Damn Idol - Chapter 6

I’m a firm believer in the power of music.

 

So I believe that good music is destined to succeed.

 

Let’s be real. It’s not about a matter of belief.

 

It’s a fact.

 

Otherwise, wouldn’t my long-ass regression journey merely be aimless wandering, purely dependent on luck?

 

That’s why I spent so much time honing my songwriting skills, and now, I dare say, I’ve mastered them.

 

Not saying that every song I write is a banger.

 

It just means that no one can express the music I envision better than I can.

 

But what I was envisioning this time wasn’t some melody or sound.

 

It was my center on my homies.

 

First up, the drummer from GOTM.

 

Andrew Gunn.

 

I channeled my inner Andrew’s image while hammering away at the drums.

 

Boom-boom-boom-bap!

 

Andrew’s a serious and steady dude, but he loves funky beats.

 

While regular drummers are all about the kick and snare, this dude was a freak who loved the hi-hats.

 

Plus, his sense of rhythm was off the charts.

 

When he’d toy with ghost notes and then suddenly unleash a thunderous beat, it was pure bliss.

 

The drum line in “ProKkuners” was my attempt to capture that Andrew Gunn vibe.

 

Only since I can’t play drums, I used a virtual instrument.

 

Ziiiiing!

 

The electric guitar was played live by our guitarist Dave Logan.

 

How do I describe this dude? A friendly pessimist?

 

His head’s a storm of negativity, but man, he’s kind to people.

 

Even when the whole world was hyping us up to be Grammy winners, with people speculating how many awards we’d take home…

 

“We’re not gonna win. We’re not the kind of orthodox band the Grammys like.”

 

He was the kind of guy who’d resigned himself to never winning an award.

 

Dave’s guitar is loud.

 

Even though the guitar is usually the most prominent instrument in a band, I’ve never seen anyone make it stand out as much as Dave does.

 

The dude’s a pessimist craving the spotlight.

 

I mean, I once gave him a second guitar to play chords on, hoping to break him out of his funk, and he started vigorously scratching power chords at the strings, even doing air swings.

 

What a weirdo.

 

But that’s what made him such a great fit for the guitar, which is often called a six-string orchestra.

 

Next, I captured the vibes of the bassist and keyboardist.

 

That part wasn’t too hard.

 

The funny thing is, when I started writing the song, I thought it was gonna be funky, but as I kept working on it, it turned out more rhythmic.

 

With the electronic sounds forming the core and the rhythmic feel, the public may still call it funky.

 

But when you look at the songwriting intent, funk and rhythm are worlds apart.

 

Seems like it could make for a decent dance track?

 

I wasn’t planning on making idol music, but layering a simple, catchy top line over the pre-hook and chorus felt right. 

 

Since I was already moving away from funk, I thought I might as well change the overall rhythm of the song to a 2/4. I knew that African-American music rhythms were all the rage in Korea around the time.

 

Maybe this could be my idol debut song.

 

I believe that songs that commemorate a past life should be sung by the person who lived it, not given to someone else.

 

That’s when the sounds began to layer up one by one.

 

***

 

Lee Hyun-Seok, the CEO of LB Studio, was a successful producer in the early 2000s.

 

Some of the songs he produced are known to every Korean, but he decided to retire when idol music, with its hook-heavy songs, took over the music industry.

 

Maybe he was just out of touch with the times because the idol songs he produced never gained traction.

 

The few songs that did sell flopped hard.

 

So, it was only natural for a producer who lagged behind the times to use his savings and connections to open a studio.

 

And his life as a studio CEO was pretty good.

 

First of all, business went well.

 

With a fat wallet came peace of mind, and as he helped talented indie musicians, he started to gain respect in the field.

 

He also got piles upon piles of business cards from entertainment companies asking him to recommend musicians.

 

It was a weekend when Lee Hyun-Seok got persistent calls from his part-timer that made him rush to the studio.

 

The boy was screaming that a freak had appeared.

 

“Uncle Lee!”

 

“Uncle Lee, studio A.”

 

“Uncle Lee!”

 

“…Uh?”

 

“Hurry up and listen to this. I’m telling you, he’s crazy!”

 

Taking the headphones from his nephew, Lee Hyun-Seok had mixed feelings.

 

‘First, there was no way that boy, Han Si-On, was really a freak.

There are over 10 entertainment companies in Korea whose names people would recognize when they hear them. And there are probably about 20 companies whose names people may not know, but he would recognize the artists from them.

 

In addition to that, around 20 companies might stay afloat financially, while about 20 others will struggle but stay in the business despite losses.

 

That means there are a ton of companies training singers.

 

And this is only talking about proper companies. If you include startups, the number increases to hundreds.

 

Those people are looking for talented children with lights in their eyes.

 

A 20-year-old freak?

 

There is no way a kid like that would rent a studio with their own money.

 

He’d be snapped up by an agency already.

 

Yet, the fact that his nephew, a music student, was impressed, weighs on his mind.

 

He’s still a student, but he’s already working in the music industry.

 

There’s no way he would be amazed at music that could be lacking even the basics.

 

“But then again, the albums of the idols he’s a fan of are shit.”

 

Lee Hyun-Seok thought with such a double standard and began to listen to the music flowing from his headset.

 

It was exactly 5 minutes.

 

Lee Hyun-Seok was shocked.

 

“Freaking hell, what is this?”

 

“Damn, this is really damn good?”

 

“Hang on. I’ll listen some more.”

 

But Lee Hyun-Seok’s shock did not subside.

 

Rather, it amplified.

 

‘Not only was I amazed at how freakishly well-made it was, what was even more surprising was the diversity coming from a single person.

