Idol pursuits, p.12
Idol Pursuits, page 12
“As well you should,” said Heather. “I don’t want to jinx it, but those reviews are gushing.”
“It’s almost like people are finally starting to notice,” said June.
“Can you imagine what tomorrow will be like?” asked Erin.
“I’d love to see the look on Mark Crawford’s face when the numbers start rolling in,” said Vanessa.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” cautioned Mindy. “We haven’t sold a single copy yet.”
“To be honest, as long as we can make our money back and have a little extra left over for our trouble, I’ll be happy,” said Grace.
“I sincerely hope it does better than that,” said Heather.
Release day dawned bright and rosy. Everybody at The Hovel got an early start. They occupied themselves by refreshing websites, monitoring news and gossip sites, taking phone calls, posting messages, and liking each other’s social media postings. Their initial enthusiasm, however, proved overzealous. There frankly wasn’t all that much to do. Once basic tasks were tended to, little else happened to hold their attention. As the day wore on, the girls retired to their rooms, went for walks, or were otherwise distracted. By afternoon, only Grace and Heather remained on duty.
The first report to emerge was for digital sales. The news was not great. Downloads were lower than those for Queen Bee Infusion after the one-day mark.
Grace tried to put a positive spin on it. “Sometimes it takes a while for people to realize the album’s out. Give it time.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Heather.
The remainder of the week was one long chain of disappointments. Data were reported for LPs, CDs, paid subscription services, radio plays, and on-demand streaming. All performance measures fell noticeably below their equivalents for Queen Bee Infusion.
The one bright spot was the music video for “Lost in the Moment,” which briefly trended on YouTube. This video, by design, was a departure for the group. While visually lush, it was structurally the simplest of their promoted song videos, focusing entirely on Heather’s singing. Much more reflective than the “Elixir” video, it ultimately disappointed many fans who preferred the fun and playful tone of earlier works.
By Thursday, the cancellations started. Media outlets either called to get out of previously arranged interviews or didn’t return calls for updates. The tour promoter indicated he was no longer interested. The only appearance that came through was a locally produced podcast.
Any hopes for improvement over the weekend were fleeting. Grace called for a Friday all-hands-on-deck social media blitz. Dreamfall made a brief appearance on Naver’s trending list, thanks partly to the obsessive efforts of diehard Celestials, but the momentum quickly faded by Sunday.
Incels and internet trolls, the likes of which had long hounded Made in Heaven (and Heather in particular), did not remain idle. Just when it looked as if public opinion was finally building in favor of the album, a massive blow came in the form of a coordinated review bombing effort. Waves of one-star assessments hit the album suddenly during a specific 20-minute period on multiple high-profile sites. Most of these were one-sentence long and submitted by users with no followers and few other submissions. The number of reviews was noticeably higher than the sales figures suggested they’d be at that point. The impact of this effort tanked approvals from the four- and five-star range to the one- and two-star range. In a matter of days, Dreamfall had fallen off all trending lists. The early buzz had vanished. It never recovered.
Heather had a difficult time dealing with this development. The strain on her emotions increased with each passing report. She spent hours rethinking each artistic and technical decision to determine why the album failed. She picked apart every note sung, wishing she had done better. It was no use turning to the other girls for support. They seemed just as down. The mutual weep fests were taking a toll on everyone.
Heather’s recurring dream turned alarming during this period. Now, when she entered the forest, the girl with the golden hair was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she heard children laughing derisively, taunts hurled from every direction. Their movements were only peripherally visible. They’d always scurry away in time. But steadily, they grew bolder. The anger in their voices turned threatening. Frightened, Heather ran through the dark woods as tiny hands tore at her clothes and skin.
Once it became clear that Dreamfall would not be a hit, the emotional strain took a back seat to the realization that their finances were in serious jeopardy. The album had been their costliest endeavor by far, significantly exceeding the funding obtained from the crowdsourcing campaign. The excess spend was deemed worthy because they believed in the quality of the project. Now that their return on investment had evaporated, questions arose over how they’d pay the debt service.
In the following weeks, Grace drew upon every connection she had among relatives, friends, and professors to solve their money problems. The most reasonable strategies would merely stave off the inevitable for a few months longer. The simple fact was inescapable. The band couldn’t make money without touring, and there was no demand for a tour with so little interest in their album.
The end came on a lovely day in early spring.
Heather didn’t question why the sheriff’s deputies were at The Hovel so early in the morning. The panel truck parked on the street spoke volumes. The girls agreed they’d offer no resistance if this day ever came. Doing so would only prolong the agony while racking up more legal fees they could not afford.
The sheriff’s officers, tense at first, relaxed once it became evident that this repo would go relatively smoothly. Grace opened the reactivated garage door, and movers began assessing the job. Over the next hour, The Hovel’s beloved studio was systematically torn apart. The crew moved like vultures picking at a corpse. No sensitivity was given to objects that had become intrinsic to Made in Heaven’s work. To the team of workers, it was just another job. Mr. and Mrs. Edwards, the nosy neighbors, voiced their disapproval vocally as if to intentionally rub salt in the wound by confirming that their long-held suspicions about the ‘bohemian’ neighbors were coming true.
