Debut, p.8
Debut, page 8
“Don’t expect miracles, but I think we can put something together in time.”
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
“Answer me this, though. How did you really feel about our audition?”
A broad smile crept over Steve’s face as he recalled the moment. “The five of you were like a breath of fresh air. As if you belonged on the stage and knew it. If you hadn’t told me you were newly formed, I’d’ve never guessed it.” His eyes lit up as the memory flushed over him. “And Heather. What a find.”
“She is something, isn’t she?”
“Let me tell you. This town is full of pretty faces who come from all over the world to be discovered,” he said gushingly. “Heather has something most don’t, though. Magnetism. The enchanting way she turns a phrase, the elegance of her every move, the effervescent way of expressing herself. She practically demands attention.”
“The lovebug bit you deep, I see.”
Steve ignored her comment. He was too lost in the reverie to care. “You heard her sing. That vibrancy and raw emotion mixed with dynamic energy. And the way she bends notes rather than sing them directly. That’s hard to categorize.” He didn’t stop there. “After you played “Sk8er Boi” by Avril Lavigne, she started telling me about all the interesting modulations in the song and how the verses, chorus, and bridge are all in different keys. Stuff I never noticed before. That’s gold.”
“She knows her stuff.”
“And when she said ‘the trick with pop music is to do more with less. That’s what gives it immediacy.’ Wow. You have no idea how starved I am for that kind of insight. My girlfriend Casey mistakes an adagio for a type of cheese.”
Grace laughed. “Would you like some grated adagio with that salad?” she said in mocking contempt. Ultimately, it didn’t matter to Grace if Steve picked Made in Heaven purely to impress Heather. She couldn’t see the harm in it if the means furthered the end. However, Grace reined in Steve’s romp through the daisies with a business question to keep the discussion from veering too far on the Heather tangent. “You mentioned a possible cash prize. What are we talking?”
Steve snapped out of his daydream. “This is primarily for a class project. So, obviously, I can’t pay you upfront, but at the very least, you’ll get an EP and a music video out of the deal. However, I also intend to enter into a video competition. The top prize is $50,000.”
Grace’s eyes lit up, knowing her fledgling group could use that money. “Okay, but we need to talk music. What kind of songs are you looking for. We’ve only had time to write a few.”
“I’d like a fast one for the A-side and the video. A ballad for the B-side.”
Grace only had a few demos on her phone to pick from. The one she felt surest about was ‘Celestial.’ Fortunately, Steve liked it. Grace wasn’t sure if it was the quality of the song talking or if Heather’s voice was plucking at his heartstrings. Again, did it matter? “We have a ballad, too, but no demo yet.”
“That’s okay. A-side is the priority. Polish ‘Celestial’ as best you can in the time you have. We were supposed to go into the studio this weekend, but I traded slots to buy us a couple weeks.” Further details were discussed over the remainder of the meal.
While preparing to leave, Steve touched upon a topic Grace had hoped to avoid entirely. “So four of you actually trained to be idols? I had no idea it was that involved.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“So tell me then, if you spent all that time and energy training in Korea, what are you doing here?”
The corners of Grace’s mouth turned down. It seemed counterproductive to lay into the entire saga. Plus, she didn’t have the emotional energy to even try. “It’s complicated,” was her only response.
Steve side-eyed her, sensing a gripping tale waiting in the wings but possessing enough sense not to tread where uninvited. “Believe me, I get it.”
* * *
Grace had salvaged the rehearsal. That feat seemed impossible hours earlier when, once again, the practice space they’d reserved fell through unexpectedly. Improvising, she suggested moving to her family’s garage. Technically, her father, Ha-joon, had forbidden it. He worried their neighbor would file another noise complaint with the HOA. That wouldn’t be an issue this evening. With a work party to attend, he wasn’t due home for a while. They’d surely be done by then.
