＃20-Second Composing Genius, Becomes a 200,000-Second Monster Episode 1
The End of Baiting Humans Is a One-Way Ticket to Hell
I want to smash the heads of those bastards who steal intros with bricks.
It’s a personal desire I’ve harbored for a long time.
And I’m definitely not the only one who thinks this.
Because stealing intros is common in the industry.
You upload it to SoundClimber wanting to hear people’s opinions, and these so-called professionals shamelessly jack the chords by just transposing them up a half-step.
Of course, that’s the case when they still have a conscience.
It’s not just stealing minor-major progressions—there are countless bastards who lift exact chords like Am9 without missing a single note, and it happens all the time.
Stealing the melody is taking it a step further.
And what about when it gets caught in the Utube algorithm and transforms into BGM for idol trainees?
Happens more often than you’d think.
Even if you wonder, “Does this make any sense?” you can’t challenge it.
Because an individual can’t beat a celebrity or a corporation.
It’s obvious people would say, “All the possible combinations have already been done. Why are you the only one being paranoid and acting crazy?”
And above all, I wasn’t qualified to say such things.
[Hit! - Today’s Status of the 20-Second Lord
Play ->
Pulled out another breathtaking intro today
Upvotes: 1002]
-Damn, that’s so good
-Why doesn’t that bastard finish his songs?
└I don’t think he’s not doing it, I think he already is.
)This hits different.
└100% a pro playing around as a hobby lol
My song made it to the main page of a famous community. Not often, but it wasn’t the first time either.
“The reactions are good today too….”
But is it even right to call this a “song”?
Wouldn’t it be closer to the truth to just call it a 20-second lump of melody and chords?
Well, whatever.
I felt good.
It was a sight to behold, people liking my 20-second track.
And,
-Please finish it all the way through!!
-Fuck!!! You son of a bitch!!!
The sight of people suffering is absolutely delightful!
“Hehe. It’s not that I don’t make them.”
I didn’t do any other activities online besides uploading intros.
That’s why people don’t know.
The real reason I upload 20-second songs is because I can only make 20-second songs.
“Sigh….”
34 years old.
Now, without even a chance to deny it, I’ve become middle-aged in my thirties.
I was definitely an old man now, way past the point of comforting myself with lines like “I’m still basically 20” or “Being in your thirties is no different from your twenties.”
And I had realized it.
“I’m screwed.”
That my life was screwed.
Art high school graduation, arts college admission.
A life where nothing but music remained in the footprints I’d walked.
I wanted to become a composer ever since I was young.
I actually worked to become a composer, and I became one.
Entering the studio, escaping from being the senior producer’s errand boy, I still vividly remember the first time I grabbed the master keyboard.
The feeling of seeing trainees smiling and dancing to the short practice track I made… is there any way to put it into words?
I was happy.
It’s just that the happy times were short.
But all the problems started from that time.
-The intro is good… but from the middle it’s just okay. Want to try attaching it to the front of someone else’s song instead?
The proposal I received after submitting my first song as a professional.
For a moment, I was dumbfounded hearing that proposal.
‘They want me to just do intros?’
I’d make the intro, and another composer would supplement the melody and finish the arrangement to match.
I thought, what kind of fucking combiner robot nonsense is this, but apparently it’s something that happens from time to time.
And….
-Joint composition? Of course not. You know how complicated that makes things?
Naturally, I couldn’t expect any credit either.
So, what happened?
I did it.
I had no choice.
I needed money at the time. The proposed earnings were about an ordinary office worker’s monthly salary, so I thought it would be fine to use as a stepping stone for the future.
…it was a delusion.
A deep, deep delusion.
“I got used to it.”
They say humans are animals of adaptation, don’t they?
Since I only composed intros, I got even better at the early sections that had always been my forte, but as it got to the latter half, I got extremely lazy.
I could eat and live alone just doing this, so why bother with the annoying full composition?
Couldn’t I just do this for the rest of my life?
Those kinds of thoughts had, at some point, started to take deep root in my head.
Sloth.
I was slothful.
And if only it had just been sloth….
‘To think I’d even have a disease.’
I thought discovering some rare disease at the hospital after a lifetime of not knowing was just a dramatic cliché.
Turns out it’s not when you experience it?
I was surprised.
ADHD
I’d lived my whole life without knowing, but I was born with a concentration disorder.
Looking back, the signs had been there. I was always a kid living with thoughts tail-biting thoughts, and though I’d pour all my strength into something when I found it interesting, I’d strangely lose interest very quickly.
The diagnosis was the reason I composed intros unusually well… no.
It also explained why the quality plummeted vertically the moment I got past the intro.
‘It was shocking.’
Well, I still thought it was a relief.
I thought it was lucky to have found out even now, and I started treatment.
Even though right now I’m just a guy who uploads 20-second tracks and occasionally makes it to the DC Hit Gallery, someday.
Someday I will definitely complete my own perfect 200-second song.
Even though right now I’ve been cut off from intro work and am running loading and unloading at a logistics center, someday….
“Let’s get to work.”
The clock was already pointing at five. Of course, it was morning, not evening.
I got up, finished washing my face with cold water, and stepped outside.
Brrrrr-
The moment the cold wind touched my nape, my whole body shook like a massage chair. I’d put on a long padded jacket fitting for midwinter, but I’d shoved it in an old washing machine to save money, and all the filling came out.
