Damn Idol-Episode 13

Damn Idol Episode 13

“Hahahaha!”

This time, the one who burst out laughing was CEO Choi Daeho.

It wasn’t a laugh completely oblivious to the broadcast, like Lee Changjun’s had been.

He was clearly aware of the cameras, and it was a laugh meant as buildup before giving praise.

But that didn’t mean the laugh was fake.

It really had been that bold, that incredible a stage.

“How should we do the evaluations? Who wants to go first?”

“I’ll go first.”

Blue, who still hadn’t understood the trick Han Sion had used, raised his hand.

With his own musical knowledge, there was no way he could accurately tell what that contestant had just done anyway.

He had a vague guess, but he could be wrong.

If he pretended to know and got it wrong, he could embarrass himself or become unlikable, so the best thing was to react exactly the way the viewers would feel.

Having reached that conclusion, Blue began pouring out praise for Han Sion’s performance.

* * *

It was a satisfying song.

Of course, there were plenty of things I found lacking.

If it had been a full band session instead of an MR backing track, it would have been far better than this.

The sound equipment itself was good, but it was a shame the microphone settings were adjusted too generically.

It would have been much better if the mid and high EQ had been changed to suit my vocal tone.

Lastly, compared to the size of the convention center’s main hall, there were far too few people in the audience.

Because there weren’t enough sound-absorbing elements to soak up the noise, the reflected sound was strangely irritating.

It wasn’t bad enough to cause latency, but it wasn’t the best possible stage.

Even so, I was satisfied.

Because I had shown the best I could do with my current vocal ability and my not-yet-fully-adjusted vocal tone.

This is a jinx only I have, but if my first stage after regression goes badly, there are many times when that entire life ends up ruined.

I’m glad I got past the jinx without issue.

As I was thinking that, judge Blue began showering me with praise.

Listening quietly…

It seemed this guy had no idea what I’d done.

Was he being cautious in case he got it wrong?

Or had he yielded the technical commentary to composer Lee Changjun for the sake of expertise?

“I’ll give you 10 points.”

After receiving full marks from Blue, I bowed my head.

“Thank you.”

Next was vocal trainer Yu Seonhwa.

She was someone I was seeing for the first time, but her comments evaluating my vocal tone and vocal skills were quite accurate.

She seemed to be skilled.

“I’ll also give you 10 points.”

CEO Choi Daeho took the microphone.

I thought he’d go last, but he was giving the third evaluation.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Pardon?”

“I was waiting while listening to the verse, too. For the moment the chorus would explode. But then I thought about it, and we had agreed you’d only sing the first verse. So…”

Choi Daeho added casually.

“It makes me curious.”

Exactly.

A star must always have something that makes people curious.

That doesn’t mean adopting a mysterious concept and obsessively hiding your private life.

It doesn’t matter if you show a down-to-earth side through observational variety shows or things like that.

But when it comes to music, it’s different.

“What will he do?” and “How will he do it?”

You must always make people curious about those two things.

Instead of answering, I merely smiled slightly.

Not enough to seem arrogant, just enough to express pride and happiness.

“Coming Up Next. If translated literally, it would be something like ‘the next order,’ right?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll have to keep watching, but… as of now, the next order I’m looking forward to the most seems to be Han Sion. I enjoyed listening.”

Choi Daeho also gave me 10 points.

“Hey, are you leaving all the musical talk to me?”

“After laughing that excitedly, you’re trying to leave it to us?”

“Ah, right. I did laugh.”

Lee Changjun laughed once more and took the microphone.

Then, without further ado, he put up a 10.

“The score is obvious. Now, let’s talk a bit about the music.”

“Yes.”

“You made that yourself, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“When did you make it?”

Two hours ago in the practice room.

I’d listened to this song in the taxi on the way to the filming location, and since it was a song I’d enjoyed singing as a child, it had brought back old feelings.

Then, as it happened, the program gave us a mission to sing only one verse, and the idea came to me.

But if I said that, I’d sound obnoxious, wouldn’t I?

“An idea came to me, so I worked on it for quite a long time.”

“I see. It isn’t something that could be done overnight. It was a very interesting attempt.”

Lee Changjun smiled with satisfaction and immediately began explaining.

Because many people had faces showing they were curious what kind of trick I had used.

“He matched the harmony.”

“Wasn’t it beyond that level?”

At Yu Seonhwa’s words, Lee Changjun nodded.

“It wasn’t ordinary harmony. Usually, when we say someone matched the harmony, we mean they stacked vocals in notes that sound pleasant together, right?”

“Do-mi-sol” is a C chord.

Do (C)

If you add vocals on mi (E)

and sol (G)

to a vocal line progressing on do (C), it creates a harmonious, pleasant sound.

That is harmony.

Of course, actual songs don’t progress in single notes, so it’s far more complicated, but that’s the basic principle.

“But contestant Han Sion added notes with his voice and changed the entire atmosphere of the music.”

Lee Changjun continued excitedly.

“You can think of it like this. What would happen if someone played an electric guitar energetically over a karaoke MR? It would be exciting, right?”

“Yes. As long as it suited the song.”

“That’s what he did. In fact, rather than saying he sang, it would be more accurate to say he used his voice like an instrument. Because he had to hit the exact notes.”

“Uh… is that possible?”

“It’s absolutely impossible with songs these days. Even with old songs, it’s not something you can do with a half-baked attempt. However, it was possible because of the special characteristics of the song .”

Lee Changjun was right.

As time passes, chord progressions in music become more varied, and many different attempts are utilized.

