The Major Debut Pitch
"Good afternoon! It is an absolute pleasure to meet you all. I am Jung Yuyoung from the Korean record label, Label Echo Sound."
After entering the label's building and waiting briefly, Yuyoung had been guided by a staff member into this conference room. Standing before five people who appeared to be from the A&R team, the scouting team, and other related departments, she took a few deep, steadying breaths as she set up her laptop and prepared for her presentation. A few minutes later, the projector screen flickered to life. The PowerPoint presentation, designed in a sleek Korean style, was neat and polished.
"The reason I am visiting your esteemed company today on behalf of Label Echo Sound is none other than to propose the release of an album for our agency's artist, Group Sound!"
With those words, Manager Jung gripped her laser pointer and clicked to the next slide. It was an overview of Group Sound. A four-member all-female Korean band, entirely composed of childhood friends. Two members were twenty years old, and two were nineteen. The lineup consisted of guitar, bass, drums, and keyboards. They were currently in their fourth year of active promotions.
"Unlike the Japanese music industry, where prestigious major labels like yours support and nurture band music, Korea is a barren wasteland for bands. Most Korean bands sell fewer than a thousand copies in their first week, and the scale of their concert tours is incomparably smaller than those in Japan."
As Manager Jung spoke, the slide transitioned to show two anonymous bands. One was a Japanese band with over thirty tour dates lined up despite only hitting major cities, while the other was a Korean band whose schedule didn't even reach ten stops, despite carrying the grandiose title of a 'national tour.'
"However, despite these harsh realities, Group Sound successfully pulled off a national tour in the truest sense of the word. Here is the proof of our journey."
The slide changed, and a short video clip began to play. It showed them holding an impromptu concert in an outdoor venue because their original indoor hall had a leak. It showed them driving the crowd wild with spontaneous, explosive jam sessions. It showed them singing in front of a mere handful of people in a quiet, cozy cafe, and performing acoustic sets right on the street. One or two people in the room let out quiet gasps of admiration at the raw, emotional atmosphere.
They said Japanese audiences love this kind of emotional aesthetic... Yuyoung thought to herself as she pressed on.
Selling over three thousand copies of their first EP (including limited editions) in a country barren of bands. Their first full-length album selling ten thousand copies in its first week, and over thirty thousand copies in total. Their second EP selling over ten thousand copies without relying on typical idol marketing gimmicks.
"And that is not all. Group Sound's greatest strength, which we present with absolute confidence, is their unparalleled live performance ability and their proven box-office draw."
Their first hall-class concert at Jangchung Gymnasium—sold out. Their first arena-class concert at the KSPO DOME—likewise sold out. And the reason they could sell out these venues was their insane live performance skills, which captivated even casual listeners. Evidence and data supporting this claim filled the slides, and the label executives busily flipped through the printed materials they had been handed beforehand. Having passionately delivered the core strengths of Group Sound, Yuyoung paused briefly to prepare for her grand finale.
"And finally... I would like to play the track we intend to release as the lead single for Group Sound's upcoming album."
Though connected via Bluetooth, the two-channel speakers boasted impressive high-fidelity resolution. From those speakers—which she had borrowed from Suyun—flowed a rock track that kicked off with a powerful, energetic sound. Coexisting on the boundary between blues rock and hard rock, the music delivered a remarkably full sound despite its simple instrumentation, prompting the people in the conference room to nod their heads to the beat. About five minutes passed in this manner.
"Thank you. That concludes my proposal."
"Hmm... We watched it well."
The speaker was a middle-aged man sitting in the center, his receding hairline testifying to his years of experience. Beside him, the other four whispered inaudibly to one another, some nodding their heads while others shook them. It did not feel like the discussion was heading in a positive direction. Furthermore, the middle-aged man's expression was strangely familiar, which only heightened her sense of dread. Manager Jung knew someone who wore that exact expression all too well, and she knew precisely what it meant. It was the very face Team Leader Go made whenever she proposed something—the face of someone who would politely brush her off now, only to reject it later.
"For now, we will review this internally as quickly as possible and get back to you with an answer."