Made in Heaven was holding their third rehearsal in four days. Crunch time had arrived. Heather’s ballad “Have No Fear” was starting to sound splendid. As a more straightforward song, it was easier to learn. The full-on rock song, “Celestial,” though, had issues.
“Stop! Enough!” Heather shouted into the mic, waving her arm to get their attention. “Stop!” The cacophony died a merciful death.
“That was hard,” complained Erin.
“It sounded like five different songs at once.” Heather turned her attention to Grace. “I don’t understand why you picked this. We need time to get it right.”
“We specifically invited your input,” responded Grace. “You were specifically too busy pouting. Remember?”
“I’m not happy with the way it’s sounding.”
“Can’t they fix it in post?” suggested Mindy.
Heather shook her head. “We have access to a real studio with natural acoustics. I want the band to sound the same live as recorded.”
“What are we supposed to do?” asked Grace. “Steve is expecting ‘Celestial.’”
“Funny you should ask.” Heather extracted several music sheets from a manila folder. “I’ve been working on another song that’ll be easier.”
“Great.” Grace loved Heather but found her capriciousness exasperating at times.
“Truthfully, I’ve solved everything up to the rap break. I thought we could work on the rest together.” Hearing no objections, she continued. “The song’s called ‘On Your Lips.’ It’s about meeting an exciting new guy and imagining your first kiss together.”
“That sounds nice,” said Sun-hee.
“It does.” Heather smiled. “Erin, hand me your instrument.” She borrowed it long enough to play a snappy, sneaky bass line. “The first two bars are bass only,” she explained. “Drums will start on this measure. Can you learn it?”
“Sounds fun, but not too hard,” Erin said as she retrieved her bass.
“I’d like us all to sing the chorus together. Can you do that, Mindy, while playing the drums?”
“Sure thing.”
“Erin?”
“Can I concentrate on the bass first?”
“No problem.” After a restart, Heather sang through the first part and stopped. “I’m stuck at this point.”
Grace found the song bright and catchy, with the faint vibe of surf rock. She noted the boundless optimism in the lyrics but felt it would benefit from more edge. “I have an idea for the rap, if you don’t mind.” She immediately began jotting down notes as Mindy and Erin practiced the proposed opening together. Meanwhile, Heather and Sun-hee discussed a post-rap bridge propelled by and built upon the energy of the opening bass line.
Once they had sketched it, Heather continued her explanation. “This is where the break comes in. What do you have, Grace?”
In contrast, Grace devised a rap that expressed skepticism about the relationship’s viability. The first half ran in time with the beat, while the second was in double tempo. She substituted patter for the incomplete lyrics to convey the rhythm she had in mind.
“That’s masterly,” Heather said. “Erin, here’s my idea. Let there be drums alone for the first half of the rap. When it goes double tempo, join in with a running bass line.” Erin nodded in agreement. Having heard this new idea, Sun-hee proposed modifications, which Heather approved.
As rework continued on this segment, Mindy waited patiently. Eventually, however, she grew bored and started wailing on her drums in an improvised solo. Erin watched as the drumsticks magically twirled between beats. “How do you do that?” she asked.
“Easy-peasy,” Mindy replied. “I lived in a remote monastery in the Himalayas as a child. The temple master wouldn’t let me leave until I perfected this technique.”
“Really?” asked Erin, eyes wide in wonder.
“Yeah. I had to wax decks and paint fences for months before he’d even let me touch the sticks.”
“That’s amazing.”
Grace rolled her eyes at Erin’s naivete. “She’s full of it. It’s mostly an optical illusion.”
Mindy smiled slyly and demonstrated the technique again, this time in slow motion. “I can do more complex stuff, too.” She started drumming again, flipping the sticks into the air and catching them again just in time for the next beat.
“It might be a trick, but it still looks neat,” said Erin.
“I’m all about showmanship.”
