< Verse 2. Gotta Move >
Walking a bit further up from Yangdong Market, a slightly run-down brown building came into view. The 4th floor housed L&S’s practice room.
“I brought Sanghyun!”
“Oh, the cocky junior!”
L&S’s bassist, Yongjun, greeted Sanghyun with exaggerated enthusiasm.
“You just left like that the other day? Leaving when people are clapping? What was that about? You cocky bastard.”
“Welcome. Have you eaten?”
“Oh, our rapper is here.”
The leader, drummer, and bassist of L&S all welcomed Sanghyun.
Sanghyun felt a little overwhelmed by their excessive welcome. He didn’t realize that his name and performance videos were already circulating among the local bands. He was being seen as a proper rapper, something Gwangju hadn’t really seen before, a real blue-chip prospect.
Someone had hastily uploaded a video of his first guitar solo bridge to Gwangju’s indie band online community. It was a short clip, but it was enough to showcase Sanghyun’s appeal.
Because of that video, several bands had already visited Sejong Instrument Store, asking Miju for Sanghyun’s contact information. Miju, honoring some unspoken agreement with L&S, claimed she didn’t know.
Just as rappers often fall in love with the raw sound of a live band after only ever rapping to VST instruments [virtual studio technology, software that emulates instrument sounds], bands also coveted skilled rappers who could add a crucial dimension to their music.
“Hello.”
“Sit down. First, we want you to hear something. Miju, come here.”
Sanghyun, still looking a bit bewildered, sat down. The members of L&S and Miju exchanged glances, and then suddenly launched into a performance.
A familiar prelude. Run-DMC’s Walk This Way.
No, with the keyboard session, it was closer to Sanghyun’s version of Run This Town.
‘Wow, this is serious.’
The drums and electric guitar lines faithfully echoed Run-DMC’s original lines.
In particular, the leader and guitarist completely abandoned any Aerosmith influence and perfectly replicated Run-DMC’s Walk This Way, while still managing to inject their own unique flair.
‘Looks like they really listened closely?’
But what surprised him most was Yongjun’s bass and Miju’s keyboard.
Normally, the bass isn’t meant to be a prominent instrument in a band’s sound, but Yongjun deliberately created a powerful, resonant tone, weaving it through the gaps in the electric guitar’s riffs to create a completely new feel.
Also, while Miju had played the electric guitar line note-for-note during their previous performance, this time she was playing a completely different melody. It seemed specifically designed to harmonize with the electric guitar, and her shredding [playing extremely fast, complex solos] was seriously impressive.
In particular, the keyboard solo in the second bridge was breathtakingly fast.
-Ta-tang!
The performance ended with a powerful drum fill.
Sanghyun applauded enthusiastically.
It hadn’t even been a week since the Sejong Instrument Store performance, yet they had already put together such a polished rendition. Their hard work was obvious.
“How was it?”
“It’s perfect.”
“It’s a bit more hip-hop, right?”
Sanghyun tilted his head, puzzled by L&S’s leader’s comment.
“No. It feels more pop.”
“What are you talking about? How is that pop?”
Sanghyun smiled awkwardly.
He realized that the definition of ‘pop’ in 2005 was likely very different from the ‘pop’ of 2025. Honestly, he thought L&S’s sound was reminiscent of Imagine Dragons, who debuted in 2012 and peaked in 2019.
A slightly less polished version of Imagine Dragons, perhaps?
Of course, Band L&S was still a long way from being compared to a Grammy-winning act.
“No, I was a little off. It’s definitely hip-hop too.”
“Right? Doesn’t it make you want to rap when you hear it?”
Sanghyun smiled and nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then will you help our band?”
“Yes?”
“L&S is participating in the World Wide Indie Music Festival held in Jeonju this year.”
L&S’s leader put a hand on Sanghyun’s shoulder.
“Won’t you help us out?”
“I’m not much of a singer.”
“We’re not asking you to sing. We want you to rap, of course.”
“But don’t you already have a vocalist?”
“Have you ever seen us perform live? Ah, no, you didn’t even know our band name, did you?”
“No. I didn’t know the name, but I have seen L&S singing.”
“When?”
Sanghyun scratched his head. He suddenly couldn’t recall the name of the hospital.
“That, uh, hospital in Ilgok-dong… a concert for the patients?”
“Huh? Really? You performed there? We were in the audience, but we had another performance scheduled, so we couldn’t stay until the end. I had no idea. What song did you play?”
“I didn’t perform. I was hospitalized because I was sick.”
“Huh?”
Miju, who had been listening quietly, chimed in.
“What hospitalization?”
“I was just sick for a while. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“You get hospitalized for just being sick for a while? What was wrong?”
“I was just trying to get some insurance money. I have a lot of insurance.”
Sanghyun shrugged. L&S’s leader gestured for Miju to be quiet.
“Okay. If you saw our vocalist, you’d understand. What did you think of the performance?”
Sanghyun hesitated. The honest answer was, ‘Your vocals don’t really match your playing,’ so he wasn’t sure how to respond.
“I can tell from your expression. But you’re misunderstanding. Our vocalist is definitely not bad at singing. It’s just that his vocal range is too low. I’m confident that no one can match our vocal control and emotional expression in the mid-low range.”
At the unexpected explanation, Sanghyun thought back to L&S’s vocalist’s performance.
As the leader said, the voice itself was good, but it sounded like he was straining because he couldn’t hit the higher notes.
Sanghyun nodded, and the leader added a few more words.
“Our L&S is a band that explores neo-soul and country influences. In fact, our albums are known as a ‘high-note cure’ among our small group of enthusiasts. Sales weren’t bad for a local indie band, either.”
Sanghyun was a little embarrassed by the leader’s serious tone.
‘High-note cure?’ Is this a joke? Should I laugh?
He knew that many musicians complained that Korea was a market where only high notes seemed to matter. Because of that, a few years after the group sound [Korean pop band] craze ended, a strange prejudice had developed among the public that ‘indie music = quiet music’.
‘In short, they were born ahead of their time.’
It’s just their claim, so I’ll have to listen to their music properly to know for sure.
“This Jeonju World Wide Indie Music Festival is both an opportunity and a crisis for us. We have to choose between the vocalist’s unstable high notes and the mid-low notes that have musicality but are often ignored by the mainstream audience.”
“So you’re not ignoring commercial appeal for the sake of the public?”
“Um… that’s a perceptive question. We don’t completely disregard commerciality. It’s just that we want to be able to create ‘money-making music’ when necessary, even though we usually focus on our own artistic vision. Of course, the ultimate goal is to sustain ourselves by playing our music. If we persevere, won’t our music eventually become ‘money-making music’ someday?”
Sanghyun nodded. That’s a good attitude to have.
“So, to make the most of the vocalist’s strengths while still captivating the audience, you need some backup rap?”
“We’re definitely not trying to use you as just an extra. If we participate in the band survival competition at the festival, we have to prepare six songs, but Walk This Way will definitely feature your main part.”
“Hmm…”
A collaboration with a band.
Since it’s the band survival portion of the festival, if they rank high, they could win both prize money and recognition.
< Verse 2. Gotta Move > End
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