Chapter 88 : A Clear Direction
Chapter 88: A Clear Direction
A producer dealt with emotions, while a recording engineer handled the technical side.
Recording engineer.
They weren’t just people who set up microphones and adjusted volume.
They were the ones who dealt with ‘sound’ itself.
Emotion could be added during mixing or polished in mastering, but ‘recording’ only happened once.
If the producer failed to give clear direction, the engineer’s workload doubled or even tripled.
That was why the less experienced the producer, the sharper the engineer became.
Of course, they didn’t show it outright.
Hiding one’s thoughts was also part of being a professional.
Kang Yeonho greeted him in a businesslike tone.
“Hello, Writer Stay. Or should I call you Producer instead?”
Taeyoon politely accepted the greeting.
“Yes. Nice to meet you, Engineer. Please take good care of us. You may call me whichever you’re comfortable with.”
Kang Yeonho quickly scanned Taeyoon.
Oh-ho, look at this.
He didn’t seem too nervous.
First checkpoint, passed.
“I heard it’s your first time, so I should be the one asking for your guidance.”
Neat, polite.
But he still couldn’t hide the signs of being a beginner.
‘Am I getting old?’
Maybe it was because he was young.
He was clumsy but had a friendly side.
He wasn’t acting arrogant, nor was he pretending to be an expert.
Okay, second checkpoint, passed.
“This way.”
Kang Yeonho guided Taeyoon toward the console.
At this point, most rookie producers would panic and fumble.
“Is this my spot here?”
“Yes… yes, that’s right.”
Taeyoon naturally found his place.
He sat quietly, modestly gazing at the lyrics.
The standard move would’ve been to chatter and show off.
Talking about the console, about the setup.
Rather than spouting meaningless jargon, he simply focused on what he had to do.
‘What’s going on in his head?’
Couldn’t tell.
Reveal yourself!
Kang Yeonho asked, testing him.
“Do you happen to have a microphone model in mind?”
Normally, this was the moment when people dropped a name they had overheard somewhere.
Most likely, Neumann’s U87. It was the most commonly used studio model.
But that was exactly when flimsy knowledge tended to get exposed.
If that happened, he was ready to explain carefully.
It would’ve also helped him establish early control.
But Taeyoon was a little different.
“No. I haven’t picked a specific model.”
Well, well, look at that.
This actually made things easier for him.
Kang Yeonho muttered a reply.
“Ah, so you’re not really into equipment. I’ll take care of everything then. Let’s see here…”
“Would it be alright if I offered one suggestion?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
“Yehwan’s vocals get a bit sharp in the high notes. I’d prefer if they didn’t sound too piercing.”
“Oh-ho?”
As Kang Yeonho let out a sound of admiration, Taeyoon continued.
“I’d like it expressed more softly, and I’d appreciate your recommendation.”
“U87 should work just fine for that.”
“For Seunghyuk and Jaeho, I’d like the high notes to come through clearly.”
“Then I’ll set them up with the C800G.”
“Oh, you have that here?”
“Did you forget where you are?”
“Ah, right. Manny Entertainment. Of course you’d have it.”
Seeing Taeyoon’s awkward smile, Kang Yeonho chuckled.
Then suddenly, something clicked, and his eyes widened.
What was this? Why did the conversation flow so naturally?
He thought everything would just be dumped on him.
‘It couldn’t have been intentional…’
But Taeyoon hadn’t named any models himself.
Instead, he naturally drew the model names out of the engineer.
He provided a clear direction.
While also respecting the engineer’s opinion.
Kind of… impressive.
“Well then, let’s set things up and get started.”
Kang Yeonho was about to stand when Taeyoon carefully called out.
“Engineer.”
“Yes?”
Taeyoon hesitated.
“Go ahead. You know we don’t have much time, right?”
What would he say now?
Kang Yeonho found himself getting curious.
“Would it be possible for me to step into the recording booth too?”
“Of course. But why?”
“The legendary microphone…”
“…Excuse me?”
Kang Yeonho flared his nostrils.
Legendary? Out of nowhere?
“I wanted to see the C800G in person. It’s not a common chance, right? I heard it’s insanely expensive. They say it sculpts voices like diamonds.”
