WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Potter
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◈ My Fired Uncle Is a Genius Guitarist? ◈
Chapter 43: How Do I Get This Out?
──────
After Black Rabbit finished recording and left the studio, only Jeong Sehyuk and the engineer remained in the control room.
The engineer, sorting through the tracks they had received that day at the console, suddenly let out an exclamation.
“Kids these days are good. Wow, that surprised me.”
“Noise Line is practically professional already.”
Jeong Sehyuk replied calmly. In terms of playing ability alone, Noise Line, the morning team, was good enough to overwhelm plenty of middling established bands.
But the engineer gave a dismissive shake of the head.
“No, Noise Line was good too, but Black Rabbit stuck with me more.”
“Really?”
“I think they have more potential. It’s not like I’ve worked with just one or two rookie teams. Just wait. They’re going to make it big.”
The engineer pointed to Cha Sion’s vocal track displayed on the monitor.
“The vocalist, was her name Cha Sion? Her tone is good, but she soaked up every bit of direction we gave her. Most kids freeze up from nerves once they enter the booth, but she’s like a sponge.”
“...She was.”
“But that man they called Uncle, the one playing guitar, was even more remarkable.”
When Jeong Sehyuk looked over, the engineer shook their head in disbelief.
“You saw it while we were recording vocals earlier. He pressed the talkback button and gave her just two or three pointers, right? Don’t trail off the last note, throw it forward. Don’t take a huge breath before the chorus, go straight into it. The very next take sounded completely different.”
“That’s true.”
“Exactly. I’ve worked as an engineer for over ten years and seen countless producers direct artists, but people who pinpoint the problem that accurately are rare. He knew exactly where she was getting stuck and got her through it in one shot.”
The recording schedule booked for two days had ended in one. They were sent off with the promise that the mixes would arrive sometime next week. The engineer still could not quite believe it.
“But is that guitarist really an office worker?”
Jeong Sehyuk turned the empty coffee can in his hand. The Main Round stage naturally came to mind. That guitar, changing its tone with nothing but his fingertips and no pedalboard at all.
“That’s what I heard.”
“But isn’t it strange? What office worker calls for punch-ins by bar number? You heard the balance notes he gave, right? Those are instructions from someone who’s lived in a recording booth for years.”
“...I don’t know.”
Jeong Sehyuk looked toward the empty booth. At first, he had thought Han Yong was simply an office worker with good instincts. But what he had shown in the studio today was clearly beyond the level of an ordinary office worker.
Jeong Sehyuk was starting to get confused too.
“I don’t really know either.”
#
The air outside the studio was fairly chilly. Since the recording booked for two days had wrapped up on Saturday alone, my entire Sunday had opened up.
“Go home and get some rest. Don’t come to the rehearsal room tomorrow. Rest properly.”
“Why? No practice?”
“You worked hard today, so take a day off. Besides, I have some work to do.”
“Work? Writing songs? For us?”
“Not for you.”
“Oh, come on. Why are you working on someone else’s songs? Write some for us!”
“The rehearsal room you’re using right now came from working on someone else’s songs.”
“...Oh, right.”
Yun Taerin immediately grinned sheepishly and backed down. Then she lightly poked Bae Somi’s arm.
“Somi, want to go hang out tomorrow?”
“I, I have to study...”
“What studying on a weekend?”
Behind the two of them as they bickered while walking ahead, Cha Sion quietly lowered her head.
“Get home safely.”
“Yeah. You too.”
After sending them off toward the subway station, I headed straight for the rehearsal room.
The moment I entered the basement rehearsal room, I turned on my laptop. I still had to finish four songs to send to After Rain.
The foundations were already in place. Today, I just needed to refine the details. I cut out dragging instrumental breaks, organized the instrumentation, and checked every line to make sure the verse melodies sat within Moon Hyunwoo’s range.
As soon as I finished arranging the instruments, I pulled over the microphone and recorded guide vocals.
“Mm, ah, mm-hm.”
There were no lyrics. For the songs I had handed over to Muri, I could use the lyrics Kang Taeo had written in my previous life. But I could not do that with these songs.
