Album Production
“Come on in, come on in.”
This place was completely different from the last spot we'd visited. Unlike the fairly tidy practice room before, this space reeked of real life. The music playing from inside suddenly cut off, and someone poked their head out. It was Taylor'd's drummer.
“What brings you here? I thought you weren't coming today.”
“Ah, I wanted to talk a bit about Suyeon's album work today.”
The drummer nodded and slipped back inside. Cheol-yeon grinned and gestured to a table in the corner of the room. Myeongjeon settled onto a leather chair so worn it was impossible to tell how many asses had graced it. The cushion had long since given up the ghost.
“This is our band's personal practice space now. We used to have a full recording studio and group room one floor up back in the day, but not anymore. It's just too expensive—replacing gear and all that gets tough.”
As Myeongjeon sat, Cheol-yeon pulled a massive stack from the bookshelf. Taylor'd albums, notebooks, drawings, random guitar stuff. Some looked like word processor printouts, others clearly hand-scribbled. There were messy doodles and rough sketches vaguely explaining album art concepts.
“This is what we used for our third album. Computer art was all the rage back then, right?”
Myeongjeon glanced at the third album Cheol-yeon handed over. Yep, total nineties end-of-century vibe—that weird, freshly minted digital art feel. Yeah, that stuff was trendy at the time.
“How do you usually go about making this kind of thing?”
“Hm… We never had anyone dedicated to it. We'd just chain-smoke and go, 'What the hell do we do for album art?' Then we'd drink, rack our brains, and if someone spat out an idea, we'd argue if it was good or crap.”
Myeongjeon tilted her head slightly at that. Even in their underrated days, Taylor'd had always gotten props for their design concepts. The juniors even whispered, “They must have a design major in the band.” Myeongjeon herself had once lamented to a friend back then, “If my album art had been that good, maybe it'd have sold better.” But apparently, it was just booze-fueled, smoke-hazed brainstorming? Kinda disappointing.
“But design doesn't have to be some grand production. Suyeon seems to be thinking of this huge, overarching concept art image—like something epic and unified.”
Cheol-yeon sipped his coffee. Myeongjeon felt a pang, like he'd hit a nerve. Because yeah, that's exactly what she had been thinking.
“I doubt that Go department head guy meant it that way either. Probably just said it because you need some image, you know?”
“But how do we even make it? I've never done design…”
“See? That's you overthinking it again.”
A pile of papers on the table. Cheol-yeon fished out dozens of scribble-covered sheets—illegible scrawl, ornate old-school fonts, random notes on blank paper.
“This is what we used for hashing out album concepts, art, planning… whatever. We just scribbled like crazy. Brainstorming, right? Gather the band, throw shit out there. Good, bad, whatever—we talked it out.”
“We talk with the members a lot, but…”
“Nah, not like that.”
Cheol-yeon clenched and unclenched his fist, then stared at her from his seat. Myeongjeon thought he looked just like some day-labor uncle at a street stall with a shot of soju in front of him.
“Can't tell a minor to drink, but…”
True that.
“Point is, when the band has to decide something big, just have an honest chat among members. Because creators always start with their own stories—they know those best.”
Myeongjeon recalled the recent track she'd made. Not her first, but one that flowed naturally… the concept-setter for this album, Entangle. It was Seo Myeongjeon's feelings poured out while living Ha Suyeon's life.
“Share openly like, 'I wrote this with this intent—what image does it give you?' Embarrassing, sure, but spill it all out, and the answer'll come.”
Because your album is your story.
Cheol-yeon muttered that last bit and took another sip of coffee.
Label Echo Sound's office. Unlike the bustling daytime with people coming and going, evenings left just one soul: the part-timer manning record sales and the coffee corner.
“Welcome… Oh? Suyeon! What're you doing here this late?”
“Ah, meeting with the girls.”
“Hi~!”
The three trailing behind Myeongjeon like ducklings. The part-timer beamed back at their greetings. Myeongjeon bought four coffees (sadly, no freebies even in the company cafe), then headed to the meeting room and took a seat.
“We're pulling an all-nighter tonight.”
“Suddenly?”
The kids jolted at Myeongjeon's resolute mutter, like it'd never crossed their minds. No surprise—they hadn't discussed or agreed on it.
“If we don't nail the album concept and image tonight, forget school tomorrow.”
