EP

A prerelease track. It may have been novel at first, but by now it was considered a fairly standard promotional strategy: raising anticipation for the album while generating buzz in advance.

But the reason Myeongjeon had never considered a prerelease was… they wanted to release the album all at once. If they prereleased a track, wouldn’t it feel like they were taking the wind out of the album’s sails with a “Here’s a preview” sort of announcement?

‘Am I the only one who thinks that?’

Anyway, that was how Myeongjeon felt, and so they had an unconscious aversion to prereleases. But now that things had turned out this way, did they really need to cling to that attitude? It wasn’t some grand conviction worth defending to that extent.

‘Besides, it’s about time we started recording.’

There were five planned tracks: (tentative) Ashen Days, (tentative) Sternstunde, one song for which they had only laid out a draft, and two songs they had not even conceptualized yet.

It might have been better to start practicing after completing the EP. There was no guarantee that a song they practiced would make it onto the EP, and besides, starting to eat before the table had even been set felt a little premature.

But considering that all four of them were students… if they didn’t start practicing now, they might not be able to stick to the schedule they had planned. The first song was one thing, but the second song would run Seoha ragged.

‘I’ll ask the kids and decide.’

They would begin recording the first song and use the opportunity to ask the others what they thought. If nobody had any objections, Myeongjeon thought they should keep the buzz going through a prerelease.

* * *

“I think there’s something else we should discuss too…”

“Hm?”

Having decided whether to prerelease a track, Myeongjeon was about to wrap up the meeting when Hyuna suddenly spoke up. Myeongjeon’s expression shifted to one of surprise. Perhaps it was unusual to see Hyuna, who rarely offered an opinion, speak up like that.

“I think it’s also important to decide how we’re going to promote the EP after the prerelease.”

“Hmm… that’s certainly true.”

Myeongjeon nodded at Hyuna’s words. Deciding whether to release one song early was important, of course, but what mattered even more was the success of the EP and the band.

“Come to think of it, wouldn’t it be a shame if we just released one prerelease track while everyone’s attention is focused on us, then ended things by releasing the EP?”

“What do you mean?”

“People might listen only to the prerelease and go, ‘Ah~ so that’s the song,’ and then it would be over. We wouldn’t be able to keep the buzz going because there’d be a gap between the prerelease and the EP.”

Hearing Seoha’s follow-up suggestion, Myeongjeon fell deep into thought.

‘That’s a fair point.’

Myeongjeon had thought about that issue too. There would inevitably be a stretch of dead time. It would be nice if they could shorten it, but…

Realistically, that was impossible. The rest of the songs would still take time to complete. No matter how brilliant Ha Suyeon’s talent was, impossible was impossible in practical terms.

“We can release two songs right now. But we have to practice and record them too, so… considering all that, the only song we can release in the near future is [Ashen Days].”

That was why Myeongjeon explained the situation to the others. Normally, they would have made the decision themselves, but they had already thought it over and couldn’t come up with any particularly good options.

“So… if we want to promote the band, we’ll have to promote something other than the release itself. What methods are there?”

“I don’t know.”

Iseo’s mutter was followed by silence.

Who was it that said identifying the problem was the most important part of solving it? Myeongjeon couldn’t agree with that. What good was it to identify the problem if they didn’t know how to solve it?

The unexpected viral hit they had gotten this time had been close to an incredible stroke of luck. They couldn’t expect something like that to happen again. They had been lucky this time, but there was no guarantee they would be lucky in the future.

“How about filming something for YouTube?”

“What kind of thing?”

“Like a vlog…”

Myeongjeon tilted their head slightly at Iseo’s suggestion. Come to think of it, Iseo had seemed strangely fixated on vlogs and things like that for a while now.

“I don’t think just filming a vlog will be enough. Showing people our daily lives isn’t going to accomplish anything.”

“What if we use a title like, ‘The reality of a charismatic guitarist is a high-school girl? Let’s take a look at the daily life of a pretty-girl band!!’ Then we put on makeup, go shopping, take four-cut photos, and show all that… Wouldn’t that work? We could show off your pretty face.”

“Hey, then show your own face. Why do you keep trying to cash in on mine? It’s not as if there’s anything wrong with yours.”

“Oh, should I? Heh-heh-heh.”

Myeongjeon sighed as they watched Iseo grin foolishly. Instead of thinking about how to get better at music, Iseo kept trying to do strange things…

“If we filmed Suyeon putting on makeup, we’d definitely get views.”

“You too?”

Seoha casually tossed in a comment. Myeongjeon sighed once again. Then came a barrage of random suggestions: What about an online concert? A fan signing? A challenge? TikTok viral marketing? Or how about just filming something, anything?

“Try making suggestions that are realistically useful. Don’t just say weird things.”

“If I could come up with something realistically useful in this situation, I’d work in public relations, not be in a band.”

Hmm. That was a fair point. Myeongjeon tilted their head slightly and thought hard, letting the nonsense wash over them. There probably wasn’t any good method. Should they just return to their original plan?

“Ah! I’ve got a way. A good one.”

“What is it?”

“Ask Juhyeon to promote it. Wouldn’t that be good? If Juhyeon posted it on Instagram or somewhere, I think the effect would be huge.”