“Okay, pay attention, everyone.” Heather interrupted the side discourse after a resolution had been found to the musical dilemma. “Sun-hee will sing the post-rap bridge over simple piano chords. The rest of you, no instrumentation at all. When I start the crescendo, let’s have drum and bass return. During the final chorus, I want to hear full guitars as well. Everyone got it?”
All nodded except Erin. “We’ll see.”
“No pressure. It’s only rehearsal.”
They ran through the song once more from the top. This time, the individual pieces blended into a coherent whole. Sun-hee improvised a lovely passage stemming from Grace’s rap. She warbled a melancholy bridge that gradually transitioned into the final chorus. Heather subsequently fashioned a bright climax punctuated by a full octave jump.
“Much better,” encouraged Grace. “It’s starting to sound like an actual song.”
With that utterance, the garage door jolted open, causing the members to jump in surprise. Car headlights instantly bathed the garage in a blinding luminance.
“Appa’s home,” said Grace, motioning for him to dim the lights as he parked on the driveway. She jumped to her father’s side when he emerged. “How was your day?”
“Sweetheart, I told you not to practice here. What will Mrs. Cavanaugh say?”
“She’s in Omaha this week visiting her son.”
“Oh,” he said, seemingly appeased by the update. “Still, it’s getting pretty late, isn’t it?”
“We’re almost done. Do you want to hear our song?”
“It won’t take long, will it?”
“Three and a half minutes.”
Mr. So placed his briefcase on the workbench and laid his suit jacket on a stool that Heather had kindly procured. Once Umma had also been coaxed into the garage, the band played ‘On Your Lips’ again. By then, the members felt comfortable enough to add nuance to the performance.
Her parents applauded at the end. “I’m not familiar with that song. Who’s it by?” Grace’s father asked.
“That’s ours, Appa,” she responded proudly. “We wrote it. Just now.”
* * *
With just two days remaining before their first recording session, Grace had finally managed to book a spare room at the SIU Music Building. Heather called to say she’d be late to the rehearsal. The band practiced their two songs but could only do so much without her. Despite Grace’s best efforts to deflect attention away from 37-G and their time together in Korea, questions persisted. As the members waited for Heather’s arrival, Mindy inquired about their main singer. “What was she like as a trainee?”
Grace figured it wouldn’t hurt to share general impressions. “Heather was like the glue that held us together,” she said.
“How so?”
“Her approach was unique. Certainly, I was caught off guard at first.”
“She doesn’t strike me as a radical.”
“I don’t mean in a subversive way. How do I describe it?”
The intensity of trainee life remained fresh in Grace’s memory. She recalled one time sitting on the floor of a dance studio at Seoul’s 37-G Entertainment. Beside her was Heather. They faced a mirrored wall practicing aegyo, the hand and facial gestures that all K-Pop idols must master.
“You’re getting close, but show more flair,” Heather instructed. It was 10:00 p.m. Their classmates had all returned to the dorms, leaving them to work undisturbed.
“I feel like I’m overdoing it as it is,” Grace responded.
“Personality is your selling point. Don’t underestimate its value.”
“Nothing I try seems natural. You make it look so easy.”
“Be yourself. Fans have biases. Let your personality shine, and your fans will gravitate towards you.”
Grace had drawn the agency’s attention by winning an amateur rap competition at a regional shopping mall in downtown Seoul. She occupied a unique position in the class. Before her arrival, rap breaks had been assigned piecemeal, with varying degrees of success. Grace was recruited as a specialist. Her inclusion in 37-G’s mix of talent made a powerful statement of intent and unlocked intriguing possibilities. Heather understood the potential instantly.
Grace repeated the hand gestures in the mirror with which she hoped to forge a unique identity. Heather watched closely and suggested refinements, demonstrating, at times, by example. “Sweet. That has style,” said Grace in response to one particularly noteworthy variation.
“Fans notice subtle details. Producers, too.”
“To be honest, this entire experience has been a shock.”
“How so?”
