you were quite the big thing during the mgas last year, do you think that you deserved the hype? what would you have done if you had gone to the finals with your skillset? and if you had gotten a contract from a company knowing you'd take the place from one of the more skilled finalists, would you have accepted?
⊰ ◝ ( *he laughs, though it’s more like a scoff, because he doesn’t exactly agree. sure, so jisub called him a great contestant, but that was while he was on his way out. he got a little bit more screentime than others, maybe, but there were certainly more popular than him, and more talented. what would he have done? ) my best. ( *he laughs again, then shakes his head, trying to take the question more seriously ) i don’t think there was much hype for me, but i didn’t expect any, nor do i think i really deserved any. i’m just average. i had no business being on that show as long as i was. ( *he does know what he would’ve picked for some of the final rounds, however ) i would’ve picked why so lonely for the round after i was eliminated, and i guess for my performance for the finale...i would’ve done something with my guitar or bass again. i don’t know which song. maybe an acoustic version of thanks for the memories by fall out boy, that would be pretty funny, right? “thanks for the memories even though they weren’t so great,” in the finale. ( *he laughs again, but sobers up for the question about contracts ) i think they were looking for more than just skills, otherwise i wouldn’t have lasted as long as i did. ( *otherwise so jisub wouldn’t have called him a great contestant ) i don’t know if i would’ve accepted a contract. i wasn’t really ready to be a trainee, and definitely didn’t think that far ahead. i’m still not, i don’t think. ( *he looks down, and kicks his feet a little ) i don’t know if me rejecting it would’ve given the contract to someone else or not, so i don’t know if that’s really fair to ask me. ( *part of him resents this too-- like everyone else was more deserving than him, even if he thinks the same most of the time ) i would’ve considered it. is that...enough?
Only a week and a half has passed, but to Hyunjin it feels like so much longer. The contrast between his life now and just one week before was so great that at times it was hard for him to even process it. One week he was spending every spare moment immersed in dance and music and the next he’s back at school, surrounded by textbooks with an already growing pile of notebooks perched precariously on the side of his desk.
Maybe the stacks of paper are a good thing. If he ducks his head down low enough he can’t see the curious glances that his classmates throw him every now and then - they don’t gossip, don’t harass him, but he can feel their stares (it unnerves him a little). Besides, in a school like their’s, there isn’t enough time for gossip. Not when you could be studying.
When he enters the practice rooms he’s greeted by familiar faces and friends that he hasn’t had a chance to properly interact with since the finals. Everyone has been busy getting settled into their own new routines so he can’t say he blames anyone for the accidental distance created over the short period of time - after all, Hyunjin has been busy too.
Maybe if he wasn’t spending half of his time at the company, Hyunjin would have been a little bitter. Would have missed the ease that came with interacting with people who shared the same passion and interest for music that he did. But in the short time he’s been a part of the entertainment company he’s begun to slowly fill hidden gaps inherently part of a life solely focused around studying; gaps which he didn’t even realise existed.
His schedule is still hectic in a way that would make most gape. Mornings start at five and nights end just a little past midnight. Rise, and repeat. Although, for Hyunjin, somehow five hours of sleep after a day of nothing but studying versus five hours of sleep after a day filled with studying and music feels so different. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s actively working towards his dreams which gives him that extra boost of energy that allows him to push through each day.
In the practice room, Hyunjin finds Haknyeon easily enough, coming up from behind the boy and wrapping a hand around his waist in a friendly greeting, chin perching on his shoulder, “好久不见，你想我吗？” Long time no see, have you missed me? More than happy for his friend after doing so well during the finals, it’s relieving to see that at the very least Haknyeon seems happy too.
