While My Guitar Gently Weeps
The young male contestant, having failed to meet the expectations of the crowd, hung his head and slinked away. The onlookers packed around him began to whisper amongst themselves. They spoke in mock pity, yet their words were sharp enough to pierce. The MC ignored the scene and spoke up. It was a common occurrence, nothing to read too deeply into. After all, it was the contestant's own choice to step up.
"Alright! Now, it's time to welcome our next contestant... Is there anyone willing to step up?"
But no one stepped forward. There had certainly been a decent crowd just moments ago... but after witnessing the previous contestant's public execution, everyone seemed to have shrunk back. Well, it couldn't be helped. As the MC, entertainer, and reporter, he would just have to work his magic.
"So, no takers?!"
He called out, bracing himself to liven up the atmosphere. It was time to make a bit of a fool of himself. But his resolve was instantly shattered when a young woman suddenly popped out from the wall of onlookers.
"Oooooh!"
She was much taller than average. Her face was small, and her figure... well, it was hard to tell, wrapped as she was in a black bomber jacket. But the guitar slung over her back and the flustered look on her face as she stumbled forward were more than enough to get a reaction out of the crowd.
"My, what enthusiasm! Thank you for stepping up!"
The crowd burst into laughter. But the girl—presumably—who had been pushed out spoke up in a panic.
"Excuse me. I-I'm not participating."
"No need to be shy!"
He could tell at a glance. Her expression practically screamed, Something has gone horribly wrong. But now that he had a pretext, there was no issue with continuing the shoot. His industry seniors had always taught him that the best entertainment comes from these unexpected, spontaneous moments.
"No, really. I'm not participating. I can't."
"Why, why, why, why, why?! Why can't you? Why! With that guitar on your back, you look exactly like an art college student!"
"I'm Korean. Not Japanese."
"Huh?"
The MC, who had been trying to rope her in for some good footage, paused. A Korean? Now that he looked closer—her facial features, her fashion, her height... and most distinctively, her accent. Looking at all those details, she did indeed seem Korean.
A Korean is a bit...
It wasn't that they couldn't film a Korean. It wasn't like the show only accepted people with "Japanese" stamped on their foreheads, nor was it a program restricted solely to Japanese citizens. However, from a practical standpoint, he couldn't help but hesitate. First and foremost, their PD was practically a xenophobic anti-Korean.
Recalling the PD's behavior during their past drinking sessions, even if he wasn't a full-blown extremist, he definitely harbored a strong dislike for Koreans. The MC shot a questioning glance at the PD, asking what they should do. The PD gave a nod.
Is it because he wants to humiliate a Korean? Or is he keeping his personal feelings separate from work? A professional attitude like that?
"That's perfectly fine! It's not like Koreans can't do music."
"Sigh..."
The moment he got the PD's approval, he blurted it out. Cheers erupted from the crowd, contrasting sharply with the girl's utterly dumbfounded expression.
"Don't be so modest!"
"Still, I'd rather not."
"Could it be that you can't sing? Or maybe you're just a beginner student who can't show off any real guitar skills yet?"
He threw a provocative jab at the girl, who had been persistently declining. Instantly, her expression stiffened.
"Oooooh!" the crowd reacted. Abandoning her previous reluctance, she unslung the guitar from her back and sat down on a nearby stool.
Is she proud of her skills? Though I doubt she's actually that good...
She had agreed, but judging by her initial reluctance, she didn't seem like the type who was confident about standing on stage. The only reason she agreed was probably just her pride getting the better of her.
"Excellent! First, could you introduce yourself?"
"I'm Korean. My name is Ha Suyun. I play guitar. I'm in a band."
"Is your band based in Japan, by any chance?"
"No. Korea."
"Oh... K-pop?"
"No. A rock band."
"How unexpected. Isn't rock unpopular in Korea? I thought K-pop was the main thing there."
"It is popular."
After a brief exchange, the MC glanced back at the PD. The PD nodded, signaling that was enough setup.
"Then... what song will you be playing for us? May we hear it?"
"Hmm..." The young woman pondered for a moment before speaking.
"I will play... The Beatles' While My Guitar Gently Weeps."
A Beatles song, huh?
Her English pronunciation was so close to a native speaker's that he struggled to catch it at first, but as she repeated it a bit slower, he recognized the title. A George Harrison track.
It's a famous song, which makes it even riskier.
It wasn't a song like Here Comes the Sun, Hey Jude, or A Day in the Life that literally everyone had heard, but it was still undeniably famous. The crowd's judgment would be harsh. While he admired her courage, he also felt a pang of pity. And he wasn't the only one in the crowd thinking that way.
"Please, begin!"
But his skepticism evaporated the very instant she played the first bar.
A smooth fingerstyle technique, accompanied by a firm, rhythmic body percussion. Flawless hammer-ons and pull-offs executed at the perfect moments. The guitarist before them was conjuring an entire band with just a single acoustic guitar.
