Blues for the Uninitiated
Koreans in concert sessions aren't familiar with blues. They might be used to "brute," though. Plenty of people try their hand at blues, but hardly any make a living from it. Not even the diehard blues fans knew why. Of course not. If you figured that out, you'd be a god of music.
But that doesn't mean a blues track can't succeed. It just won't become the mainstream trend. A single song, though? That can hit big. The unfamiliarity absent from the charts could even make it explode. And that's exactly what was happening right now.
"Hm...?"
Juhyeon tilted his head in confusion. The song he was hearing was unmistakably his signature hit, On a Shady Day. It was the rock ballad that briefly trended early in 2010, reinterpreted with a fresh twist during the rock-ballad boom. Perfect high notes that guys loved challenging in karaoke, easy listening vibes that made you think, "Hey, maybe I'll give it another spin?"
But despite the familiar melody and lyrics...
The sound coming through now felt utterly alien. Way earthier than the typical wistful rock-ballad tone. The rhythm was off too, somehow.
On a shady day, I went to meet you
And most crucially, unlike Juhyeon's original where vocals took center stage, the guitar was front and center here. Even the guide vocal was dialed way back, treated almost like another instrument.
"Is this really Shady Day?"
"Yeah, it's good."
"That guitar tone is insane."
As Juhyeon stood there, arms crossed, listening intently, murmurs like that started bubbling up among the staff. But the mutterers quickly clammed up under blatantly obvious stares from around the room.
Meanwhile, the song built to its climax. Vocals erupted—only to be overshadowed by an overwhelming guitar onslaught. The Fender Rumble 25W amp they'd brought just to check the guitar sound was now screaming like it was about to tear itself apart. A tone straight out of Gary Moore's playbook. The girl's Stratocaster somehow nailed the thick, midrange heft of a Les Paul.
Not content with that, she shook her left hand like a seasoned pro, fretting relentlessly, while her right flew freely, twisting the melody into wild contortions. Peak '80s-'90s blues rock with a pop edge—a textbook example.
"Whoa."
Juhyeon's involuntary exclamation slipped out. It was quiet, but loud enough to snap every staffer to attention. At the end of the performance, the girl cut a sharp peak... and neatly wrapped it up.
"We tried rearranging it like this. What do you think for some fan service at the concert?"
A smattering of applause—louder than before, but it died fast. Juhyeon shot the room a pitiful look before speaking again.
"Did your band do this arrangement?"
"Yes. Nothing major—we switched it to band sound, made the rhythm blusier, pushed the guitar upfront."
It sounded humble at first glance. But Juhyeon read the confidence in Suyeon's face: You have no choice but to love this. And he did.
The original was solid; he had no complaints. But you know how it goes—listen to the same volume on repeat, and eventually you're like, "Isn't the sound kinda low?" So you crank it up. That's what this felt like. He'd always thought, I want to push this further... But messing with a proven track? Nah, he'd stick to the original, maybe tweak the interpretation live.
This version didn't overhaul it completely, but it hit that sweet spot for his jaded palate. The only issue: even this was getting pushback from the staff.
Should I just buy the arrangement outright? That was Juhyeon's first thought. Ditch the kids, take the song? Who'd do that unless they were crazy? They'd hold the song hostage.
Then...
He scanned the staff. About thirty percent looked outright displeased; the rest were neutral or leaning toward using the band. Juhyeon sighed inwardly and spoke up.
"I really like it. The playing was solid, and this arrangement too. If we go with you for sessions, would you be open to rearranging more songs?"
"If there's a need or good reason, sure. Like if the song calls for it, or we think it'd work this way."
Confidence bordering on arrogance. But after their first encounter, Juhyeon knew they had the chops. To his untrained rock ears, the guitar, bass, keys, drums—all pro-level.
"Uh, what if you just sell us the arrangement?"
One staffer, in a rush, blurted it out—echoing Juhyeon's initial idea. And the response was just as he'd predicted.
"Not really interested in selling."
Maybe it's time for some team reshuffling? Juhyeon mulled it over, landing there. Using them wasn't even a question anymore. They were skilled enough, and they'd already delivered killer arrangements. No reason to refuse—yet some staff were still griping. If there were comparable alternatives, fine. But anyone with ears could hear how good they were. Kick them out, and what would the boss say?
Yeah. The team's gotten complacent lately. Fresh start vibes...
It wasn't just because he had to pick them. He was using them as an excuse for reform—at least, that's what he told himself. So he was certain.
"I've decided to use this band for sessions. Any objections?"
A few hands shot up instantly; others hesitated and dropped. Juhyeon eyed them.
"Those who raised hands—meet with me after."
His icy tone shattered the fragile atmosphere.
"No, that's not—"
"I didn't want to say this, but staff—whose team is this? Yours? Or mine?"
His voice burned, rising before he caught himself—outsiders present—and dialed it back. At his glance, a staffer ushered the band out, gear got hastily packed, and the rest sat like scolded pups awaiting punishment.
Myeongjeon slurped his coffee. Lately, he'd been craving something sweet. Back in the day, "sweet" meant a café latte at most; usually Americano. Now he was downing whatever sugary abomination Iseo ordered—like that Wangal Wangal Frappé-whatever—and liking it.
It's not even that sweet, somehow.
As a Korean, Myeongjeon lived by "not-too-sweet desserts are the best desserts." Iseo's drinks were sugar sludge to him. But these past few months? They went down smooth. Maybe his tastes were changing.
"Any other talk from that company?"
"Yeah, they said some stuff."
"Like what?"
"Asked if we'd join their label. Their composer said they'd treat us right as in-house writers and band."
"Whoa."
"But I told them no. Even that Park Hwisek guy brought it up, but we passed."
While arranging over the past few days, scouring the net had revealed Entraline was pretty big. One flagship idol, mainstays like Juhyeon and a few singers, small boy and girl groups. Not top-three agency or solid mid-tier, but comfortably below that? Third-tier? Sounded low-rent, but they had familiar names. Bigger than Myeongjeon's first impression, anyway... Eh.
"Not an agency, but what about a label?"
Iseo glanced up from her phone, mid-touchup of her makeup.
"Label?"
"Bands join labels more than agencies, right? That's my take."
"Fair point."
Label, huh. Labels were... meh. Indie labels had grown in Korea, but Myeongjeon wasn't eyeing them. Better to go solo than sign there. But a big one? EMI, Columbia, Harvest, Capitol—those giants? Worth considering.
"Not into labels, but... yeah, maybe time to drop an EP or single. Better with a manager for that?"
"An album?"
"EP or single, not a full album."
"Same difference."
"Not even close."
Myeongjeon sighed at Iseo's "whatever" face. How do I save this poor soul?
Tilting his head back, he spotted two familiar high school girls in his peripheral.
"Time's up. Let's hit practice."
"Hello."
"Hi~"
Entering the practice room with Iseo, the staff greetings felt different—warmer. A quick scan showed a revamped lineup. The cocky ones from before were thinned out, replaced by new faces. Plus extra session players.
Sticking to just their band was "possible," but it risked thin sound, so Myeongjeon had added sessions on his call.
No standouts.
Some young, some old. Nothing famous. Backup role? Or just unfamiliar turf?
"This is our first stage using a full band, so rehearsals might feel off. We need to pick a, uh, leader? Session leader."
"Bandmaster?"
A gruff voice from the session guitar side. Stocky guy.
"Yeah, bandmaster."
"Usually goes by experience or skill."
The session guitarist scanned the room as he spoke. Too pointed to be casual.
Myeongjeon just thought, Experience, skill—whatever metric, I'm taking bandmaster. No choice.