For Hyunjin, rehearsal runs smoothly, body naturally finding bits of the choreography and linking them back together; and the lyrics long since solidified in his memory. Even when it’s just rehearsal, he enjoys reliving that same sensation of performing with others, collectively working together to perform a song. He only hopes that in the future he’ll get a chance to do the same again.
daniel @kdaniel98 • 24s
i just want to say!! congratulations to everyone that made it to the finale, and the top 15 in the mgas. you’re all so cool :oo and you’re going to be the best trainees ever. i wasn’t really interested in kpop before this competition, but i’ll support you all when you debuted~~ and i’m really happy i got to meet and work with you all. you’ve worked hard! i hope everyone gets to rest now
MGA4 FINAL | GROUP PERFORMANCE
Song: [x]
Line Distribution (Vocal 3): [x]
Sicheng isn’t thrilled with how low he’s ranked...and yet he can’t be mad, when he gets to choose first, because he’s nothing if not strategic.
He chooses his parts taking everything he can into consideration; his competitors, what he thinks they’ll want, his skills, what he thinks he can handle, and also what he thinks will allow him to shine the most.
The third vocal gets some decent parts, towards the middle and end of the song, which Sicheng thinks might make him more memorable when compared to vocalists who go earlier, and he’ll also get an adlib, which he’ll have to practice, certainly, but he’s improved in his vocal capabilities to the degree where he genuinely thinks he can handle one.
He also selects that position because he guesses that Moon Bin and Junmyeon will be going for the meatier ones, and that the most competitive slots will be the two rap breaks, considering that there are four or five rappers to fight for them.
His strategy works out for him in the end, when everyone has chosen, and he still has the third vocal position.
Practice is more urgent this week, being mandatory the day after they select their parts, Saturday, through to Monday, but Sicheng knows he’ll be practicing every day, whether with the group or no, but in spite of this urgency, he’s still strangely excited, largely because he gets to work with Mark for what is the very first time.
What are the odds that it’d have been saved for the very end like this?
They walk into the practice room together every day, of course, and Sicheng spends a very inordinate amount of time looking after the boy; his top priority is making sure him and Mark do their best, after all. What had once seemed like a pipe dream of getting signed to some Kpop company together now seems like something achievable, like something almost imminent.
He doesn’t want to think of the alternative, almost like to foster such thoughts would be to invite negative energy in.
Sicheng has long felt a protective love for Mark, like he was a little brother he’d been meant to, but never properly had, and the thought of how crushed Mark would be if he was eliminated again is enough for Sicheng to do his best to make sure it doesn’t happen.
He gives Mark tips and pointers where he can, and the boy also seeks help from Won.
He checks in on him often, too, to see how he’s doing, and sometimes to fix his hair, or give him a hug of encouragement that is really for the both of them.
Sicheng doesn’t neglect himself, either, seeking advice from the more skilled vocalists as subtly as he can, he also observes them, listening in to try and determine their oral posture, and at home he tries to replicate it, spam-watching YouTube videos about belting and improving one’s vocal range and likely annoying his younger roommate with hours of yodeling and humming.
The final week of the Mnet Global Auditions passes by in a whirlwind, a whirlwind of rehearsals, of fittings, of adjustments, of microphones being adjusted, of sound-checks and lighting checks, and it’s a uniquely fascinating form of chaos, to see how the staff members scurry about, how this whole big production is seemingly well organised, and disorganised all at the same.
They’re performing for the largest crowd yet, this time, although the crowd has never felt particularly daunting to Sicheng; part of him is used to it, and another part is simply all too aware of how many other eyes are perched watching on the other end of the cameras, from home, and the crowd before them suddenly seems quite small.
It’s a long process. A day-long process.
From solo performances in the morning to rehearsal, to dress rehearsal, to standing around waiting for the diagnostics to be run, the lighting to be checked, it’s not a very pleasant waiting experience, all of it stacked atop the general sense of anxiety that this is it, and the knowledge that when the day comes to a close, some of the people remaining will be leaving, and some may be receiving their dreams handed to them on a silver platter.
The group performance is suddenly a whole lot less nerve-wracking, perhaps because Sicheng had already been on stage, as a single entity, so now, flanked by his peers, it’s not really so bad.
