By Tailored Indie Rock Festival

By Tailored Festival—By Tailored Indie Rock Festival (BYTAILORED INDIE ROCK FESTIVAL). It sounded impressive, but in truth, it was a festival hosted by Taylor'd, one of the top major rock bands in Korea. The scale was modest, around 4,000 to 5,000 people, and it was entering its eighth year as a Hongdae indie scene-based rock festival.

What set this festival apart from others was, true to its name, Taylor'd always headlined—but the rest of the lineup consisted of indie bands personally selected by Taylor'd themselves. Thanks to that, some indie bands made their debut on bigger stages through By Tailored, earning the nickname "Tailored Pick" and skyrocketing up the ranks overnight. The second day's headliner was always fixed as Taylor'd, so the big question for enthusiasts was who would headline day one—who was Taylor'd's top indie rock band pick of the year?

It was a festival any indie band dying for exposure dreamed of playing.

"Hey, you hear about that? Park Minseok from Cheonan. His parents suddenly passed away."

But Taylor'd, the festival's organizers, were facing a major crisis.

"How the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hell did that happen? Should we all go pay our respects or something?"

"Yeah."

"At our level, how much should we give?"

"No idea, I've never been to a funeral..."

They were just idly chatting like that over drinks when bassist Han Jonghyeon suddenly shouted as if it had just hit him.

"Wait, isn't that guy the vocalist for Hungry Socrates? Doesn't that mean they can't perform?"

Taylor'd's members froze at his words. Leader Cheol-yeon inwardly kicked himself for not thinking of it first. But it didn't matter who thought of it—shit happened, and they had to deal with it.

"What time's their slot?"

"Saturday at 6 PM."

Typical festivals started around noon or 1 PM and wrapped up at midnight. By Tailored kicked off at 1 PM, with sets of 30-40 minutes followed by 20-30 minutes for setup and breaks. A 6-7 PM slot was heavyweight lineup territory—prime evening time.

"Any band we can slot in instead?"

"Hmm..."

The problem was that most bands had already been filtered out by Taylor'd's picky standards. But shoving in an early-slot band felt off—they'd agonized over the lineup.

"There are bands at that level we didn't book, but honestly, they're kinda meh. Don't wanna call 'em up."

"True..."

Cheol-yeon lit a cigarette and pondered. Lineup planning was always a grind, but this year had been brutal—sleepless nights agonizing over it. And now they had to tweak it?

He had no clue how to adjust. It wasn't a lack of options; he just didn't want any of them in that slot.

"No good bands out there?"

"If there were, they'd already be in."

Exchanging those words with his members, Cheol-yeon downed a shot of soju. As the bitter taste lingered and he refilled his glass, a thought flashed through his mind.

Come to think of it, those kids just dropped an EP. And they did live shows.

The music was solid. Japanese rock vibes mixed with subculture twists—unique songwriting. Not just good writers; a tight three-piece with rock-solid fundamentals and a guitarist with otherworldly skill. Paradox owner Kang Seongmin—a hyung Cheol-yeon knew—said their live performances were killer. Even that "Kim Suryeol" guy vouched for them.

The only hitch was that past incident... but Cheol-yeon's digging suggested it was mostly bullshit rumors. The other issue was their limited original material for live... but they'd figure it out. Covers worked fine.

Decision made, Cheol-yeon spoke up.

"Y'know, there's this band I've been eyeing lately. Kinda green on experience, but..."

After hearing Cheol-yeon's proposal, Myeongjeon couldn't give an immediate answer and relayed it to the girls. Their first reaction? Skepticism.

"What festival?"

"Suyeon, your comedy game's leveled up lately."

"Did you get scammed or something...?"

No dramatic five stages of grief, but it took all three girls time to process what Myeongjeon had said. He figured it was natural.

Band formed less than a year ago, drop an EP that charts on Melon, now a festival slot? Only old-school rock-era bands pulled that off.

Like Bae Chul-soo said, back when rock was music. Otherwise, maybe a big-agency boy band like that Ryujin guy.

"For real?"

"Why would I lie about this?"

After repeated confirmations, Iseo bolted off to make some calls.

"By Tailored's a big deal. Can't believe we've made it this far."

Seoha muttered that, watching her go—a hint of complicated emotions in her tone.

"What's up?"

"Just remembered my old band bros talking about wanting to play By Tailored. They all worked hard at music, but no one ever made it."

And now I'm the one going, she added with an awkward laugh. Myeongjeon got it.

There were people who kept grinding despite no hope in sight. Who believed effort would pay off someday, even without proof. Myeongjeon had been one of them.

Easy to mock as "talentless" or "doomed from the start." But once you saw their hustle up close, those words stuck in your throat. Seoha probably felt the same—bittersweet about her chance when others who'd fought harder hadn't gotten it. A tinge of sadness.

"You earned this with your ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠own effort. Don't overthink it."

"Huh?"

"Sure, it's sad for them. But that's life."

Myeongjeon knew, having been that type himself. Rage, frustration, longing. Why not me? I could do that too. But one thing was clear: no crumbling into envy or ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠jealousy. Blaming others for your lot.

The first time was hard, but it got easy. Blame others once or twice, and soon everything's their fault. You wreck them—and yourself. Stagnation sets in; no more growth.

Those types either quit broken-hearted or spent their lives bitching about others in mediocrity.

"I guess?"

"What're you gonna do, feel bad and fix it? Even if you gave up the slot, someone else misses out. Once you choose competition, ditch those feelings—for your sanity."

Seoha stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"But are we doing it?"

"Honestly, I'm kinda against it."

Hyeona's sudden input got an absentminded reply from Myeongjeon. He glanced back—her eyes were bulging.

Hadn't she just been all Do I even deserve this?

"Why... why against?"

"No big reason. We grinded hard for the EP and promo. Festival means more practice. I'm fine, but shouldn't you girls rest? Hyeona's got college prep, all that..."

"Mine's sorted. Talked to my parents..."

Myeongjeon looked at Hyeona. Fully committed to the band now? Smart move maybe. They were festival-ready; arts college piano majors didn't guarantee a living.

Might've saved one kid... Or two, three. Anyway, that's what he thought.

Two tweets from the official [By Tailored Indie Rock Festival] Twitter account. The ripple effect wasn't massive across the Korean indie scene, but it was enough to shock.

Even if Group Sound's tracks charted on rock/metal lists, it was the title track [Leaping Over That Street] carrying it. And that wasn't indie purist firepower—it was "god-tier casuals" propelling it. Plus, a straight-up love-and-youth song that self-proclaimed hipster indie listeners had to hate.

So the backlash was massive. Enough to shatter By Tailored's official account's all-time retweet record. Mostly complaints and hate.

Most hadn't even listened to Group Sound—or cared to. No research, straight to flaming. You could call it absurd, but that's haters for you. They pull shameless bullshit while crying "You made me this way." Only those types qualify.

Despite the noise—like a barking dog ignored by a passing train—By Tailored organizers and Group Sound stayed silent. Meanwhile, the festival loomed closer.