“I expected more, I don’t know, cattiness, I guess.”
“That’s the wrong mindset to have,” Heather said. “Consider the big picture.”
“But why is everybody helping me?”
“Trust is crucial to teamwork.”
“We’re competing for the same spots.”
“Bettering yourself is fine, but always act with regard for others.” Grace wrinkled her brow questioningly. “Trust demonstrates commitment,” Heather explained. “As the team grows stronger, you grow stronger.” The confusion must’ve remained evident on her face, for Heather clarified. “Let me put it in musical terms. Think of an orchestra. Sometimes, we play solo, sometimes together. An individual musician’s contribution is essential, but each must also contribute to the common design. The musicians must listen to each other to form an agreeable performance.”
The pair easily related to each other. They were both born and raised in the U.S. to Korean parents before relocating to Korea. English was their preferred way of communicating as it kept native language skills sharp. Heather had also learned many tough lessons over the past three years and was eager to share knowledge. Grace welcomed the advice and appreciated the companionship. In short order, they had become inseparable.
It was common for new trainees to feel isolated. With entrenched cliques and delineated hierarchies, each fresh addition sent ripples through the established order like pebbles thrown into a pond. Yet the regularity with which turnover happened kept every veteran trainee sharp. Security was a fleeting notion, even after a job well done. Everyone at the agency faced monthly evaluations for fitness, talent, personality, and performance, among other qualities. Complacency invited disaster. With hordes of eager young hopefuls waiting on the sidelines for their own stab at the opportunity, anything less than total commitment was quickly punished with dismissal. Heather acknowledged that today’s awkward newbie could become tomorrow’s fervent rival. The best defense, she argued, was constant improvement to demonstrate irreplaceable value at each opportunity. At the same time, it paid to be mindful that all trainees were working towards the same goal: to form a group. While each member contributed their skills, they’d be judged on their effectiveness as a team. Even the most talented member would fail without the ability to function as part of a cohesive unit. This was the lesson Heather hoped to impart to all new arrivals.
“My first evaluation is in three days. I don’t know if I’m ready,” Grace said.
“Pace yourself.”
“I don’t want to fail in my first month.”
“Remember what I said. You’re judged not only against others but yourself.”
“What does that mean, though?”
“You want to strike the right balance. Compete. Yes. Avoid being the worst. Yes. But if you don’t show improvement from month to month, producers will dismiss you as lazy.”
“So, I should try hard but leave room for growth?”
“If you’re confident you’ll be better next month, do your best today.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“Balance, Grace. And trust.”
A month later, on a lovely day in late summer, Grace and Heather visited Jamwon Hangang Riverside Park for a jog. The thought of shutting themselves inside a gym for their daily workout routine was disheartening. Chilly weather was around the corner, and they wanted to enjoy the sunshine while they could. After running ten kilometers, they spotted a food truck with a hand-painted sign advertising hamburgers. A refreshment break was in order.
Though the line ahead was long, it moved quickly. “Are you heading home for the holiday?” Grace asked.
Heather sighed. “Unavoidably, yes.”
Grace laughed. “Geez, don’t be so enthusiastic.”
“I can only imagine what it’s like having parents who support your dreams.”
“You’ve been at the agency for three years now. Surely your folks approve?”
“They’re just waiting to see me fail. And spectacularly.”
Grace snorted. “I doubt that.”
“You haven’t met them.”
“You’re bound to disappoint them then.”
“Now you’re catching on.” They ordered banana milks and sat on a riverside bench, sipping slowly. Rain clouds appeared on the horizon to the north. What had, up to then, been a slight breeze gradually intensified. “What attracts you to idol life, Grace?”
She tilted her head from side to side. “It seems fun, I guess.”
“Everyone says that. But what specifically appeals to you?” Heather didn’t wait for an answer. “For me, it’s the feeling I get singing before an audience. I want to touch people with my music and make a difference in their lives. If I could do that…Oh, my.” She shuddered with excitement at the thought.
