Chapter 76: Music Rooted in the Basics
Music doesn’t read the room.
Even in the chilly atmosphere,
Taeyoon’s song filled the meeting room with energy, racing toward its finale.
“Ah, what? You told me to speak up right away.”
“Uh, um……”
“I’m serious. There was a department store gift card on the li— Ow!”
The senior’s elbow sharply jabbed the rookie in the ribs.
Only then did she realize something was off and shut her mouth.
The employees who had been gushing with impressions fell silent.
Oh Jisoo.
That heavy name had frozen over the meeting room.
‘…Can’t you read the room?’
Bringing up Oh Jisoo in front of Jeong Jaewook was like throwing a rock in front of a fisherman’s rod.
Breaking up didn’t make you sworn enemies.
Still, any office worker should know better than to mention someone’s ex in front of their boss.
That’s just basic workplace etiquette.
Anyone who’d seen how visibly worn down he got just from hearing a song she was involved in would’ve figured it out.
Except for one person.
The rookie who had just recently joined.
“Ahem…”
How would the sensitive Jeong Jaewook react?
Would he give a cool-headed answer, pretending nothing’s wrong?
Would he lose it and insist it’s absolutely not true?
Would he blush like a teenager?
Surely, he wasn’t going to break down crying.
While everyone exchanged uneasy glances, Jeong Jaewook—
‘A whistle, huh…’
—continued chewing over the music, savoring it thoroughly.
‘This is…’
Scent of Tam Dao nestled in the melody, A faint trace of cigarettes twirling within, And the distinct whistle that used to linger at the corner of her lips.
Music and scent.
Memories always came to him more vividly and suddenly than visuals.
Hoo…
A soft sigh melted into the bass, disappearing without a trace.
Whether he noticed the mood around him or not, Jeong Jaewook focused all his senses on .
He couldn’t open his eyes.
The power in this track—
What was it, exactly?
After a short moment of thought, he reached a conclusion.
A strange pull that invited you into its own world.
Boom, boom boom.
In his mind, Jeong Jaewook had somehow become the bassist, gleefully slapping along to the rhythm.
Was “slapping” the right word?
It was slap bass, so… yeah, that sounded right.
‘The flow’s great. Better than expected.’
This version of himself—
It felt unfamiliar.
He opened his eyes slowly.
Same office, same employees, same speaker.
He closed them again.
The background shifted—to his college band club room in Sinchon.
Old club friends, faces now faint, no longer in touch, even their voices barely a memory, gathered around him.
Guitar, bass, drums, keyboard, a standing mic.
Their clumsy jam session began.
Who used to be the bassist again?
Didn’t matter. In this moment, he was the bassist, he was the star.
“Ha.”
…Jeong Jaewook let out a sigh.
Was it longing? Nostalgia?
And at the same time—
“Ha ha, hahahaha.”
—laughter burst out.
“……?”
Because it was good. Too good.
All he could do was smile, like a full moon.
Slowly, Jeong Jaewook opened his eyes.
The club members who had been jamming with him vanished like smoke.
Only once the song ended did reality return.
He finally opened his mouth.
“It's nice, right?”
Jeong Jaewook’s voice, slightly damp.
Was it because of Oh Jisoo? Or because of the song?
That, no one could tell.
But one thing was certain—
They all felt the same.
Music isn’t just a string of melodies.
It’s someone’s story, steeped in feelings and time.
Who could’ve written such an evocative track?
Busan Goblin? Loopman? Music Ward?
No, no way.
No specific team came to mind.
It didn’t follow the usual formula of an idol dance track.
‘Did they buy it from overseas?’
‘Wouldn't put it past the Chairman to do that—throw us off the scent completely.’
‘Wow… who is it? I’m dying to know.’
Each person kept their thoughts to themselves, Waiting for Jeong Jaewook’s next words.
“Hmm?”
The mood grew slightly more awkward.
Jeong Jaewook rolled up his sleeves and asked,
“Ah, someone mentioned the lyrics earlier or something? I didn’t catch that—what did you say?”