Just look at diminished chords or augmented chords.

Progressions that used to be refined and used only partially in popular music are now used as main melodies.

The reason I could use this method was because was a song that used very static chords.

And because I had the arranging skill to play around with a source like that.

“And it’s not possible with just any talent. Producing exact notes with your voice is extremely difficult. Especially while listening to an MR.”

He was right, but I could even express flat notes accurately with my voice.

It wasn’t something I could do from the beginning; I became able to do it through a great deal of experience and effort.

If I trained steadily and reached my prime, I’d be able to express even flat quarter-tones.

“Vocal talent and musical talent combined, and he arranged the song with his voice. That will be my overall evaluation. It was truly astonishing.”

It didn’t seem like Lee Changjun didn’t know; rather, it felt like he had chosen to cut the explanation off at an appropriate point. There were more devices in there.

I had intentionally created dissonance to build the heightened feeling of the pre-hook, and I had played around with the beat a little through bending notes.

I had also omitted some lyrics in order to change the scale.

Like the parts where I sang “there” instead of “in that place.”

But well, if he went that far, the viewers wouldn’t understand.

This was probably an explanation the viewers could easily understand, and one I was satisfied with.

To be honest, I had bad blood with Lee Changjun.

No, it’s ridiculous to even call it bad blood.

It was something that no longer existed.

Even so, I was quite satisfied with this evaluation.

“Thank you.”

* * *

“……

What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

At Kang Seokwoo, the producer in charge of directing Coming Up Next, asking that question, the junior producer shook his head.

“I’m not sure.”

“I’m not the only one who didn’t understand, right?”

“No, sir.”

“Well… I guess it doesn’t matter.”

From a director’s perspective, the judges’ evaluations weren’t important.

What mattered was that a protagonist worthy of the main shot had been born.

But what was even more important than that was—

“You should’ve made him sing more!”

Exactly that.

Were they insane?

If he’d shown them a song like that, shouldn’t they have made him sing the whole thing after the evaluations ended?

Weren’t they curious how Han Sion would have sung the rest of it?

He himself was so curious and excited to hear the chorus of Han Sion’s version that he was going crazy.

This would work.

It would absolutely blow up.

Once episode one of Coming Up Next aired, the protagonist wouldn’t be Ryan Entertainment or Take Scene.

It wouldn’t even be Han Sion.

It would be sung by Han Sion.

“But wouldn’t the other contestants feel a sense of relative deprivation?”

That was true.

He could see the eyes of the six contestants scheduled to sing after Han Sion trembling mercilessly.

But.

“What does that have to do with us?”

As long as it made money, that was all that mattered.

M Show had no interest in Ryan Entertainment’s circumstances.

The fact that they were supposed to receive a share of Take Scene’s profits over the next two years was related, but…

From the broadcasting station’s perspective, the best things were high ratings, sold-out ad slots, and music revenue.

There were contestants whose mentality had shattered because of Han Sion?

Every interview they gave with that shattered mentality would be used as footage to boost Han Sion.

“Go right now, set up a release schedule, and get remake permission from the original songwriter.”

“What? You’re going to release the pre-mission song as a digital track? There was no talk of that during the planning stage.”

“Then we don’t do it? If a golden goose is running around in your yard, are you not going to pick it up?”

“My house is an apartment…”

“Hey!”

“I’m sorry.”

“I guarantee you, that’ll hit number one on the real-time search rankings.”

“Real-time search rankings don’t have that much power these days.”

“Number one on YouTube trending! Happy now, Producer Go?”

“My surname isn’t Go, sir…”

“It is if you’re a goofball.”

After getting angry at his goofball of a junior, main producer Kang Seokwoo shouted again.

“Call them right now and get it done! Recording schedule! Release schedule! Permission from the original songwriter, too!”

Around the time the junior left to make the calls, filming paused for a moment.

Because the contestants who had to sing after Han Sion were too nervous.

In the meantime, Kang Seokwoo approached Han Sion and conveyed the idea of going to a studio, recording it with a full band, and releasing it.

Han Sion’s answer to that was simple.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Think about it? No, why would you hesitate over such a good opportunity?”

“It’s a little much to decide rashly…”

The wealthy regressor knew.

When a broadcasting station obsessed with ratings was squeezed in a situation like this, it would cough something up.

* * *

DROP OUT.

The five-member boy group from Double M Entertainment, the hottest agency in South Korea.

They had already entered their eighth year, but they remained the industry’s number one—the idols’ idol.

If there was one unusual thing about Drop Out, it was that they had a past where they had once flopped.

The reason was the songs.

Double M Entertainment was called one of South Korea’s top three agencies, but when they launched Drop Out, there had been something cursed about their composer lineup.

In the end, Drop Out completely bombed with the debut single the company gave them, then promoted a follow-up with the title track of their first full album, only to fail miserably again.

Considering the charm, skills, and performance ability of the Drop Out members, it showed just how terrible the songs must have been.

What pulled Drop Out, who had been driven all the way to the verge of indefinite disbandment, out of the coffin was a self-produced song they had made themselves.

A self-made music video they had filmed at their dorm as a last attempt to do anything at all had blown up.

It was quite a dramatic event.

After that, Drop Out always made their title tracks themselves.

There were times when they accepted company songs for album tracks or singles, but the title tracks that determined the group’s identity were always self-made.

Countless star composers challenged themselves to create a title track for them through four full-length albums and four mini albums, but that principle never changed.

But that firm resolve was now wavering for the first time.

Because of a song called by an unknown composer named ZION.