A Quiet Storm
The project band's name: Amendment. An anonymous group consisting of Ha Suyun, Araki Ryosuke, Kirishima Aoi, and Ito Takayuki. Their album: Discovery. A six-track EP, and a completely instrumental album at that.
Released under an obscure indie label—one so minor that even Japanese rock enthusiasts muttered, "Wait, does this label actually exist?"—the album had absolutely zero promotion. Yet, relying solely on word of mouth, it racked up astronomical sales. Within a single week, the viral buzz completely cleared out the first pressing, causing temporary shortages that sent resale prices skyrocketing tenfold.
Witnessing this insane sales trajectory achieved without a single shred of marketing, people declared, "The greatest album of the twenty-first century has arrived!"
...Or at least, they would have, if any of that had actually happened.
Honestly, how could such a thing even be possible? If you could sell hundreds of thousands, let alone millions, of albums purely through word of mouth without a single cent of promotion, the very concept of "advertising" would have been erased from the face of the Earth long ago.
Of course, the story above wasn't a hundred percent lie. There was a grain of truth in it. Specifically, the part about the album being released under an obscure indie label that even Japanese rock fans had never heard of, with absolutely zero promotion. Yes, that part was true. Everything else was a complete fabrication.
The first-week sales of Amendment's album, Discovery, were... utterly disastrous, as one would expect from a release with zero marketing. When Suyun received the sales data, she couldn't help but mutter, "Is this thing even selling?" The other members—especially Araki—began to panic, thinking, Did we make a huge mistake? What if it literally doesn't sell at all...? This anxiety was compounded by the fact that in Japan, first-week sales typically dictate seventy to eighty percent of an album's lifetime sales.
However, the tide slowly began to turn. It was driven by the very force Araki and the other two had placed their faith in—the most reliable form of promotion of all: word of mouth.
You might wonder what "word of mouth" even means in modern society. You might think it refers to some bygone era when media was scarce and people had to rely on neighbors' recommendations to make decisions. But in our highly connected modern world, word of mouth has evolved into a beast of its own.
"Alright, let's review this week's album. Yes, this is one that I actually just listened to on a streaming service after hearing about it from some acquaintances. And honestly, seriously, it is no joke. This is absolutely insane. It's no joke. I said it's no joke three times because it's that important. It's Amendment's Discovery. True to its name..."
"If you ask me which band I'm keeping my eyes on lately... it has to be Amendment. Seriously, there is absolutely zero background info on them. The members are completely anonymous, and they've never even performed live. I asked an older guy I know who runs a live house, and he said he's never heard of them either. So are they complete amateurs? No way. When you actually listen to them, you can't help but wonder where on earth these people came from..."
It was social media. Whether they received a recommendation from an acquaintance like Minami-san had, or were guided by the algorithms of Spotify and YouTube, people stumbled upon Amendment's music in various ways.
While most simply thought, Oh, this is nice, and moved on, a select few felt compelled to share it on their social media accounts or YouTube channels. The music was simply too good to keep to themselves.
This organic, user-driven promotion expanded the listener base of Discovery like a multi-level marketing pyramid. Despite being an instrumental album—a genre the general public rarely touches—it began racking up surprisingly high play counts on streaming services.
And the ultimate culmination of this word of mouth... took place on Rate Your Music (RYM).
Artist: Amendment | Rating: 3.92 (from 258 Ratings)
Genre: Blues, Progressive Rock
Review by Dokekeman
"When I first saw the name Amendment, my immediate thought was, 'Who the hell are these guys?' That skepticism only deepened when I looked at the album credits. Releasing an album without even putting their names on it? My first impression was that they must completely lack confidence.
But that impression was shattered the moment I heard the very first track. The opening track, 'Discovery,' delivers a beautifully atmospheric introduction that perfectly sets the stage for the album. The guitar that weaves its way through has an incredibly bluesy feel. The subsequent tracks are no different..."
RYM is an English-language album review site that serves as the ultimate holy land for music hipsters. It's a place where Kendrick Lamar's To Pimp a Butterfly is crowned the greatest album of all time, while the Beatles' albums—universally considered all-time classics anywhere else—struggle to even crack the top ten. Despite such eccentric tastes, the site boasts over a million users, with database entries and ratings hovering around or exceeding ten million, and millions of accumulated reviews. In Korea, it was also famous for discovering the shoegaze artist Parannoul.
