Listen to the Song, Choose the Intent
Time turns in circles, the endless grind of the school week finally ends, and the long-awaited weekend arrives. No one hates weekends. Even a human trash like me still falls within the realm of humanity, so I love them just as much.
"Who knew weekends could be this beautiful."
I've always lived by my whims, weekend or weekday be damned. But now that I've been forced into a regular schedule like everyone else, I could probably write a 5,700-word ode to the glory of the word "weekend." Honestly, I never thought about it before, but going to school five days a week is brutal. How does anyone wake up at 6 a.m., wash their face, brush their teeth, eat breakfast, and make it to class? Staying up till dawn and only rising in the late afternoon—that's the proper human rhythm.
After enduring those grueling 120 hours, golden Saturday finally dawns. I've been counting down to this holiday, so sucking in the morning air in front of the school gate feels so damn unfair.
"…Why do I have to come to school on a Saturday morning?"
Yawning my ass off, I reach the school gate. There, unlike before, is Lara in her tracksuit. I give her a lazy wave and stand beside her. Glancing down at her feet, the pastel red canvas shoes are gone, replaced by dingy sneakers caked in dirt marks.
"Hm, properly wearing sneakers this time. Good girl."
"…You know those blisters wrecked me because of that?"
Running 7km in canvas shoes is pretty intense. I tried it once for a broadcast gig—no cushioning at all.
"And you knew that but still made me run?"
"That's why you took the bus halfway. Sneakers today? No excuses."
I'm a man who cheers on women's independence and proactivity. Femi Seonggwang. Smashing stereotypes that women need protecting and shattering glass ceilings—I'll treat her no different.
"Tch…."
Lara pulls a slightly pissed face but starts stretching anyway. She knows everything I make her do is for her own good, so she doesn't complain much. Yeah, that's the right attitude toward someone trying to guide you. I beam with pride at her, discreetly wiping a tear from my eye as I turn and walk off.
"Hey, where you going?"
Lara calls after me. How beautiful is the back of someone who knows exactly when to leave? Don't cling to this touching moment—let me go. But why's she grabbing my shoulder?
Overcome with reluctance, I close my eyes and place my hand over hers on my shoulder.
"Lara, this is the blessed moment of parting. I get it's sad, but won't you let me go?"
"What the hell are you on about? Where are you going?"
"…The bus stop."
"Why there?"
Her sharp question hits. Why the bus stop? Is it calling me, or is the journey itself the goal? How philosophical, how metaphysical….
"Cut the bullshit. You planning to take the bus?"
"…Yeah?"
What other reason would there be to go to a bus stop?
"So you're making me run 7km while you bus it alone?"
Her eyes sharpen like daggers. She seems all sweet and bubbly chatting with friends, but with me, they turn triangular. No idea why.
"I'm not the vocalist here… Plus, no money for shared bikes."
"…You got bus fare?"
"Yeah, Junwoo-teacher hooked me up."
He called me an idiot for borrowing from a teacher, but whatever. Asking Siwoo would've been easier, but I don't wanna owe her favors.
"Hmmm…."
"…W-what, Lara?"
She growls uncomfortably, eyeing me. With that bright blonde hair and tracksuit, she reminds me of those delinquent big-sis types I'd bump into near the convenience store, cig dangling from their lips. Never got shaken down, but something primal made me shrink anyway.
"Hey, hand over your phone."
"Why my phone…?"
"Just give it. Now."
Blonde thug Lara snatches my phone. I brace for her to smash it, but she just pockets it without a glance.
"Uh… Lara?"
"…."
"Lara?"
Bad vibes hit; I ask what's up. She stares, then bolts backward so fast I think she teleported. Her taekwondo kicks make sense now—Shin Lara's real talent might be athletics, not music. Promising track star of Korea, fading into the distance. Realizing she has my phone—my only asset since I carry no cash—my body finally moves.
"Lara! Laraaa!!"
Robbed of my meager possessions, I chase the thief. Our Saturday morning pursuit lasts two hours, covering about 7km, ending at a theater in Daehangno.
We arrive at the Daehangno theater. I grab my guitar left inside; Lara chats with Jeongyeon. After a short talk, Lara glares at me while I tune up, then rushes over.
What's her deal? She drops a random question.
"Tell me now."
"…What?"
"I said tell me."
Jeongyeon—her teacher—is right there, but she's asking me? And skipping the actual question makes it tricky. What does she want?
Her mood sours at my reaction; eyebrows twitch. She glares, exhales sharply, and spells it out.
"Tell me—how to become a good vocalist… or whatever."
"Oh, that?"
What'd I think it was? Just ask properly first.
"You said you'd answer this week."