“It’s cold….”
My flesh stings.
I think the outside temperature is the same as my life’s temperature.
But I have no choice but to endure.
Because I promised to endure.
I got on the loading and unloading logistics commuter bus.
The seat behind the middle-aged man with a kind face who just stares at his phone silently.
I took that seat again today.
If you ask if I’m close with that old man, I’m not.
If you ask if I’m into that type, absolutely not, not at all.
The reason I sit here every day is precisely to peek at the old man’s phone.
-Dririring.
A typical pop intro with a sweet acoustic guitar sound.
Some people on the bus turned this way wondering what it was, but it wasn’t exactly “everyone.” The rest were already used to it.
To the fact that this old man doesn’t use earphones at all when watching Utube!
Zwaaaaang-
After about 10 seconds of quiet acoustic sound, an electric guitar crashed in.
Overdrive slightly hanging on a crisp Stratocaster, a seventh chord.
A feeling that something, something is about to happen.
The feeling that the vocals should crash in and pour out lyrics powerfully!
Ding.
But that was the end.
22 seconds.
It’s enough time for an intro to properly start the song, but woefully insufficient to savor the vocals and main melody.
I knew all too well. After all, it was a song I composed.
“F!uck!”
And that kind of reaction from the old man, I had already expected it too.
“Why didn’t you finish it, you bastard… you fucker… you fucking bitch?”
The old man started muttering to himself.
Others looked at him like he was crazy, and so did I at first, but now it didn’t bother me.
Well, don’t you see them sometimes on the street? People whose thoughts come straight out of their mouths.
It’s not like he’s throwing punches at me. I don’t think there’s any need to be scared.
“Fuck fuck.”
The old man kept cursing yet kept listening to my music.
And I closed my eyes and rested my head against the bus window.
A routine of my own that had been going on for weeks now.
A fan meeting only I knew about, that allowed me to endure the grueling loading and unloading work for a day.
“….”
That’s right.
A fan.
It was the first time I’d met a fan who liked me in real life.
No matter how much I went up and down on community sites, I’d never had a chance to actually feel it. Because the internet and reality are different.
‘Thanks to you, I haven’t given up and have kept coming to work, mister.’
They say countless people run away from loading and unloading within an hour. Could I really endure it well?
On the first day, my head was full of nothing but those thoughts.
But meeting this old man made me completely forget the pain of the first day.
The joy of meeting someone who liked me was greater than the hardship.
And then, I resolved not to give up.
That someday I would release a proper song.
The people playing my song, singing my song, listening to my song.
That I would write a song where everyone felt something and was happy.
And for that… I would endure here first, and somehow endure life.
Screech-
The bus arrived at the logistics center.
Late dawn before the sun had even risen. I got off after everyone else.
Since there was still time before the start, I was going to buy some bread and milk at the only convenience store across the street before starting, but.
HOOOOONK!
Turns out a different kind of “bread” came to greet me—not the edible kind.
“Huh…?”
A loud truck horn and blinding high beams fill my vision.
Then, countless thoughts flowed through my head.
The smell of the first money I earned with music.
The memory of holding a piano for the first time as a child, the joy of shaking hands with an artist I respected, the worn master keyboard.
The dark gray default background of tiresome Logic Pro.
The bastard who sold stolen goods on Joonggonara and ran off to prison.
And….
And again.
Regret.
‘Ah… I should have said thank you.’
My life ended just like that.
Something I could do absolutely nothing about,
“A fatal accident on a deserted road with no traffic lights or crosswalks.”
No matter how kindly the voice explained it, it was a worthless reason.
…Wait.
“Huh?”
“Died at age 34, much resentment, deep affection, no spouse, many good deeds.”
I’m dead…?
But why… am I hearing a voice?
I can’t see anything, so what is this voice….
“But… your evil deeds are so vast they cannot be measured.”
“Evil deeds… I didn’t kill anyone!”
No voice came out, but I definitely felt as though I had screamed it.
“Killing people isn’t the only evil deed. There are more types of evil than good in this world. You have committed a great evil.”
The will in the voice was resolute.
And slowly… the surroundings began to brighten.
No, if only it was just brightening—it’s getting hot!
“You will fall into hell. You toyed with too many people.”
“Wha… what….”
“Songs.”
“Ah.”
Composing.
Surely, surely not because I only made 20-second songs?
I changed my name and spammed them all over the internet, running away and watching the reactions… and I did find it fun….
“It was a despicable sight. That appearance of enjoying people’s suffering. Truly, you couldn’t be anyone but a human suited for hell.”
“Wha…?! Wait!”
“Do you feel the heat?”
It was hot.
It wasn’t hot enough to die, but it felt like water perfectly suited for sous vide at about 55 degrees was being continuously poured over my body.
“From now on… I was going to do it properly from now on.”
“Everyone thinks that. But there is no ‘from now on.’ Don’t you ultimately only live in the present and today?”
The pain blurred my vision again.
The voice grew faint too.
But the soft, low voice I heard last,
jolted my consciousness awake.
“That must have been the extent of your passion for music. 55 degrees. Perfect for sous vide, isn’t it.”
“….”
“So you should’ve finished it all the way through, you X bastard.”
I fell into hell for the crime of half-assing it and running away.