So, I shouldn't expect a good result... Yuyoung realized intuitively. It was a phrase no office worker could fail to understand. Phrases like 'we will review it,' 'we will take it into consideration,' or 'we will look into it' were essentially polite synonyms for 'we won't do it' or 'we are rejecting this.' The probability of their actual intentions being different from those words was slim to none.
I'm sure the presentation itself went well, though... Looking at the A&R team members who had been grooving to the rhythm earlier, she had thought it was a home run. Where had things gone wrong?
"Understood. May I ask when we might expect a response..."
"As we said, we will review it as quickly as possible and then get back to you."
"Excuse me, but would it be possible to set a specific timeframe?"
"Since we need to hold internal discussions before we can give you an answer, it is difficult to give a definitive date at this stage. We ask for your understanding on that matter."
They won't even give me a deadline. It's a bust. But since she couldn't show her disappointment in front of industry professionals, Manager Jung swallowed her bitter feelings and left the conference room. She wished they would at least tell her what the issue was, or why it would be difficult for them to release the album. Was even that too much to ask?
No, I can't let this get me down. Just think back to when we were trying to distribute our Korean albums. We were rejected countless times back then too, but we eventually found a partner. We don't know how this will turn out yet... Manager Jung clenched her fists. She decided that once she returned to the office, she would dissect her presentation from top to bottom to make an even better proposal next time.
Manager Jung's worst fears were realized. It wasn't just Crown Entertainment—the company that had handled their Korean album exports—that showed reluctance; most of the labels they approached in the beginning expressed hesitation about releasing Group Sound's album. However, the process wasn't entirely identical for each. Some labels dismissed the proposal immediately, while others rejected it after a formal review. Some deemed it worthy of negotiation, and a few even pushed the proposal right up to the final approval stage. Yet, in the end, every single label that received the proposal rejected the contract for Group Sound's major debut album. And they certainly had their reasons.
"But Deputy General Manager Watanabe! I'm telling you, these girls are guaranteed to succeed."
"We'll talk about this later."
"It can't wait until later! Another label might snatch them up. Time is of the essence here."
"I can assure you, not a single label is going to 'snatch them up' as you put it. So let's discuss this later. I have a meeting to attend."
Hayasaka Kazuki, a manager in A&R Team 1 at Zenith Music Entertainment, stared at his boss's retreating back as the man walked away.
Not a single one? What an absurd thing to say. Fuming, he returned to his desk, put on his headphones, and listened to the music once more. The track playing was the 'lead single' left behind by the Korean agency's representative. It had a slightly retro vibe, but that was precisely why he believed it would undoubtedly resonate in today's market. And when combining this with the singles they had released independently, even if he couldn't predict exactly how high the band Group Sound would soar, one thing was absolutely certain: they would succeed. And if success was guaranteed, they had to grab them at all costs. Yet, his boss was saying the exact opposite. What did he mean by that? A short while later...
"Deputy General Manager! About the matter I brought up earlier..."
"You certainly are persistent."
He immediately intercepted the deputy general manager as the man stepped out of the meeting room and headed elsewhere. No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't understand. Why throw away such a golden opportunity? Even at this very moment, another label might be calling Label Echo Sound.
"We absolutely must sign them. My career might not be the longest, but they are truly the finest unpolished gem I have ever heard in my life."
"Yes, they are an unpolished gem."
"Then if you agree they're a gem, why..."
"Because they are a flawed gem. Why do you think they came to us in the first place?"
"Well, obviously, to sign a contract..."
"They signed their export distribution contract with Crown. Yet they came to us. Why do you think Crown didn't sign them for their major debut?"
Hearing those words, a realization dawned on Hayasaka. Indeed, why? Crown was by no means a small company, nor were they incapable of supporting a band's activities. So why had they come here? Furthermore, there were other major labels out there—like EMI, Universal, Sony, Columbia, and so on.
"Why... why do you think they didn't?"
"The reasons become clear once you've spent enough time in this industry. Bring me their materials."
The deputy general manager sat down at a nearby conference table. Though he couldn't see their faces, Hayasaka could sense that the members of A&R Team 1 were all straining their ears to listen in on their conversation.