That being said, he feels a renewed sense of competition with them, and although he does his best to remain in cohesion within his group, he pushes himself to do his best, as he still wants to be a stand-out, and almost worryingly, doesn’t feel much of anything for those who appear to be struggling a little more.
The performance is a challenge, his adlibbed note coming out just ever so slightly flat, likely on account of the fact that he’d been dancing, but he more or less hits it, and a bit of flatness or breathiness is just a reality of live performances, especially where dancing was involved. This whole competition had given him a different outlook on such things, and he’d told himself that he’d be nothing but kind from now on, regarding judging the performances of musicians; it was extremely hard work, it was only their job to make it look effortless.
Once the performance is over, the lights dim, and the girls make their way on stage in near-darkness, and when the lights are brought back up, the perform a mash-up of the two songs, and eventually they are all left huffing in the final pose, and it settles on Sicheng how profound it is that this is the final performance that he will give on this show, and a bit of fear leaps into his chest, which he quickly chokes down.
As they’re brought backstage so that it can be arranged for what comes next, the proper end, he has to escape to a place of meditation, in which he repeats the words you’ve done your best like some mantra, or perhaps like a spell, that it might ring truer and truer with each declaration, and carry him further.
MGA4 Final | Solo Performance
Song: Move by TaeminJun [0:05-2:37]
Outfit/Hair/Make-up: [x] [x]
When he learns that he’s made it through, there’s a release of pent up pressure in his chest like the crisp snap of a bottle being twist open, a sense of relief so sharp that it almost registers like pain, but the relief is washed away by a wave of anxiety, laced with anger, when the position selection process begins, and he discovers how low he’s ranked.
Second to last.
He almost spends the rest of the day upset, the anger quickly fading into a distinct sense of hurt. Was he not good enough?
The hurt makes it difficult for him to focus for a couple of hours, as they’re told about their schedule for the upcoming week, it only barely registers how chaotic it sounds. A solo stage and a group stage, rehearsal on your own time, appointments for costume measurements tomorrow, fittings during the week, stage effects and back-up dancers available upon request, here’s who to speak to for that, where to go, it’s a barrage of information, and it ends up being just a little too much, and he has to duck into a restroom to gather his thoughts, to find some quiet.
Sicheng aches for this
It’s a recent revelation, sparked in part by the heat of the competition, but he wants this.
Perhaps he even needs it; he hasn’t got much in the way of prospects in South Korea at the moment, and there’s a fear that creeps further in him with each passing day that his parents will eventually see fit to cut this little adventure of his short if he doesn’t produce some kind of result soon. And the thought of having to leave behind the friends he’s made here hurts him.
The low ranking hangs over him like a spectre, and seems an insurmountable barrier, something hopeless, before it occurs to him that it’s something new for him in the competition. Somewhat, at least.
He thinks back to his first five or six weeks on this show; he’d been ranking high, second or third out of eight or nine, regardless of the amount of screentime he’d gotten, he’d been doing well, in a manner of speaking.
Of course, he’d been in a very different mental space at the time, this competition had seemed so light then, hadn’t felt like something he needed, it’d been easy to practice and to perform and to do his thing, and then between Donghyuck and Xuxi’s health scares and hospitalisations, Mark’s original elimination, everything, the show had become so very heavy, so very real, and it’d thrown Sicheng off of his game.
He had to rediscover that focus, that lightness. He had to figure out again how to rid himself of the anxiety and fear and just do his best, free of distractions.
The first order of business, of course, is to determine what he’s even doing.
This is the final, and that meant a lot of things. First and foremost, of course, it was the final impression the audience and the panel and the production team would all have of him, but it was also more than that, it was the first solo performance since the beginning of the competition, since there had been so few contestants. It was a proper chance to stand out, to show off his individual colour, to make a mark and prove that he had some sort of spark that warranted collection. It was an opportunity that he was going to take full advantage of.