“N-no, it’s nothing.”
“So anticlimactic.”
He let out a soft chuckle and stood from his seat.
After glancing around the room, he left a word of advice.
“I’ve got a lot to say, but… I need to get my thoughts together first. Alright, let’s take a short break. We’ll reconvene in 30 minutes.”
The music that wins over the public isn’t flashy or overloaded with explosive beats and showy arrangements.
It’s music that sticks to the basics.
Of course, there’s the perfect performance delivered by pretty and handsome idols, And the sleek, money-drenched sound armed with dazzling technique.
Those are undeniably powerful commercial elements too, but…
“Comforting, yet fresh, right?”
“I was shocked. Of course, any song the Chairman picks is bound to be something else.”
“He said it was his first time hearing it too, right?”
“Yeah. He looked totally surprised.”
A single drop of something special in a familiar setting—
That’s the true core of pop music that captivates everyone’s ears.
So what are those basics, then?
It’s simple.
“I want to hear it again.”
“It’s so fun hearing the bass take the lead like that.”
“And yet, the melody doesn’t try to stand out too much, right?”
“It’s not full-on trot or anything… but it’s easy to sing along to.”
Regardless of gender, race, age, or taste.
A song you want to hear again, That keeps popping into your head, That makes you want to hum it without realizing.
That is what defines popularity.
If someone were to ask what defines good, fundamental pop music from now on, I would point to Avalanche without hesitation.
“Where did the Chairman go?”
“I think he went back to his office.”
“Whew.”
It was clear now that Jeong Jaewook had left the room.
Only then did the Manny Entertainment staff exhale and finally say what they really wanted to say.
“Hey, rookie.”
“Yes?”
“You… seriously didn’t know?”
“Pardon?”
“Who was your mentor?”
“Uh, Assistant Manager Kim, who resigned last week.”
“Damn. He forgot to tell you the most important thing.”
Directed at the clueless rookie who had casually brought up Oh Jisoo,
everyone in the A&R team began their lecture on an essential virtue.
“First, read the room.”
“Second, read the room.”
“Then third?”
“Reading the room.”
“…?”
Reading the room in A&R?
Instinct, judgment, perception, wit…
Those are inborn talents and hard to teach, so let’s set that aside.
There’s only one rule.
Don’t say unnecessary things.
This, you can memorize.
“There’s a list of things you should never say. Memorize it. No, you must memorize it.”
“‘We already tried this at ToMe,’ ‘Tomorrow Entertainment’s new song is great,’ ‘Not many demos came in this round,’ and… the most important one.”
“What’s that?”
“Oh Jisoo.”
“…?”
Everything else was a sentence.
Why was this one just a name?
“You really didn’t know, huh. Well, back in the day…”
The explanation was simple.
Don’t mention Oh Jisoo, don’t play songs she worked on, don’t send her any demos…
Whatever the reason, just erase her from your brain.
“But why? The Chairman doesn’t seem like the kind of person to mix personal feelings with work.”
“Oh, he absolutely is.”
“...Really?”
“Yep. You don’t know men.”
The rookie closed her mouth tight.
The Jeong Jaewook she’d seen wasn’t someone who’d let personal emotions get in the way of work.
But if the seniors insisted, all she could do was shrug.
Still, that aside—
What to do about what had already happened?
“But about this song.”
“Yeah, Minseo, what did you think?”
“It suits Signum really well. Way more than the song from Music Ward last time.”
“Oh, nice catch.”
“I liked how clearly defined the musical points were. You know how our company’s idol songs usually have that cringey Manny-style bridge? I hated that. Without it, the vibe really comes alive.”
Everyone strongly agreed at that point.
Manny Entertainment idol tracks were known for their signature bridge.
Fans loved it, but the general public didn’t get the appeal.
It was a major reason their popularity lagged behind.
But.
Avalanche completely broke away from Manny’s formula.
It led with instruments.
While not forgetting the band-idol concept, it also maintained a strong, coherent theme.
A song that managed to capture musicality, mass appeal, and group identity all at once.