 

How on earth could he produce such diverse sounds and feels?

 

The moment he heard the gentle guitar melody at first, an album cover popped into his mind automatically.

 

Refreshing music with the background of a snow-white sandy beach and the blue ocean shimmering.

 

Then suddenly, the guitar riff changed into a feeling of being stabbed by an awl.

 

Extremely aggressive.

 

The feeling of attacking the torso with a fencing sword, and the strike gives off a sharp tearing sound.

 

No matter what drums you put on top, the guitar riff feels like the main character.

 

Loop it, add some drums on top, and throw it to rappers. It feels like it would cause chaos.

 

As Lee Hyun-Seok was thinking that, he suddenly heard a bass guitar playing.

 

He thought the boy had put on a Victor Wooten performance.

 

If it weren’t for the occasional missed touch, it was a groove that was hard to believe was played by a Korean.

 

What was even more surprising was that these various changes happened without any particular benchmark.

 

No external benchmarks means there are internal benchmarks.

 

In other words, even if he doesn’t know the technique, mentally, he’s already a complete musician.

 

‘A prodigy has appeared!’

 

He always believed that someday, a prodigy on a white horse would appear in the Korean indie scene as well.

 

And that prodigy is in his studio.

 

“Other than taking a short nap on the lounge sofa halfway, he’s been recording songs nonstop for over 30 hours……. It’s crazy.”

 

“You said he’s handsome? 20 years old?”

 

“Yeah. He looks like an idol.”

 

“You…… didn’t get the chords from him secretly, right?”

 

“Are you crazy?! No!”

 

It happens sometimes.

 

Someone overheads the chords or melodies they heard at the studio and use them.

 

If this kind of rumor spreads even once, the studio will be ruined.

 

Lee Hyun-Seok asked this question. not because he thought his nephew had really possibly stolen the chords.

 

It was because he himself wanted to steal them.

 

They were melodies he wanted to take and release as his own song the moment he heard them.

 

He just asked to hold himself back, then…

 

“Uncle, you remember when that guy from the entertainment company came last time? He said he wanted to start a band. He asked me to contact him.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Let’s recommend this guy to him! He’s crazy!”

 

“…….”

 

Companies would definitely snatch him up.

 

But did they really need a guy who plays music at this level?

 

While the entertainment company only said “band,” the omitted word is obvious.

 

(Idol) band.

 

Appearance is more important than playing, and entertainment is more important than composing.

 

Would such a place suit this boy?

 

Wouldn’t he become a great producer if I just gave him a little support?

 

If he wants to be a star, not a producer, he can form an indie band.

 

In order to become a superstar in the Korean market, you have to borrow the power of broadcasting.

 

But there’s a big difference between completing your own music and going to a broadcasting company and becoming an entertainment trainee.

 

With that level of skill, he must have focused solely on performance so his singing is probably lacking. If I can just find him one exceptionally talented vocalist…

 

It’s not a dream for them to become famous musician duo.’

 

At that moment, when Lee Hyun-Seok was having such thoughts, the door to Studio A opened, and Han Si-On appeared.

 

‘My nephew was right. He’s handsome. Even though he looks exhausted from working all night, he does have an attractive face.’

 

Han Si-On approached the desk and spoke up.

 

“Can I order delivery here?”

 

“Ah, yes. You can eat in the lounge…”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Excuse me, young guy!”

 

“Yes?”

 

‘His voice is nice too. Maybe he has some vocal ability too.’

 

“I’m the CEO here. Where did you learn music?”

 

“Self-taught.”

 

“……Self-taught? You can do that?”

 

“Yes, I just went with it.”

 

“The songs you played are all your own compositions? Are you having a composing session?”

 

“Yes. Why?”

 

“Oh, no reason. I tend to help out talented musicians I come across, so….”

 

“Thank you, but I’m fine.”

 

‘Cool. I’ve talked to a lot of musicians before, but this is the first time I’ve ever gotten this kind of response. No matter that he doesn’t know that I used to be a producer, the attitude to the CEO of a big studio like this….’

 

Then, my nephew chimed in.

 

“My uncle is the one who produced “Toothbrush”!”

 

Toothbrush was the hit Korean rock ballad of the early 2000s that swept the nation, and it even won awards at music awards shows.

 

It has had lots of remakes and is often featured in audition program song lists, so even students these days all know that song.

 

Sure enough, Han Si-On’s eyes changed slightly.

 

‘Maybe I was so surprised by his talent that I came on too strong and seemed like a scammer.’

 

“Do you have a contract with a company?”

 

“No. I don’t.”

 

“Then I think I can help you out a bit. Ah, I don’t mean sign with a company I know.”

 

At that moment, Han Si-On, who had been thinking about something, spoke up.

 

“Then, that poster over there.”

 

“Poster?”

 

Lee Hyun-Seok turned his gaze and saw a poster attached to the door.

 

But he did not know what it was.

 

The CEO does not bother with things like that.

 

When a delivery comes, he just tells his nephew part-timers to put it up for a while and take it down after some time.

 

“Can you recommend me to the contest? I heard that if you get recommended, you get a first-place pass.”

 

“Of course, yes.”

 

It’s probably a poster for a composition contest hosted by the Seoul Metropolitan Government, a large practical music academy, or by a small planning company.

 

A smile came to his face.

 

‘It seems that this young genius does not realize how talented he is.’

 

Lee Hyun-Seok thought that and looked at the poster that Han Si-On was pointing at.

 

He thought he had seen it wrong.

 

He looked again.

 

But nothing had changed.

 

In the end, Lee Hyun-Seok could not help but blurt out his true feelings.

 

“W-why the hell is this piece of shit……?”