WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Potter
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◈ My Fired Uncle Is a Genius Guitarist? ◈
Chapter 23: It's Not for Sale
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The moment I shut the door to my studio apartment, I turned on my laptop. It took ages to boot, so while I waited, I took off my jacket, hung my headphones around my neck, and plugged my guitar into the interface.
I closed my eyes as I waited for the screen to come on. It was time to dig through the drawers in my head again.
In my sixteen years with Muri, not to mention the songs I had written alone before that, I had more songs than I could count. But I couldn't just pull out anything. The problem was the conditions.
‘First, something the kids can play.’
Songs where the drums had to hammer away from beginning to end, songs where the bass didn't get a single beat of rest, songs that changed chords every bar.
Rejected. All of them. The three of them were still building up their fundamentals. I couldn't force them onto a stage with a song their hands couldn't keep up with.
‘And cut anything that doesn't fit a four-piece lineup.’
Songs that felt empty without keyboards or brass were out too. One after another, they slid aside in my head.
‘Sion's voice.’
I also ruled out songs that went beyond the safe range I had checked so far. I still didn't know her limits, but we couldn't take a risk on the finals stage.
I kept passing over songs until I stopped at one.
Fast, simple, and exciting. The guitar riff repeated, so it was easier on the hands, and there was an open spot where the drums could break through alone just before the chorus.
‘Taerin's spot.’
The promise I had put off until the finals. This song had a perfect opening for that fill from the beginning.
I hadn't written it with Taeo's voice in mind. It would've needed too much work to fit that voice, so I had left it in the drawer. That meant it still had no lyrics.
Bzzzz.
The laptop finally came on. I put on my headphones and moved the mouse cursor over an empty track.
That Wednesday night, every hour after work disappeared in front of the laptop.
I transferred the framework already finished in my head into the program and divided up the parts again for our four-piece band. I programmed the drums, added the bass, layered the chords and riffs, then hummed the guide melody low into the microphone. I only adjusted a few things. That was why I had chosen this song in the first place.
When I made “Footsteps,” I had gathered scraps and created something that had never existed before. This time, I was directly pulling out something that already existed.
By Thursday dawn, a demo file a little over three minutes long was sitting in my laptop. I felt proud of it, aside from the fact that I only had four hours left until work.
And what made me even prouder was this.
I hadn't opened a single pack of ramen while working all night.
#
The moment I opened the rehearsal room door, a phone flew right in front of my face.
“Uncle! The finals email came!”
“An email? I didn't get one.”
“I submitted it as the representative, so of course it came to me! Listen up!”
Yun Taerin excitedly looked down at the screen and read out the email.
“Just like the first Main Round match, each team has to perform one song. But the finals will let in regular audience members and sell tickets! Isn't that huge?”
It was more or less what I had expected. A real live stage with an audience.
“And there'll be the three existing judges plus one special finals judge! They say they'll reveal who it is on stage that day!”
“A special judge?”
“Yeah. Who could it be?”
“Probably someone famous...?”
“Could be a celebrity. They're selling tickets, so they need someone famous to sell them. It'd be nice if it was a member of an idol band.”
“I, I guess that's possible...”
I set my guitar case on the floor and replied without much interest.
“Whoever comes, we just have to do our best.”
Cha Sion, tuning her guitar in the corner, casually added a comment.
“Mister's right. As long as they judge properly, I don't care who it is.”
“Oh, right. Uncle! What about our team name?”
Yun Taerin abruptly changed the subject.
“Are we really going with Crimson Rabbit? Should I reply to the email and ask them to change it?”
“What team changes its name in the middle of a competition? Stop talking nonsense. We can discuss it after the competition.”
“Really? You're not saying that because you don't want Crimson Rabbit?”
“Quiet. Go sit down.”
Yun Taerin shoved her phone into her pocket and dropped onto the drum stool.
“So what are we doing in the finals? “Footsteps” again?”
“No. That was for the first Main Round match. Do you think the judges would like hearing the same thing twice?”
“Then what? A cover song?”
Instead of answering, I took out my phone and plugged a cable into the side of the vocal amp. From the opening notes, the rehearsal room speakers blared.
“Huh?”