"Here they are."
"Thank you. Right, let's see... Korea certainly has a unique way of preparing documents. It's mostly pictures and graphs. Honestly, it's highly readable. I wonder if this kind of efficiency is what accelerated Korea's development?"
The deputy general manager adjusted his glasses as he mused aloud. While Hayasaka stammered, "I'm not entirely sure...", Deputy General Manager Watanabe picked up a pen and circled a few sections.
"First of all, these girls haven't released a single proper album in Japan. Just one single."
"Well, that's because they already released an EP and a full-length album in Korea..."
"That is your opinion. Are you going to say that to the president when he asks you about this proposal? Are you going to tell him, 'They already released albums in Korea, so it's fine if they only released one single in Japan? They're proven'?"
Hayasaka fell silent. Breaking the silence, Watanabe continued.
"No band in Japan has ever ended their indie career after releasing just one single. If they did, it would be a project band formed by musicians who had already made their major debuts. This is completely unprecedented."
"Precedents can always be..."
"The same goes for everything else. They're an all-female band, but they don't feel like a 'girls' band' at all. When the Japanese public thinks of an all-female band of this age, they expect fresh, youthful songs about youth. But what these girls brought, as good as it is, is music rooted in styles from decades ago."
"But Deputy General Manager, I don't think those reasons alone would prevent other labels from signing them," he protested weakly.
Watanabe gave him a sharp look, as if to say he wasn't finished yet, and slightly raised his chin as he delivered the final blow.
"And finally, I don't know if you forgot or if you were dozing off during the presentation..."
"I wasn't dozing off."
"If you weren't dozing off, then that's even more concerning. These girls demanded full self-producing rights for the entire album. Complete rookies demanding that."
"Ah." He slapped his forehead. That was right. He had been so excited while listening to the presentation that he had completely forgotten about that condition.
"What band in the world demands that kind of authority? Even if bands make their major debuts faster these days, there is no case of a band with only one single demanding full producing rights. Even counting their Korean discography, they only have one EP and one full-length album. That's it. For a band with that little experience to demand complete producing rights for their major label debut... In my eyes, no label would ever agree to such an outrageous demand."
"But they've been doing exactly that in Korea."
"I told you already. Go ahead and try saying that to the president."
He fell silent once more. Taking his silence as a sign of defeat, the deputy general manager continued.
"Ultimately, there is no precedent. And what does a lack of precedent mean? It means it's too difficult to execute. Everyone in this industry has ears, so they all know their music is good. But in the end, you can't just do something that has no precedent."
"Just because there's no precedent doesn't mean we shouldn't do it. Business is about taking risks, isn't it?"
Hayasaka spoke with solemn determination, but the only response he received was a scoff from his boss.
"Hmph. It's easy to say things like that when you're in a position with absolutely zero responsibility. Once you reach the level of deputy general manager or department manager, you won't be able to speak so lightly. If this gets approved and then flops, you'll just get chewed out by the company and that's it. But for the higher-ups, their performance reviews and careers are on the line."
"But..."
"Even putting the executives aside, if this flops, do you think the department manager will be fine? He's already incredibly sensitive about his next promotion. Can you take responsibility for all of that? If you can say you'll take full responsibility, well, sure. Maybe some people might agree to give it a shot."
The deputy general manager's final words were delivered like a joke, as if he knew with absolute certainty that Hayasaka could never do such a thing.
But Hayasaka knew. This would succeed. He could guarantee it. If so, this was far more than just a worthwhile gamble—it was a loss not to take it. And on the other hand, he thought about the suffocating culture of self-preservation. People in Japan were always whining about a lack of precedent, asking for case studies, or demanding to know who would take responsibility. They spent all their energy looking for ways to avoid blame. If things went well, they claimed it was thanks to their involvement; if things went poorly, they washed their hands of any fault. He had always wanted to deliver a heavy blow to those who operated that way. Wasn't this the perfect opportunity?
"I will take responsibility."
"...Huh? What did you say?"
"Deputy General Manager. I will take full responsibility for Group Sound's album, and I will make this happen!"