Damn Idol - Chapter 27
Lee Hyun-Seok, who’s been gazing deeply into my eyes, shrugs his shoulders.
“You clocked it, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but I figured it’d be better suited for a survival gig.”
“Totally.”
What Lee Hyun-Seok’s getting at is straightforward.
My rendition of <Under the Streetlight> was totally different from the original.
Adhering to the rules of the pre-mission, I left the backing track untouched and simply switched up the vocals.
As a result, this song couldn’t help but have a stronger image of ‘strangeness’ than ‘goodness.’
Whether it’s a banger or a bust, it’s kind of mind-blowing how we changed things up big time without even touching the MR.
“Ever think about tweaking it?”
“Mr. Kang would probably hate it.”
Even if the song gets better, its buzz factor tied directly to broadcasting might still drop.
It’s not good for the song heard on the program and the audio source to be different.
So I’m thinking maybe Lee Hyun-Seok has a backup plan up his sleeve by now.
Even if it’s not great, he’s got to have some idea.
“Oh, really? Guess the PD’s vision’s a bit different…”
Turns out, this guy’s got no idea.
I wonder why business smarts aren’t his forte though he has all those connections in the music and broadcasting industry.
Come to think of it, that’s probably why he offered to hook me up with his company from day one.
Looking back now, it’s hard to believe it was a favor made with pure goodwill.
I can end the convo here, but Lee Hyun-Seok’s story’s tugging at my heartstrings a bit.
I didn’t pay it much mind at first, but now I’m curious.
What if I gave the song a total makeover?
Billboard rankings? Doesn’t matter.
Well, the Billboard Hot 100 ranking counts all versions together, you know.
They tally all versions, original, unplugged, U.K. remix—everything’s just one song.
But in Korea? I know it’s not the same deal.
Plus, music broadcasts, which do not exist in the States, are very important in Korea.
After mulling it over, I speak up.
“I’m feeling a bit moved too, but how about this?”
“I’m listening.”
Lee Hyun-Seok’s eyes widen as he listens carefully to my next words.
“Can we swing it?”
“I’ll have to try.”
Oh, right.
I got a gift card message from Go Tae-Hwan this morning. I should probably shoot him a reply.
***
He never told anyone, but the reason Kang Seok-Woo left MBN and moved to M Show was simple.
Pressure.
Four years ago, a program he directed at MBN was a huge hit, and by exposing his amusing side on the broadcast, he was treated as MBN’s marquee PD.
The adjective always attached to Kang Seok-Woo in online articles was ‘MBN’s Ratings Maestro.’
But the reality did not quite match the hype.
If you looked at the average minute ratings of the programs he had directed so far, calculated the profit versus production costs, or examined the intangible topic indices…
It did not match the legend.
It was not that his aptitude was lacking, but he was clearly being overrated.
The pressure gnawed away at Kang Seok-Woo, and even though the programs he directed afterward were moderate hits, he could not shake the feeling that he had failed.
So he moved to Channel M Show.
Maybe he had a desire for excuses.
Where he could blame the low production budget, lack of channel recognition, difficult casting, and so forth.
Then came Coming Up Next.
Nobody expected blockbuster ratings for a Lion Entertainment in-house survival show.
Nevertheless…
‘Turns out it was just all my own excuses.’
After stripping away all that burden and directing a program at M-Show, he understood himself.
He did not need any excuses.
He just wanted to make a show that people would enjoy.
Even if it was only 0.01%, he wanted to increase the ratings and get people to search trends at least once.
That’s why he headed to LB Studio.
Today was the day Han Si-On was recording <Under the Streetlight>.
Depending on how good this song would be, many things could change.
Depending on whether Han Si-On’s song was good enough to devour everything…
‘I have to push Han Si-On as the star of ep 1 and 2, even if I have to duke it out with the director and producer.’
He thought so even if <Coming Up Next> was created for Take Scene, and Team B was just an extra.
That was why he was cruising to the studio to check it out.
He had listened to <Under The Streetlight> during the shooting, but it was only the first verse.
Upon arriving at the studio, Kang Seok-Woo witnessed a bewildering sight.
The staff who came to film the recording process were standing around blankly while Han Si-On and Lee Hyun-Seok were playing around happily with guitars.
Are they taking a break?
Why are they taking a break when they’re supposed to be singing?
When Lee Hyun-Seok spotted Kang Seok-Woo, he put down his guitar and stood up.
“Oh, PD. Didn’t see you there. I thought you couldn’t come.”
“I got snagged in traffic and ended up late. But the recording?”
“It’s done.”
“It’s done?”
“Yes.”
“Already?”
“Yeah.”
The cameras had been set up from 9 A.M., and the official recording started at 10 A.M.
And now it was 10:20 A.M.
Are they telling me that the recording is over in just 20 minutes?
Surprisingly, that was the case.
According to the camera director, Han Si-On sang <Under the Streetlight> exactly twice.
After hearing that, Lee Hyun-Seok had immediately given the okay.
The flustered Kang Seok-Woo took the camera director aside.
He was currently shooting <Coming Up Next,> but originally, he was a camera director who specialized in music talk shows for over five years.
Seok-Woo did not know how well he knew about mainstream music, but he believed the director had a profound knowledge related to sound.
“Director, you saw Han Si-On singing, right?”
“Of course I did, I had to film it.”
“Was it all good? Can we really call it quits this fast?”
“Um…Jo Gi-Jeong is out smoking a cigarette right now.”
Kang Seok-Woo furrowed his brow at the random name.
“Jo Gi-Jeong? The OG singer? The person is at the studio?”