Yun Taerin's hands reacted first. Without even holding sticks, she started tapping her thighs, and before the chorus came around, even her shoulders were bouncing. Bae Somi held her bass as her head bobbed back and forth on its own, while Cha Sion stood with her arms folded and her eyes closed. Still, she couldn't hide her foot tapping to the rhythm.
The three minutes passed in an instant, and the music stopped. A brief silence settled over the rehearsal room.
“...We're playing this?”
Yun Taerin swallowed dryly as she asked.
“Yeah.”
“But Uncle, when did you make this? You said you'd think of something on Wednesday, and three days later?”
“I already had it made.”
“You already had it? There are more? How many?”
“A few.”
“How many is a few?”
“You don't need to know that. Let's get started.”
Yun Taerin stared at me with her mouth hanging open, then shook her head with a resigned look. Maybe because they already knew I had always been a little suspicious, they didn't dig any deeper.
“Yun Taerin.”
“Yeah?”
“You heard that demo, right? Just before the chorus.”
Yun Taerin's mouth fell open. Her face lit up as she realized something.
“That spot is mine! My fill!”
“Yeah. That's your spot.”
“No way! You left it open because you said I could play it in the finals!”
She raised her drumsticks high and cheered.
“At the Preliminary Round, I told you to cut it in half. This time, you don't have to hold back. Play it as full as you want. But you have to practice it perfectly.”
“Yes! My fingers were itching so badly I thought I would die!”
Yun Taerin excitedly hit the snare. Bang! Bang!
Bae Somi flinched and covered her ears, while Cha Sion frowned deeply.
“Hey! Too loud!”
“Oh yeah! That crowd is going to die!”
“Don't kill them. And Cha Sion.”
“Yes.”
“I need you to write lyrics again this time.”
Her face froze. She didn't argue or smile. She simply froze, then slowly nodded.
“What should they be about?”
“Listen to the song and decide. You're the one who'll sing them.”
“Did Uncle give up on writing lyrics again?”
“It's not giving up. It's yielding.”
“Wow, Uncle, you're really a lyric-writing go...”
I sucked in a breath.
“...jaimasu.”
“Yun Taerin. I'm taking away the fill.”
“Ah, it was a joke! A joke!”
Bae Somi covered her mouth and laughed. Amid the commotion, Cha Sion lowered the amp volume and listened to the demo again from the beginning.
“What about the title?”
“You can name it too.”
“...Okay.”
I adjusted my guitar and stood in front of the amp.
“Vocals come later. Today, we'll just roughly line up the instruments. Sion, play second guitar and only hum the guide melody.”
“Okay.”
“Yun Taerin, count us in.”
Yun Taerin clicked her sticks together and counted loudly.
“One, two, three, four!”
The first rehearsal was a complete mess.
A fast song could shake people up with its speed alone. Yun Taerin rushed ahead, Bae Somi lagged behind, and Cha Sion's chords wandered around, unable to find their place in the middle.
Before we even got halfway through, the sound scattered in every direction. Just before the chorus, Yun Taerin tried to force in the fill, dropped her stick, and brought the whole song to a stop.
“Uh, wait. Just wait.”
“Again. You don't have to play the fill today. Just leave the space open.”
“But I want to play it!”
“You need to get the basics right first. Let's listen to the song again.”
We listened to it three more times and played it three more times. Only then did we barely make it to the end. It was embarrassing to call it a full run, but we had made it through.
“...It's fast.”
“Right.”
““Footsteps” wasn't this hard.”
“If “Footsteps” is a walking song, this is a running song.”
“But Uncle, this is fun.”
Bae Somi pressed her palm against the bass strings as she spoke. Unlike usual, she didn't stutter.
“Right. The rhythm is brutal as hell, but it gets me really excited when I play it! This song is really good!”
“Of course it is. Who do you think wrote it?”
“I'd go crazy playing this on stage. You said there'll be an audience too?”
“Hey. Don't go crazy. Keep your head clear and make it to the end.”
“We can do it! Today is only the first day!”
Cha Sion didn't say anything. Her fingers were silently trying out the chorus chords on the guitar neck.
“I'll upload the demo to the group chat, so listen to it until it's stuck in your ears by tomorrow.”
“We're meeting tomorrow too?”