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
“Answer me this, though. How did you really feel about our audition?”
A broad smile crept over Steve’s face as he recalled the moment. “The five of you were like a breath of fresh air. As if you belonged on the stage and knew it. If you hadn’t told me you were newly formed, I’d’ve never guessed it.” His eyes lit up as the memory flushed over him. “And Heather. What a find.”
“She is something, isn’t she?”
“Let me tell you. This town is full of pretty faces who come from all over the world to be discovered,” he said gushingly. “Heather has something most don’t, though. Magnetism. The enchanting way she turns a phrase, the elegance of her every move, the effervescent way of expressing herself. She practically demands attention.”
“The lovebug bit you deep, I see.”
Steve ignored her comment. He was too lost in the reverie to care. “You heard her sing. That vibrancy and raw emotion mixed with dynamic energy. And the way she bends notes rather than sing them directly. That’s hard to categorize.” He didn’t stop there. “After you played “Sk8er Boi” by Avril Lavigne, she started telling me about all the interesting modulations in the song and how the verses, chorus, and bridge are all in different keys. Stuff I never noticed before. That’s gold.”
“She knows her stuff.”
“And when she said ‘the trick with pop music is to do more with less. That’s what gives it immediacy.’ Wow. You have no idea how starved I am for that kind of insight. My girlfriend Casey mistakes an adagio for a type of cheese.”
Grace laughed. “Would you like some grated adagio with that salad?” she said in mocking contempt. Ultimately, it didn’t matter to Grace if Steve picked Made in Heaven purely to impress Heather. She couldn’t see the harm in it if the means furthered the end. However, Grace reined in Steve’s romp through the daisies with a business question to keep the discussion from veering too far on the Heather tangent. “You mentioned a possible cash prize. What are we talking?”
Steve snapped out of his daydream. “This is primarily for a class project. So, obviously, I can’t pay you upfront, but at the very least, you’ll get an EP and a music video out of the deal. However, I also intend to enter into a video competition. The top prize is $50,000.”
Grace’s eyes lit up, knowing her fledgling group could use that money. “Okay, but we need to talk music. What kind of songs are you looking for. We’ve only had time to write a few.”
“I’d like a fast one for the A-side and the video. A ballad for the B-side.”
Grace only had a few demos on her phone to pick from. The one she felt surest about was ‘Celestial.’ Fortunately, Steve liked it. Grace wasn’t sure if it was the quality of the song talking or if Heather’s voice was plucking at his heartstrings. Again, did it matter? “We have a ballad, too, but no demo yet.”
“That’s okay. A-side is the priority. Polish ‘Celestial’ as best you can in the time you have. We were supposed to go into the studio this weekend, but I traded slots to buy us a couple weeks.” Further details were discussed over the remainder of the meal.
While preparing to leave, Steve touched upon a topic Grace had hoped to avoid entirely. “So four of you actually trained to be idols? I had no idea it was that involved.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“So tell me then, if you spent all that time and energy training in Korea, what are you doing here?”
The corners of Grace’s mouth turned down. It seemed counterproductive to lay into the entire saga. Plus, she didn’t have the emotional energy to even try. “It’s complicated,” was her only response.
Steve side-eyed her, sensing a gripping tale waiting in the wings but possessing enough sense not to tread where uninvited. “Believe me, I get it.”
* * *
Grace had salvaged the rehearsal. That feat seemed impossible hours earlier when, once again, the practice space they’d reserved fell through unexpectedly. Improvising, she suggested moving to her family’s garage. Technically, her father, Ha-joon, had forbidden it. He worried their neighbor would file another noise complaint with the HOA. That wouldn’t be an issue this evening. With a work party to attend, he wasn’t due home for a while. They’d surely be done by then.