He only had to decide what colour he really was.
Chinese traditional dance is the obvious choice. It’s what he’s trained in, for a lifetime, and he can perform a routine like it’s nothing, with the ease of an auntie idling through a shopping centre, and at first it seems like the best choice, too, until he really gives it more consideration; he’d already done it twice in this competition, three times, if one was to count his Shangri-La performance, and how he’d worked it in there, and at this rate...perhaps it was what people expected of him. They expected him to do a traditional dance routine, and the more Sicheng thought about it, the less of a good idea it seemed. It wasn’t all that relevant, truthfully, and although interesting, would be relegated to some sort of “special talent” that he showed off on variety shows if he were to actually become an idol.
He wanted to not only do something unexpected, something new, but he also wanted to prove that he could perform, that he could be an idol.
So he decides he won’t be doing his traditional dance, and although there’s a flare of anxiety in that decision, in straying from what is easy and known, he thinks that it is a choice that will serve him well in the end.
When it comes to the task of deciding what exactly he’ll be performing, if not traditional dance, it’s a somewhat difficult matter, and after a good twenty minutes of empty-handedness, of half-thoughts and neverminds, he tries to narrow his options down by asking himself: who does he admire?
What kind of performer does he want to be?
It’s an easy answer. He recalls having written it on his application form, even. Sicheng admires a complete performance; he admires artists who sing, dance, but most importantly, embody their performance. He isn’t sure what it is, exactly, more than some kind of electricity in their eyes, a measured sureness in their movements, the x factor that bridges the gap between someone merely talented, and someone noteworthy.
A tall order, certainly, and a challenge to his skills, he thinks, but that’s the performer he wants to grow into, and that’s the kind of performance he wants to give for the final.
He eventually settles on Move by Jun. The LC9 member had sprung to mind as possessing that spark that Sicheng had admired, and although other songs by him, like Press Your Number, had seemed just a little too far outside of Sicheng’s range, especially with only a week to prepare, Move’s lighter, more sensual vocals and focus on performance had seemed like the perfect choice. He thought he’d be able to handle the vocals, playing to his strengths by not going for something too intensive while still showing that he could do it, that he was easily a triple threat in the making, while also allowing him to focus on the dance itself, which had a delicacy and a grace to it that would match quite well with the inherently lyrical forms of Sicheng’s movement.
He talks to who he needs to talk to after this decision is made, and it’s approved, and he’s got back-up dancers, four women, and it’s a lot. He almost doesn’t even know where to start, but the ladies are professionals after all, and he arranges times to meet and rehearse with them, between this and the group rehearsals he’s not got time for much more than practice and a...passable, if not great, night’s sleep every day of the week, and Sicheng thinks that that works for him.
He wants to do his utmost, and he hopes the strange lump of magma, of determination and nervousness twisted round into one, would serve as some sort of fuel that he could use to push through into his best form, into his best performance.
Maybe his mother had helped him by driving him like some sort of dance robot; it’d made it easy for him to shut everything else out and do only dance, it’d hardened him to hours and hours in wood-floor studios, watching his reflection glide across it.
He can’t go into autopilot, though. He doesn’t want to let himself appear vacant, especially with a song so sensuous, he had to be present.
It’s something he struggles with over the course of the week: the sex appeal.
Sicheng isn’t blind, or stupid, or unaware; he isn’t some egomaniac, but he’s aware that he’s generally considered good-looking, although he tends to hear pretty more often than handsome, he doesn’t think that will be hindrance, that maybe it will match well with the strange, androgynous appeal of the song he’s performing. What isn’t, though, is anything close to sexually assured, and although the song isn’t explicit, its lyrics are suggestive, and the performance itself delicately sexy. It isn’t outright, in the form of hip thrusts or anything, but it’s still more than he’s accustomed to. Feeling and exuding sexy wasn’t something he was well-versed in.
