12 - Fishing for Talent
Suhyeon watched Robin flopping like a fish on the hook, his voice as soft and alluring as a siren's call, his gesturing hand fluttering like an angel's wing as he called out tenderly.
"Robin, it's too far—I can't hear you properly. Come closer."
Robin hesitated for a moment at Suhyeon's tempting words, then shuffled over and sat down beside him.
A keeper, alright. Suhyeon smiled faintly as things unfolded just as planned, then asked, "You're right, Robin. It's Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 2. Concerts are probably happening somewhere in the world right now. Here's the question, though. Marvin doesn't seem to know much about classical music... and for you, Robin, what's the first thing that comes to mind when you think of Rachmaninoff No. 2?"
"Insane technical virtuosity."
"Exactly! It's famous as an ultimate showpiece of technique. So, have you ever specifically sought out No. 2 just to hear that highlight—the part where both hands hammer the keys like mad in the high octave? That aggressive, speedy passage bursting with energy... have you listened to that on its own?"
"Nah, not really."
"Isn't that weird? Then why is this piece so insanely popular? It's known for its crazy technique, but people don't hunt down just that section."
Robin paused, then ventured, "I guess... people are drawn to the soft, low-register touch in the opening."
"Correct! Spot on. Rachmaninoff had Marfan syndrome, which gave him abnormally long, flexible fingers—perfect for composing those virtuoso piano works. But what everyday listeners crave is the intro, what they call the Kremlin's Bells. That solemn, beautiful low start. Dong. Dong-dong. Dong-dong."
Suhyeon caught his breath, then continued. "Here's my take: Rachmaninoff was a genius. The reason this piece is loved worldwide? Harmony and contrast. He starts by feeding the audience that low, soft, gorgeous bass to awaken their eardrums, sharpening their sense of sound in an instant. Then, bam—a flood of high-energy, speedy development. That's why people don't dismiss it as noise; they lean in and savor it. He weaves those opposing extremes into perfect harmony. Get why I'm saying this?"
"...Not really."
Suhyeon nodded slightly at Robin's reply, thinking to himself, You shouldn't get it. That's why I'm twisting the words like this...
"I've listened to your band's music. Sound quality was rough, but the start was decent—then the flaws pile up as it goes on."
"What flaws?"
"Your bass is buried in the cemetery. Dead and gone. The low end is so pathetic, it tortures the listener's ears."
"Ugh..."
"Haa..."
Suhyeon pressed the groaning pair. "Marvin's falsetto and high parts are brilliant. Beautiful. Your overall passion shines through the band—keyboard and drums are solid too. I'd applaud. But... the bass is a disaster. It gets worse over time. You probably had a bassist at first. Not sure exactly, but..."
Suhyeon locked eyes with Marvin and Robin in turn, then went on. "Later, without one, you looped it on computer or subbed it with keyboard bass, right? Know what happens when you don't hear live, thumping bass beside you and just produce it digitally every time? The bass loses harmony, turns into plain noise. People call that..."
"......No idea."
"......Me neither."
Suhyeon paused, then declared, "Getting complacent. Slipping into inertia."
Silence blanketed the room. Moments later, Marvin bit his lip, unable to hold back, and spat out, "Who the hell are you?"
Huh? That line sounds familiar...
"Me? Suhyeon. What kinda question is that after over two years?"
Not giving them a moment to recover, Suhyeon charged ahead. To get close to these guys, I gotta tighten the reins now.
"Anyway. You compose—Marvin and Robin—and Kevin does lyrics, right? If you've got new tracks, mind if I listen too? Pretty please?"
Marvin and Robin exchanged glances; Marvin nodded. "We've got a few. Wanna hear now?"
"Hold on..."
Young and innocent, as expected. Time to yank the net tight.
Suhyeon beckoned Gyeongbin and Seongbin, who stared blankly from the side, clueless. "Gyeongbin, Seongbin—you guys come listen too."
He gestured to Kevin, frozen in shock from the conversation. "Kevin, over here. Can't leave our team's lyricist out."
At Suhyeon's call, they rose hesitantly, gathered around, and sat in a circle. Whew... full catch!
Soon, a new melody poured from Robin's phone. All BBG members perked up, listening intently. When it ended, every eye turned to Suhyeon.
"Brilliant! Fresh, full of youthful spirit. Robin, you led composition? Mind if I ask a few things?"
"...Sure."
"Heard a faint low string there? Viola?"
"Yeah."
"Why viola over the familiar violin?"
"Just did."
"Hm. 'Just'... Robin, you've got talent."
"How so?"
"Your head hasn't figured it out, but your gut has. You sensed the low-end issue in your band music—so instinctively, you picked alto-range viola over violin."
"Ah... was that it?"
Sigh. Even I couldn't know if that's really why... but they're kids; praise first.
Suhyeon nodded emphatically. "That's it. Ever heard the saying, 'It all circles back to the Taiji'?"
"Dunno what that means."
"Opposites connect. Instead of middling viola, why not go extreme—cello? Drop it half an octave lower, lay down that deep, thick foundation. Marvin's voice would pop even more. What do you think, as the creator?"
"Sounds good to me."
"Yeah? Let's test it in our recording studio then."
Heh. Perfect. Herd 'em all straight into my pond...
Everything was going exactly to plan; Suhyeon was buzzing with high spirits.
Then the practice room door flew open with a high-pitched voice echoing inside.
"Suhyeon! Suhyeon-ah! Where's Suhyeon?"
The members' heads snapped toward the sound. Suhyeon's face crumpled instantly.
Damn it. Almost reeled 'em in... total mood killer.