doyoung is grateful to have met daniel. doyoung is grateful that daniel has invited him to perform with him for the month’s evaluations. doyoung is grateful that daniel has taken it upon himself to arrange this band cover that they are doing because it means he doesn’t have to deal with it himself, because for what he thinks he makes up for in vocal ability, he lacks in creativity.
and it’s not that he doesn’t know how to do those things, or that he doesn’t want to do those things, it’s more like he doesn’t want to do those things right now, because as much as he has the desire to learn, right now, those skills are subpar, and he’d rather not show that off to the company when he’s only been signed for a few months.
call it a strategic omission.
instead, he finds a place among all the others where he feels comfortable the most---singing. sure, he could have offered to play a second guitar, or maybe tried his hand at something new, but in a group, he’d rather stand out for the talents he already has than to fall by the wayside doing something he’s only average in.
besides the benefit of not having to do something for which he lacks the confidence, he’s also grateful that he gets to meet all these new people with their own talents and their own skills, not as a background for him, but as a means to form a cohesive, competent, skilled unit. he may be what people call a lead singer for the temporary group, but it’s not solely his performance, it’s theirs, and they all shine.
and maybe, just maybe he’s not as averse to this whole idol thing as he thought.
✧ ✧ ✧ ━━━━━━━ JANUARY 2020 EVALUATIONS
GROUP PERFORMANCE —
POISON by VAV
performing in a group is completely new to him.
from the second he’d stepped foot back on korean soil with the ambition of becoming a singer, he’d always imagined himself as a soloist under some small, indie company, but after years of no success and the sphere audition suddenly falling into his lap through an instagram post of all things, who was he to say no, ignoring all the signs?
the idea of becoming an idol was so far removed from him that training to become one now is still sort of surreal. hearing stories of people training for years and still never getting anywhere, of those who have debuted who were now struggling with either privacy issues or lack of exposure, it all sounded so difficult, and still wasn’t even sure if it was something he wanted in the long run, even after signing away his life to the company for two years.
despite his current apprehensions, he still wanted to perform well, if not for himself, then for those whose spot he’s potentially taking up on the trainee roster, and that meant getting used to things he never thought he’d do. last month it was the idea of having to promote a product he may or may not even trust or believe in, this month, it’s acting as one unit in a team.
the day of the performance comes fast, weeks condensing into what feels like only a couple of days. they’ve practiced day in and day out, and by the time the actual evaluation comes around, he can’t help but feel like he’s formed a closer bond with them, and whether that’s because of all the time they’ve spent together, or because of that one night he spent rubbing muscle salve into their skin, he isn’t able to tell, but he’s grateful for it nonetheless, because it makes it easier to focus on the group aspect the company is asking for.
he’s a seasoned dancer, a seasoned performer, but not a seasoned group member, and while he does feel a bit more of camaraderie between them all, his rookie status still shows when he’s unable mesh quite as well as he’d wanted with the others, his few months of training a stark contrast to some of the others who have been training longer.
it seems he still has a long way to go, but he doesn’t let it get him down. that just means he has to work even harder to get there, and he’s never backed down from hard work.
✧ ✧ ✧ ━━━━━━━ DECEMBER 2019 EVALUATIONS
COMMERCIAL FILMING IMPROV —
GIVEN ITEM: SLIDES
he walks into the practice room not knowing what to expect. sure, they'd given them lessons on modeling and acting, but they hadn't told them much else than to keep practicing the example clips they'd been given. it was practical radio silence since then, and while he has the idea that they'll be asked to act out a commercial film, he feels as if just reciting what they'd been shown would be too easy, especially taking into consideration that last month's evaluations had literally sent a few trainees to the hospital.
he never even thought that they'd be asked to improvise one on the spot, and he feels stupid for not realizing it sooner. after all, before being shown those specific clips, they'd been asked to do the same thing on the day they'd been given lessons.