Besides, I, Lee Han Yong, was terrible at writing lyrics.
I spent all Sunday refining the demos. After pouring the entire weekend into them, all four songs had taken on fairly convincing shapes by Sunday afternoon.
I compressed the four audio files and attached them to an email. After checking the recipient and pressing Send, I sent Moon Hyunwoo a short text.
< This is One Dragon. I’ve sent you four songs, so please listen and see whether there’s anything usable.
I put down my phone, leaned back in my chair, and stretched. Crack. My shoulder popped. After working until dawn all last week and recording yesterday, it was only natural that my whole body ached.
‘Since I sent four, they should get at least two out of them.’
Even if they used only half, it would be a good deal for both sides.
#
On Sunday night, the four members of After Rain sat gathered in front of the speakers in Loop Sound’s basement practice room. The files from the email that had arrived a little earlier were displayed on vocalist Moon Hyunwoo’s laptop.
“Play it.”
At the bassist’s urging, Moon Hyunwoo pressed the button.
[AfterRain_OneDragon_01]
The first song began.
A low verse flowed from the speakers. It was a wordless humming guide, but the melody line was clear.
Yet contrary to their expectations, the members’ expressions were uncertain. Before even a few dozen seconds had passed, the guitarist tilted their head.
“...This is a little different from our style, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. The verse is really low.”
“Did they get the key wrong?”
After Rain had always relied on refreshing, explosive high notes. Their debut EP had been that way, and their first album had followed the same formula. So when they heard they would be receiving songs from an outside composer, they naturally expected something similar.
Moon Hyunwoo had doubts too. The melody was smooth and clean, and the chord progression was sophisticated. But the vocal melody stayed too long in a low register.
‘Would my voice really come alive if I sang this?’
Moon Hyunwoo, silently following the humming from the speakers, raised a hand.
“Wait. Let me try singing it.”
He played it again. With no lyrics, he started adding meaningless syllables along the melody line.
“Mm, ah, mm-hm.”
The moment the low verse flowed through Moon Hyunwoo’s voice, the air in the practice room subtly changed.
“Huh?”
A short exclamation escaped the bassist.
When they had only heard it through the speakers, it had seemed like a simple low-set song. But the moment Moon Hyunwoo’s voice was laid over it, the sound immediately took on a different thickness.
The heavy low and mid-range that had been hidden behind his high notes came alive. His voice rang out firmly in its most comfortable range. It felt as though Moon Hyunwoo’s true weapon had finally found its place.
“Hey, do it again.”
The guitarist uncrossed their arms and rewound the playback bar to the beginning. Moon Hyunwoo sang again.
The second time was even clearer.
Moon Hyunwoo hummed a particular section again by himself. No matter how many times he rolled it around, there was no part that caught in his throat. He was not forcing it, yet the sound projected forward.
“You’re much better in this range.”
“...”
Even at the compliment, Moon Hyunwoo could not be happy.
It felt strange.
Since debuting, he had written songs believing that he understood his own voice best. Yet the song sent by a composer whose face he had never even seen brought out strengths he had not known he possessed more accurately than he could himself.
“Play the next one.”
The second song began. Its color was completely different from the first. The tempo and the texture of the beat were different too.
“Try singing this one too.”
At the guitarist’s urging, Moon Hyunwoo opened his mouth again. This one suited his voice as well. It was completely unlike After Rain’s established formula for success, yet strangely easy to sing.
Aside from the shared trait of having low-set verses, the two songs were headed in entirely different directions.
“Who is this person...?”
Drummer Park Dongsik muttered, looking stunned.
There was no trace of an attempt to imitate After Rain’s previous work. It felt as though the songs had been built by obsessively digging into Moon Hyunwoo’s voice alone.
“Hyung. This person listened to all our songs, right?”
“...We sent everything, even the demos.”
“No, that makes even less sense. These are completely different from the style we’ve been doing, but they fit your voice perfectly. And they’re all heading in directions completely different from what we do now.”
Moon Hyunwoo did not answer. Normally, he would have argued back at every remark the members made, but he had been noticeably quiet for a while now.