He asks one of his dancers about it, ears red, extremely embarrassed to be asking someone how he might be a little sexier, but she’s amused by the question.
“You’re...adorable,” she squeals, prompting a whine from the boy that she quickly hushes, “You just...have to believe it. Or at least feel it, just then. You’re so pretty, though! I think it suits you really well, like...my advice is to not think so hard about it and think more about how you want to feel, and other people will feel it, too?”
Sicheng thanks her for the advice, although it doesn’t exactly reassure him.
He sets out on the task of discovering his own sexual self-esteem, which initially is absurd to him. Embracing that aspect of his identity isn’t something he’s done much of, but he eventually settles into some strange space where after a while, sometimes he’ll find himself blushing at the end of a practice run, at himself really, and he wonders if he’s become a megalomaniac, if it’s the confidence boost he’s felt from fan comments, or what, but he manages to convince even himself that he’s got a very definite sense of sex appeal.
He’s got pretty eyes that radiate intensity with a bit of smudgy make-up, a long elegant nose, and big, plump lips...and if he thinks too much about all of those things he feels a strange heat in his chest.
He’s very particular, he finds, making every decision available to him with a thoughtfulness that surprises even himself, although he’s always been prone to overthinking. From the cut of the song he’ll be performing, chosen to peak and fade out dramatically in the end, to the clothing him and his dancers will wear; they’ll be dressed simply in all black, and he’ll wear something a little revealing, in red and white stripes. It was something he’d once spoken to a costume designer at his old dance company about: you could use colour to draw the viewer’s eye to a certain dancer, or area of the stage, and Sicheng wanted every eye on him.
Perhaps it’s the amount of practicing he’s doing, or the anticipation that boils inside of him, swelling with each days until it’s oceanic, but the week passes by in a blur, and he feels like he’s had just enough time to pull his performances together, to tighten them into something worthy before the day of filming arrives, but not a second longer.
He wonders how everyone else feels about how polished they are, about where they stand, because for him, it’s a strange cocktail of peace, of confidence, of anxiety, of need, and he tries to strangle it into some form of submission before it’s his time to film, succeeding only very narrowly before his number is called, and production staff are ushering him around, double-checking his mic, reminding him of where his cameras will be.
It’s not as nerve-wracking as he thought it would be, standing on stage by himself, perhaps because he isn’t really, with his dancers.
He waits for the lights to raise, and the track to click on, a staffer off the side of the stage giving him a finger count until it does, and almost immediately he’s singing.
The song isn’t hard to sing, for the most part, not for Sicheng. It’s a gentle vocal performance, rooted in suggestion, the song itself all about furtive glances, strange feelings, dizzying attraction.
Sicheng does his best to embody the energy of quiet intensity that the song requires, rotating his hips slowly over top the beat, his arm movements, thought careful and rehearsed, move like morning mist over water, he invites his listener to smudge her carefully applied make-up, running a thumb over his lower lip as he does so.
It’s an intense performance, and even with the large crowd, and the cameras, Sicheng is blushing under his BB cream by the time he’s finished, something about the performance having felt strangely intimate, perhaps a combination of who he’d secretly been thinking of, largely by accident when trying to embody seduction, and the fact that he stood alone on stage this time.
He bows when he’s done, as the light dim and the music fades, and he makes his way backstage, where he’s told to change into something more comfortable, and updated on the schedule for the rest of the day, which he barely registers, the adrenaline still pumping through him, clouding his perception.
Sicheng is proud of himself, and although he knows what he wants, and that he’ll be disappointed to lose out when he’s so very close, when the prize is in nearly in grasp, he can’t help but feel a strange sense of peace, as though what is meant to happen will happen.
If what he’s done isn’t good enough for those judging him, he will at least have the knowledge that it was good enough for himself, that he’d challenged himself, and rose to it.
He’ll be fine either way, he knows, but he hopes that someone on that panel sees the spark he’d found in himself, and saw fit to give him another challenge to rise to.
