A Blazing Jam Session
The bass came in with a furious run of sixteenth notes, Lee Doyeong driving the song’s momentum forward as if he were kicking open a door. The pre-recorded drums blended toms and snare in all the right places, giving the track both grandeur and a hard, propulsive rhythm, and on top of it all, Cha Seoha sang with a voice that was at once desperate and sexy, fully preserving the feel of the original.
“Wow, that’s so cool!”
“Whoa, what is this song? It’s so good.”
“My head’s just like! Going! This way!”
“It’s insane.”
The crowd was enjoying the song in their own ways.
To the general public, who didn’t know much about rock, its recognition was similar to that of their previous track, but this one had more drive and a sharper hook.
Smiles began to spread across people’s faces, and Lee Doyeong seemed to regain a little of his confidence as he looked out at them.
But that still wasn’t enough.
Kim Jihoo still wore a dissatisfied expression.
More...
Get them more immersed, Lee Doyeong.
A moment later, all the instruments shifted into the same rhythm, hinting at a full-scale change.
The atmosphere felt as though it were racing toward some completely different world, and a long, eerie sound with no clear source was added on top.
Then they plunged into the first chorus.
This is the last time
I’ll abandon you
and this is the last time
I’ll forget you
Kim Jihoo’s piano joined in, and the chorus exploded with a mysterious, dreamlike atmosphere.
This chorus was anchored by his piano, while Lee Doyeong’s bass had to hold everything down with a heavy, solid weight.
It wasn’t bad.
But it wasn’t outstanding, either.
Although, judging by the audience’s reaction, they seemed to feel differently.
“That’s sick.”
“What was the title again?”
“No idea, I can’t remember...”
The moment the chorus hit, the chatter vanished and the audience started buzzing to one another instead.
They were reacting to the song’s unusual turn, of course.
In a good way.
As expected of Kim Jihoo.
That was an excellent choice of song.
After the chorus ended, Heo Junseong’s guitar briefly carried the main riff in the interlude before they flowed back into the verse.
The one who seemed to be having the most fun onstage was definitely Cha Seoha.
In the verses, he was fierce.
In the chorus, delicate.
And at the end, absolutely wild.
It was the kind of song that made you want to sing your heart out.
Cha Seoha was utterly lost in the music, looking as if he cared only about doing his own part well, regardless of how well the members meshed.
Of course, the audience had no choice but to get swept up in him.
Is this really right...?
Kim Jihoo hated that.
He’s definitely good, but...
There was no doubt about Cha Seoha’s skill.
He wasn’t merely the best among them; he had already reached a level far above that.
Then why isn’t he considering Lee Doyeong?
He’d been like that during practice, too.
He made all sorts of demands of Heo Junseong and him, yet for some bizarre reason he hardly said a word to Lee Doyeong.
And when it came to the current performance, Lee Doyeong was the one who lacked the most.
Is he the type who just leaves people alone? Or the type who gives unlimited trust if he’s close to them?
Kim Jihoo was gradually losing interest in the jam session.
Then the second chorus arrived.
Again, Kim Jihoo and Cha Seoha handled their parts flawlessly.
Heo Junseong was doing fairly well.
And Lee Doyeong wasn’t bad, but he still felt like he was getting dragged along, which was a shame.
This is my RULE!!
Cha Seoha gripped the microphone with both hands and roared out the end of the second-verse chorus like a beast in full cry.
And then came the interlude.
Heo Junseong’s main riff rang out briefly, and almost immediately they were supposed to launch into the solo section, where guitar and bass would tear through an intense, high-speed passage together.
Just a few seconds from now.
Only a few seconds before that part arrived.
With an easy stride that looked almost like a light skip, Cha Seoha headed toward Lee Doyeong.
Huh?
Why is he suddenly coming to me?
Before Lee Doyeong could even make sense of it, he realized something had looped around his neck.
It was Cha Seoha’s arm.
Cha Seoha hooked an arm over his shoulders and dragged Lee Doyeong toward center stage.
No matter how you looked at it, the star of this section was the guitar.
But for the guitar to shine, it needed the bass to unleash those blistering sixteenth notes and drive the whole thing forward.
In other words, Cha Seoha had suddenly thrown Lee Doyeong into the role of the lead without a word of warning.
In the span of less than a second, tens of thousands of thoughts flashed through Lee Doyeong’s mind.
Could he really pull it off?
He didn’t have any star quality.
What if he ruined the song?
Cha Seoha knew Lee Doyeong was one of the rare musicians who didn’t have much greed in him.
Put kindly, it meant he had a habit of yielding the spotlight to the others. Put harshly, it meant he disliked taking full responsibility.
But Lee Doyeong’s true value showed when he became the last line of defense.
When the whole team would sink if he failed.
So...
I have to do this right.
Once he threw away every other complicated thought and stood before that single truth, he revealed a side of himself no one expected.
