Illness That Kills If I Don't Debut - Episode 004
"Huh?"
A few judges began to murmur.
"T-Holic?"
A few years ago, 'T-Holic,' the super-sized male idol that won the grand prize for three consecutive years, went on hiatus. It was due to an unavoidable shortage of members from military enlistment.
So instead, their agency pushed solo activities for the youngest main vocalist who hadn't received his draft notice yet. It was a mini-album featuring an intense chorus-driven title track.
However, time revealed that the true value of this album lay not in the title track, but in the coupling track.
Surprisingly, it reversed its course on the music charts, climbing all the way up to 3rd place.
The wave that started from a recommendation post on SNS by a trending female solo singer turned into a small tide after passing through a few variety shows.
That coupling track was 〈PARTY IN ME〉.
An easy-listening song with a rich band sound and refined synths harmonizing well, it was sung at several university festivals that year, eventually settling within the annual top 100.
And what was clearly flowing through the filming set right now was that very intro.
The iconic intro with an accordion-style chorus melody layered over the accompaniment.
Of course, it was undeniably a famous song. It was also a song that would leave an impression if sung well.
That was precisely why it was so strange.
'Can someone actually choose this song without knowing what they're doing?'
This was because the song's position was extremely ambiguous.
It wasn't the representative track of a famous idol's prime, nor was it a well-known song by an established singer.
Because of this, whether in an idol survival show or a singer survival show, it wasn't a song one could readily think of and select for a first evaluation.
It subtly missed the mark for both categories.
Moreover, at this point, several years after the song had been a hit, even less so.
Expecting obvious songs to come out, they hadn't specified separate song choices, which led to this variable.
Of course, the production team could check the audio sources submitted by the participants in advance. But there were already 77 participants.
Not bothering to spend time on a mere filler and skimming over it was the root cause.
'Songs with this kind of ambiguity are hard to comparatively edit...'
The writer tapped her pen in dissatisfaction.
The judges, who had been surprised by the song choice, were now waiting for the intro to end with somewhat lax attitudes.
And then Park Moon-dae opened his mouth.
-I remember the me I knew
Beyond the shining, dazzling seasons
Even through the exhausted, frail days
Even at the end of the endless days
What embraces my broken self, Oh-
Only me
That's right, It's me
"......!"
Good.
From the first verse that started off-beat and continued like a whisper, it was neat.
Because it sounded comfortable to the ear, many people didn't realize it, but normally, singing this song made it easy to miss all of its subtle rhythms.
Meaning it sounded somewhat amateurish.
But this participant was precisely inserting the fine melodies into each complex beat.
'Dan, dadan-, ddan, dan, daan-, dadan.'
"...!"
One of the judges who had been unconsciously tapping the table was startled. It fit perfectly.
With this, even general viewers who don't know details like split beats get the impression that 'they sang it well.' Because it's sung exactly in sync with the accompaniment.
Moreover...
'The vocalization... is good?'
The vocalization was notably good. Not just loud, but a good tone color that sounded three-dimensional.
'Was it like this at the noraebang too?'
The writer tried to recall the singing she heard when they first met, but it didn't seem to have been at this level. If he had sung like this, she would have extracted more interview time during casting. And been more lenient with his song choice.
'Then he improved this much in just ten days?'
Regardless of the flustered writer, the song moved past the verse and entered the pre-chorus.
-So I
Must commemorate myself
Must never forget
So remember
Until now
Even while the notes escalated like an escalator, not a single note went flat even once. There were no unnatural breathing parts either.
At this point, other things entered the writer's field of vision. Things like the surprised expressions on the judges' faces.
-Always surviving today
The wondrous miracle
Don't forget, don't erase
So congratulations
Commemorate the present
That's the party in me
Like every day is a PARTY, Ooh-let's PARTY
The high notes stretched out smoothly. It didn't even look strained. It was as effortless and clean as having about an octave of headroom left.
It was the perfect method for a song that required sounding beautiful and softly spoken rather than screaming loudly.
Now the writer rather wanted to laugh emptily.
'Yeah, it worked out... he's totally main vocalist material... We were short on vocal positions anyway, so wow, isn't this great? My eye for talent is really amazing. To think something like this rolled in just from scouting on the street.'
The 2nd verse came out.
Park Moon-dae naturally digested the complexity of the melody being the same as the 1st verse but with different beats as well.
Going through the bridge, his voice effortlessly rose for the key change in the final chorus as if it were natural.
A high note that made the back of the neck tingle pleasantly swept through. Not excessive, but not sloppily passed over either, it was an excellent climax.
And then, as if speaking to someone again, it returned to the first measure of the verse, and the song ended.
-...I, remember the me I knew
The participant produced a good sound right up to the last note.
As soon as the accompaniment ended, Park Moon-dae bowed. Then he added a slightly blank comment.
"...Thank you for listening."
A brief silence fell. The writer gripped her pen.
'Yeah. Let's not send him away, let's keep him.'
While she was re-evaluating Park Moon-dae's position, the judges excitedly picked up their mics.
"Wow, Moon-dae ssi!!"
"Yes."
"You know you did well, right!?"
"...I practiced hard to sing well."
Then another judge quickly chimed in.
"No, this kind of thing is just innate. You have talent."
It was the choreographer famous for being straightforward.
He was smiling with his eyes narrowed, looking satisfied.
There might have been some intentional exaggeration for broadcast, but he wasn't the type to say things he didn't mean.
Park Moon-dae cheered inwardly and bowed his head deeply.
The judges' positive reviews continued to pour in.
