Chapter 81 : Growth Over Success
Chapter 81: Growth Over Success
A producer oversees everything about an album.
…Or so the public believes.
The reason is simple.
Top of the album credits.
That most noticeable spot always bears this title.
Executive Producer.
General Producer.
Jung Jaewook of Manny Entertainment.
Kim Minsoo of KIM Entertainment.
Kwak Youngho of ToMe Entertainment.
People like that.
To put it simply, they’re the final decision makers.
– “Music video budget: 2 billion won? Full location shoot in LA? Who’s the director? Okay! Let’s do it!”
– “That’s a bit radical… What? That’s the trend? Let’s give it a shot!”
– “There must be a reason A&R decided that way.”
What do all these people have in common?
They’re the company’s CEO or chairman.
They’re the ones who can control the flow of capital.
That’s how companies work.
To survive safely in corporate life, one must avoid getting drenched in the muck.
Keep a low profile and endure.
100% of employees go to work with that resolution.
How can I be so sure?
Because anyone with outstanding confidence and bold ideas has already started their own company.
Anyway. Releasing a single album involves billions of won.
What happens if a company shifts the blame for a commercial failure onto an employee?
No one would dare bring bold planning or a unique concept to the table.
Why?
Because it’s not a matter that can be resolved with, “You said you'd take responsibility but it didn’t work out? You're fired.”
The money already wasted, the budget needed to restore the brand image, the fallout from the album bombing… like a nosedive in stock prices, for example.
Once you start calculating, you end up with a “responsibility” so massive it would take three generations to repay.
That’s why.
The bigger the project, the more unpredictable the creative field, the more we need someone willing to “take the hit” on behalf of everyone else.
Only then can a free and groundbreaking result emerge—free from the question of who’s to blame.
“You want to produce… huh.”
And so the public comes to believe that a “producer” is someone with full authority over the entire album.
But there’s a catch.
Just because someone is an executive producer doesn’t mean they write the songs, oversee the recordings, and follow everyone around giving detailed feedback.
Under the executive producer, there’s a practical producer who manages the project—an In-House Producer. And separate from that, there are song producers or track producers who complete individual songs.
To summarize—
“There’s a producer directing each track, as I understand it. Am I mistaken?”
What Taeyoon wanted was not control over the whole album, but to complete <Avalanche> himself as the track producer.
Go Minseo asked,
“Do you happen to have a specific direction in mind? Like a unique point we might have missed…”
She clearly wanted to hear more in detail.
The Signum that Stay would craft—
It surely wouldn’t be ordinary.
It was something they’d find out with time anyway…
But I wanted to talk about the song right now—about the Signum Stay was envisioning.
My tongue was itching.
Even after meeting countless composers—
None had stirred my heart quite like Taeyoon did.
Of course, I’d had plenty of conversations with other composers too, but the focus was always the same—on the “song.”
It was a form of self-confidence.
They were busy trying to prove how great their track was, how impressive their career had been.
But Taeyoon’s confidence was different.
He focused on the artist, not the song.
“It’s not about some unique point. It’s actually because of something quite ordinary.”
Taeyoon looked each person in the eye and calmly continued.
“Performing a charm, I think… any artist can do that. Even if it’s not their real personality or nature, idols are often expected to show the charm that fans want.”
Taeyoon glanced at the laptop in front of Assistant Manager Go Minseo.
<Avalanche> was still playing.
“But Signum has to be different. I want to see the Signum members expressing their own charm freely.”
Ah, so this was it.
Go Minseo snapped her fingers and added,
“What you're saying is… you want to draw out their true selves, not an act. Right?”
This time, it was A&R Team 1 Leader, Yoon Kyunggu, who spoke up.
“Ah… That’s actually a really great intention. Like a kind of turning point?”
He was technically an external composer.
And yet he’d seen right into Signum’s essence—pretty sharp, huh?
