Chapter 86
The bands murmured among themselves. Ignoring their reactions, the MC turned toward the screen.
“At this point, you must have two questions. First! What happens to the bands that aren't selected by a mentor?”
The word that appeared on the screen was REPECHAGE. Beneath it, the words [Repechage: Losers' Revival] were written.
“The bands that aren't selected in this round will meet again in the repechage that follows. And second! It's all well and good to tell us to compose a song. But what is the ‘theme’?”
The MC paused for a moment, then pointed straight at the camera with the hand holding his cue card.
“The theme is… ‘utopia.’”
“Utopia?”
At the MC's words, Suyeon, who had remained silent until then, muttered as if wondering what nonsense he was talking about.
“Any genre or style is fine! Bring us music that can represent ‘utopia.’ A song that can explain, ‘This is the music we want to make! This is our goal!’”
‘Is that even possible?’
“Then we'll be waiting.”
While Hyuna was thinking that, the MC finished speaking and stepped down from the stage. The staff came up next.
“Today's recording will cover Episodes 0 and 1. Next week, we'll be filming Episode 2 based on the mission we announced today. We'd like you to keep that in mind…”
Hyuna looked at the main PD who had come up at some point. Was his name Yoon Donguk?
“As I mentioned, the composition theme is ‘utopia.’ To explain it a little further, you could also call it ‘the music you most want to make at this point in your life.’ Of course, other interpretations are fine too. It can be simple or complicated. In the extreme, you could say, ‘I want to play “The Airplane Song,”’ and bring that in.”
Laughter burst out among the bands at the PD's words. But it was closer to a reaction than genuine laughter.
“Of course, since the judging itself will be based on absolute standards, bringing in ‘The Airplane Song’ would naturally earn you a low score. I hope you'll keep that in mind.”
“Does it just have to be a song that hasn't been released? For example, what if we performed it somewhere else but never officially released it?”
As soon as the PD finished speaking, someone abruptly threw out a question amid the murmuring bands. The PD gave a slight smile before answering.
“Well… it's possible, but I want to point out that it could become a ‘problem’ if you're caught.”
One of the band members flinched at the PD's unpleasant grin. The PD continued his explanation.
“Next week, each mentor will pick four teams, and the six teams that aren't selected will enter the repechage group, as we explained earlier.”
The bands murmured. Remarks slipped out that it was too harsh to eliminate six teams after only two episodes.
But the reaction wasn't loud. Perhaps everyone had been prepared for it, or perhaps the repechage was a final safety net, or perhaps six out of thirty seemed like a small proportion…
“That's scary.”
Iseo's voice came from beside her. Judging by her expression, she looked full of worry. Hyuna answered, “I guess so~,” and thought to herself.
‘It's a composition mission… right?’
Hyuna watched more anime than Korean television, but she knew the basic structure of audition programs all the same. In light of that knowledge, this mission seemed designed to test the participants' abilities.
‘I think Suyeon said something like that. She told us to bring the song we're most confident in today.’
Hyuna thought that perhaps the production crew intended to alternate between showing what a band did best and what it most wanted to do.
* * *
Instruments were set up in the center of the Colosseum-like set. Rather than the audience looking down on the band as at a normal performance, this arrangement had them looking up. The audience was above, and the bands were below.
It represented a reversal.
Until now, these bands had probably led their fans around with them. But now they were in a position where they had to be chosen by the public. They had changed from idols who received attention into objects that had to earn it.
That irony was probably one of the reasons the public liked audition programs. Donguk folded his arms as he entertained such idle thoughts.
[Invasion from Seoul] was a program that management had suddenly thrust upon Yoon Donguk, a complete outsider when it came to rock. Told to make it a hit by any means necessary—while keeping to the bare minimum of propriety—Donguk had spent months agonizing over the program's structure.
Then came the preliminaries. They had been a challenge too. The judging would be handled by ordinary people and professionals, but as the main producer, Donguk also had to know which bands were promising and deserved more screen time, and which bands were hopeless and shouldn't be given any.
He listened to the bands' music until his nose bled, studied band music and its genres, and watched the preliminary footage. After countless sleepless nights, Donguk reached a conclusion.
‘There aren't many kids with real potential.’
Had they said Episode 1 would have eighteen bands? Episode 2 had thirty. And only a few of them overlapped with Episode 1. He had heard that the executives who planned Episode 2 of Invasion had thoughtlessly said, “If the scale is bigger, it'll be a hit somehow!”
Wasn't that a truly insane idea? Thinking that simply making something bigger would solve everything was the very definition of a madman's thinking.
‘That's what you get from a parachute kid.’
Grumbling to himself, Donguk watched the band that had begun performing. Hearing them live had a different flavor, but they were still mediocre.
In his view, the bands here could be roughly divided into four categories.
First, the ones who seemed decent. Their music and visuals were both good, or one side was lacking only slightly. Bands like [Cuban Missile Crisis], [Seolgahyang], [Four-Man Bandit Gang], and [Muzaku].
Second, the ones whose skills were somewhat lacking but who had solid fandoms. They were mostly boy bands backed by agencies. Bands like [TWR], which had come out claiming to be juniors of Projeckt 6; [2MAJOR], from what had once been a small agency; and [WEKIDS], from a major agency. Bands like those could probably last a long time on the strength of their fandoms.
Third, the ones who seemed to have nothing going for them. The kind that would obviously be eliminated in a flash around the first or second round. They were good enough musically to make it onto the main stage of an audition program… but no more than that. They weren't exceptional, and their visuals were nothing special either. Bands like [Woollim Stones], which was performing now, along with [NOTK] and [N8 R1der]—the mediocre sort.
