Invasion from Seoul
In the rock scene, Invasion from Seoul inevitably evoked the British Invasion—the seismic event where British rock bands, led by the Beatles, shook up the American music market. Tacking on "From Seoul" was probably wishful thinking, hoping the winning band from this audition would spark a similar wave. Myeongjeon couldn't help but think it was downright arrogant for a mere broadcast station's audition to claim the title of "invasion." And she wasn't alone in that sentiment.
From what she'd heard, the first season of Invasion from Seoul had gotten decent buzz among rock enthusiasts but failed to capture the mainstream. The production team put out articles hinting at "We'll find better bands and scale it up bigger for a real reaction!" But Myeongjeon had a pretty good idea why it flopped.
Rock just doesn't sell to the masses anymore.
As veteran broadcaster Bae Chul-soo had put it: "Rock used to be music itself. Now it's just one branch of it." The music market was no longer one where rock bands called all the shots. But what the producers thought, or what the future held for Korean rock—that was beside the point right now. What mattered to Myeongjeon was winning the audition her "mom" had nudged her toward. Everything else could wait.
"You're going on an audition?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
Juhyeon pushed some cookies her way as she sipped her coffee. They were pricey and delicious; under normal circumstances, Myeongjeon would've gratefully scarfed them down. But now that she knew the source of his kindness... she had zero appetite for them.
"Why aren't you eating?"
"Stomach's full right now."
"You're not dieting without me, are you? You don't even have anything to lose."
He'd called the band out saying he wanted to do some recording after ages, then dragged them to this café for "just coffee." Choi Iseo was happily munching the snacks Juhyeon had offered. Watching his pleased smile, Myeongjeon wondered if a guy his age really got a kick out of this.
Or am I overthinking it? Is this just me being paranoid? Maybe he's just a thirty-something dude wanting to treat his juniors.
Juhyeon did have ulterior motives, but how could Myeongjeon—a total fish-out-of-water in social waters—possibly read a slick operator like him? She decided to play it safe: keep her guard up without outright suspicion.
"The big band audition lately—it's that Invasion from Seoul thing, right?"
"Yeah. You know about it? Or do you work in that scene or something?"
Juhyeon shook his head at her question. He'd been around broadcasting long enough, but he didn't know everything. Park Hwiseok, the music director who'd introduced them, might have the connections to know more.
"I'm just a singer who goes around crooning; I don't keep up with that stuff. Hard to give solid advice."
He was getting annoyed, too. Even if she was underage, wasn't she picking up any of his signals? He wasn't pushing for anything big—just a meal and some scouting. But whatever; that was that, and this was this. Having clawed his way up the hard way, he felt obligated to guide rookies entering the industry. Keep them from getting tangled in shady crap and regretting loose lips.
"Once filming starts... when the cameras are rolling, think three times before answering or doing anything the PDs ask."
"Huh?"
Jeong Hyeona blinked at that. Yoo Seoha nodded along, while Choi Iseo mindlessly crunched her snacks. Myeongjeon pondered Juhyeon's words. Broadcasting folks were notoriously ruthless, sure—but three times?
"Because of malicious editing?"
"Exactly. Broadcast editing is brutal, but auditions take it to another level."
Juhyeon recalled an old story from an idol he'd dated who'd been on an audition show. She'd casually said "Not really interested" to some dumb question, but it got twisted in the preview into...
[Q. Any other contestants you're watching?]
[A. Not really interested.]
She got flamed online, scrambled to clarify, and lo and behold—the full episode had no such scene.
"That really happens?"
"Straight from the horse's mouth. That show got so much hate for being over the top, but..."
Even if not that extreme, 2024 broadcasting pros could pull similar stunts—or milder ones—without batting an eye. Once or twice wasn't enough; three times was the rule.
"No need to be too scared, though. You gotta drop some spicy lines to get airtime and build buzz."
"Can't we just... play good music?"
