Utopia and the Repechage
The bands in Invasion from Seoul were buzzing with murmurs. Ignoring their reactions, the MC turned toward the screen.
"At this point, two questions probably come to mind. First! What happens to bands not chosen by the mentors?"
REPECHAGE
[Repechage: Losers' Revival Round]
"Bands not selected in this round will meet again in the upcoming losers' revival round. And second! Composing a song is fine, but what's the 'theme'?"
The MC paused for effect, then pointed straight at the camera with the hand holding the cue card.
"The theme is... 'Utopia.'"
"Utopia?"
Suyeon muttered under her breath, as if wondering what nonsense this was. She'd been silent up until now.
"Any genre, any style is fine! Bring music that represents your 'utopia.' A song that says, 'This is the music we want to make! This is our goal!'—one track that explains it all!"
Is that even possible?
While Hyeona was thinking that, the MC finished speaking and stepped off the stage. Next came the staff.
"Today's recording covers episode 0 and 1. Next week, we'll film episode 2 based on the mission we just announced. Keep that in mind..."
Hyeona looked at the main PD who had appeared at some point. Yoon Dong-wook, was it?
"As mentioned, the composition theme is 'utopia.' To elaborate, it's like 'the music you most want to make right now.' Of course, other interpretations are welcome. It can be simple or complex. You could even go extreme and say, 'I want to do Tteotda Tteotda Flying Up High,' and bring that."
Laughter erupted from the bands at the PD's words. But it was more reaction than genuine amusement.
"Of course, scoring is absolute evaluation, so bringing Tteotda Tteotda would naturally get a low score. Keep that in mind."
"So, as long as it's not a song we've already performed? Like, we've played it elsewhere but never officially released it as digital music."
As the PD finished, someone from the murmuring crowd blurted out a question. The PD gave a sly smile before answering.
"Well... it's possible, but if caught, it could become a 'problem.' Just a heads-up."
The bands flinched at the PD's unsettling grin. He continued his explanation.
"Next week, mentors will pick four teams each, and the six unchosen teams will go into the repechage group as announced earlier."
The bands buzzed again. Dropping six teams after just episode 2—too harsh? A few voices leaked out that sentiment. But it wasn't loud. Maybe because they'd steeled themselves, or thanks to the repechage safety net, or because six out of thirty was a low ratio anyway...
"Scary stuff."
Iseo's voice came from beside her. Her face was full of worry. Hyeona replied, "Yeah~," while thinking to herself.
A composition mission, right?
Hyeona watched more anime than Korean TV, but she knew the basic structure of audition shows. From that knowledge, this mission seemed like a test of the participants' capabilities.
Suyeon-unnie said something like that. Bring your most confident song today.
Show what the band does best, then what they most want to do. That might be the production team's intent, Hyeona mused.
Instruments were set up in the center of the coliseum-like set. Not the usual 'looking down' on the performance, but 'looking up' at it. The audience above, the bands below. It symbolized reversal.
Until now, they'd dragged fans around with them. But now, they needed to be chosen by people. A shift from idols drawing attention to objects begging for it.
That irony—wasn't it one reason the public loved audition shows?
Dong-wook crossed his arms, lost in such idle thoughts.
Invasion from Seoul, a program the execs had suddenly thrust upon him, a total outsider to rock. "Make it a hit by any means (while keeping to minimal ethics)," they'd said. For months, he'd agonized over the format.
Preliminaries were another headache. Sure, judging was left to civilians and experts, but as main PD, he had to know which promising bands deserved more screen time and which duds to cut.
He'd listened to band music until his nose bled, studied genres, watched prelim videos. After countless sleepless nights, Dong-wook's conclusion:
Few show real potential.
Episode 1 had 18 bands. Episode 2: 30. Few overlaps with episode 1. The execs planning episode 2 had just said, "Bigger scale means it'll hit anyway!" Pure madness.
Thinking padding numbers would fix everything—that was the mark of a lunatic.
Parachute bastard.
Dong-wook grumbled inwardly as he watched the performing band. Live on-site had a fresh vibe, but they still sucked in his eyes.
To him, the bands here fell into four categories.
First: The decent ones. Good music and visuals, or lacking in one but not terribly. Like [Cuban Missile Crisis], [Seolga Hyang], [Four-Man Bandit Gang], [Muzaku] over there.
Second: Weaker skills but solid fandoms. Mostly boy bands backed by agencies. [TWR] claiming to be Projeckt 6's juniors, mid-tier [2MAJOR], major-label [WEKIDS]. Fandom carry could keep them going long.