ask him to sing and dance on the spot, and he'd have no trouble whipping up a freestyle or riffing some notes, but being asked to act on the spot is a completely different story. these kinds of skills are things he's never once worked on in his life prior to joining sphere, and while the lessons did help a bit, it does little to ease his mind as he's given a pair of slippers and asked to make something up.
he takes them gingerly into his hand, mind racing for ideas before throwing them onto the floor. they're several sizes too big, probably a makeshift one-size-fits-all situation, but slips his feet into them anyway. he starts out by calling out to an imaginary person off of the screen, waving his hand as if trying to catch their attention. "hey, beautiful! hold up!"
he's smiling through his cringing expression as he begins moonwalking out of the shot, only to come moonwalking back in. it's incredibly difficult to do so while wearing slippers, but he works through it, even as they come off a couple of times in the process. once he's pretty certain he's founds the center of the shot, he stops, then points double finger guns at the camera. "need to slide into the dms? impress her with these!"
he then kicks his feet, sending the over sized slipper off of his foot and into the air, where he manages to catch it, showing it off to the camera. "be sure to impress with adidas slides. find them at your local retailer."
he gets a reaction from the staff, and while it's not exactly a good reaction, he'll take anything he can get, even if it’s a grimace. he laughs off the embarrassment, dropping the slipper to slide it back onto his foot.
of all the aspects of idoldom, acting and endorsements have never once crossed his mind. he'd been so focused on using this opportunity as a springboard to improve his assets as a singer and dancer that he never realized that, as a trainee, they'd be teaching him how to master all the other things expected of idols as well.
needless to say, he's at a loss here. other than his experiences in retail and his summer jobs at his uncle's hotel, he had no knowledge at all at how to present a product and sell it. sure, he'd used the good, old-fashioned charm to sell something to customers in order to increase his profits with commission, but trying to sell to a mass audience feels completely foreign to him. just the idea of watching himself on television, all smiles as he poses and details the appealing aspects of a product makes him want to curl up and die.
which is why he's standing in front of his bathroom mirror, in the privacy of his own home, because he knows in order to perform well for this evaluation, he has to get over that feeling of cringe he gets when imagining himself in a cf for the world to see.
he smiles at the mirror, but notices immediately just how awkward he appears, his smile forced like a third grader taking school photos. the half-used tube of toothpaste he holds feels foreign in his hand as he begins to speak, and even the sound of his voice is hard to listen to. it's an out of body experience, one that sends him to the carpet on the floor, shriveling up into himself as he groans.
"aekyung 2080 new shining white toothepaste," he murmurs to himself, voice tainted with defeat. "for a smile’s brighter tomorrow."
✧ ✧ ✧ ━━━━━━━ NOVEMBER 2019 EVALUATIONS,
TWELVE HOUR BUSKING IN HONGDAE —
NOVEMBER 30, 2019
it’s a bit surprising to him at first that he’s managed to last this long, considering a handful of other trainees who have been there longer than him have been whisked off to the hospital, presumably to receive one of those infamous iv treatments he’s heard and read about, even seen with his own eyes while working at the hospital. having grown up in an environment that was so laid back, it had always come across as strange that people who literally work themselves sick, and while he does understand that it’s part of the culture, that doesn’t mean it can’t be improved upon and fixed.
but he supposes that makes him sound like some kind of hypocrite. even before all of this, he was working several twelve to eighteen hour shifts in a row at the hospital, and even now, all of this just seems so normal when it shouldn’t. the reason he’d hoped to sign to an indie label instead was so he could avoid things like this, and here he was, working his ass off for just a chance to debut, witih no guarantee that all of the efforts would be worth it.
but even in this kind of setting, with people walking and passing by, his face probably all a blur, just a nameless and faceless figure among the other trainees, it still makes him feel alive, like this is where he’s meant to be, performing, dancing, singing under his breath even when it isn’t a required part of the performance.
and sure, it isn’t easy, but great things can often come from difficulty and hard work---isn’t that how he’s ended up here, now? his path up to this point, with all of its ups and downs, has led to him performing for others, and even if it’s a fleeting moment in someone’s day, it’s a start, and even if he ever hits rock bottom ever again, there’s only one way to go from there.
