Episode 170
* * *
What turned Nike into a global sportswear company was not its excellent products.
It was “Just Do It,” the campaign and advertisement Nike launched in 1988.
Nike did not sell products, but the slogan “you can do it”; Coca-Cola did not sell a beverage, but a “red image”; Starbucks did not sell coffee, but a “space.”
Apple was the same.
Now it had become a company that wielded dominant influence across the world, but there had also been a time when Apple was on the verge of collapse.
The product that changed the fate of that company was the iPod.
A device solely for music.
After that, Apple began pouring tremendous effort into culture marketing, and in particular, they put immense weight behind advertisement music.
They did not choose famous music.
They chose music that suited Apple.
French-Israeli indie singer Yael Naim had no label, so she recorded her album in her apartment, but one of its tracks, “New Soul,” became the music for the ad announcing the arrival of the MacBook Air.
An unknown singer landed at No. 7 on the Billboard Hot 100 in one stroke.
For the sole reason that she had made music for an Apple advertisement.
And that was not all.
Chilly Gonzales’s “Never Stop,” used for the 2010 iPad commercial, was a song with neither online streaming nor an MP3 version.
It had been released only on LP, a song known to a very small handful of people.
And yet somehow, Apple found that song and used it as advertisement music.
It was proof of just how serious they were about music in their ads.
It also showed that a singer’s fame or a song’s popularity had nothing to do with it.
If the music was good, that was enough.
“So there’s nothing difficult about it. It doesn’t matter whether Sedalbaegil does it or the alt persona does.”
At Han Sion’s words, the members put on uneasy expressions.
He was right.
They had been on the Billboard charts before, but even then, it had only been at the very bottom of a minor chart.
And only briefly at that.
So in Apple’s eyes, Sedalbaegil would be nothing more than an unknown Asian singer, or at best a singer known only to those in the know.
In other words, there was no difference between the alt persona created for filming Self Made and Sedalbaegil.
But still…
“So isn’t that exactly why it’s difficult?”
At Choi Jaeseong’s words, Han Sion tilted his head.
“Why?”
“We have to compete against every singer in the world, don’t we? Without any name value?”
“Right?”
“Then we make a song and pray for three months…?”
Serious old hands were bound to have different sensibilities from ordinary people.
Han Sion could not understand why Choi Jaeseong was so baffled.
There was a company looking for good music that suited its products.
He could make that music.
Then wasn’t most of the problem already solved?
How to get the song heard by the marketing department, or whether they would choose it, were secondary issues.
“It doesn’t seem that hard.”
Han Sion had once had his music chosen for an Apple advertisement.
He could not remember exactly when it had been, but he was certain it was when he was active as a guitarist.
When he had felt the limits of being an Asian vocalist and, like Paul McCartney, had made instrumental performance and producing his main focus.
Back then, he had churned out a truly absurd number of songs.
When offers came in, he made songs, and even when offers did not come in, he made songs.
It was to the point that people in the Billboard industry said, “Because of Zion, musical diversity is disappearing.”
Most of the music Han Sion wrote sold, after all.
Among those, there had also been a song chosen by Apple.
But he had never worked with the deliberate goal of aiming for Apple’s advertisement music like he was doing now.
Money was not important to Han Sion anyway, and neither was fame.
With the experience and skill he had gained through regression, he could obtain both money and fame easily enough.
So being chosen for Apple’s advertisement music had never been such an attractive option to him, and he had never challenged it.
“Do you have a concrete plan?”
“I’ll have to start thinking about that now.”
“What about the music?”
“That’s what we’re going to do from now on.”
At Gu Taehwan’s question, Han Sion looked at the members sitting in the living room and began playing the songs.
He had made a total of nine songs.
While working on this project, Han Sion had listened through the songs Apple had used in their advertisements, but there was no common point he could identify.
Some songs were extremely lyrical, some were highly addictive, and some were tremendously intense.
Overall, they tended to want something cheerful, bright, or powerful in impression, but that was not always the case.
Sometimes an entire song was gloomy, but they took and used the melody from a specific section.
So Han Sion also thought it would not be easy to aim for Apple’s advertisement music with just one song, and that was why he had made as many as nine.
Of these, four were songs he had composed in previous rounds, and five were songs he had composed for the first time in this life.
Han Sion did not take out the music that had once been chosen by Apple.
Because he believed that was something he needed to be careful about as a regressor.
The moment he became hung up on work he had made in the past, he would be unable to move beyond it.
At first, Han Sion had also cherished “Selfish,” the song he had given to Drop Out, to an incredible degree and had always released it.
Because he had thought it was the best song he had ever made.
But after living through those rounds, he realized that his skills did not grow beyond “Selfish,” and he let go of that obsession.
He could bring back a past song and use it when necessary, but it must not become his best work.
The best had to be made in this life, always.
That was Han Sion’s conviction.
“In that sense, I still haven’t made my best yet.”
Sedalbaegil’s first album had done well, but there was nothing he could point to as the greatest track of his life.
Rather, the best track he had made so far was one that had not yet been released.
Thinking that, Han Sion played the nine songs for the members, and their reactions were lukewarm.