"Did I?"
"…."
I ignore her sour face and ask Jeongyeon, scrolling Reels.
"Jeongyeon-noona. Did I say that?"
"Yup."
"You should've backed me up with a 'no.' No wonder her boyfriend ghosted."
"I'll kill you."
Ignoring her murderous glare, I turn back to Lara. She's got the same pissed expression. Looks like she has a lot to say. Lightening the mood, I quirk my lips.
"Ugh… too annoying. Can I just tell you next week?"
"……."
Veins bulge on her neck. Her mouth works, loading curses no girl should utter. I drop the guitar fast and stop her.
"…Kidding. Totally kidding. I remember everything. Don't open your mouth. No swearing. No 'tch.'"
I'm not sexist or prejudiced, but girls cursing in public tanks their image. Why's Lara always gearing up to cuss me out? Students take after their teachers—turning into Jeongyeon? With my scandals, Lara's handling promo and face duty. If she tanks her rep too, I'll need new friends.
"Lara, I really care about you, okay? If I didn't, I wouldn't bother!"
But seriously, I'm wronged. I do remember. No way I'd forget something this important and treat her like total shit. Dog-dick level? Nah, maybe duck-dick at worst. Never seen one, but probably smaller than a dog's.
"…Hmph."
She looks skeptical. That's why you build good karma daily. Am I not treating her great already? High school girls in their prime are tough to win over.
"Anyway, putting that aside—you asked about good vocalists, right?"
"Yeah. Last week."
"Date doesn't matter. Anyway… I've got my conclusion on what makes a good vocalist."
To me, it's not just singing skill. And let's go further.
"I don't think singing skill is even a criterion for a good vocalist."
"…What?"
"Hitting high notes clean, fancy techniques—none of that matters for being good."
So what does? What must Lara grasp to improve?
Normally I'd ramble, but it's vague. Seeing beats hearing a hundred times—except here, she'll need to hear it ten, a hundred times.
"You'll get it by hearing it. That's why the person behind you got dragged out on a weekend."
Following her gaze, Jeongyeon dances solo behind us. Hips shaking, she blinks at the stares.
"…Why?"
"What do you mean why? That song I texted Monday? Sing it."
I asked her this week for today's lesson. She confirmed and replied, so she's prepped.
"Oh, that? Didn't practice."
"…?"
"Been crazy busy. Figured it'd be fine since I sang it at karaoke with friends."
Ah, busy. Got it.
"If that's the case, who am I to complain?"
I'm merciful with unavoidable circumstances. Maria Seonggwang. No reason to scold when she's the victim.
I get my phone back from Lara and search a VTuber's schedule and clips.
"Yeonimi……."
"Hey! Joke! I'm joking! I practiced!"
"Tch, shoulda said that first."
Shaking my head, I close the wolf-eared VTuber's horror reaction clip.
"This bitch dishes jokes but bitches at mine…."
"My jokes are fun; others' aren't."
That's why I always dominate relationships. I love jokes.
Jeongyeon rubs her neck awkwardly, clicks her tongue.
"I practiced, but… vocals aren't my major, so it might not be what you want. Keeps coming out theatrical."
"That's fine. Better for Lara to see the difference clearly."
She heads to the sound setup, dubious. Lara peeks out, having overheard.
"…Answer my question?"
Impatient kid—can't wait, demands it now. Curiosity's good, but blindly seeking answers ain't.
"Wait a sec. More efficient than me explaining."
Aspiring vocalists should analyze others' songs. Find answers in sound, not just words.
—Beeeep!
Speaker buzz pierces eardrums, echoing across the stage to the seats. Too loud up close—I grab Lara's shoulder, sit her down.
Jeongyeon centers the stage. Feels like a neighborhood sis now, but onstage, she looks 0.7x cooler. She meets my eyes, signals; I signal back. She clears her throat. Lara stares blankly—idolizer of cool, stage performers are her heroes.
"Lara, your teacher's singing now. Same song, twice."
"…Same song?"
"Yeah. Listen and spot the difference. Like a Korean lit essay question."
Hear the control, state your thoughts. Subjective, but there's a clear answer.
"Hear both and compare, so relax for now."
"……."
"She sings great. Pretend it's a live show."
Familiar melody from speakers. Heart-wrenching love ballad—always hits in Korea. No mic for pure intent; she doesn't need it.
"Ah—"
Voice straight from her throat demands focus. Sad love song.
"When it rains, you're the first I think of— even your umbrella-holding habit."
Even stress, straight from the score. Legs still, hands at sides—pure song.