Third: Total non-starters. Obvious early dropouts. Good enough for main audition quals, but nothing special. Mediocre music, visuals too. Like current performers [Echo Stones], [NOTK], [N8 Rider].
And fourth: The real headaches.
These kids are the trickiest...
Dong-wook eyed the high school girl propping her chin boredly midway up the set. Ha Suyeon, right? Her band [Group Sound], and down there [Mystica]—they fit category four.
Their issue? They were good at music.
Who'd think that a problem on a music show? But it was.
"Preferably boy bands with decent visuals. Got it, Dong-wook?"
Words from Park, the exec who'd installed him as main PD. [C:RSKY], the sponsor backing episode 2's production, wanted boy bands blending musicality and visuals—hence their support.
Not into blatant rigging, though.
Dong-wook thought that while glancing at [Mystica]. Their visuals were too off, so even good skills wouldn't last. But [Group Sound]? Stellar visuals. Four high school girls! The press release alone would spark a frenzy.
And their skills impressed even him, a novice. Which made them more problematic.
"Next team, let's go!!"
At the staff's call, bands scrambled again. Dong-wook let his thoughts trail off.
The exec getting heat from sponsors was Park. Yoon Dong-wook just needed to make it a hit. If heads rolled at the company, it'd be Park's—not his.
"The rules are complicated."
Myeongjeon peered into the rulebook, then tossed it onto the table. She'd expected extra rules to stir competition, but this was excessive.
"Yeah. Production likes rules that maximize variables."
Hyeona picked up the booklet as she spoke. Myeongjeon knew that, but simplifying for viewers seemed better.
"Why insist it can't be a previously announced song, though?"
"I think it's this."
At Iseo's mutter, Hyeona pulled out the contract from participation and pointed to a clause.
The copyright of sound sources produced by program participants under specific conditions may be transferred to the company under the following terms.
"Probably about song revenue. Pre-existing shelved tracks make copyright transfer iffy..."
"When did you spot this? Impressive."
"Heh heh."
Hyeona melted into a gooey smile at Myeongjeon's mutter. She'd read every fine-print clause in that multi-page contract.
Myeongjeon had skipped details even in her Seo Myeongjeon days, losing out on session and arrangement fees. Old habits died hard.
"Seoha. Know any of these bands?"
When'd she get that nickname?
Iseo slipped in the question during a lull.
"Plenty. Mystica's respected in metal for skill. Four-Man Bandit Gang is famous for hard rock too."
While Seoha answered, Myeongjeon gazed at the ceiling, thinking it a vicious moniker.
Utopia, huh.
Having lived long enough, Myeongjeon wanted to say no such thing as a "musical utopia" existed. Sure, she'd reminisce over old records with "good old days," but that didn't mean "old music is best."
What even was utopia? A place "unreachable." For the living, it shifts because they're alive; for the dead, it's forever out of reach because they're gone.
"Sounds too abstract. Just make anything? Something we're good at?"
"'[The music you most want to do right now]' makes it clear, no? Like blues for you, Suyeon."
"Not every day. Maybe 300 days a year."
"That's basically every day..."
Myeongjeon spouted nonsense, then dove back into thought, ignoring Iseo's bafflement.
What song? Personally, blues tempted her as Myeongjeon. But that was her preference, not [Group Sound]'s. Regardless of the others, that's how she saw it.
"First competition—maybe play it safe? Lure 'em in underestimating, then devour."
"No."
Hyeona's firm voice cut through Myeongjeon's musing. The table fell suddenly silent.
"What?"
Myeongjeon's instinctive reaction made Hyeona shrink back, despite speaking up herself.
"No, not mad. Speak. Seriously, I'm not mad."
Hyeona retracted like a hermit crab. After a brief tussle, Myeongjeon coaxed her out.
"Um... I think."
"You think?"
"This theme's basically free rein, but they won't repeat it early on..."
"Yeah? Kinda feels that way."
Iseo muttered agreement. Buoyed, Hyeona raised her voice a notch.
"So, we should go all-out now. Could be first-place perks, who knows next format—but the stronger we are, the less other bands target us."
Myeongjeon saw logic there. In something like battle royale, weaklings might gang up on the strong. But this was a band audition survival. No such alliances.
"Crush 'em from the start, then. We played nice today."
"Why crush the start?"
At Iseo's out-of-left-field question, Myeongjeon stared at her face. So innocently clueless. She could only sigh inwardly: Headline said literacy's dropping—here's living proof.