Made in Heaven was holding their third rehearsal in four days. Crunch time had arrived. Heather’s ballad “Have No Fear” was starting to sound splendid. As a more straightforward song, it was easier to learn. The full-on rock song, “Celestial,” though, had issues.
“Stop! Enough!” Heather shouted into the mic, waving her arm to get their attention. “Stop!” The cacophony died a merciful death.
“That was hard,” complained Erin.
“It sounded like five different songs at once.” Heather turned her attention to Grace. “I don’t understand why you picked this. We need time to get it right.”
“We specifically invited your input,” responded Grace. “You were specifically too busy pouting. Remember?”
“I’m not happy with the way it’s sounding.”
“Can’t they fix it in post?” suggested Mindy.
Heather shook her head. “We have access to a real studio with natural acoustics. I want the band to sound the same live as recorded.”
“What are we supposed to do?” asked Grace. “Steve is expecting ‘Celestial.’”
“Funny you should ask.” Heather extracted several music sheets from a manila folder. “I’ve been working on another song that’ll be easier.”
“Great.” Grace loved Heather but found her capriciousness exasperating at times.
“Truthfully, I’ve solved everything up to the rap break. I thought we could work on the rest together.” Hearing no objections, she continued. “The song’s called ‘On Your Lips.’ It’s about meeting an exciting new guy and imagining your first kiss together.”
“That sounds nice,” said Sun-hee.
“It does.” Heather smiled. “Erin, hand me your instrument.” She borrowed it long enough to play a snappy, sneaky bass line. “The first two bars are bass only,” she explained. “Drums will start on this measure. Can you learn it?”
“Sounds fun, but not too hard,” Erin said as she retrieved her bass.
“I’d like us all to sing the chorus together. Can you do that, Mindy, while playing the drums?”
“Sure thing.”
“Erin?”
“Can I concentrate on the bass first?”
“No problem.” After a restart, Heather sang through the first part and stopped. “I’m stuck at this point.”
Grace found the song bright and catchy, with the faint vibe of surf rock. She noted the boundless optimism in the lyrics but felt it would benefit from more edge. “I have an idea for the rap, if you don’t mind.” She immediately began jotting down notes as Mindy and Erin practiced the proposed opening together. Meanwhile, Heather and Sun-hee discussed a post-rap bridge propelled by and built upon the energy of the opening bass line.
Once they had sketched it, Heather continued her explanation. “This is where the break comes in. What do you have, Grace?”
In contrast, Grace devised a rap that expressed skepticism about the relationship’s viability. The first half ran in time with the beat, while the second was in double tempo. She substituted patter for the incomplete lyrics to convey the rhythm she had in mind.
“That’s masterly,” Heather said. “Erin, here’s my idea. Let there be drums alone for the first half of the rap. When it goes double tempo, join in with a running bass line.” Erin nodded in agreement. Having heard this new idea, Sun-hee proposed modifications, which Heather approved.
As rework continued on this segment, Mindy waited patiently. Eventually, however, she grew bored and started wailing on her drums in an improvised solo. Erin watched as the drumsticks magically twirled between beats. “How do you do that?” she asked.
“Easy-peasy,” Mindy replied. “I lived in a remote monastery in the Himalayas as a child. The temple master wouldn’t let me leave until I perfected this technique.”
“Really?” asked Erin, eyes wide in wonder.
“Yeah. I had to wax decks and paint fences for months before he’d even let me touch the sticks.”
“That’s amazing.”
Grace rolled her eyes at Erin’s naivete. “She’s full of it. It’s mostly an optical illusion.”
Mindy smiled slyly and demonstrated the technique again, this time in slow motion. “I can do more complex stuff, too.” She started drumming again, flipping the sticks into the air and catching them again just in time for the next beat.
“It might be a trick, but it still looks neat,” said Erin.
“I’m all about showmanship.”
