A Gathering Storm
[Notice] Please note that the event name 'Shimokitazawa Live Matsuri' mentioned at the end of the last chapter has been changed to 'Tokyo Wheels'. Thank you.
The spark that started from the Rock in Japan online article showed no signs of dying down, even after several days. In fact, it seemed to burn hotter with each passing day.
"Yoshida, I knew you could do it!"
"Thank you, sir!"
"Hurry up and book a photo studio! Bring a photographer too! Tell them we're doing a Group Sound feature for both the online and print editions!"
Yoshida, the reporter who wrote the article, received a hefty bonus, making all his seniors green with envy. And Rock in Japan, a magazine that had previously relied solely on its "tradition," saw such an explosive surge in views that they began planning a complete overhaul for a grand relaunch.
Naturally, these views set the Japanese internet ablaze. The reactions were largely split into three categories.
The first category consisted of people who simply wanted to ride the wave of the massive buzz.
The second category was made up of people who didn't really know who Group Sound was but wanted to deny them anyway.
The third category consisted of people who had actually listened to their music. They, too, were split into two camps. The first camp's reaction was along the lines of, "They have a point, but they're being too harsh."
But for some reason, their numbers were surprisingly small. The vast majority fell into the opposite camp, whose reactions boiled down to: "They're right. We need to accept it."
Whether they felt the biting criticism of the Japanese music market was justified, or believed that anyone capable of creating such sublime music had earned the right to speak, or perhaps because the image of an arrogant, genius beauty in her early twenties verbally thrashing them struck a chord deep in their hearts—the reason remained a mystery, but the number of people siding with Group Sound was far from insignificant. It was more than enough for the Korean internet to import these reactions and turn them into "national pride" content.
And so, the comments spat out by Group Sound set the internet in both Korea and Japan ablaze without a moment's rest. Those intoxicated by the dopamine rush of their blunt remarks constantly searched for more reactions, getting angry or jubilant in turn, consuming the topic in every way possible.
However, there was one group that did not welcome this atmosphere at all. The actual targets... the "Japanese music scene." Specifically, the indie bands.
They couldn't deny the music itself, as it was undeniably brilliant to anyone who listened. Thus, they channeled their hostility into making excuses: "Maybe someone else wrote the songs for them?" or "They probably use tons of pitch correction live."
The indie bands that had actually performed with Group Sound knew this wasn't true, but the atmosphere was too hostile for them to speak up. The bitter bands eagerly awaited Tokyo Wheels, the upcoming circuit festival where Group Sound was scheduled to perform, determined to give them a harsh reality check.
"Circuit festival?"
"Yes! Tokyo Wheels is a circuit festival. Have you heard of them?"
Suyun thought she had heard of the term, but she couldn't quite place it. She looked next to her, and as expected, two of them—Iseor and Hyun-ah—were shaking their heads. Only Seoha claimed she had heard of it.
"In Korean terms... it's like Zandari Festa. That's a circuit festival."
"What's that?"
"...I've been thinking this for a while, but you guys really had zero interest in indie bands before we started this, didn't you?" Seoha sighed, then began to explain.
A circuit festival wasn't held in one single massive venue like a typical rock festival. Instead, multiple venues—like Venue A, B, and C—teamed up to host events simultaneously, and the audience could freely move between them.
"For example, Venue 201 has Bands A, B, and C performing, while Venue 202 has D, E, and F. So you can hop from 201 to 202 and back."
"But they're in different buildings?"
"Yeah. The concept is similar to a rock festival, but a rock festival rents out one massive venue and sets up multiple stages. Since we can't do that for a circuit fest, we use different live houses."
"Sounds kind of complicated."
"It's... not complicated at all..."
Iseor looked completely lost, while Hyun-ah teased her, calling it a "brain cell" issue. Suyun tuned them out and focused on Manager Jung.
"Seoha is exactly right! Because of how it's set up, the individual crowd size for each venue is relatively small, even though they rent out large live houses."
"How many seats are we talking?"
"Well, from what I know, a 500-seat live house is on the smaller side. Many of them hold over a thousand."
"The sizes are all different?"
"Yes! They're all different. The locations, the acoustics, the sound systems—everything will vary."
Suyun twirled her hair as she listened. Different crowd sizes, acoustics, and systems meant that even if they gave the exact same performance, the response could vary wildly. It felt similar to their first live tour in Korea.
Though back then, we didn't have to do them in such a short span of time, so I guess it's a bit different.
To craft and execute a tailored playlist for each stage would require intense practice.
Manager Jung spoke up, drawing Suyun's attention back. "So, Suyun, there's something I wanted to ask of you!"
"What is it?"
"I'd like you to pay extra attention to this stage! As you know, our recent interview was a bit... provocative."
"Right." Suyun immediately caught her drift. Because of their bold statements, countless eyes—whether filled with anticipation or hostility—would be locked on Group Sound.
"We stirred the pot, so we have to pay the price."
"Well... I'd call it the price of fame rather than a penalty! Anyway, I just feel like we need to be extra careful."
"I don't mind. The real question is whether these guys can keep up with me."
The other three flinched. Suyun clicked her tongue. Why did they hate practicing so much? To become a great musician, there was no other way but to practice.
"I know your schedules are usually packed... but please, everyone, just this once! You can do it, right? Pretty please?" Manager Jung, who usually advocated for giving them some freedom against Suyun's practice-obsessed regime, was now begging. The other three felt a chill of dread.
"...If we use our hands too much, we might get tendonitis," Iseor muttered.
"Joints actually get stronger the more you use them. If you stretch properly, you won't get tendonitis. My... Hall of Fame master said he never got tendonitis once in his life. You guys are in the prime of your youth, so why are you worrying about tendonitis? Have you ever heard of Zakk Wylde or John Petrucci getting tendonitis?"
Iseor's feeble resistance was utterly crushed by Suyun's absurd, practice-obsessed logic. It was completely flawed logic, but the three gave up resisting. They'd end up practicing anyway. No point in useless struggle.
Tokyo Wheels, Day 1 of the pre-event gathering.
A cafe near Tokyo. People bundled up against the chilly weather gathered. The cafe seemed to be rented out—no regular customers, just tables neatly arranged for a meeting.
"Long time no see!"
"Hello~"
"Wow, I thought you died. Good to see you here."
"We met last time, but good to see you again."
"How have you been lately?"
"Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."
"First time meeting you."
People filled the seats. Some dressed in simple, modern clothes; others flaunt their unique personalities. A diverse crowd created a striking atmosphere.
"Did you hear the news?"
"Apparently, those girls are coming too."
"Have you ever seen them?"
"When I saw them before, they seemed fine... completely normal."
"I heard they're gorgeous. Should we ask for their Line?"
Before the meeting started, gossip flowed. Most of it centered around a specific band that wasn't there yet. The band that had caused a massive stir in the Japanese music scene and was now attending Tokyo Wheels.
The band from Korea that confidently declared they would "conquer Japan."
"Shouldn't we say something to them when they get here?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know... 'Don't look down on Japanese music,' or 'Your music is outdated.' Don't you think we should teach them a lesson?"
The banter of a certain band was cut short by the creak of the cafe door opening, followed by the chime of the bell.
"Annyeonghaseyo (Hello)."
A quiet Korean greeting echoed through the small cafe, yet it was loud enough for everyone to hear.
For some reason, everyone gulped.
The band of the hour, Group Sound, had arrived.