The Reluctant Drummer
Yoo Seoha was 17, a high school sophomore. She was short, but her face was decent enough. She thought her personality wasn't great. She didn't have many friends, and her relationships with people weren't good. She had no interest in academics. Her social circle, excluding a few friends from childhood playdates, was mostly clustered around the music scene. Jamming together, forming bands. Judging what music was good or bad. Staying up all night singing about youth, ruminating on how shitty reality was. And Yoo Seoha was a drummer. That's how she defined herself. I'm a drummer. I'm someone who does music. She hadn't thought much beyond that. Some hedonistic mindset that things would work out somehow while living life. But there was no one worth making music with. Anyone decent enough to try with was already in a band, or just meh. The rest were subpar, or meh. Anyway, their ears were off, or their eyes were off, or something just didn't sit right.
Reading the back-and-forth in the open chat, Seoha let out a sigh. Childhood friend? Anyway, someone she'd been (internet) friends with since kids, but these days just holed up at home watching comics and anime. They'd kept in touch, but lately it had been spotty... and now this sudden message.
Seoha sighed again. Maybe it was time to cut ties with this one too. In the end, even this was just a relationship based on self-interest or something.
Fine, she'd make it work. They had been friends for a while, after all. But that was it. No more after this. The moment you start weighing benefits in friendships, they all become meaningless. Time to end these trivial relationships. In the end, friendships aren't decided by how long you've known each other. It's about how well your minds align, how much you understand each other. In that sense, Seoha figured there weren't many who could truly get her. There were few who played music as well as her and took it as seriously. Just gather those people. True kindred spirits. That was enough. In this SNS-driven era, even middle schoolers didn't think like that anymore—Seoha gave a bitter smile.
Weekend. For the impossible jam in Choi Iseo's practice room, they'd rented a space near Hongdae. It had basic keyboard and drums, so they just needed to bring guitar and bass. The issue was what Jeong Hyeona had said. The drum kit was kinda off.
They'd settled on a jam song. What was it again? Some Japanese anime band track. She'd played it a few times, memorized it roughly, then forgotten. Playing it would jog her memory.
As Myeongjeon recalled, she'd boasted confidently at first that she could bring her. Turns out she was negative about it.
Classic high schooler logic... Myeongjeon chuckled in disbelief.
'Pure skill' my ass—there's no such thing. Even countless classical prodigies didn't just see sheet music and suddenly burst into fireworks. They practiced until they could play it. Nothing in the world happens without practice. Even so-called geniuses were like that—and Myeongjeon, that 'genius,' was no exception. What about regular kids just playing instruments? To her, it looked like the girl wanted to bail but needed an excuse.
Well, if she really wasn't into it, nothing to be done. Find another drummer. Or grab some rookie and train her. In the long run, that might even be better, Myeongjeon thought. Someone who could play drums for the band's sound without bad habits. Six to eight months of training, and she'd be set.
...But at that point, she could just form her own band without these kids.
Too fundamental a question... Myeongjeon shook her head to dismiss it. Anyway, they'd see. Whether this kid judging others on 'pure skill' even had the chops. Even if pushed into a band by friends, it was still her choice in the end. Did she have what it takes to reject her girls while spouting that crap? Time to find out.
"Suyeon!"
A voice called out. Choi Iseo and Jeong Hyeona stood behind her. As always, Iseo had slightly heavy makeup; Hyeona, unlike online, was fidgeting shyly in the back.
"When'd you get here?"
"Just now. Hi."
"Oh, uh... hi."
"Let's head in quick. The drummer's running about 30 minutes late, right?"
"Yeah, something like that..."
"Plenty of time~ Wanna warm up?"
They entered the jam room, chatting idly. Nothing special. Drums, keyboard. Marshall stack amps. But she'd brought her own head, so no issue. She fiddled with the drums, hit the cymbals. Decent enough kit.
"Kinda wild we're jamming right away today? I practiced, but..."
"Dunno..."
"It's tough."
Everyone turned to Myeongjeon at her words. She thumped the drum and continued.
"To jam, you first need your part down cold. Then match tempo, then polish. We'll get through it, but a solid performance? Nah, not in this setup. Especially since you even rearranged rhythm guitar for keys."
Iseo fell thoughtful. Hyeona fidgeted, then looked at Myeongjeon.
"So..."
"So? My take... she planned to reject from the start."
"What??"
"She said she'd judge skills in jam. And she's got the chops for band invites. But if the jam flops, what can she say? Probably 'we don't mesh' or 'you can't keep up with me.' Rational, right? 'Our levels don't match, too hard.' No hard feelings."
The mood sank. Hyeona wrung her hands awkwardly; Iseo slumped into a chair, deflated.
"So she planned to ditch us from the jump? To screw us over?"
"Not screwing over. It's the least hurtful way. Can't break friend promises outright, can't just say 'you suck~' So use skill gap as excuse—easy to accept."
But Myeongjeon grinned. The other two couldn't fathom why Suyeon was smiling now.
"Shouldn't we make her regret it?"
"Regret?"
They echoed. Myeongjeon pulled out her laptop, setting up while speaking. The drum MIDI file she'd recorded practicing the song, sent to the girls.
"Make her think, I dared to doubt this? Gotta join this band. Gotta give her that feeling, right?"
Wild young kids needed shock therapy.
Seoha arrived late to the jam room. By now, what were they doing? Jamming without drums maybe.
I figured they'd bail by now... Even with resolve, saying 'I don't wanna' to their faces wasn't easy. She'd hoped they'd drop out. Oh well.
At least it worked out this way. Excuse it on jam performance, say it's tough to band together... Then naturally drift apart.
With that in mind, she approached the room. Faint sounds leaked through the soundproofing. She cracked the door—and the pouring music hit her like a deafening shock.
Bass... just okay. No, struggling. Forcing to match her level, frantic whack-a-mole sounds. Lots of mistakes.
Keyboard: rhythm guitar arrangement. Some flair, but nothing to brag about.
Drums... MIDI. Barely 'present.'
But the guitar. Anyone in music would know. That special something. Razor precision, impossible technique, unfathomable maturity, self-assured emotion.
The bass and keys underneath? Mediocre at best. Bass below. Her drum part? MIDI 'existence.'
Yet one guitar buried every flaw. Like dominating the world—with the right to.
This isn't the song. What she'd heard was a plain Japanese anime band track. Well-made, sure. Nothing more. Not this.
So this erupting performance... was that guitarist girl making it solo?
I wanna join. Her earlier feelings? Forgotten. Whatever. With that guitar, she could play forever.
Say it. Sorry I'm late, let's jam. Practice together, form the band. Make our name in music.
Yeah. That nagging doubt about rejecting? Now she got it. Her body reacted instinctively. For this meeting. To meet that guitar. Fate.
But Myeongjeon had known for minutes the door was open. That the girl outside was entranced.
So as the song ended, she tossed her prepared line.
"Our drummer seems kinda passive... Grab anyone else? Not her?"
The jam room door twitched.