“Okay, pay attention, everyone.” Heather interrupted the side discourse after a resolution had been found to the musical dilemma. “Sun-hee will sing the post-rap bridge over simple piano chords. The rest of you, no instrumentation at all. When I start the crescendo, let’s have drum and bass return. During the final chorus, I want to hear full guitars as well. Everyone got it?”
All nodded except Erin. “We’ll see.”
“No pressure. It’s only rehearsal.”
They ran through the song once more from the top. This time, the individual pieces blended into a coherent whole. Sun-hee improvised a lovely passage stemming from Grace’s rap. She warbled a melancholy bridge that gradually transitioned into the final chorus. Heather subsequently fashioned a bright climax punctuated by a full octave jump.
“Much better,” encouraged Grace. “It’s starting to sound like an actual song.”
With that utterance, the garage door jolted open, causing the members to jump in surprise. Car headlights instantly bathed the garage in a blinding luminance.
“Appa’s home,” said Grace, motioning for him to dim the lights as he parked on the driveway. She jumped to her father’s side when he emerged. “How was your day?”
“Sweetheart, I told you not to practice here. What will Mrs. Cavanaugh say?”
“She’s in Omaha this week visiting her son.”
“Oh,” he said, seemingly appeased by the update. “Still, it’s getting pretty late, isn’t it?”
“We’re almost done. Do you want to hear our song?”
“It won’t take long, will it?”
“Three and a half minutes.”
Mr. So placed his briefcase on the workbench and laid his suit jacket on a stool that Heather had kindly procured. Once Umma had also been coaxed into the garage, the band played ‘On Your Lips’ again. By then, the members felt comfortable enough to add nuance to the performance.
Her parents applauded at the end. “I’m not familiar with that song. Who’s it by?” Grace’s father asked.
“That’s ours, Appa,” she responded proudly. “We wrote it. Just now.”
* * *
With just two days remaining before their first recording session, Grace had finally managed to book a spare room at the SIU Music Building. Heather called to say she’d be late to the rehearsal. The band practiced their two songs but could only do so much without her. Despite Grace’s best efforts to deflect attention away from 37-G and their time together in Korea, questions persisted. As the members waited for Heather’s arrival, Mindy inquired about their main singer. “What was she like as a trainee?”
Grace figured it wouldn’t hurt to share general impressions. “Heather was like the glue that held us together,” she said.
“How so?”
“Her approach was unique. Certainly, I was caught off guard at first.”
“She doesn’t strike me as a radical.”
“I don’t mean in a subversive way. How do I describe it?”
The intensity of trainee life remained fresh in Grace’s memory. She recalled one time sitting on the floor of a dance studio at Seoul’s 37-G Entertainment. Beside her was Heather. They faced a mirrored wall practicing aegyo, the hand and facial gestures that all K-Pop idols must master.
“You’re getting close, but show more flair,” Heather instructed. It was 10:00 p.m. Their classmates had all returned to the dorms, leaving them to work undisturbed.
“I feel like I’m overdoing it as it is,” Grace responded.
“Personality is your selling point. Don’t underestimate its value.”
“Nothing I try seems natural. You make it look so easy.”
“Be yourself. Fans have biases. Let your personality shine, and your fans will gravitate towards you.”
Grace had drawn the agency’s attention by winning an amateur rap competition at a regional shopping mall in downtown Seoul. She occupied a unique position in the class. Before her arrival, rap breaks had been assigned piecemeal, with varying degrees of success. Grace was recruited as a specialist. Her inclusion in 37-G’s mix of talent made a powerful statement of intent and unlocked intriguing possibilities. Heather understood the potential instantly.
Grace repeated the hand gestures in the mirror with which she hoped to forge a unique identity. Heather watched closely and suggested refinements, demonstrating, at times, by example. “Sweet. That has style,” said Grace in response to one particularly noteworthy variation.
“Fans notice subtle details. Producers, too.”
“To be honest, this entire experience has been a shock.”
“How so?”
“I expected more, I don’t know, cattiness, I guess.”