↠ * mnet global auditions season 4 ,
♥«´¨`•°.. » episode nine ! finale: solo stage »
¸.•* PROBLEM by ARIANA GRANDE ( as performed by AILEE ! STYLE ) `*•.
note ! performed parts are from 0:35 - 2:03 & 2:22 - 3:18
this is it.
it’s the final show, and she couldn’t feel more jittery. everything that’s happened in the past two months---the rehearsals, the anxiety, the fatigue, the restlessness---all of it has been leading up to this moment, and it all feels so surreal. just a couple of months ago, she’d nearly missed out on this opportunity, too afraid to take another risk, too down on herself because of past auditions. but now here she stands, a finalist, only a few performances left before she hears the result of all her hard work and sleepless nights.
it hadn’t been an easy road getting there. the week had been full of ups and downs, from the uneasiness during the battle for parts for the group song, to the past few hours of rehearsals, and even down to this very moment as she stands backstage, counting down the seconds until the show officially starts.
the hardest part, she thinks, had been choosing the right song. for several days, she’d though long and hard about what song she should choose to perform as a solo, even going so far as asking her cousin jinah for advice, as well as her fellow contestant jinsoul, who had been an anchor for her throughout the week. even after she’d made her choice, she pored over the decision, ever wondering if it was the right choice, if it would make enough of an impact.
getting her own dancers for the performance and going through rehearsals with them had been what sealed the deal. for the first time, she could see with her own eyes just what she would be able to bring on the stage with her chosen song, the impact it would make with her dancers with her. throughout the rehearsals, she’d gotten to know their names and their personalities, and discovered that they were kind people who shared the same passion for music that she did, and had chosen to go about performing in a different way. she’d already respected the dancers that always stood behind the big names, but being bale to work more closely with them made her come away from the experience with a renewed appreciation for them.
on the days the practice rooms were taken by other contestants, she spent at the dance studio where she used to co-teach, going over the choreography on her own, sharpening her movements even more, making her timing more precise, strengthening her voice so it would not waver even during the most hard-hitting choreography. not once did she ever half ass her performance; she was always at full strength, always giving her all, because if she let herself slip for even a second, she knew that she’d fall behind everyone else, and the race was too close for her to allow that to happen.
for the entire week, she must have gotten, at most, ten hours of sleep for the entire week, closing up the studio well into the early morning only to open it up again in just a couple of hours. she made up for it as much as she could the night before the live show, her father stepping in to make sure that she got lots of rest in order to put on her best show and have no regrets.
and she doesn’t. for the most part, she doesn’t. her biggest regret, however, isn’t of her own accord. she stares down at her her phone gripped tightly in her hands, a text message read but never responded to. in a flurry of emotion, she’d deleted her mother’s name and number from her phone and they’d been estranged since the day that she left, but she still recognizes the number from the moment she’d seen it.
i hope you know that i’m proud of you, honey. good luck!
over the past few months, she’s tried to convince herself that her mother has no effect on her any longer, but that all comes crumbling down when she reads over the text and still feels anger, sadness, bitterness, and perhaps, against her own will, a bit of elation. but her mother messages as if nothing has changed, as if she doesn’t have a whole other family seola didn’t even know about, as if the loving family their household and childhood had been based on hadn’t been a lie. she’s entertained the idea of messaging back over and over again, a curt reply, a drawn out one detailing how much she still hurts, but in the end, she decides it’s best for her to leave it on read, at least for now. she has bigger and better things to worry about at the moment.
they call the contestants up onto stage, and she tries to shake off the all-too-familiar nerves that have built up again bundled up with the confusion she feels regarding her mother’s text, but it’s all in vain. regardless, she follows her fellow finalists into the lineup, and, once she’s in the audience, she puts on a brave front, concealing her jitters and emotion with a bright smile.
when it’s her turn to introduce herself, she first bows deeply to the audience, bending at the waist at an almost perfect ninety degrees in an attempt to show them just how much their support has meant to her throughout the competition. after all, what would a performer be without an audience for whom the perform? she remains in this position for a few seconds before coming back up, her hair falling gracefully around her shoulders, smile broad and eyes shining bright.
