice continued.

“I’m saying, I acknowledge that Myeongjeon hyung was a great guitarist.”

“Then why not just acknowledge it? Why tack on all those buts?”

Myeongjeon cautiously poked his head out to identify the owner of the voice. It was a younger guitarist he had never seen eye to eye with.

They had had one major fight about a decade ago and never seen each other since. Had he come here? His face was flushed, probably because he had been drinking quite a bit.

“He was a great guitarist, not a great musician. Let’s be frank. His guitar technique was great, but it’s not like anything else about him was great—his composing, for example. To be honest, he was fucking terrible at writing songs.”

“Hey!”

Some people raised their voices at him while others tried to restrain them. Remarks like, “Did I say anything wrong?” flew back and forth.

‘He’s not wrong, though.’

Myeongjeon twisted a lock of his hair and focused on playing the guitar. He knew it was petty, but at least ‘Seo Myeongjeon’s’ reputation was going to improve somewhat after today…

* * *

“Hello. You’re that band called Group Sound or something, right?”

“Hello~ Yes, that’s us!”

Normally, no one recognized them at all. At school, close friends might say things like, “Iseo, I hear you’re in a band~ Awesome~” or, “Hyeona, if you’re in a band, will that be okay for arts college entrance exams?” But outside school, people’s only impression was usually, Oh, there are three high school girls walking together~

But here, more than ten people had already recognized them and come over to greet them. Some even asked for autographs, and Iseo was racking her brains trying to come up with a signature, since she had never had to sign anything before.

“A lot of people recognize us.”

“I know…”

“What was it, Paradox? I guess that performance helped after all.”

“Well, people who come to places like this are interested in music. Besides, it seems that performance got famous as ‘the band put together by Ha Suyeon, Teacher Seo Myeongjeon’s disciple,’ or something like that.”

At Seoha’s explanation, the other two nodded. Even as they talked, some people sidled up and said, “Could I get your autograph?”

“Well, but there seem to be over a thousand people here, and if only a few dozen of them recognize us, isn’t that a ridiculously low percentage? We still have a long way to go.”

“That’s true…”

Iseo looked toward the stage.

It was break time now, but songs Iseo had never heard before, said to have been written by ‘Seo Myeongjeon,’ were being performed, along with songs he had played on as a session guitarist and songs he had liked.

Since ‘Seo Myeongjeon’ was Suyeon’s teacher, Iseo wanted to view him in a positive light, but his original compositions did seem to fall short of those of the other two bands. The applause and reactions were weaker, too.

‘Speaking of which, why didn’t she have us perform with her?’

To be honest, Iseo had been looking forward to it a little. If they performed at a place like this, wouldn’t their recognition rise all by itself? But Suyeon had never once asked what they thought. She had simply kept quietly preparing something.

Feeling a little disappointed, Iseo focused on the stage again. It was Suyeon’s turn now.

* * *

“The next act may be a little outside the age range of the acts we’ve had so far. But she is also the person who belongs here more than anyone. Please welcome guitarist Ha Suyeon of the band ‘Group Sound,’ and Teacher Seo Myeongjeon’s disciple. Let’s give her a big hand!”

Amid a wave of applause, Myeongjeon took his guitar and stepped onto the stage. Perhaps because a high school girl was appearing on a stage usually occupied by elderly or middle-aged people, the applause somehow seemed even louder than it had been for the famous musicians who came before her.

“Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

Myeongjeon took the microphone and said a few words along with his greeting. He roughly invented some memories shared by ‘Seo Myeongjeon’ and ‘Ha Suyeon,’ saying that this and that had happened and that Teacher Myeongjeon had taught her a great deal about guitar. The audience applauded as he strung together those stories.

“Then, our first song…”

As he said this, Myeongjeon looked around the audience. When his eyes met Iseo’s, Hyeona’s, and Seoha’s, they waved at him. He gave them a small wave in return and continued.

“We’ll start with a song Teacher Myeongjeon liked. Please listen. Eric Clapton - Tearing Us Apart!”

With the sound of drumsticks striking, the rhythm guitar began, carrying a lively melody.

Myeongjeon ran his pick across the strings once and then launched into the lead guitar energetically. As befitted a later-period Eric Clapton song, it had a distinctly pop-oriented sound.

Since the song alternated between female and male vocals, Myeongjeon decided not to sing the main parts. The bassist, a junior of Myeongjeon’s, sang while repeatedly roughening his throat in an attempt to imitate Clapton somehow.

Then came Myeongjeon’s part.

He sang cheerfully, repeatedly belting out high notes he had hardly used in the performances so far.

Then came the bass solo.

Myeongjeon encouraged the audience to applaud and looked toward Iseo in the distance.

Eric Clapton’s live performances usually featured legendary bassists such as Nathan East. Of course, Nathan East himself hadn’t come, but Myeongjeon hoped Iseo would be inspired, even a little, by hearing someone else play.

‘Of course, that wasn’t the only reason I didn’t put those kids onstage.’

As he played the guitar solo that followed the bass solo, Myeongjeon thought about the more fundamental reason. If he practiced with those kids in order to perform alongside them…

‘I wouldn’t be able to pull off the con.’

Since that would obviously make it difficult to carry out the ‘Seo Myeongjeon Reputation Improvement Project’ he had planned, Myeongjeon had not invited the band girls to perform. That was the only reason.

When the fourth song ended, thunderous applause poured forth. Because Suyeon had worked diligently to draw out the audience’s reactions, emotional cheers and applause continued, unlike before.

“The next song is the last song Teacher Myeongjeon left behind.”

As the cheers died down, Suyeon took the microphone. At her words, the audience fell deathly silent. There was a slight commotion among the staff backstage and the musicians who had finished performing and were sitting in the front row.

“I’ll play one of them for you. It’s an acoustic piece, and its title is [Untitled 12]. That’s what you named it, and I didn’t give it a separate title.”

Suyeon accepted an acoustic guitar from a staff member and sat down on a chair, as though the audience’s murmuring had nothing whatsoever to do with her.

The performance began in a slightly bewildered atmosphere. With every other sound stilled, the steel strings of an acoustic guitar began to ring out softly.

The chiming sound stirred memories of a very distant past in the audience. The sound, the melody, and the emotions it evoked were all strikingly old-fashioned.

Without realizing it, the audience looked again at the person onstage.

A big, quite old, white-haired, stern-looking guitarist. The person playing guitar onstage seemed as though he ought to be that man.

But he wasn’t.

Sitting on the chair onstage was a girl with long hair, painstakingly playing an acoustic guitar that looked slightly too large for her.

And little by little, the atmosphere began to change.

Old blues and rock from the 1960s and ’70s.

An uncritical acceptance of the music of that era.

And therefore, the music of ‘Seo Myeongjeon,’ so familiar and seemingly destined for an ordinary drubbing.

The music that had been repeating only the ‘good old days,’ like a trot tape sold at a highway rest stop, was…

As though traveling backward through time, the song gradually changed its colors as it progressed.

Like an old man shut away in his own world, watching nothing but television, who finally set aside his stubbornness and learned to use a smartphone.