Populated by users with fiercely uncompromising musical opinions, RYM is notoriously stingy with its ratings; even the highest-rated album of all time only averages around 4.38. Breaking past 3.7 is enough to land an album in the top 100 of its release year. Yet, Amendment's Discovery pierced through RYM's harsh standards and snobbish tastes to secure an astonishingly high score of 3.92. This placed it in the top five of all albums released in 2027 and 2028.
What was particularly noteworthy was a common thread running through almost every single review.
"I absolutely need to hear this band play live."
"I have no idea where in Japan people who can play like this have been hiding all this time."
"The lead and rhythm guitars know their places perfectly. The same goes for the bass and keyboards. As if to prove that technique isn't just about playing fast, hard, or complexly, the band members maintain a perfect tempo and execute flawless technique throughout. This is a band I desperately want to see live."
Praise for the musicality was a given, but every review also made sure to mention the band's sheer technical prowess and express a burning desire to see them live. The adulation heaped upon the lead guitarist, in particular, was almost embarrassing to read. Some claimed they were witnessing the reincarnation of a legend, while others lamented that if this were an English-speaking band, RYM's servers would have already melted down.
By the time these reviews were flooding the site, RYM wasn't the only place buzzing. As if in sync, the Tokyo indie band scene was also catching fire.
"Who the hell is this 'Amendment' anyway? Anyone know them?"
"Do you have that album in stock?"
"I'm sorry, but it seems the label hasn't pressed any more copies since the first run."
"- Having listened to the album, I'm 100% sure this was made by active, professional band members. My current suspects are: 1. Archimedes' Fuyuka Izuki, 2. ..."
Who on earth is Amendment? Where did a band with this level of skill suddenly spring from? Find them quickly, we need to hear them live! Amidst the chaotic whirlwind of speculation, the lead guitarist of Amendment—the very person everyone was desperately searching for—was...
"Oh! Look, the traitor is here!"
"I'm not a traitor..."
...dealing with a rather troublesome daily life.
"Hey. I think you made a slight mistake there."
"Oh, my bad! I guess I just can't play as well as those professional musicians. Maybe I should just quit the band..."
"Hey, come on."
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please don't abandon me! I'll do better, I swear!"
"...You messed up on purpose, didn't you? Just so you could lie down and throw a tantrum?"
"Ah, you caught me."
Ever since Suyun's side gig with Amendment, the other three bandmates seized every single opportunity to attack her for her "extramarital affair." Since they hadn't had any good material to tease her with lately, they pursued this new angle with relentless vigor. For example...
"I've been thinking this for a while, but isn't the coffee here a bit off? It's way too sour."
"Ah, so the palate of someone who rubs shoulders with professional musicians is just different, huh? Is that it? You can't stomach our local, peasant coffee anymore?"
"..."
Or...
"Let's clean up the room today."
"I'm so... sorry, but today... I have to practice the keyboard. So if Suyun-nim could clean up instead..."
"What's gotten into you? Voluntarily practicing?"
"Well, my skills just can't compare to someone who played with... professional musicians... I feel like... I need to practice more..."
"You're not actually going to practice, are you? You're just dumping this chore on me so you can run off with Iseor."
"Heh, how did you know?"
Or...
"Don't you think we should get some new gear for the practice room?"
"Whoa! A true professional indeed! I guess someone who has graced a professional studio has entirely different standards for gear!"
And so on.
The trio nitpicked and teased Suyun's every move. Even if she so much as coughed, they would start chanting about "professional musicians." Normally, Suyun would have retaliated by subjecting them to a brutal, grueling practice session, but...
Ugh, I can't even say anything...
Suyun had no choice but to sit there and take the public execution. After all, she was the one who had committed the crime. She had left behind the kids she'd been in a band with for years to trot off and make music with another collaboration band.
Of course, none of them actually resented or hated Suyun.
"Honestly, Suyun, isn't it basically thanks to me that you wrote that song? You went to the practice room and wrote it because of what I said."
"...I suppose so."
"Glad you admit it. So... you know what you have to do, right?"
"Thank you... Master... Choi Iseor..."
"Pwahahaha!"
They teased her like this, or found other creative ways to poke fun at her. They used this incident as leverage to constantly nudge her ribs and extort snacks and treats. Despite her relentless teasing, Iseor ultimately viewed the whole affair as nothing more than a goldmine of fresh material to mock Suyun.
"How is... the other band?"
"I don't know. I only went there for a couple of recording sessions, so I didn't really get a feel for it."
Hyun-ah was much the same. Aside from actively joining in on the teasing, her only real curiosity was a mild interest in how other bands operated. It felt as though her main focus lay elsewhere entirely.