“hello, i am contestant #4025 kim hyunjung!” she declares confidently, accompanied by a small wave of her hand. “for this stage, i hope to show you my best self yet, and hope it will leave you anticipating even more. thank you!”
she’s rushed off stage once more, and the wait begins. unlike most of the past few episodes, she’s no longer the last, or one of the last, to perform, but that hardly matters now that it’s the finale. every second that passes is just as excruciatingly nerve-wracking as the last. she tries to wait patiently for her turn, but she can’t sit still, and instead quietly does vocal exercises until she’s called to go back up on stage for her solo performance. she closes her eyes, takes one deep breath, and follows the staff onto the stage.
with no introduction to be made, she falls into position, and the song starts.
the introduction is one that anyone who’s listened to popular music in recent years should be able to recognize, and one that seola is sure is a hit with the demographic for the mgas. she grins to herself when she hears whispers of recognition, eyes and face focused away from the camera and audience for the short segment.
hey baby even though i hate ya, i wanna love ya (i want you you you)
and even though i can't forgive ya, i really want to (i want you you you)
tell me, tell me baby, why can't you leave me
'cause even though i shouldn't want it, i gotta have it (i want you you you)
for the first verse, she focuses on connecting with the audience more than she does on vocal technique or choreography, only joining in with the dancers during key points of the lyrics. instead, she focuses on being engaging, making eye contact, singling audience members out and interacting one on one. she utilizes the entirety of the stage, strutting from one end to the other as if she owns the place. she’s become comfortable on this stage from all the previous times she’s performed on it, and in a strange way, it’s become a second home to her, and it shows.
head in the clouds, got no weight on my shoulders
i should be wiser and realize that i've got
she remains at center stage during the pre-chorus, focusing more on vocal technique in order to deliver the high notes. she’s still maintaining a connection with the audience, however, staying high energy as she sings, delivering power with her notes.
one less problem without ya
i got one less problem without ya
(i got one less problem without ya)
i got one less, one less problem
one less problem without ya
i got one less problem without ya
(i got one less problem without ya)
i got one less, one less problem
it’s only during the chorus that she really joins in with her dancers, partaking in the entirety of the choreography, seamlessly joining in with them when it’s time. she utilizes the backing track during this time, allowing her to focus less on her vocals and to use more power and precision in her movements.
i know you're never gonna wake up, i gotta give up (but it's you you you)
i know i shouldn't ever call back or let you come back (but it's you you you)
every time you touch me and say you love me
i get a little bit breathless, i shouldn't want it (but it's you you you)
once the chorus is over, she’s back to focusing on audience engagement, back to trying to use the whole stage in order to spread her presence from end to end. it’s obvious how much she’s practiced for this in the way that she seems so carefree as she sings, confident that she’ll hit the notes she needs to even as she moves around with such energy.
it’s a surprise, even to herself, that she’s so confident when only a few seconds before going on stage, she’d been nearly crippled with stage fright. her father’s words are ringing clearly in her ears now. just have fun. and she’s having the time of her life.
head in the clouds, got no weight on my shoulders
i should be wiser and realize that i've got
once again she finds herself at center stage for the pre-chorus, finding steady ground in order to sing these more difficult lines. she delivers, hoping she’s making it look easy as she belts out the notes, this time joining in with her dancers for the choreography, albeit a less demanding version of it. she hopes the impact is as big as she’d intended, hopes she’s making it as memorable as possible.
oh~ (one less, one less problem)
mm~ (one less, one less problem)
head in the clouds, got no weight on my shoulders
i should be wiser and realize that i've got
instead of jumping into another chorus, the song slows down and she stands in the center of formation, two dancers on either side of her. she takes this slight reprieve to regain some of her stamina, running her fingers through dark tresses as she slowly walks back up toward the front of the stage, singing adlibs as she goes. once she’s at the front, she’s once again delivering those high notes, not a waver to be heard.