He had stronger fundamentals than he looked like he should, and he was better at handling spontaneous situations than people gave him credit for.
Lee Doyeong had no confidence.
Which meant he also had no confidence in running away when the audience stared at him with bright, expectant eyes.
So then...
Forget it.
He would have to throw himself into the performance.
Cha Seoha’s arm slipped from around Lee Doyeong’s neck.
Not because Cha Seoha let go.
Because Lee Doyeong ran forward.
Enduring the heavy weight of the bass, Lee Doyeong unleashed a blur of fast fingerwork.
His eyes were completely fixed on the strings.
But that didn’t make him look timid.
It made him look utterly immersed in his own playing, in his friends’ playing, in the music itself.
Even on the original track, this was the kind of section that felt like being dragged into somewhere else entirely.
The solo part was so intense it wouldn’t have been strange to call it violent.
Lee Doyeong was more than good enough.
Somewhere a little under halfway through that passage, Heo Junseong had a thought.
I want in.
Seizing the moment, Heo Junseong ran out with his guitar and set his back against Lee Doyeong’s.
“Kyaaaah!”
“Whoa!!!”
The instant something touched his back, Lee Doyeong’s body instinctively twisted to the right.
And just like that, the two of them were locked into a frenzy with the audience sitting right beside them.
Sweat flew, and the heat in his right arm felt almost unbearable.
Even though it was evening, summer was trying its hardest to drain them dry, but neither of them yielded.
They weren’t thinking about how hard it was. They were just having too much fun.
The perfect chemistry between the two of them was exhilarating beyond reason.
There were a few small missed touches, but the power of the performance was so overwhelming they practically felt intentional.
In the crowd, more and more people were screaming because they loved this insane performance that seemed like it might never end.
And just as everyone was completely entranced, the solo section came to an end.
Heo Junseong flashed a few strums and wore a smug expression that said this had been nothing special.
Likewise, Lee Doyeong exited with a brilliant smile toward the audience, finishing with a graceful glissando.
The difference in temperature between the two of them was so stark that their exit was unforgettable.
And then the final chorus came crashing in again.
What, what the—
Kim Jihoo felt like he’d just seen something unbelievable.
“Ah!”
There had been a tiny mistouch on one key.
It was his first mistake since joining this band.
Still, it was a relief the audience probably wouldn’t notice.
Incredible... Was that intentional?
Cha Seoha definitely seemed like he had no intention of covering for Lee Doyeong at all.
And yet, at the most important moment.
At that timing, when everyone would naturally assume the guitar was the star.
He shoved Lee Doyeong into the center of the stage.
No, he’d shoved him right over the edge.
Lee Doyeong had no choice but to give it everything he had.
And in the end, he did his job beautifully.
On top of that, Heo Junseong created a fantastic two-shot.
It shone.
For the first time, Kim Jihoo found himself asking a question.
Even if you played technically flawlessly, could you really have shone any brighter than that?
And so the final chorus came to an end.
The outro carried through as well, never once letting go of its fierce, heavy atmosphere.
Seeing that outro, Kim Jihoo could be certain of one thing.
Lee Doyeong was completely immersed in the music now, and he had found his confidence.
And he had definitely grown.
“They’re interesting guys.”
It had been a long time since he’d found something more entertaining than a great jam session.
“Waaaaaah!”
“Kyaaaah!”
“You’re amazing!”
When the performance ended, the audience burst into a ferocious cheer.
It was the biggest one yet.
“Thank you!”
Seeing Lee Doyeong awaken to something in an instant, Kim Jihoo thought it was funny.
And he thought Cha Seoha, who had pulled it out of him, was even funnier.
At the same time, Lee Doyeong was thinking,
Performing... is fun...!
“Everyone, this is our last song now.”
“Aaaahhh!”
“Noooo!”
“Play more!”
“Encore! Encore! Encore!”
“Haha! We still have one song left, so I’ll take encore requests after that.”
The crowd was even bigger than before.
Rock might not work in Korea right now, but looking at an audience like this made it hard not to feel hopeful, even if the numbers were small.
“All right, our next song...”
Come to think of it, the last song was that song.
“Ahem. Um...”
“Hey, why aren’t you introducing the next song?”
“I am, I am. Hold on a sec.”
Just as he was about to introduce that song, Heo Junseong cut in with a playful tone.
“Oh? Why? Is it embarrassing to introduce it because it’s one of your favorite anime songs?”
“No! I’m telling you, it’s not a song I like!”
Murmurs spread through the audience.
“Anime? Animation?”
“Guess they like animation.”
“Ugh, he’s not one of those weird otaku anime people, right?”
“Doesn’t seem like it, does it?”
“You never know... I heard music people are often huge nerds.”
“Oh. That makes sense.”
“Maybe he’s an otaku too.”
Damn it. I could hear all of that.