it’s impossible to live in seoul without hearing about the life of a trainee, especially when you’re a regular on the busking circuit in hongdae. he’s heard various stories about countless numbers of companies, from the big five that all belong to samsung now, to the indie labels no one’s ever even heard of and, honestly, sounded pretty fucking shady. most of the time, he’s pretty sure the stories are exaggerated, but then he looks into his friends’ eyes and sees how dead they are inside and it only made him not want to become an idol even more.
which begs the question why he even signed a contract at all, but he tries not to think about that too much.
instead, he focuses on the fact that he almost laughed in a staff member’s face when he was told to prepare for a busking even that would last twelve straight hours, only to have the sound sapped straight out of his mouth by the stern and humorless expression on said staff member’s face.
what had escaped him instead was a huge sigh of disbelief, and a nervous chuckle at a fraction of the original sound he’d been intending to make. he’d have thought there’d be some sort of adjustment period for new trainees like him, but it doesn’t seem to be the case, and, really, he shouldn’t have expected anything else. so he grins and bears it, tries to prepare as much as he can in any way he can because he doesn’t think it’s really possible to prepare for something like that. you sort of just wing it and hope for the best.
which is basically what he did by signing with such a huge company anyway, so might as well extend that mindset to the rest of his time here, right?
as they always say, go big or go home, and it’s way too early to even think about giving up.
✧ ✧ ✧ ━━━━━━━ PLEASE DON’T LET THIS LOVE DIE YOUNG
IF I HAVE TO LOSE SOMEONE, DON’T LET IT BE YOU —
LOVE DIE YOUNG by ERIC NAM
it’s been an exhausting few days.
after scheduling his audition, his mind raced, of song titles of instruments, of arrrangements, of telling someone, of telling no one. he remembers the last time he’d told someone he’d do well, the last time he said he’d make someone proud, and the thought of that overwhelming guilt and regret makes him put his phone face down on his desk.
no, he couldn’t tell anyone, not yet. he can’t build up his or anyone’s else’s expectations. not when he doesn’t know what the outcome will be, isn’t confident in how things will turn out.
between work and practice and the few hours of sleep he’d get each night, he’d hardly had time to sit down and just breathe, to work out how he feels about getting scouted by one of the five biggest entertainment companies in the country, to realize that it had happened not through his busking or his performance at one of their sponsored festivals, but through an instagram post, through his looks rather than his talent.
but at this point, does it really matter? if his face is what gets him through the door and into a coveted trainee spot, then he just has to prove that his face isn’t all he has, and he’s confident in that.
what he doesn’t have confidence in is actually getting through that door. he’s already been through countless auditions, not just at sphere or any of the big entertainment companies, but for smaller, indie companies as well, and he has yet to get a call back from any of them. at the beginning, he never let it get him down, looking forward to improving and moving on to the next time, but over time, it starts to put a dent in even his ever optimistic outlook, and it makes him a wreck as he enters sphere’s front doors for his audition.
the song he’s chosen isn’t the most vocally impressive, but what it lacks in vocal acrobatics, it makes up in pure emotion and vulnerability. personally, wonpil has never experienced the emotions the lyrics speak about, but if there’s one thing about his singing that he’s the most confident in, it’s being able to convey the emotion behind it. empathy has never been his strong suit, but whenever he puts it in a song, he can feel every note as if it were coming from the very depths of his own soul, and by making an acoustic arrangement out of it, it becomes his own, a piece of him to show.
with his guitar in hand, he takes his place in front of the sphere staff, heart beating so loudly in his head he can barely hear them. he takes a few deep breaths to steady himself, closes his eyes, imagines he’s somewhere else, some time else, in the future, standing on a stage, where he doesn’t have to worry about passing an audition, but can sing to his heart’s content because he’s finally made it.
what happens when it’s over
when we’ve breathed our last breath
and we’ve loved each other to death
can you tell me what happens?
i wonder where the love goes
when pleasure turns to pain
when the memories fade away
can you tell me what happens?
