68 – 『Drop Pop』 (4)
68 – 『Drop Pop』 (4)
68.
“Say hello. These are our band members. And this is Hajun. He’s the producer for this project album.”
As he said that, Won Seongmin introduced the members of Blue Aka. Blue Aka had four members in total: Choi Minseok on drums, Ahn Hain on bass, Kang Minseok on keyboard, and Won Seongmin on composition, guitar, and vocals.
However, when it came to vocals, rather than singing himself, Won Seongmin more often hired a guest vocalist. Looking at them, Yoon Hajun bowed his head lightly.
“Hello.”
“Uh, is he the guy?”
“Hi. He looks cute. How old did you say he was?”
“He just turned eighteen.”
“Damn, that kind of skill at that age? Seongmin, doesn’t he write songs better than you?”
“That could be true.”
“He made that song?”
At Yoon Hajun’s greeting, the Blue Aka members whispered with surprised faces. They already knew he was a high school student, but seeing him in person, he looked extremely young.
“Who cares about age. The song matters. I’m Choi Minseok. Nice to meet you.”
“Ah, I’m Yoon Hajun.”
Yoon Hajun lightly took the hand Choi Minseok offered. Then he made a surprised expression. He barely gripped it, yet he could feel a strong grip.
They said drummers lived on strength.
He looked slender, but he was really strong.
“True. The song you made is really interesting. It’s that emo hip-hop that’s trending lately, right?”
“The basic framework is emo hip-hop.”
“Hm, is it because you’re young? It’s really trendy.”
“What does age have to do with it.”
At Kang Minseok’s mutter, Won Seongmin cut in. Then, with his big hands, he clapped lightly to gather attention and spoke.
“So, you all listened to the track I sent, right?”
Instead of answering, the band members went to where their instruments were and sat down. They looked at each other and nodded, then started playing.
At the sudden start, Yoon Hajun looked startled. He thought they would talk about the song first, but they started playing right away?
The main line came from the keyboard. The bass added weight beneath it. The drums piled on power, and a flashy guitar line wrapped the notes.
Yoon Hajun parted his lips, stunned. As expected of Blue Aka. They hadn’t even done a proper full rehearsal, yet their ensemble clicked perfectly.
It wasn’t just that they matched. The melodies were alive, brimming with energy. Listening, Yoon Hajun frowned slightly.
He felt this with Kim Taeyoung too, but virtual instruments could never match the sound of real instruments played by real performers. The limits were obvious.
When I release an album, I should ask session players.
Up to now, he composed only with virtual instruments because he had no money and not enough time, but now it was different. Money? The company covered it. Hiring performers? The company handled that too.
Not just performers—engineering and lyricists too. Seriously, a company was the best. He was glad he signed.
While Yoon Hajun thought that, the Blue Aka members finished playing and looked at him. The producer for this project album was Yoon Hajun.
Even if they liked their own performance, if the producer didn’t like it, they had to do it again.
“How is it?”
At Won Seongmin’s question, Yoon Hajun thought for a moment, then spoke.
“The playing is good, but I think the progression is a bit lacking. The genre is definitely emo hip-hop, but it also has a strong rock inclination. And now we’re adding jazz too. So I think we need to reinforce the progression more. And for the performance, it’s not just the existing instruments—we also need to add other instruments, and sounds from everyday objects too.”
“So we need arrangement.”
“Yes. I think we need to build what’s missing.”
As Won Seongmin and Yoon Hajun talked, Kang Minseok jumped in.
“When you say other instruments, what instruments do you mean?”
“We’ll use synthesizer sounds too. And I want to add trumpet.”
“Trumpet—where?”
“You know the section where it’s just bass and guitar. The part right before that. The part that’s going to become the hook.”
“Hm. That’s not bad. You’ll use it with the synthesizer, right?”
“Yes.”
Beyond that, Yoon Hajun asked the members for various other things. Seeing it, the members grinned.
When Won Seongmin suggested working together, they already sensed it, but this kid was something else.
His talent as a composer was solid, but what stood out even more was his talent as a producer. He was only eighteen, yet he clearly understood what worked in music.
He wasn’t just doing novel experiments. He grasped trends fast and made choices that could land with the public. And even in front of members ten years older than him, with rough-looking faces, he didn’t shrink.
A producer was the person in charge.
They took responsibility for the whole sound and drove it forward.
In that sense, Yoon Hajun understood the producer’s role very well. He asked for opinions, but he didn’t get swayed by them.
“I like it.”
Choi Minseok muttered that and looked at Won Seongmin.
At that look, Won Seongmin asked, “No complaints?”
“Yeah.”
§ § §
“You want me to write lyrics?”
At Yoon Hajun’s request, Han Goyo looked flustered. He said he had something to ask of her, so she wondered what it was—only for him to tell her to write lyrics.
“You’re the one who has to sing this. I think it’d be better if you wrote the lyrics.”
“I’ve never really written lyrics before.”
“It’s fine. I’ll help.”
Han Goyo slowly nodded. She didn’t feel like it, but if it was work the song needed… She took the notebook Yoon Hajun handed her, hesitated with a troubled expression, then asked.
“So what should I write about?”
“Just tell your story.”
“My story?”
“Yeah. Your story. The things you usually want to say. The things you kept shoved down. Put all of that into the lyrics.”
“…Then it’ll get really dark.”
“It’s fine. You can tell just from the melody. The intro is filthy-depressing.”
Yoon Hajun was right. The beginning of the track they were working on was extremely gloomy. And as it progressed, it shifted from gloom into a scream.
That was what she liked. The shock she felt when she first heard Yoon Hajun’s music was here too. This is my song—that kind of certainty settled in her.
“So don’t watch the room. Write as much as you want. Anyway, other people won’t know what you’re saying. Dump everything you held back. You felt suffocated too, didn’t you?”