From the moment the third song began, even the chatter disappeared completely.
No one had asked him to, but Moon Hyunwoo followed the humming guide line by line. The members’ eyes moved between the speaker and Moon Hyunwoo’s mouth.
They had originally gathered only to choose two songs. But even after the third song ended, not one had emerged that they could discard.
The instant the third one ended, Moon Hyunwoo clicked the fourth file.
The fourth song had the slowest tempo of the four. The verse was set heavily, while the chorus did not burst out all at once but gradually swelled.
Moon Hyunwoo’s vocal tone settled low over it. The guitarist was already craning forward toward the speakers, while the bassist traced the line with fingers on their knee.
When the final song ended, a heavy silence settled over the practice room.
Park Dongsik swallowed hard and broke it.
“So, what are we doing?”
“Which ones are we using?”
Moon Hyunwoo did not answer immediately. He stared at the four files lined up on the screen for a long time, then slowly raised his head and looked over each member’s face.
“...What do you think?”
“About what?”
“Honestly, I want us to do all four.”
No one objected.
They were all thinking the same thing.
#
On my way to work Monday morning, I held onto the subway strap and habitually opened the band community. One post caught my eye.
- When are the Plugged contestant tracks coming out?
└ Plugged, get to work!
└ I heard they’re coming soon. Apparently they recorded recently.
└ How do you know that? LOL
└ My friend works with Plugged.
└ They’re finally coming out? Looking forward to Noise Line.
└ I’m waiting for Crimson Rabbit.
└ Isn’t it Black Rabbit? LOL
└ Did they change their name to Crimson Rabbit?
└ Someone kept yelling Crimson Rabbit during the Finals LOL
My finger stopped as I scrolled.
‘There are people waiting for the tracks.’
The recording tracks I had checked at the studio on Saturday came to mind. So did the looks on the kids’ faces as they stood there, mouths open and lost in the sound coming from the monitor speakers.
What would those people say when the official tracks came out?
I was a little curious.
#
After visiting two clients that morning and returning to the office, it was already lunchtime. I took out my phone and checked, but there was still no reply from After Rain. It was not as though I expected one after only a day.
“Manager, shall we go eat?”
I was about to stand up and follow Assistant Manager Kim when my phone rang. It was Kang Taeo.
“Just a moment.”
I moved to a corner of the break room and answered.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Lee Han Yong. Have you been well?”
“Yes. What is it?”
“We’re starting recording this week. All five songs you composed.”
“That’s good.”
“Yes. So, I was hoping you could come by for this recording.”
“Me?”
The question slipped out before I could stop it. Even thinking back to the contract I had signed when handing over the songs, there had definitely been no clause about observing the recording or producing it.
“I don’t believe there was anything like that in the contract.”
“I know. That’s why I’m asking.”
Kang Taeo’s voice was calm and polite.
“All five songs were made by you, Mr. Lee Han Yong. We’re trying to match the demos, but we think it would be much better if the person who made the songs could oversee things in person.”
“What are you having the most trouble with?”
“‘Speed Demon.’ Wooseok, ah, our guitarist, has been stuck on the solo. They can play all the notes, but they say it doesn’t have the same feel as the demo.”
“Speed Demon.” I knew better than anyone what kind of piece that solo was. Getting your fingers around it and making that sound were entirely different matters.
“And me too. When I sing it, I keep slipping into my usual habits. I can’t tell whether that’s right, or whether the demo is right. I thought it would be best if the person who made the songs could oversee us directly.”
Holding the phone to my ear, I thought for a moment.
I had a picture in mind when I made the demos, and my bank account, where the royalties would go, would be fuller if the recordings came out according to that picture. There was no reason to stand by and watch the recording go off the rails.
“When is it?”
“Starting Wednesday.”
“Wednesday?”
“Yes. We booked three days. Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.”
If it were one day, I could use a vacation day and manage somehow. But three consecutive weekdays were another matter entirely.
With the phone still to my ear, I turned my gaze toward the office. I could see the back of the department head’s head beyond the partition.
‘...How am I supposed to arrange those days off?’
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