No matter how obsessed an agency might be with concepts—
They couldn’t just drag in some random kids and force them to play instruments.
The Signum members had a real understanding of instruments and bands at a basic level.
“Team Leader, did you think the same?”
“And you too, Assistant Manager Minseo?”
They bounced thoughts off each other.
“Now that I think about it, there are clear limitations to band idols. Which comes first—the band or the idol? That’s been the biggest dilemma even internally.”
“Exactly! The first album was a bit tricky to perform live, but something like <Avalanche> should be manageable live.”
“It would’ve been a shame to leave them as just ordinary idols.”
“Now I understand what Stay meant. Of course you’d want to produce it yourself.”
“Wow, wow… Then this could actually let you capture both—the band and idol aspects.”
Assistant Manager Go and Team Leader Yoon nodded at each other vigorously.
They’d fully understood Taeyoon’s goal.
This was real confidence.
Whether it was a follow-up track or a B-side—
If the song fit the artist perfectly, it would stand out more than anything else.
“There have been cases where B-sides outperformed the title track. But still…”
Go Minseo and Yoon Kyunggu—
They were hanging on in the brutal field of music with just their love for the craft.
They always thought about what was best for the artist.
Creating a sparkling star—
There was nothing more thrilling than that. Even if they were treated like dirt.
Maybe that’s why—
The current situation felt all the more regrettable.
“Confidence is great. It really is, but…”
Everyone wants a pretty red skirt, if they can have it.
The title track is a booster. So they’d been hoping.
Hoping that Stay would push for the title.
If he had made a fuss about it—
They might’ve pretended to resist and pushed for a double title instead.
Clicking his tongue quietly, Team Leader Yoon locked eyes with Taeyoon.
Deep, dark pupils.
So solid, he couldn’t read what was inside.
But that unpretentious smile on his youthful face left Team Leader Yoon confused.
A swirl of thoughts drifted through his head.
Was he trying to avoid going up against the Busan Goblin?
Was he intimidated by the pressure of taking the title for a boy group?
‘No. That can’t be it.’
He shook his head, brushing away the thoughts.
Daydreaming was a luxury.
He would trust and support Stay’s confidence.
Now was the time to focus on that.
From recording to mixing to mastering.
Supporting the beginnings of a rookie producer with full encouragement and backing—
That was the role of the A&R team, wasn’t it?
He simply needed to do his best to support them.
Team Leader Yoon Kyunggu concluded the meeting with his own resolution.
“Composer Stay.”
“Yes, Team Leader.”
“I’ll personally take charge and get confirmation on this matter. I’ll ensure that you receive just as much support as a title track would. I’m truly looking forward to your first production.”
Team Leader Yoon extended his right hand.
Taeyoon respectfully took the offered hand.
And as they slowly shook hands, he thought,
‘What is even going on right now? I didn’t mean for it to sound this grand...’
He wasn’t sure, but one thing was clear—it was a positive atmosphere.
He had given up the title track, but achieved his goal of producing.
Since it had come to this, maybe he should toss out one more?
Ahem.
Taeyoon casually asked,
“I’ve heard some rumors that the title track is by the Busan Goblin. Is that true?”
Busan Goblin.
At that name from Taeyoon’s lips, Team Leader Yoon flinched briefly.
But he quickly slipped on the practiced smile of a seasoned professional.
“...Yes, that’s correct. Is there something you’re curious about?”
Something felt off.
He was smiling, but it didn’t feel like a real smile.
Come on, surely he wasn’t about to ask if the decision was made just because of name value?
Then how should he respond?
Whether Taeyoon knew of Yoon’s concern or not,
He replied with an even brighter smile than before.
“Oh, I was wondering if you could arrange a meeting with the Busan Goblin. I’d love to meet him!”
…Huh?
“…Would that be difficult?”
…He was so cheerful, it didn’t seem like he was hiding anything.
Couldn’t be scheming anything, could he?