She knew what he meant. Yoon Hajun knew everything about her situation. At his words, Han Goyo nodded carefully.
Then she sat down and stared at the notebook. What lyrics should she write? Her story. She had a lot she wanted to say. Too much.
But could she? Would it really be okay to say things like that? Those thoughts flashed through her head. Han Goyo’s hand paused.
In the end, she couldn’t write a single thing.
She only stared at the notebook all day.
“Miss Goyo.”
Then Won Seongmin approached her. Han Goyo looked up at him. Won Seongmin gave a bitter smile and spoke.
“It’s because of the contract. As you know, the track we’re working on will be officially released. But you’re a minor, so we need your parent’s permission.”
“Ah.”
Han Goyo let out a blank sound. She didn’t have parents. No—she did, technically. She just didn’t know where they were. Instead, she had a guardian: her aunt.
“Could you show this to your parents?”
“…Yes.”
Han Goyo accepted the contract Won Seongmin handed her. She had to show it to her aunt and get approval. The moment she thought that, it felt like her airway clamped shut.
Her aunt’s child went off the rails because of her, because of singing. Was it really okay to show her something like this? It felt stifling. She couldn’t breathe. She felt like throwing up. She wanted to run.
Han Goyo forced those feelings down. And after practice ended, when she returned home, she placed the contract on the table.
Soon, her aunt came out of the room, noticed it, and started reading. There was no conversation between them. Normally, her aunt would at least greet her, but she said nothing.
Instead, she brought a pen, scribbled something onto the contract, then went back into her room.
Seeing that, Han Goyo slowly stood and looked at the contract.
There were no words written.
Only a stamped seal and a name in the guardian consent section.
After confirming it, Han Goyo let out a deep breath.
The house that already felt suffocating, like a prison, felt even more suffocating than usual. With the contract in hand, Han Goyo went into her room.
Then she sat at her desk and pulled out the notebook Yoon Hajun gave her.
You felt suffocated too.
His words came back to her. Yeah. She felt suffocated. Every moment of living felt suffocating.
Except when she sang. Except the time she spent at school for that.
Everything else felt so stifling she could die.
Han Goyo’s hand moved as she gripped the pen. Thoughts poured into her head. What did I do wrong? Why do I have to live like a criminal?
Her hand sped up more and more. She wrote everything she’d held in for so long.
She knew it herself. This wasn’t lyrics or anything like that. It was just her resentment.
But once that resentment started spilling out, it wouldn’t stop.
Again, and again.
Han Goyo wrote in the notebook.
All night.
§ § §
“Here.”
Saying that, Han Goyo held out the notebook to me. I took it and looked her over. She looked exhausted, like she’d been thinking all night.
“Is it okay if you rest for a bit?”
“Yeah. It’s fine. I’ll fix the rest myself.”
“Thanks.”
Han Goyo nodded and went to sit in a corner. Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes.
Seeing that, I felt sorry for her.
What I asked might have been cruel.
But it was necessary.
I opened the notebook and slowly read what she wrote. Just from the page, I could tell how much she struggled.
She wrote, erased, wrote again.
There were even torn pages.
What came out of it was something that couldn’t even be called lyrics. She didn’t even try to match rhythm at a minimum.
But it was fine.
This was enough for me to revise.
“Is that the lyrics?”
“Yes.”
While I worked on the lyrics based on what was written, Won Seongmin came over. He glanced at the words and said with a heavy expression.
“The lyrics are really heavy.”
“The whole vibe is heavy anyway.”
“That’s true.”
Won Seongmin nodded. As I kept writing, I asked him something.
“By the way, when are we releasing this?”
“Once this work is finished, we plan to release it as a digital track right away. This work is the end of Part One of the project.”
“Part One?”
“We decided to release the project album in two parts. There were more talented people than we expected. So for Part One, we bundled six people’s music into one album, including Taeyoung and Goyo.”
“Hm. Then are you filming a music video or something?”
“We plan to, but it’ll probably be a music video for the album, rather than for a single track. So inside one music video, we’ll put all six songs.”
I didn’t really get what he meant. Putting six songs into one music video? So like those old 2000s-style videos, making it eighteen or twenty minutes long?
“And you’re performing it at the year-end concert, right?”
“For now, yes.”
Blue Aka didn’t do much broadcast activity. They performed live far more. Especially overseas, more than in Korea.
So there were almost no chances for this song to be sung on stage.
Goyo and I were students, anyway.
Going overseas just for a concert wasn’t realistic.
“More importantly, there’s something I want to ask you, Hajun.”
“Yes, what is it?”
“Do you have about two weeks free around February?”
“In February… I should be free. Why?”
It would be spring break then. At my answer, Won Seongmin let out a relieved breath, like he was glad.
Then he spoke carefully.
“Could you help me?”
“Help?”
“Yes. This might get exposed on broadcast.”
At Won Seongmin’s sudden words, I blinked. Broadcast exposure? I figured I might appear on TV someday, but—
“By exposure, do you mean appearing?”
“It’s not a huge show. It’s a music program on cable. We’re going to appear on it.”
“Ah, congratulations.”
“Thank you. Anyway, what matters isn’t that. We have to sing there. But we’re really short on time. We have to make a song in two weeks.”
“…Ah.”
I knew schedules on those music programs—especially audition programs—were brutal, but making a song in two weeks?
“That’s insane.”
“It can’t be helped. But our members aren’t interested in composing or producing. Doing it alone is too much, so I need someone to help.”
So he was asking me to help?
“I thought it’d be good if you helped, Hajun. Of course, we’ll pay appearance fees and production fees. And if you do it, you’ll appear under a contract through your company.”
Won Seongmin looked at me and asked.
“So what will you do?”