Iseo called it a good method. But Myeongjeon’s brow furrowed deeply.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to get involved with that person anymore. They keep sending me KakaoTalk messages. It’s so annoying I could die.”

At first, the messages had been trivial things like saying the concert had gone well, saying Juhyeon wanted to give them a present, or asking whether the song could be purchased.

To build connections in the entertainment industry, Myeongjeon had answered as kindly and warmly as possible (and had worked incredibly hard at it). But now Juhyeon kept contacting them about things outside of work too. What had they eaten? Juhyeon wanted to learn guitar, so what should be bought? How should the left-hand fingering be positioned?

“As if that weren’t enough, what’s the name of that other person? Ryu Jin? Jinwoo? Anyway, that person keeps sending me KakaoTalk messages too, and it’s driving me insane. If we give them an opening this time, then seriously… Anyway, I can’t deal with it.”

“Why? Wouldn’t Juhyeon be enough?”

Leaving Iseo, who seemed strangely offended by what Myeongjeon had said, Seoha brought up the advantages. Money and connections. A dependable personality. No dirty rumors about romantic relationships. Famous, too. And so on…

“Don’t say creepy things like that.”

“Huh… why is that offensive? What’s wrong with talking about dating?”

“I’m married to music. I don’t have time to pay attention to anything else.”

Myeongjeon brushed aside nonsense with nonsense, then slammed the table and said,

“Let’s go with the straightforward approach. We’ll show people a live performance first. We can think about the rest later.”

Challenges, vlogs, TikTok, and everything else could come later. They would release the music and hold a showcase first, then see what happened.

“We could do it at Paradox, but then only people who already come to see us would show up, so that seems less than ideal. I think the best option would be to rent an outdoor venue in Hongdae and draw people in with a busking-style performance.”

Alongside the prerelease, they could busk, attract attention with cover songs, and then unveil the new song. They could bring the Dain trio along to work the crowd, and encourage fans to come by telling them there would be an outdoor performance.

They could use their looks too, as Iseo had suggested. Myeongjeon really didn’t want to wear a short skirt, but they could put on a somewhat shorter one that day and wear makeup. Then people drawn in by their appearance might come too. If they took pictures while pretending not to be affiliated with the event, it might become a topic of conversation and generate some publicity.

As the others nodded along, Myeongjeon thought about how to maximize the plan. Was there some good way to do it…? Ah. There was one.

Myeongjeon called someone. After a few rings, a response came from the other end.

“Ah, yes, Professor. This is Suyeon. How have you been? I wanted to ask you a favor. You have a friend, right? You know Critic Kim Suryeol? I wanted to ask him for a favor…”

* * *

Kim Suryeol was a music critic.

By now, he was treated as an elder statesman of the industry.

Even as his friends told him, “Can’t you take it easy now?” he remained energetically active… Among hardcore music fans, he was the critic people described by saying, “If it’s a Kim Suryeol Pick, you can trust it and give it a listen.”

His main platform was a band webzine. Every week, he compiled the newly released songs by various bands, gave them brief one-line reviews, and wrote longer reviews for some of them.

The long-form review section was called ‘Music Worth Noting.’ Bands whose music received Kim Suryeol’s recommendation mark would brag about it everywhere, saying, ‘Our music got a Suryeol Pick!’ They would even issue press releases about it.

That was why he was a busy man. He listened to new songs every day. He appeared on the radio to give his critiques. He checked out band performances. To maintain impartiality, he didn’t even dine with people from record labels. His only connections in the music industry were a few people he had met when he was young.

‘Is this the place?’

Wearing a mask, Suryeol approached an outdoor venue somewhere in Hongdae. Four high-school girls were bustling about as if they were preparing for something, while a crowd of spectators had gathered noisily nearby.

He had come to report on the band of the moment, ‘Group Sound.’ His friend, Professor Chae Hokeun, had told him, “I hear those kids are doing a live show. Have you heard them?”

Suryeol tried to judge as fairly as possible, but he had one rule he had kept ever since he began his career: [A good live performance earns bonus points].

‘Four actual high-school girls. A complete beginner on bass. A keyboardist who seems classically inclined. A drummer who had once been a promising indie musician. And a guitarist who was supposedly absurdly good.’

When he had first heard about the band’s lineup, he had wondered what kind of baseless viral campaign it was. That was why he had even vented to his friend, “So now you’re going to pretend it isn’t viral marketing and send trainees out to perform as a band?”

But the rumors he heard were the opposite of what he had assumed. After passing through school festivals and anime covers, they had settled at Paradox and now performed once or twice a month. They had entered the government support program ‘Band Pioneer’ and advanced to the quarterfinals, and had recently participated as the session band at Juhyeon’s concert.

Looking at their activities, it was no exaggeration to call them the most promising indie band of recent days, steadily climbing the steps of growth.

‘Will they live up to the rumors…?’

The recently released prerelease track [Ashen Days] came from [Label Echosound], an independent label famous for its indie bands (there had recently been rumors that someone had bought it).

The song itself was quite good, but Suryeol had decided to judge it after hearing the band live. How many bands were there that made excellent music but performed strangely live? This band might be one of them…