After a moment of thought, Yoon replied,
“Yes, I’ll check with the Busan Goblin and get back to you.”
He chose not to add—
He usually works alone, so we can’t guarantee anything...
I stepped out of the Manny Entertainment building and let out a deep sigh.
They say interpretation is more important than the dream itself—how true that was.
I wasn’t much of a speaker.
I wasn’t sure if I’d expressed myself properly, if I’d conveyed my intentions clearly.
I’d wanted to say something cooler.
But I was still awkward in these kinds of meetings.
‘Hope I didn’t look too nervous?’
I hadn’t been sure whether my words came across properly, but thankfully—
Assistant Manager Go Minseo understood me!
Even if I said it all clumsily, she understood it perfectly.
At any rate, I’d achieved my goal.
Producing!
What a wonderful word.
From beginning to end—drawing out a song exactly the way I envisioned it.
The reason I was so obsessed with producing—
It was because of something CEO Kim Minsoo told me on the day we were recording the UTAR album.
– Taeyoon, watch carefully. Producing is not about ‘sound.’ It’s about handling ‘people.’
From start to finish.
He had been there for the entire process.
Kim Minsoo hadn’t been exaggerating.
Singing, expressing emotion, smoothing those emotions—
In the end, it was all about people.
That made producing all the more appealing.
The moment a singer wears a song, it’s no longer “my song”—it becomes everyone’s story.
And I wanted to begin my journey with the Signum members.
Not just a “nice-sounding track,” but a song that brought out the full color of the artist.
<Avalanche> had to be that kind of song.
And only I could express it that way.
For that reason—
I chose growth through producing, instead of success through a title track.
You might say it’s “just one song,” but—
The chance to personally lead a recording session like the ones I’d only seen on YouTube—it was priceless to me.
“…That’s how it all happened.”
“Composer Stay said that?”
Jung Jaewook’s eyes widened.
What a cunning little rascal. A commendable rascal.
Someone who knew how to give up one thing to gain two.
Jung Jaewook had realized it—
Stay was aiming far beyond just being a star composer.
Even his reasoning was perfect.
What? Only he could fully express a song he created?
Damn…!
That was the true mindset of a real musician.
Jung Jaewook honestly…
It felt like looking at himself from over a decade ago.
“So, what did PD Hong say?”
PD Hong.
The In-House Producer in charge of overall operations.
“Of course, he wasn’t thrilled. I mean, we’re letting an external composer—who still hasn’t shaken off the rookie label—take on the production role… I think he’s feeling a bit uneasy.”
“That’s understandable.”
“But Assistant Manager Go Minseo pushed so passionately that he’s wavering.”
“Oh?”
Jung Jaewook’s eyes gleamed with interest.
“Go Minseo? That short-haired girl in Team 1? The one who scurries around with candy in her mouth like a squirrel?”
“Yes, that’s her.”
“The same girl who, during her final interview, made my blood boil with her analysis of why The Road flopped… no, shocked me?”
“Yes, sir.”
The Road had been Jung Jaewook’s sore spot.
The first boy group he had proudly launched during Manny Entertainment’s early days.
And the result… was a massive failure.
Thirty billion won down the drain.
“It’s funny. Thinking back, she wasn’t entirely wrong either. Ha! So she’s siding with Stay now? Interesting. Anyway, Team Leader Yoon.”
“Yes, Chairman.”
“I’d like to meet Composer Stay again. Can you check his schedule?”
“I’ll check. But may I ask why?”
Leaning back lazily in his chair, Jung Jaewook answered,
“There aren’t many gamblers like that. I want to keep him close. So he can’t run away. Even if we can’t make him one of ours, we can’t let him become someone else’s.”
“Ah, yes.”
Team Leader Yoon looked up at Jung Jaewook.
He should’ve expected this already.
There was no way he’d let such a big fish slip away.
After all, Jung Jaewook was the real deal—a true player in this industry.