But her wild-eyed glare made the three nod along for now. A slightly unhinged Ha Suyeon was tough to argue with.
“So, recap: Listen to all our tracks. Brainstorm. Somehow crank out what that Go department head wanted by tonight.”
Myeongjeon nodded at Iseo's summary. Rough, but yeah. Like Cheol-yeon said—share creations, toss out ideas. Something'd emerge.
“Brought the laptop too. Let's hear what you've made so far. Sort 'em—pick keepers, rework potentials for arrangement. That's the plan.”
“Uh… kinda embarrassing. Can't we do one-on-one?”
Iseo rubbed her neck, face flushing. Not just talk—she really seemed shy.
“No way. We're all bandmates—no auditions here. Why hide?”
“Eek.”
Iseo made a weird noise. Ignoring it, Myeongjeon turned to the others.
“Who first?”
Silence blanketed the room. Even eager-beaver Iseo and confident Seoha stayed mum. Hyeona never volunteered for this stuff anyway, but the other two? Surprising.
“Rock-paper-scissors then. For who presents first.”
The three, eyeing each other warily like lambs to slaughter, slowly extended hands. Their glances screamed tie forever.
“Yes!!”
But no eternal ties in rock-paper-scissors. Hyeona lost the first round. Iseo whooped like she'd won the lottery, while Hyeona drooped like a death-row inmate.
They'll all have to do it soon anyway—what's the big deal?
Myeongjeon thought, watching. Delay of the inevitable, right? Better to rip the Band-Aid off first.
“…My song, um, ends here…”
The track from the desktop monitors faded. Myeongjeon tilted her head, mentally filing it: AOR or fusion jazz… or in Korean/Japanese terms, City Pop. About three minutes long.
“Nice.”
“R-Really?”
“Refs are Plastic Love and Out of Time, right?”
“Y-Yes! Exactly.”
Not perfect, but Myeongjeon held back criticism to keep their creative fire lit. First real band tracks from kids—polishable. Couldn't promise inclusion, though.
“What was the intent?”
“Uh… w-well…”
Hyeona fidgeted under Myeongjeon's gaze until she spilled.
“That day… going to Incheon Airport… in the dawn.”
“Yeah.”
“Looking at the streetlights… they felt so… sentimental? Always there, you know… whether people come or go, day after day.”
Hyeona fiddled with her hands.
“Our futures are like that too. People end up… standing in their spots, living… watching others pass by. That vibe.”
“That kind of feel, huh?”
“Y-Yes.”
Myeongjeon tilted her head. Plenty to say, but notes for now—next song time.
“Title?”
FUCK THE CHURCH. Working title.”
“Too on-the-nose?”
Seoha chuckled proudly. Obvious intent from the jump—church fuck off, religion fuck off.
“After that church gig, once you left… I finally realized.”
“Realized what?”
“Religion is the opium of the people. It's just harmful.”
Seoha's smug face. Myeongjeon had volumes to say but held back— it'd derail into a lecture.
Seoha's track: Maximum the Hormone-style hardcore. Intense sound, seething hatred for the target. Genre fuzzy, but aggressive.
Album material?
She eyed the ceiling but moved on. Next up.
“Well?!”
“Uh… I can tell what you listened to right away.”
Myeongjeon muttered at Iseo's demanding shout. Obvious: ZUTOMAYO, Yorushika, YOASOBI… TikTok/YouTube/internet viral stuff, so-called 'Nico Nico' vibes. Mellow yet bouncy, sudden dramatic tempo shifts.
“So, intent?”
“Intent… surprisingly serious one.”
“What?”
“Something happened recently.”
Iseo went grave, like revealing world secrets. But tl;dr: School friend who gossiped behind her back—after gossiping about others to her. Who to trust?
“Friendships in society are fake, layered in hypocrisy… True bonds—how do we even?”
Iseo stared dramatically into the distance, the other two nodding faintly. Myeongjeon…
“Pff… hahaha… pfft—!”
“Don't laugh!!”
“S-Sorry…”
Couldn't hold it. Iseo went tomato-red, but hey—human reflexes.
“Okay, sense incoming now.”
“For real?”
After a few more tracks, Myeongjeon muttered amid weary but glowing faces. Under their stares, she tilted her head.
To her, their takes boiled down to one thing:
This is chuunibyou—no, too harsh. Just puberty stories, right…