However, Seoha was a bit different.
A few days after the release of Discovery. While the other members were back at the dorm, Seoha had slipped out for the evening.
"Is this the place?"
Having received a message from Seoha, Suyun arrived at a cozy izakaya. It was a classic, old-school tavern with just a bar and a few small tables—exactly what a Korean would picture when they heard the word "izakaya."
"Over here."
Inside, Seoha was drinking alone. Judging by the empty sake bottle on her table and her flushed face, she had already consumed a considerable amount.
"Why are you drinking all by yourself looking so pathetic?"
"Just felt like drinking."
"Ugh... that's kind of cringey."
"Well, the alcohol makes me say things like that..."
Seoha muttered, pouring Suyun a glass. Watching Seoha fill the cup to the absolute brim before finally tilting the bottle back, Suyun figured she should prepare to call Iseor. When it came to heavy lifting, Iseor was always the best choice.
They exchanged some idle chatter to break the ice, and ordered some beef tendon, boiled eggs, and other small dishes.
"To be completely honest."
Only after Suyun had downed a couple of glasses did Seoha finally start speaking her mind.
"To be completely honest... honestly..."
"Stop saying 'honestly' and just spit it out."
"Honestly... I know I shouldn't be saying this."
"Why? What is it?"
"Because, I mean, look. Honestly, us getting this far... huh? Let's be real. You did everything. You write the songs. The lyrics... well, Iseor did those. I just, what, set up the live gear? Hyun-ah... she did a big thing this time. Hmm. Actually, now that I think about it, we did do some things, but no. Anyone could have done our parts. But no one can do what you do. You did it all, didn't you?"
Seoha's words rambled, weaving back and forth like a drunkard's footsteps.
"But still, honestly... we shouldn't, like, complain or feel some type of way about it, right? You did all the heavy lifting. We didn't do anything. We just played our instruments."
"I wouldn't have made it this far without you guys either. You've done so much for me. Even this time, if it weren't for Iseor..."
"Hehehe. Sure, maybe we did something. But, but! But at the end of the day, it's true, isn't it? This band... is ultimately Ha Suyun's band."
Seoha's head lolled side to side like a puppet with cut strings. Seeing this, Suyun said, "Hey, you're wasted," and tried to help her up.
"Yeah, I'm wasted. Totally drunk. Drunk..."
"If you know that, you should go home."
"But there's a reason I got drunk, okay? I... I got drunk on purpose. I drank on purpose."
"What do you mean, on purpose?"
"Because if I was sober, I'd be too embarrassed. I wouldn't be able to say it. You know?"
"Let's go, come on."
As Suyun tried to pull her up, Seoha suddenly grabbed Suyun's hand and firmly pressed it down against the table. Staring straight into Suyun's eyes, Seoha murmured, "But... that project... couldn't we have done it together? With us?"
"..."
"I know playing with them was the right call. You wrote the songs while working with them, so of course you should release them together. That's the logical thing to do. It makes sense. It makes sense, but..."
"It makes sense, so what?"
"I'm not talking about the band. We... I think of you... We started the band right after we met, and we'd never seen each other before that. But... we're friends. Best friends."
Hearing Seoha's drunken mumbling, Suyun sank back into her chair. Her body felt heavy.
"As a band, playing with them was the right choice. I know. I know that. I, Yoo Seoha, have at least some shame. But... because we're friends... I wanted to do it with you. Because you're my best friend. But I couldn't... and that's what hurts. More than anything else. I wanted to be there with you, as your friend, when you shined the brightest."
"That's what hurts..." Seoha mumbled, her head swaying before she looked up at Suyun. Meeting those alcohol-glazed eyes, Suyun swept her hair back and spoke.
"Next time, we'll definitely do it together. If an opportunity like that comes up. No, even if it doesn't. From now on, we do everything together."
"...Really?"
"Because we're friends."
Suyun said, squeezing Seoha's hand firmly.
Whether Seoha would actually remember this conversation tomorrow was anyone's guess. Whether Suyun herself would hold onto it was equally uncertain. But regardless, the band would go on. They would keep moving forward. More than anything else, because they were friends. And friends are meant to share both the sorrows and the joys of life.
A few days later.
"The schedule is locked in!"
The voice of Manager Jung, who had agreed to wrap up the administrative work in Japan before their final performance in June, echoed through the office. He quickly followed up with the big news.
"Our appearance on Music Share has been confirmed!"
Their appearance on a Japanese terrestrial television broadcast was officially a go.