“What’s wrong?”
“It feels a little strange. It doesn’t feel like a song you made, hyung.”
“Because there’s no place for you?”
“Yes. It feels like there isn’t a part that fits me exactly.”
Choi Jaeseong was sharp.
Until now, whenever Han Sion made songs for Sedalbaegil, he had always created a place for them.
This was Lee Ion’s part.
This was Gu Taehwan’s part.
But with these songs, the purpose of the music was not Sedalbaegil so much as Apple, so there was no such consideration.
But Han Sion no longer doubted them.
They were still members with many shortcomings and regrets, but there was no way they could not handle this much.
“For the recording, all five of you will record all nine songs.”
“All of them? Then we’ll end up with forty-five tracks?”
At On Saemiro’s question, Han Sion nodded.
That was because he intended to take those recorded tracks, cut them apart, attach them here and there, revise them, and create the songs.
At Han Sion’s words, the members’ faces went pale.
They had remembered what it was like recording before.
But…
“This is easier than I thought?”
“Has Sion become kinder?”
“There’s no way.”
“That’s a bit…”
The directing went so smoothly that the members were flustered.
Of course, even if it was smooth, it was still much harder than when other singers recorded.
Because Han Sion was a perfectionist.
But compared to when they recorded their first album, this was heaven.
Listening to the members openly gossip about him, Han Sion shrugged and said,
“Looks like you’re comfortable.”
The first reason was that Sedalbaegil’s members had improved, and the second was that they had grown accustomed to Han Sion’s directing.
And so, they finished the recording quickly.
It was forty days before Self Made aired.
* * *
After Ken Segall, who had been in charge of Apple’s creative work for seventeen years, left the company, Apple underwent many changes in terms of branding strategy.
But the culture of placing the greatest importance on music did not change.
Bell Howard, who worked in the I Branding Marketing Department, entered a café near Cupertino, where Apple Park was located, and stopped dead in his tracks.
The music was quite wonderful.
Originally, he had planned to get takeout, but he changed his mind and sat down in the café.
He began leisurely listening to the music while having pie and coffee.
This was not because he was a music lover.
It was part of his work.
The 2017 WWDC had ended in great success, and the iPhone X had also been unveiled to great acclaim.
At the center of that was Sofi Tukker’s “Best Friend.”
Because the music made by two nerds who had met as seniors at Brown University had completed the product branding of the year.
But the world did not only have 2017.
There would be 2018, and 2019 as well.
They had started searching for the main theme songs for next year and the year after that quite some time ago, but still had not decided.
So Bell Howard pricking up his ears was part of his work.
“It’s excellent.”
He had begun listening to the music while leisurely drinking coffee, but before long, the leisure disappeared.
It did not fit the current product direction, but it was music that felt like warm morning sunlight knocking on the bedroom window.
And more than anything, what was good about it was that it was music he was hearing for the first time.
Branding direction could change as much as necessary, so for now, it seemed he needed to check the song.
Thinking that, Bell Howard started to rise from his seat, then sat back down.
Because the next song was even better.
The drums poured down like a drizzle, and the melody blooming over them was quite assertive.
It felt like waking up in the early morning while others were still asleep and going out for a jog.
“No, it’s closer to an adventure than a jog.”
This time, Bell Howard truly tried to stand up in good spirits, but he had to sit down again.
It was so absurd that laughter escaped him, but the next song was no less impressive.
This time, it was a hip-hop track.
Apple actively used hip-hop sounds as well, but that did not mean they liked insincere loops.
Yet in this track, the melody being looped was truly stylish.
Around then, Bell Howard received a phone call.
—Howard, where are you? This is urgent!
It was a call from a colleague, since there were mountains of work to be done, but he lightly ignored it.
This was more urgent.
Sitting there, he listened to all nine songs.
It was not that he had luckily heard nine fresh songs.
The café was endlessly repeating those nine songs.
They were songs of an astonishing level.
Most of the lyrics were in English, but here and there were parts in a language he could not understand.
Yet the feeling that language gave was also good.
It was like being handed an unknown gift box whose identity he could somehow sense.
“Are these already famous songs? Foreign pop?”
Thinking that, Bell Howard approached the café owner.
“Excuse me.”
He soon asked the owner what the songs were, but instead of answering, the owner asked him a question.
“Why do you ask?”
“I’m Bell Howard from Apple’s I Branding Marketing Department. I’m interested in the songs playing right now.”
After receiving his business card, the owner grinned and held out something unidentifiable.
When he took it, it was a prettily wrapped CD case.
It was not an album; it seemed to be something recorded onto a blank CD.
“What is this?”
“You’ll know once you go and check it. I don’t know much either. I’m just being paid to do it.”
“Pardon?”
And so, feeling as though he had been bewitched by a ghost, Bell Howard returned to the office.
His colleague got angry at him, but soon smiled after listening to the songs on the CD.
“This is good. Where did you get it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?”
“I’ll have to contact the email written here.”
On the paper enclosed with the CD, there was an email address, along with Apple’s logo stamped on it.
He truly felt as though he had been bewitched.
Bell Howard sent the email.
It was thirty days before Self Made aired.