“That’s the wrong mindset to have,” Heather said. “Consider the big picture.”
“But why is everybody helping me?”
“Trust is crucial to teamwork.”
“We’re competing for the same spots.”
“Bettering yourself is fine, but always act with regard for others.” Grace wrinkled her brow questioningly. “Trust demonstrates commitment,” Heather explained. “As the team grows stronger, you grow stronger.” The confusion must’ve remained evident on her face, for Heather clarified. “Let me put it in musical terms. Think of an orchestra. Sometimes, we play solo, sometimes together. An individual musician’s contribution is essential, but each must also contribute to the common design. The musicians must listen to each other to form an agreeable performance.”
The pair easily related to each other. They were both born and raised in the U.S. to Korean parents before relocating to Korea. English was their preferred way of communicating as it kept native language skills sharp. Heather had also learned many tough lessons over the past three years and was eager to share knowledge. Grace welcomed the advice and appreciated the companionship. In short order, they had become inseparable.
It was common for new trainees to feel isolated. With entrenched cliques and delineated hierarchies, each fresh addition sent ripples through the established order like pebbles thrown into a pond. Yet the regularity with which turnover happened kept every veteran trainee sharp. Security was a fleeting notion, even after a job well done. Everyone at the agency faced monthly evaluations for fitness, talent, personality, and performance, among other qualities. Complacency invited disaster. With hordes of eager young hopefuls waiting on the sidelines for their own stab at the opportunity, anything less than total commitment was quickly punished with dismissal. Heather acknowledged that today’s awkward newbie could become tomorrow’s fervent rival. The best defense, she argued, was constant improvement to demonstrate irreplaceable value at each opportunity. At the same time, it paid to be mindful that all trainees were working towards the same goal: to form a group. While each member contributed their skills, they’d be judged on their effectiveness as a team. Even the most talented member would fail without the ability to function as part of a cohesive unit. This was the lesson Heather hoped to impart to all new arrivals.
“My first evaluation is in three days. I don’t know if I’m ready,” Grace said.
“Pace yourself.”
“I don’t want to fail in my first month.”
“Remember what I said. You’re judged not only against others but yourself.”
“What does that mean, though?”
“You want to strike the right balance. Compete. Yes. Avoid being the worst. Yes. But if you don’t show improvement from month to month, producers will dismiss you as lazy.”
“So, I should try hard but leave room for growth?”
“If you’re confident you’ll be better next month, do your best today.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“Balance, Grace. And trust.”
A month later, on a lovely day in late summer, Grace and Heather visited Jamwon Hangang Riverside Park for a jog. The thought of shutting themselves inside a gym for their daily workout routine was disheartening. Chilly weather was around the corner, and they wanted to enjoy the sunshine while they could. After running ten kilometers, they spotted a food truck with a hand-painted sign advertising hamburgers. A refreshment break was in order.
Though the line ahead was long, it moved quickly. “Are you heading home for the holiday?” Grace asked.
Heather sighed. “Unavoidably, yes.”
Grace laughed. “Geez, don’t be so enthusiastic.”
“I can only imagine what it’s like having parents who support your dreams.”
“You’ve been at the agency for three years now. Surely your folks approve?”
“They’re just waiting to see me fail. And spectacularly.”
Grace snorted. “I doubt that.”
“You haven’t met them.”
“You’re bound to disappoint them then.”
“Now you’re catching on.” They ordered banana milks and sat on a riverside bench, sipping slowly. Rain clouds appeared on the horizon to the north. What had, up to then, been a slight breeze gradually intensified. “What attracts you to idol life, Grace?”
She tilted her head from side to side. “It seems fun, I guess.”
“Everyone says that. But what specifically appeals to you?” Heather didn’t wait for an answer. “For me, it’s the feeling I get singing before an audience. I want to touch people with my music and make a difference in their lives. If I could do that…Oh, my.” She shuddered with excitement at the thought.