In particular, Mudy, a female solo singer appearing as a vocal coach, praised him highly with shining eyes.
"First of all, the tone is very refreshing. And because the vocalization is good, that stands out even more."
"Right? It really sounds like he's talking right next to your ear..."
"Yeah, yeah."
Voices of agreement poured in. Then Mudy nodded and continued speaking rapidly.
"Also, the voice seems like it wouldn't be picky about genres, and this is a very important part for idols. There are no forced, unnatural habits either, and I'm really looking forward to what's ahead. Really."
"Thank you."
"Moon-dae ssi hasn't joined an agency yet, right? You said you had no experience earlier, and looking at it here, you really don't have much of a resume."
"Yes. Not yet..."
Then a young male judge jumped in. He was a member of a famous male idol that had two members leave during the contract renewal season a while back.
"Then you haven't received any special lessons either?"
"No."
"At all? So no academies either?"
Park Moon-dae silently shook his head.
The judge who asked admired him with a slightly suspicious expression. Then Mudy spoke up again with a bright smile.
"Yeah, yeah, it might be better to wait for a solid hit than to just join any agency. I'm sure you'll get offers from good places!"
"Thank you for the kind words."
The writer suddenly recalled that Mudy's agency was preparing to launch a male idol.
'Come to think of it, she has shares in her own agency.'
And she looked at the participant who was still bowing politely, but didn't seem particularly impressed.
Then, seeing the judges' seat which was still full of nothing but praise, she was enveloped by a strange feeling.
Like... a feeling that something had subtly slipped past.
It was definitely beneficial for the broadcast to discover a skilled participant, but it felt bothersome.
The writer rested her chin on her hand, then suddenly remembered something when she saw the hand mic Park Moon-dae was holding.
'That guy ultimately didn't dance properly!'
Of course, Park Moon-dae did do movements like choreography.
But since this song itself wasn't produced for promotions, those movements were only at the level of simple rhythmic movements.
It was structured so that when dancers performed proper choreography around him, he would extend his hands and move his legs a few times in time with the beat.
However, the original stage with the dancers remained as an afterimage in people's minds.
Even seeing those feeble hand and foot movements, people would fill in the surrounding dancers in their minds and easily pass it over thinking, 'the original stage was like that too.'
Especially if the person sang incredibly well!
Moreover, since he did perform a conceptual song of a top-tier idol, he could get by with almost only his vocal stats and even avoid questions like 'Moon-dae ssi, do you really want to be an idol?'
Ultimately, it was the best choice available given Park Moon-dae's situation.
'This goes beyond sense, it even feels like experience...'
The writer felt somewhat deceived and scanned Park Moon-dae with disapproving eyes.
And as if reading the writer's mind, a judge who had been quietly watching the other judges' praises picked up a mic.
It was Young-rin of the female idol group 'Saint U,' who had succeeded in reversing her popularity with a direct camera video of her doing acrobatics with a smile in the rainy season during her obscure days.
"The stage just now had almost no choreography difficulty, but could we see you dance properly?"
The writer wanted to clap.
* * *
'It worked.'
It was worth focusing on leveling up by singing only this song to the point of being sick of it for the past few days.
As a result of pouring all the points I could into vocals, the 'Vocals' item on my current status window was now A-.
It was an obvious choice. First of all, in Korea, a singer not being able to sing meant being out, idol or not.
Not being able to dance could at least be covered by practice, but not being able to sing showed even if you played the pre-recorded track.
Also, in the pool of idol trainees, main vocalist aspirants were typically fewer than main dancer aspirants.
So if I imprinted the main vocalist position early on, the probability of securing a spot in the debut group would increase.
Next was the method of selecting the evaluation song.
This also seemed to have been the right approach, judging from the significantly few negative feedbacks.
The filtering method where I predicted the criticisms the judges might make based on my weaknesses, and then eliminated all songs that could elicit such responses.
'Why is your dancing like this?'
- Delete songs with full choreography.
'You don't dance at all?'
- Delete ballads.
'You sing well. But you don't give off an idol vibe?'
- Delete everything except idol songs.
'It must have been too much for you to handle this song alone.'
- Don't take unnecessary risks when I can't even arrange music; delete all songs originally sung by 3 or more people.
'You'll inevitably be compared to the original artist!'
- Delete all songs released within the past 3 years.
And from the remaining songs, I chose the one with the best record on the music charts.
Hmm, even thinking about it again, it was a good strategy.
I thought I could just slip by like this, but as expected, there was at least one person who didn't get swept up in the atmosphere.
I met eyes with the judge holding the mic.
It was a familiar face.
She was the first idol who taught me that being an idol photographer could make money. Thanks to her, I was able to cover my second-semester tuition for my first year.
'She also gained a hard-worker image from that flood acrobatics fan cam and became quite a topic of conversation, so it was a win-win back then.'
But this time, it didn't seem like a mutually beneficial encounter.
"I understand you haven't received training. But since this is the place for the first evaluation, shouldn't we at least check your basic condition? If you've participated in an audition program, I'm sure you would have prepared at least one song."
Saying something like 'I didn't prepare anything' here was insane. It was a remark worse than just keeping my mouth shut.
"Yes. Then would this song be possible?"
A staff member quickly approached under the stage and gestured to me. I went over and told them the song I had in mind.
The camera followed, even capturing the staff member flinching.
Seeing this, it seemed like unedited broadcasting would be hard to avoid. The effort was worth it.
And immediately, a cheerful accompaniment filled the filming set.
"...!?"