Erin and June stopped by briefly to watch but couldn’t bear to stay long. Sun-hee and Vanessa had left the house pre-dawn to avoid the unpleasantness altogether. Grace and Mindy were determined to stick around to the end. Heather was torn but ultimately lingered, too. She wanted to spend one last moment with the equipment they had all invested so much time in.
Pieces were carried away one by one: A midnight blue Les Paul with flame maple top and edges trimmed in white; amps emblazoned with that famous Marshall font; the scuffed but reliable patch bay snatched at a discount from the pawn shop. Each item evoked memories but was soon gone.
Finally, only one large item remained: the treasured upright piano. Heather felt compelled to approach the instrument as the workers took a break. She touched its chipped yellow paint. It wasn’t the prettiest piano in the world, but had a warm tone. Wouldn’t it be great to hear it one last time?
Heather sat on the bench and placed her fingers on the keys. All too soon, the crew returned. The burliest of the movers rejected her appeal to delay the task, saying they planned to take it next. Heather mustered as much charm as she could spare under the circumstances but could not convince him. He remained adamant.
That’s when things became heated. Mindy noticed one of the movers carrying away her bag of Bosphorus cymbals. She immediately stepped in to grab it away from him. He resisted, but she persisted. “That’s not band equipment. That’s my personal set,” she said, pulling at the handle until it nearly ripped. Seeing they would have more trouble than initially realized, the sheriff’s deputies instantly separated them. “They have no right to take those!” she screamed while being forcibly moved away.
“We take everything not nailed down,” countered the unshaven mover.
Grace felt obligated to set the record straight. She stepped in to explain the situation, but tempers were on short fuses. It didn’t take long before a small collection of individuals had gravitated to the driveway, shouting over each other to be heard.
The discord was off-putting. Heather tapped the garage door closed to escape the tumult. The acoustic tiles did their job, immediately dousing the cacophony outside. All that remained was her and the piano.
Heather could never come to explain what happened next. Perhaps the wave of emotions crashing over her at that moment inspired a sudden burst of creativity. Whatever the reason, she began playing. It wasn’t a song per se but a mere chord progression. There was something about it, though. Something special.
Pulling out her smartphone, she turned on the recorder app and set it on the piano. Over the next five minutes, Heather simply played. It was as if an entire song, lyrics and all, had waited for this exact moment to emerge after residing within her brain since birth. She performed the composition once all the way through. Nothing more was necessary. The polish would come later, but it was otherwise complete. So lost had she been in the moment that she never heard the garage door reopen.
“What’s that called?” The burly mover’s voice startled her.
“Starlight Reverie,” she responded without looking back.
“That was nice,” he said in as sympathetic a voice as he could muster. “I’m afraid we’re still going to have to take it, though, dearie.” Heather knew the moment had come. She retrieved her phone and stepped aside while giving the piano a lingering touch goodbye.
The burly mover took one end. His slender partner looked sheepish as he moved to the opposite side. “We usually deal with deadbeats in this job,” he said. “It don’t feel right this time.”
Heather responded with a weak smile. She watched helplessly as the last remnant of their studio disappeared from her life forever.
11
ALL THINGS MUST END
Early the following Monday, as The Hovel residents discussed their lease options on the house, an unexpected call came in.
“It’s Eric Yoon from K-Fest.”
Grace immediately put a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture to better hear the call. “Hi, Eric, so nice to hear from you,” She said these words louder than required to emphasize the importance of the conversation. The girls began talking animatedly, individually trying to whisper but collectively failing. Deeming it unlikely they’d settle down anytime soon, Grace abandoned the living room and shut the door to her bedroom, where she could talk in a modicum of privacy.
“I have an opportunity you might be interested in, but Magnus said he wasn’t working with you anymore. Do you have a contact I can call?”
“Well, the truth is we’re kinda in between managers right now,” she said. “What’s up?”
“First off, it’s not my project. Let me be clear on that. I just spoke to a colleague of mine in Korea. Roh Gyeong is her name. She’s beating the bushes for a unique act. I immediately thought Made in Heaven might fit the bill.”
“Okay, that’s intriguing.”
“Frankly, I don’t know if it’s right for you, but there’s no harm in asking. Right?”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Think high risk, high reward type of job. Well, much more risk than reward, frankly.”
“I’m not following.”
“There’s a new reality show called Dominion being readied to air on N-Net next year; you know the Korean broadcaster?”
“Yes, of course, I know N-Net,” Grace said impatiently.
“The plan is to pit six girl groups against each other in a competitive reality format. Five have signed on, but they’re having trouble securing the last one.”
“Why? It sounds like a dream opportunity.”
“Well, for one, the competition is fierce. Some of the biggest acts in K-Pop today are already involved, including 2NT, Dream Delight, and Glimmer Blue.”
Grace practically choked on that last name. “Well, no wonder. What chance will anyone else have?”