And finally, the fourth category, the most troublesome one.
‘Those kinds of kids are the hardest to deal with…’
Donguk looked at the high school girl resting her chin on her hand halfway up the set. Was her name ‘Ha Suyeon’? The [Group Sound] she belonged to, along with [Mystica] gathered down below, belonged to the fourth category.
Their problem was that they were good at music. That shouldn't have been a problem on a music show, but in reality, it was.
“Preferably, make them the male band members with decent visuals. Huh? Donguk, you know what I mean, right?”
Those were the words of Executive Director Park, who had appointed him as the main PD. The company [C:RSKY], which had sponsored the production of Invasion 2, wanted a boy band that had both ‘musicality’ and ‘visuals,’ and that was supposedly why it had funded the program.
‘Blatant manipulation isn't really my taste.’
Thinking that, Donguk looked at [Mystica]. Their visuals were so poor that they would probably be eliminated quickly despite their skill, though…
[Group Sound] had excellent visuals too. A group made up of four high school girls! What kind of reaction would there be when the news came out in articles during the production presentation? On top of that, even Donguk, a complete layman, could tell that they sounded good.
Which made them even more of a problem.
“The next team will be coming in!!”
At the staff member's announcement, the bands began bustling around again. Donguk continued thinking, then eventually let the matter go.
The person who had received the request from the production sponsor was ‘Director Park,’ while ‘Yoon Donguk’ only had to make the program a success. Even if someone at the company got their head smashed in, it would be Director Park's head, not his.
* * *
“The rules are complicated.”
Myeongjeon stared at the booklet listing the rules, then tossed it onto the desk. He had known they would add all sorts of rules to encourage competition, but weren't there simply too many?
“That's true. From the production side, rules that create as many variables as possible are useful.”
Hyuna picked up the booklet as she spoke. Myeongjeon understood that point too, but he still thought simplifying things as much as possible would be better for the viewers.
“But why did they say it had to be a song that hadn't already been released?”
“I think it might be because of this…”
At Iseo's mutter, Hyuna pulled out the contract they had used when entering the program and pointed to one section. Beneath the line [The copyright to music produced by a program participant under specific conditions may be assigned to our company under the conditions below] was a mountain of explanatory text.
“I think it's about the song revenue. In the case of a song that was written earlier and left sitting around, transferring the copyright seems like it could get complicated…”
“When did you even read this? Impressive.”
“Heheh.”
Hyuna gave a limp laugh at Myeongjeon's mutter. Had she actually read all the clauses written around the edges of those several pages of contract? Myeongjeon hadn't read details like that very carefully even back in his ‘Seo Myeongjeon’ days. As a result, there were many songs for which he hadn't received performance or arrangement fees, but that still hadn't cured him of the habit.
“Yuseo. Did you know any of these bands?”
‘When did she get a nickname like that?’
Taking advantage of a brief lull in the conversation, Iseo asked Seoha a question.
“There were quite a few. Mystica, for example, was a highly regarded band in the metal scene because of their skill. Four-Man Bandit Gang was also famous for playing hard rock well.”
As Seoha answered the question, Myeongjeon briefly looked up at the ceiling, thinking what a grim nickname it was.
‘Utopia, huh.’
Having lived long enough, Myeongjeon wanted to say that there was no such thing as a ‘musical utopia.’ Of course, when listening to old albums, he sometimes thought of the ‘Good old days,’ but he didn't want to change “old music is good” into “old music is the best.”
What was utopia in the first place? It meant ‘a place that cannot be reached.’ For the living, utopia kept moving because they were alive, and the dead could never reach it because they were dead.
“That sounds so vague. Should we just make anything? Something we can make well?”
“If you think of it as [the music you most want to make at this point], doesn't it become clearer? For example, you, Suyeon—blues.”
“It's not like I want to play blues every day. Out of a whole year, maybe three hundred days.”
“That's basically every day…”
Myeongjeon rambled for a moment, then fell back into thought, leaving Iseo bewildered. What kind of song would be good? In terms of personal preference, Myeongjeon did want to play blues, but that was Seo Myeongjeon's preference, not [Group Sound]'s.
He didn't know what the others thought, but at least that was how Myeongjeon saw it.
“Since it's the first competition, should we hold back a little? Then, if they underestimate us, we can devour them…”
“No.”
Hyuna cut off Myeongjeon's mutter as he pondered, her voice firm and decisive. The table suddenly fell silent.
“What?”
At Myeongjeon's instinctive reaction, Hyuna immediately looked cowed, as if she regretted speaking up.
“No, I'm not angry. Go ahead. I really am not angry.”
Hyuna instantly withdrew into herself like a hermit crab. After a brief tussle, Myeongjeon coaxed her back out and said,
“Uh… I think…”
“You think?”
“This theme is essentially a free-for-all, and I don't think another theme like this will appear in the early rounds…”
“Really? I suppose it could be.”
Iseo muttered after hearing Hyuna's words. Encouraged by that, Hyuna opened her mouth in a slightly higher voice.
“So I think we should go as hard as possible while we can. There might be an advantage to coming in first, and we don't know what the next format will be, but in any case, the stronger we are, the less likely the other bands will be to choose us.”
Myeongjeon thought Hyuna had a point. In something like ‘Battle Royale,’ for example, the weak might band together and defeat the strong. But what Myeongjeon had joined was a band audition survival show. That sort of thing couldn't happen.
“Then should we crush them from the very beginning? We were pretty docile today.”
“Why would you crush the beginning?”
At Iseo's unexpected question, Myeongjeon stared at her face. Her expression was so utterly innocent that all he could do was lament, ‘They said in the newspaper recently that literacy was declining, and here I am looking at living proof…’