“The bass and melody hit in unison, but it’s not boring.”
“Exactly. When they shout ‘Avalanche!’ in the chorus and drop together with the bass, it really comes to life.”
Unison.
A technique where two or more instruments play exactly the same note at once.
It makes a song tighter and more energetic.
Strengthens the band sound—no question.
But used poorly, it made the sound feel childish. If repeated too much, it led to predictability and boredom.
Taeyoon had boldly placed unison—right in the hook, the most critical part.
That’s where the song stood out. Ordinary songs would build harmonies or modify rhythms in the chorus to avoid monotony.
But Avalanche did the opposite. It stripped down the melody in the chorus to emphasize a funky mood.
“Whoever wrote this really knows how to structure a song.”
“Any guesses?”
Shake, shake.
Everyone shook their heads.
Even the team leader, known as Manny’s “golden ears,” hesitated to guess.
A composer in today’s idol scene capable of writing a song like this? No one, hands down.
Because idols— They had to stand out, no matter what it took. So beats became more aggressive and flashy.
This could only mean one of two things:
Either someone deliberately structured it so Signum could evolve while keeping their identity,
Or someone didn’t care about getting the title track.
Either way, it didn’t matter. The uniqueness that ran through Avalanche wouldn’t disappear.
“But hey, aren’t the lyrics special too?”
“Oh, definitely.”
“‘Lower and deeper, follow the bass line.’ Haa… The only one who could write lyrics like that
is Oh Ji… I mean, Writer Oh-blank-blank, right?”
Oh-blank-blank, seriously.
The rookie’s sheepish dodge made everyone laugh.
“That’s funny. Oh-blank-blank. I think so too.”
“Right?”
“Yeah. The style’s unmistakable. It fits the song perfectly and works well with the Signum members too. What is the Chairman thinking…?”
“Do you think he really didn’t know?”
“Who knows. We’ll find out when we ask him. Let’s go, it’s time.”
The meeting didn’t last long.
Ding-dong-deng—Approved!
An unprecedented unanimous decision.
“If anyone says this song’s bad, they’ve got no ears.”
“The Chairman is amazing, seriously. How did he manage to land this track?”
“Exactly! The Chairman! His insight is unbelievable!”
“Who’s the composer?”
This kind of situation was pretty familiar to Jeong Jaewook.
The real praise belonged to Stay, who wrote the song— So why was everyone cheering for him?
He couldn’t understand it, but replied anyway.
“Take a guess.”
Thus began the official Ultimate Prediction Showdown.
“Busan Goblin?”
“Wrong! Didn’t he get a pitch recently? He’s still working on that.”
“Brilliant Faces?”
“Nope! They’re working with another company.”
“Music Ward?”
“Nope! Team Leader Yoo wanted to tweak the bridge, and they stormed out.”
Buzz-buzz-buzz—
A string of wrong answers.
Just as everyone started to tire out, the rookie, Go Minseo, timidly raised her hand.
“Yes, go ahead.”
“St…”
“Sorry?”
“Stay… I’m sure it’s by Composer Stay.”
She had spoken with courage.
But she wasn’t done yet.
In a barely audible voice, she added:
“I also know the lyricist. May I say it?”
“Go ahead.”
“Not only is she a top royalty earner known for writing legendary lyrics, she’s also a flower lover and smoker… a radiant lyricist in her 40s…”
“So who is it?”
“…Are you sure it’s okay to say?”
“Yes.”
“Oh…”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh Ji…”
“Why can’t you just say Oh Jisoo?”
“Eep!”
“It’s fine. Please speak freely.”
For Jeong Jaewook, this wasn’t just a song review meeting.
It was a process of finding the courage to face Oh Jisoo again— a chance to set everything right.
‘So this was your plan, huh, Composer Stay.’
That little rascal— so bold.
Smiling warmly, Jeong Jaewook wrapped up the meeting.
“Composer and arranger: Stay. Lyricist: Oh Jisoo. How is it? Amazing, right? Now—who wants to hear something even more surprising?”
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