(one less problem without ya) hey
(i got one less problem without ya) ah~ babe
(i got one less problem without ya) ooh, ooh~ baby
(i got one less, one less problem)
(one less problem without ya
i got one less problem without ya
i got one less problem without ya)
i got one less, one less problem
(one less problem without ya) yeah
(i got one less problem without ya) got one less, one less~
(i got one less problem without ya)
i got one less, one less problem
during the final chorus, she gives it everything she’s got: the audience engagement, the singing technique, performing the same choreography as her dancers. she throws everything she has into those final thirty seconds of her performance, going harder than she ever has in her life, enjoying herself so much that it all just spills onto the stage.
at the end of the song, she’s in her final position, hip jutted out, one hand resting upon it. she’s completely out breath, her chest heaving up and down in an attempt to catch it, but she’s got a grin on her face that’s a mixture of adrenaline from her performance and relief that she’s delivered one of her last performances of the show.
there’s still more to come, still more to worry about in the next hour and a half, but for now, she’s content with what she’s put out, and can only hope it will propel her into the next chapter of her life.
mga 4 final episode presents
stand by me — boys ii men
(vocal 2) (line dist.)
Final episode. Final team stage.
There were a lot of ‘finals’ hanging in the air as he stared at the monitor without really seeing what was on it. This was it, huh, this was the end of the road. Some of them would continue on to be snapped up by the big companies and become trainees, maybe even debut in a few years time. That was the dream. But he knew that not all of them could go down that road, hell, not everyone wanted to. For Bin he hoped this wasn’t the end but a chance to move forward onto a new chapter of his life. This was a chance to really get a step closer to doing something he really loved.
The part that he’d chosen wasn’t the most prominent but he felt comfortable enough to perform it, even with the adlibs. The dancing on the other hand made him question if he would be stable enough to be able to hit those high notes required. Luckily there were always at least a few people in the practice room that he could sidle up to and ask for help when it came to choreography. He found himself spending a lot of time pestering Wonwoo hoping he could smooth out the kinks in his moves, apologising every time for being such a handful. He just wanted to do his best.
It was time.
Bin stood on stage waiting for the music to start. He felt nervous, but pleasantly so. He had come to love being on stage, having people watch him, singing into their hearts.
They started. He moved smoothly across the stage to his chair, executing the choreography crisply, neatly, keeping in time to the beat and others beside him. Bin had the first choreo, and he had to sing while dancing. Hopefully his voice would hold. He mentally geared himself as his lines neared, standing to dance into formation.
Love you baby
Take my breath away
Even my last breath
Take my breath away
Take it all yeah
It went well, and he was glad he stopped singing just before the fancy footwork kicked in, his breathing slightly heavy as he concentrated on getting things right only half listening to the others as he continued to dance. Bin felt the sweat beginning to form on his forehead and neck, most likely glistening under the lights, but he had to keep his expression clean, professional. Once again this choreo afforded him a few moments of rest—which he took gladly—shoulders heaving as he tried to look as cool and unaffected as possible sitting down.
Then it was back to dancing, leading up to the chorus. He could feel his muscles beginning to complain after the jump but he continued on calmly, doing the footwork getting ready to sing with everyone else before his time to adlib came on.
For me, it’s only you
Keep it true
We’ve been through
Please keep it to yourself
For me, it’s only you
Keep it true
We’ve been through
Please keep it to yourself
He pointed out towards the audience with a bright grin as they sang, moving to the side waiting for the single lull where he could take a breath before hitting the high note he wanted.
Woah ohhh baby
Take it all yeah
Bin hit it cleanly though it felt like his lungs were on fire as he got into formation once more. He had one more set of lines. He could do it. He could get through this and pull it off with aplomb.