Juhyeon shook his head at Jeong Hyeona's innocent question. That was the classic misconception of broadcasting newbies. Shows weren't fair competitions from the jump. Producers gave screentime to their faves and starved the rest. (Rigging results was rarer now—treated as a crime—but the process? Wide open for meddling.) Talent alone didn't cut it.
"You gotta show star quality for screentime. But with your group's lineup and looks? You've already got that in spades."
Choi Iseo beamed; Jeong Hyeona blushed. Yoo Seoha seemed indifferent. Myeongjeon figured, Yeah, obviously. Attention levels varied, but in this era, four cute high school girls street-dancing or screaming their lungs out would draw crowds and cheers. And if they played real music? With skills? Rooted in solid rock? Who wouldn't eat it up—who'd skimp on their footage?
Even a Luddite like Myeongjeon got that much.
The rules for season 1 of the rock band audition show Invasion from Seoul—abbreviated Invasion—went like this:
1. Participating bands record a roughly 10-minute performance.
2. The footage airs on YouTube at a set time, where viewers vote on each band's set.
3. The top 16 advance to the main competition.
4. "Mentors" select bands for a sort of producing role, guiding them through ongoing rounds.
5. Each episode eliminates contestants via votes: 20% on-site audience, 50% online viewers, 30% experts.
Of course, season 2 wouldn't follow these exactly. Season 1 bombed for an audition show, so it got canned. The biggest expected change? Preliminaries.
Season 1 filtered bands via YouTube streaming and viewer votes. Season 2? Probably skipping that. Simple reason: Viewers wanted the people on screen to feel special. Not "voted in by randos like me," but "vetted by experts as already elite." Easier that way. Most folks didn't trust their own taste. Their ears, eyes, tongue might love something, but their brain—the part screaming "I have refined artistic sensibilities"—vetoed it.
"I like this...?" Sure, until someone sneered, "That's trash—why do you like it?" Then suddenly, "Nah, I was faking; it's meh." Way simpler if your fave band was stamped "expert-approved special" over "viewer-picked underdog."
So Myeongjeon was prepping for Invasion, but not fully—info from Park Hwiseok or boybander Ryujin was all vague "Format might change." And with auditions not even open for applications yet, what could she do? Focus on the now.
"Whatcha wanna buy?"
"Dunno..."
Choi Iseo stared at the website homepage; that was all Myeongjeon could offer. Ultimately, the best instrument was the one that satisfied you—the one that nailed your sound.
Myeongjeon could've afforded guitars worth tens of millions in her day but stuck with her Fender Custom Shop black Strat for a reason. (Still a multimillion-won beast today.)
"If we were in Japan, I'd say go try 'em in person."
"Really?"
"Ochanomizu's packed with shops. Or Ishibashi. No risk of getting scammed like here."
Nakwon Arcade was Korea's one-stop instrument hub—and even in her Seo Myeongjeon days, it was crawling with shady hustlers. Better now, sure, but still sketchy. Ask to test-play? Expect attitude. Plenty of nice spots if you're a regular, but good luck if you're not.
Japan? Instrument paradise. Ochanomizu had so many shops, folks joked you'd starve picking gear past mealtime.
"Skip Korean sites—check Ishibashi or proxy buyers. Fenders and rarities are cheaper that way."
At her advice, Choi Iseo tore her eyes from a fretless Warwick bass—the model Jack Bruce used in Cream's reunion gig. Her expression soured like she'd tasted something off. Myeongjeon panicked.
"What's up?"
"Guess we're skipping instruments today. Nothing good at Nakwon—or it's all too pricey."
"Then what? The others are coming soon."
Today's plan: Hit Nakwon with their payout for shopping. Pricey, yeah, but nowhere else to test gear. Upgrade equipment, grab coffee, brainstorm audition prep. That was the vibe—or so Myeongjeon thought. Choi Iseo had other ideas.
"Department store today."
"...Huh? For what?"
"Audition outfits. And summer's here—swimsuits too. Suyeon, you gotta hit the beach sometime."
...Swimsuits? Me?