"Ooooh..."
Her singing voice wasn't some heavenly, angelic illusion. It was simply a solid, "She sings pretty well, she's good" level. However, the performance flowing from her hands was something else entirely—something her delicate appearance completely belied. Even to him, a layman with no ties to the music industry, her playing exuded an undeniable aura of sheer skill and deep experience.
He wasn't the only one captivated. When she first began plucking the strings, the onlookers had watched with casual curiosity. But as the song progressed, the idle chatter among the crowd began to die down.
And then came the first highlight. The part recorded not by George Harrison, the lead guitarist of The Beatles, but by the guitar maestro Eric Clapton at Harrison's request. A captivating guitar solo that felt as though it were gouging out raw emotion, perfectly painting the picture of a guitar gently weeping.
Yet her solo wasn't a mere carbon copy of the original. It was a completely different vibe, on an entirely different dimension. Though restructured into a new form, it fit the song so flawlessly that it felt meant to be. It was unfolding right before their eyes.
Waning and waxing, swaying and collapsing.
"Whoa!"
It was only natural for the crowd to erupt in applause. But the young woman—no, the guitarist—kept playing. She pressed on, her posture declaring that she wasn't finished yet, that there was still more of her performance to be heard.
At some point, the crowd began clapping and stomping their feet to the beat. Treating their reactions as if they were completely natural—or perhaps even expected—the guitarist finished singing the lyrics and used the crowd's rhythm as her backing track to launch into the climax. It was as if she were playing the long-awaited solo at a rock concert.
Gasp.
The hands that had been gently plucking to emulate a full band had transformed into those of a lead guitarist bursting onto the stage for a blistering solo. She toyed with the tempo at will, bending and shaping the melody to make it entirely her own. Her playing was so raw and powerful that one couldn't help but think how incredible it would sound on an electric guitar.
And then, the performance came to an end. In just a few short minutes, she had completely captivated everyone present.
After the performance. The MC, who had initially looked like he was just looking for a cheap laugh rather than expecting actual talent, immediately changed his attitude and threw out a question.
"Are you active in the major music scene in Korea, by any chance?"
"Major... uh, yes. I'm in a band called Group Sound."
The crowd had grown significantly larger than before. Whispers of "I think I've heard of them," and "Aren't they a Korean band?" drifted from among them.
The MC walked over to the PD, exchanged a few words, and then approached Suyun with a deep bow.
"Um, I am incredibly sorry, but..."
"Yes?"
"I don't think we'll be able to air your segment on the broadcast."
"Pardon?"
Suyun stared at the MC, her face a mask of confusion. The MC quickly explained. He babbled on about how this was a public busking show meant to discover amateur talent, and having a professional Korean artist appear would be... unfair to the other contestants. He begged for her understanding.
"We are truly sorry."
"No, it's fine. I mean..."
"Since our program is strictly about discovering amateurs..."
"Ah, yes. I understand."
Suyun hadn't wanted to be on the show in the first place and had been planning to leave. She had only played because she fell for his cheap provocation of "Can you even play?" and was already regretting it. Thinking this actually worked out for the best, she readily accepted his explanation.
"Thank you so much!"
The MC let out a sigh of relief, feeling like he had just dodged a bullet. Because, in reality, that wasn't the reason at all...
"How is it supposed to be entertaining to have some Korean show up on a program like this and pull a stunt like that?"
"But PD-nim, earlier you said..."
"Cut the chatter and just go explain it to her. We're cutting her segment. It'll be even more of a headache if this gets back to Korea and causes a fuss. Go make sure she buys the excuse."
You're the one who gave the green light in the first place, the MC grumbled inwardly.
The PD had only wanted to capture a 'Korean getting humiliated.' When he ended up with footage of a 'Korean showing off god-tier skills' instead, he had simply thrown a petty tantrum.
"We are incredibly sorry. Please, take this, at least..."
"If you're offering, I'll take it. Thank you."
The MC handed over an envelope containing either cash or gift certificates. Suyun wanted to decline, but she hadn't learned the Japanese vocabulary to politely refuse an unwanted gift. So, she just muttered what Japanese she knew and accepted the envelope.
Well, at least I made a day's wage.
"Excuse me, do you have an agency?"
"We have an opening in our band..."
"Wanna grab a drink together?"
"I don't speak Japanese. Thank you. Thank you. Xie xie."
Brushing off those useless solicitations, Suyun made her way toward Shimokitazawa to check out some of the local live houses.
She figured this whole incident was just a minor hiccup and quickly put it out of her mind.
However, Japan also had smartphones, cameras, and YouTube.
And when those three elements combined, it meant anyone could record a video and upload it.
True to that reality, full performance videos and short-form clips recorded just minutes ago were already beginning to trickle onto the vast expanse of the web.