"One word that you're doing well~ why's it so hard~"
Precise pronunciation, even breaths. Textbook posture singing love. Despite her doubts, solid notes. She's prettiest onstage. Her ex might've stayed if he only saw her there. Comedy close-up turns tragedy.
Lara, watching, sparkles—smitten.
"Still you, still you~! Guess the love won't end—!"
Chorus hits—stronger highs, techniques for release. Full song done, she exhales short.
"Whew…."
Lara claps; Jeongyeon smiles at her sole audience, bows thanks.
"Damn, 'no practice' my ass…."
High completion. I savor the aftertaste, turn to Lara.
"Lara, how was it?"
"Jeongyeon-unnie… sings amazing."
"Right?"
Teacher to unnie—major upgrade? Or downgrade? Whatever, later.
Not done. I yell at water-drinking Jeongyeon.
"Jeongyeon-noona! Straight to the next okay?"
She makes OK with thumb and pinky.
She resets; we lean back.
"Now once more. Compare to the first—what's different?"
She returns; melody restarts. Same intro. Same song, different song.
"When it rains, you're the first I think of… your umbrella-holding— habit."
Irregular stress, different vibe. No movement, just vocal shift. Slurred a bit, ragged breaths. Voice trembles, then surges emotion. Same song, different style. Acting pro, she dives into the emotion wildly.
I wry-smile listening. Quiet complaint for Lara only, not disrupting.
"…Knew what I was worried about."
Too theatrical. More musical number than song. Exaggerated emotion/tone vs. original. Fine for story-driven musicals, overkill for plain songs….
"…."
Lara's face says no worry—she exaggerates too, probably loves it.
Focused listen; song ends again. Lingering final line. She lifts head, big breath.
"Lara, thoughts on this one?"
"……Good."
Good. Her face lingers, savoring.
Enjoying's nice, but she's here to learn.
"Lara, same song twice. Spot the differences."
She clutches head, hesitates, mutters unsure.
"…Sad?"
"Sad… richer description."
"Super… sad? Like that… waaah~ vibe, that slight blue? No, purple-blue middle…."
She flails hands, trying.
Pity-watch, then sigh.
"Lara, 'richer description' meant musical details, not flexing your tragic vocab."
"…."
"Read more books."
Helps refine emotions/feelings into precise words. Boosts interpretation, lyrics too.
"Your Korean grade… nah, nothing."
"Good call."
Her face says drop it. Music major—grades? Sing well, done. Lara can't yet… but fixable.
"Anyway, analyze musically. Any difference, small okay?"
"Hm…."
Lips pursed, ponders, recalls, compares.
"…Irregular? First clean, second messy."
"…Why?"
"Breaths gasped out, pitch wobbly—not straight."
"Good. And?"
"Overall subdued? First flowed smooth, second hit walls, abrupt… like that."
I nod approval.
"All correct. Sang to feel that way."
Unsteady breaths tense it. Killed flow for stuffiness. Low/small base for gloom, jumps for emotion shifts. First: polished textbook. Second: unstable, off.
"So, Lara—which superior? Right answer? First way better?"
"N-not really. First pleasant, but second resonated too…."
Instability not wrong; perfection doesn't always land. Humans drawn to flaws, beauty in irregularity.
"Yeah, depends on listener, context."
Taste-driven genre—no absolute right.
I'm not pushing biased "right/wrong."
"…Then why show me?"
I tilt head, surprised.
"You asked—how to be good vocalist."
"But… spotting differences relates how?"
"Totally. That's the answer."
Lean in close.
Two styles, hard to rank. Different transmissions, tastes.
"What're they conveying? Same song, why different styles? Your felt emotions?"
Element covering all: my answer for her.
"Lara, first impression of second song?"
"Sad?..."
"Yeah, sad. Why?"
"Lyrics breakup song, wistful… Good vocal = conveying lyrics' emotion?"
"40 points. Not just lyrics."
Interpretations vary. Instrumental songs exist; lyrics misunderstood. Still conveys emotion? Yes. Means beyond lyrics.
Song born from person—like instrument, endless expressions.
"Simpler."
"…… Good vocal expresses song's emotion?"
"60. Not just emotion; no need follow original intent."
Song blooms from personality—clinging to origin kills scent. Voices/styles myriad—use features to convey.
Broader view.
"Sad ballad. Lyrics: ex-lover's heart. You heard two, felt different."
"……."
"You're vocalist. Think as singer."
Performer, not critic. What to always keep in mind when singing? Core for good vocalist, beyond "well-sung."
"……Intent."
Not high range, techniques, skill. Condition transcending "good singing"—singer's foundation, goal.
"…Sing conveying your intended message?"
Unsure, question-form answer. Hearing it, I finally grin satisfied.
"100 points."