“That’s what I’m getting at. No smaller agency wants to harm its reputation with a sure loss. The point I’m trying to make is that you can’t win. In no uncertain terms, the producers want to be clear on that upfront. They’re not interested in upset victories. Your only role is to be cannon fodder. They’ll make sure of it.”
“You really know how to sell a pitch, Eric.”
“That’s the downside. Well, that and the significant chance you’ll be supremely embarrassed.”
“Oh, believe me, we’re well versed in that, don’t you worry.”
“The upside is a guaranteed good payday at the end, regardless of the results. Plus, even the losers of these types of shows tend to gain new audiences. And the network plans to really push this. They’ve reserved prime slots for the entire run.”
“I don’t know, Eric.”
“Look, I heard about Voxatone cutting you loose. You have to assess your own path forward from here. I can’t do that for you. Just know this option exists.”
“To be the punching bag.”
“Think of it as a second chance.”
“More like the fifth or sixth, but who’s counting?”
“Grace, if I didn’t think Made in Heaven would at least make a good show of it, I wouldn’t have called. One of my goals with K-Fest is to promote local talent. I would never recommend you if I thought you’d represent L.A. poorly. Think of this as a chance to prove people wrong.”
Grace sighed. “It’s too big a decision to make solo. Can I talk with the girls and get back?”
“Of course. As I said, it’s not like agencies are beating down N-Net’s doors. Take a couple weeks. Call me back once you have your answer. I’ll pass along the message that you’re thinking about it.”
The two discussed details for several more minutes before ending the call. When Grace opened the bedroom door, a sextet of eavesdroppers tumbled onto the floor at her feet. Looking up from the tangle of limbs, Mindy said, “What’s the haps, boss?”
“We’ve been invited to participate in a K-Pop reality show on Korean TV.” She uttered these words with a complete lack of enthusiasm. The girls, though, made up for it. Soon, they were back on their feet, jumping around and screaming at the top of their lungs as if they’d won the lottery.
The celebration gradually petered out as Grace’s glum expression lingered. “I told him we’d have to think about it.” Her tone of voice indicated dead seriousness.
“Think about it?” Vanessa was incredulous. “What on earth for?”
“What’s to think about?” asked Heather.
“Korea. Can you imagine?” said Erin.
“You’re calling him back, right?” asked June. “To accept.”
Grace laid out the specific challenges they’d face. She sensed trepidation from their expressions but also a slight devil-may-care attitude. Mindy summed up the consensus succinctly. “Frankly, we have so little to lose we might as well gamble a little.
“There’s one huge problem you’re forgetting already,” said Grace. The girls fell silent, awaiting details. “Since we’re unaffiliated, they refuse to offer us an advance.”
“So what?” said June. “A big company like that won’t cheat us, will they?”
“The ‘what’ is we have no money in-store to pay for a trip to Korea.”
“Can’t we take out a loan?” asked Erin.
“Our credit is shot.” Grace looked them straight in the eye as she spoke. “It’s cash or nothing. And whatever we had of value just went bye-bye yesterday.”
Grace’s announcement triggered a bout of soul-searching. Eric had requested a response within two weeks. Over the next two days, the residents of The Hovel, in large and small groups, discussed their options and debated alternatives. Talks were often tearful and heartfelt. At no point did a plausible solution emerge to their dilemma. Gradually, as decision day approached, reality settled in. While nobody had, as of yet, directly mentioned it, the implications of their situation were becoming apparent.
Little did they know that the worst was yet to come.
On Wednesday, news leaked that Made in Heaven was being considered for Dominion. K-Pop netizens were incredulous. Two strains of popular opinion emerged: one derisive, the other dismissive. The general lack of public support weakened the group’s resolve to find a way around the money issue. The newfound attention also brought renewed focus on the background of the seven musicians. Not all of it proved positive.
The first unwelcome intrusion came with the revelation that June was a North Korean refugee. To nobody’s recollection had a K-Pop idol ever originated from that country. North Korea strictly prohibited their citizens from even listening to it, let alone making a career out of it, deriding it as a symbol of Western decadence. To a sizeable but vocal minority of commenters, this simple fact alone diminished Made in Heaven’s legitimacy. Not a few of June’s social media followers felt betrayed by her deception, having come to believe she was a wealthy society girl based on her postings. Her popularity dropped noticeably as a result. On the other hand, others praised June’s fake-it-‘til-you-make-it tenacity in following her dreams despite the odds.
No sooner did this controversy begin to subside than a new bombshell exploded. One morning, Heather called a special post-breakfast meeting of the entire group to issue a warning. She looked distraught and exhausted, as if plagued with insomnia. The girls steeled themselves for what was becoming an all too frequent occurrence as of late.
Heather took a deep breath before speaking. “Before we started Made in Heaven —” Her shoulders slumped. “Back during —” She stopped once more, unable to continue.
“It’s okay,” said Mindy. “We’re getting used to disappointment around here.”
Heather tried to muster a smile, but it was a half-hearted effort. “Back when I…um…how to put it — used less discretion in choosing my romantic partners —”