“Apparently Lee Hyun-Seok called him in early. Anyway, that guy went up to the roof for a smoke as soon as the recording ended. Why do you think that is?”
“Could it be because the junior’s singing was too good?”
“Ah, that’s too easy.”
“Then?”
The camera director quickly scanned the area before whispering.
“Jealousy.”
“…!”
“Older singers often get raw deals. They might’ve had a mega-hit, but cash isn’t always flowing.”
“That’s true.”
“There’s only one reason why those people are still hanging on. Pride in their skills.”
“So……?”
“That pride was shattered. Because a young, no, a very young, handsome guy sings too well. And he’s the kind of person you’d expect to make a fortune if he succeeds.”
PD Kang Seok-Woo waved it off.
“Tell me straight, director. Are we talking about some complex jealousy here? Or is it just jealousy because of skills?”
“Not Jo Gi-Jeong, so I can’t say. But…”
The camera director shrugged before continuing.
“If it were me, it would be the latter.”
While the camera director’s words could not be fully trusted, at the very least, it meant the recording was not just halfhearted.
Unable to contain his curiosity, just as Kang Seok-Woo was about to rewind the footage, a man in his mid-50s reeking of cigarette smoke appeared.
It was Jo Gi-Jeong, the original singer of <Under the Streetlight>.
Jo Gi-Jeong approached Han Si-On and spoke to him.
“You’re Han Si-On?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sir? What’s with that? Call me seonbae, as you did with Hyun-Seok. Are you self-taught in music?”
“Yes. I learned bits and pieces here and there.”
“You’re handy with that guitar. Let’s jam together. What’s your jam?”
Lee Hyun-Seok, eavesdropping nearby, chimed in.
“Ah, brother. Don’t go too hard from the start. Please lay off the pressure for now. Let’s take it easy.”
“Easy? How?”
“Um… How about a little ‘Under the Streetlight’ jam? Keep it vibey.”
“Jammin’ to my own song?”
“Don’t it sound fun? Oh, let’s do it in Si-On’s style. Young vibe, you know?”
The jazz term ‘jam’ refers to an improvised performance or song.
It was an unusual suggestion to jam to a specific version of a song, but Jo Gi-Jeong nodded without much thought.
After all, to build tension for an improvised performance, you need a buildup section.
And typically, everyone plays a song they all enjoy to build tension.
Lee Hyun-Seok’s suggestion seemed to be along those lines.
Listening to the musicians’ conversation, the camera director asked PD Kang Seok-Woo.
“Mr. Kang, should we? Should we set up and film?”
“Well…”
It was not a necessary scene for the <Coming Up Next> program.
Han Si-On finishing his recording and enjoying time with the original singer?
If they aired something like that, Han Si-On would actually get criticized instead.
What’s he done to the broadcasting station to deserve such blatant favoritism?
Still, Kang Seok-Woo, remembering that the previous recording had only been 20 minutes long, decided to roll the cameras.
Not for the duration, but some extra footage, such as busts or close-ups, could come in handy.
Meanwhile, Lee Hyun-Seok rounded up a part-timer from the counter.
“Young-Eun, grab the bass. Guys, this is my nephew, majoring in music.”
“Uncle, what’re you talking about? Isn’t there a filming going on right now?”
“It’s done. We’re just going to fool around for a bit.”
“Wrap already? Ah, hello everyone. I’m Lee Young-Ha, my major is contrabass.”
With Young-Ha on bass, Lee Hyun-Seok took a seat at the drum set.
He did not play drums well, but among those gathered, he was the only one who could.
“Si-On, what’s your pick? Keys? Guitar?”
“I’ll take whatever seonbae Jo Gi-Jeong doesn’t.”
“And that is…?”
“Guitar it is.”
“Then I’ll hit the keys.”
Just like that, a makeshift quartet—drums, guitar, keys, and bass—was ready to roll.
“Si-On, how should I drum? Stick with the OG tempo?”
“OG Tempo’s cool, but can we spice up the beat?”
“Got it. Bass?”
“For the other instruments, how about just going with the feel?”
“Yeah, it’s just a spontaneous jam, after all.”
While PD Kang Seok-Woo found Lee Hyun-Seok’s getting unusually hands-on, he did not read too much into it.
After all, Lee Hyun-Seok initially contacted them about producing the audio source for <Coming Up Next> because of Han Si-On.
It was a kind of fan sentiment.
It was a strange expression, considering the difference in their careers, but…
Just then, Lee Hyun-Seok started drumming.
Thud-thud-thud-thud
It was a textbook drum performance.
The playing, which initially progressed at a steady pace matching the rhythm, gradually sped up.
The tempo itself did not actually increase. He was just subdividing the notes more, but to Kang Seok-Woo’s untrained ear, it simply sounded faster.
Next up? Han Si-On joined in.
The keyboard poured out a rich, mellow melody.
However, it was not a performance that filled the music score like a typical piano piece.
While spilling out a pleasing melody, there were occasional pauses in between, giving a feeling that those gaps should be filled with something.
That was where the bass kicked in.
Those who love band music call the drums the ‘roots’ and the bass the ‘stem.’
Then, the ‘flowers and fruit’ will bloom on top of those.
Someone also said that a band that has a jarring bass sound is a failed band, but a band without bass is simply not a band.
The bass is that crucial of an instrument, requiring restraint but being indispensable.
As expected, the keyboard melody that Han Si-On was playing seemed to become full as the bass performance came in.
All of a sudden, the moment Jo Gi-Jeong’s guitar guitar played the opening melody…
Somewhere at the end of a grey alleyway-
Under the orange streetlight
Han Si-On started belting out.