the song begins with a strum of his guitar and a slow and questioning tone in his voice, conveying uncertainty, confusion. questions unanswered, just like now, of what will become of him, of his future.
flowers in your hair now on our grave
a little bit of pressure’s all it takes
shoulda known we’d shatter, that we’d break, break
maybe i’m the one that we should blame
for never thinking we’d end up this way
i don’t need answers i need you to stay, stay
there’s a small change in tempo once the pre-chorus hits, no longer inquisitive, a change in tone as well, more light-hearted, a contrast to the lyrics. he’s taking responsibility for his own actions, for what he’s caused, and though his situation had been entirely different to the one in the song, he knows what that’s like, of coming to terms with his own flaws, of realizing what he’s done.
please don’t let this love die young
please don’t let this love die young
if i’m gonna lose someone don't let it be you
he only sings the first half of the chorus, voice taking on a pleading tone, a series of taps to his guitar along with his strumming, adding a bit more dimension to the sound. he launches into a bit of the pre-chorus again, this time with a deeper sound, a different timbre. it almost sounds as if he’s about to give up, a last ditch effort, one last plea.
please don’t let this love die young
please don’t let this love die young
if i’m gonna love someone
then let it be you
he sings the second half of the chorus now, pleading tone continuing until the very last note, the very last strum of his guitar. there’s a silence and a stillness that lingers after his performance, breaking only once he takes a bow and thanks them for the opportunity.
he leaves feeling uncertain, but as if a huge weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. he may not know what the outcome will be, but he at least knows that it would be impossible to give up. there’s still so much left to learn, so much music in him left to give, and even if he never ends up signed in the end, there will always be a place for him to sing.
✧ ✧ ✧ ━━━━━━━ how do you sleep when you lied to me?
all that S H A M E and all that DANGER —
HOW DO YOU SLEEP? by SAM SMITH (ACOUSTIC COVER)
busking is second nature to him.
while the weekdays are reserved for his Working Man lifestyle, of long shifts at the hopsital and getting the proper amount of sleep, the weekends are spent with his guitar and amp and equipment in hongdae, singing to a crowd that’s as fleeting as the remnants of a dream. it almost feels unnatural on the off chance he isn’t out on a saturday night, doing acoustic covers of songs and trying to get his music out there, so he wonders why he’s nervous to do it in a different setting now when the parameters are nearly the same.
perhaps it’s because the festival has been set up by one of the biggest entertainment companies in the country, a name he hasn’t given much thought to since he’d been eliminated in the mgas, but one that’s brought to the forefront again as he takes his place in front of the microphone, guitar strapped around his shoulders. he wonders if there’s anyone from the company watching, but the question quickly leaves his mind, realizing no one would even recognize him anyway.
he introduces himself with a smile and a lazy salute, perhaps overly familiar in the way he speaks---“hey, my name’s kim wonpil.”---but he’s comfortable, confident where he stands, despite the nerves rushing through his veins. he lends no other information, no song title, no artist; he just begins to play, his fingers strumming first before his voice joins in.
he can’t say he can relate exactly to the lyrical contents of the song, but he knows well enough the feelings that are needed to give off a convincing performance. he knows the kind of pain a person can go through in a relationship where trust is broken, in more ways than one, and he channels that as he sings, not only in the way he sings, but in the way he plays, in the way he strums his guitar, and the way he stands, the way he breathes.
the second chorus builds up more than the first, giving more levels to his performance than the original does. he changes up the melody so that he isn’t merely copying the original singer note for note, lending a part of himself to the song, and allows the energy to fall once again during the bridge, only to build up even more than the second chorus during the finale of his song, putting everything he has into it, tapering off at the tail end of the song.
he remains standing there for a few brief moments once he’s done, eyes closed as his head drops, taking a moment to self-reflect before he bows and makes his exit, wondering how much longer he’ll be able to do this without anything coming from it, and if his time will ever come.
only time will tell, but he doesn’t know how much longer he can wait.