“Of course. We're meeting on weekdays too.”
#
Clang!
A harsh picking sound rang out as the noisy rehearsal filled every inch of the small room. It was the second day, and the song's backbone was much steadier than yesterday.
Yun Taerin's drums still leaned forward and raced along precariously, but she hit the empty spot before the chorus exactly as promised. It wasn't perfect, but she stubbornly forced in her own fill and made it burst.
Bae Somi was the same. Relentless, hellish eighth-note repetitions on the root note. The tempo was fast enough to tangle her fingers, but she kept her lips tightly pressed together and steadily worked the neck. Even when her sound weakened or got muddy, she didn't stop playing this time.
The problem came from somewhere else.
“Stop.”
I slapped my palm down on the guitar strings and cut off the performance. Yun Taerin's cymbal stopped, and the rehearsal room abruptly went quiet.
Everyone looked toward the microphone. Cha Sion stared fixedly down at the guitar neck, her expression stiff. She tried not to show anything, but she couldn't completely hide the frustration on her face.
During the chorus, her second guitar was falling behind by half a beat at a time, and even the humming flowing from her mouth kept cutting off.
The cause was obvious. Every song we had played so far had been slow or mid-tempo. But this song was fast. It required her to constantly change chords while singing a song that left little room to breathe.
Her second guitar playing was fairly accurate. But she couldn't move quickly and skillfully across the fretboard like a professional guitarist.
“Sion. Let's change the chorus chords.”
“Why?”
“Your hands can't keep up.”
“...”
“Change the barre chords in the chorus to power chords. You only have to press two strings, so it's easier on your hands. And don't play guitar for the last two bars of the chorus. Just rest and hum.”
Her shoulders stiffened. When Cha Sion looked up, there was a strange stubbornness in her eyes.
“I can do it.”
“Singing comes first. I can fill in the guitar.”
She stared at me. Her pride had been wounded. She bit her lip for a moment, then gave a small nod.
“...Okay.”
“Again. From the chorus.”
The performance began again at my count.
The result came right away. With more room in Cha Sion's hands, her humming continued without breaking off. At the same time, the suffocating sound that had overlapped with my riff opened up. My guitar filled the two bars I had left empty. For the first time, the entire song began to flow smoothly without getting stuck.
‘I didn't lower the difficulty. I put the vocals first.’
What she needed to do on stage was sing more than play. I couldn't let the guitar shake her singing.
“Oh, that worked! That just worked!”
“Good. One more time!”
Only after we played it through once more did we take a moment to catch our breath.
Bae Somi leaned her bass against the wall and shook out her wrists. Beside her, Yun Taerin still had energy left and happily played fills in the air with her sticks.
During the break, Cha Sion quietly came over and held out her phone.
“I'm thinking something like this.”
The notes app was open on the screen she casually held out. It was a draft of the lyrics I had asked for yesterday.
I took the phone and quickly scanned the text. I didn't have the talent to assemble words into lyrics, but I could tell whether a written line was good.
“Just smooth out the breathing here.”
I pointed to one sentence with my finger and handed the phone back. I didn't throw around empty praise or add anything else.
“...Okay.”
She answered shortly and shoved the phone into her pocket.
Our booked rehearsal time was almost over. While the girls wiped down their instruments and packed their bags, I turned off the amp and gave instructions.
“Practice your parts at home. We'll run through it once more on Wednesday.”
“On a weekday?”
“Yeah. Sion, can you finish the lyrics by then?”
“...I'll try.”
“What are you doing, Uncle?”
“I have things to do.”
“What?”
“Things.”
Yun Taerin looked like she was about to ask something else, but she closed her mouth. She seemed to be holding back a teasing question.
Good restraint, Yun Taerin. Well done.
#
Back at my studio apartment, I leaned against the bed and opened a secondhand marketplace app.
The search term was electric guitar, sorted by lowest price. Broken, needs repair, for parts. Same as always.
One decent listing caught my eye. Normally, I would've messaged immediately at that price. But I passed it over.
This time, I wasn't looking for something to sell.
Footnotes:
“Gojaimasu” is Yun Taerin’s evasive wordplay. It combines goja, an insult for someone useless or incapable, with the sound of the Japanese polite expression gozaimasu.
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