“What? Hahaha.”
At his booming laughter, Taeyoon flinched slightly.
“…?”
“Come along. It’s nothing special. You can even touch it.”
Through the recording booth glass, Kang Yeonho’s smiling face could be seen.
Kang Yeonho thought to himself.
Stay. Not an incompetent rookie—he’s a beginner with potential.
Today’s recording? Nothing to worry about at all.
The recording went smoothly.
So smooth it almost felt strange.
“Oh, that was good. Let’s go from the second verse pre-chorus.”
“Yes, sir.”
This would make for a good night’s sleep.
How much had they practiced?
To me, they seemed like chirping chicks.
But once inside the recording booth, they were on a whole other level.
They had perfectly absorbed the directing guide I’d given them.
Both the emotion and the skill.
There wasn’t much to adjust.
“Jaeho, okay, great work. If Yehwan’s ready, we’ll have him in five minutes.”
“Got it! Ah, I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be.”
“I’ll just trust you, Producer Stay.”
“In the recording booth, you have to trust yourself.”
Beside me, I heard a quiet chuckle.
Kang Yeonho’s eyes curved warmly.
I thought he might be prickly.
But no—he wasn’t prickly. He was precise.
When I spoke about how it felt, he adjusted it into numbers.
Like this.
“The mic sensitivity is a little high. At this rate, it might peak. I’ll tweak it slightly.”
“Ah, so it’s better to lower the sensitivity?”
“If we reduce it by about 3dB, the sound will be less distorted. But if we raise the gain just a little, the overall volume stays the same. No need to worry too much.”
As expected, the real thing was different.
I carefully jotted down what the engineer said.
Then I asked while writing.
“By doing that, the tone stays intact while only reducing distortion, right?”
“Exactly. First time, but… you’ve got a pretty good sense.”
“Thank you. I’m learning a lot.”
I meant it.
This man was becoming gentler.
Could it be… he was nervous at first?
While I was taking advantage of the break to organize my notes—
“Excuse me, PD Seo.”
“……”
“Producer Stay?”
“Yes? Ah, PD Seo. That’s me. Right.”
I looked up at the sound of my name being called.
Kang Yeonho’s gaze was fixed on my notebook.
“Still not used to being called Producer?”
“You can call me whichever is comfortable.”
“You’re sitting here to produce. Better get used to the title. Anyway.”
He paused briefly, then asked me.
“…What are you writing down?”
“Ah, I was taking notes on everything you told me earlier.”
“On that?”
Why were his eyes narrowing like that?
Why was he staring so hard at my notebook?
…This was embarrassing.
I slid the notebook aside with my left arm.
Only then did Kang Yeonho clear his throat and finally look away.
What, geez.
Ten minutes had already passed.
Every second counted.
“Alright, shall we bring Yehwan in now?”
We finished recording the other four without issue.
Only Yehwan’s part was left.
Walking up behind me with a serious face was Lee Yehwan.
Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, he whispered to me.
“Hyung, please go easy on me.”
“Hm? Me? I’ve never hit you before.”
What was he talking about?
“Just because there’s a cushion doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”
“Did I ever do that?”
“You hit harder than PD Hong. The cushion is thicker, your words sound gentle, but they hurt more. My heart aches, hyung.”
“…I only ever say kind things.”
At that, Lee Yehwan winked once, then turned toward the engineer.
His tone grew calm.
“Director Kang.”
“Yeah?”
“Could you play the demo track quietly in the background?”
“Why, didn’t practice enough?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“If I hear Stay-hyung’s guide, I’ll feel more confident. Like, ah, at least I’m better than him in this part.”
“Hey, hey.”
I shook my head, but he stuck his tongue out and ran into the recording booth. That rascal.
While Yehwan was checking the lyrics and reviewing the directing points—
Kang Yeonho asked me casually.
“By the way, is this really your first time?”
“Pardon? What do you mean…?”
“You know what I mean.”
He chuckled and motioned toward my seat with his chin.
“Ah…”
It was nice to hear.
It meant my producing had been decent.
But Kang Yeonho was staring at me with that look again.
Hey, rookie.
Spit it out—where did you learn this?
What should I say?
Confess that I’d been to Velvet Tone?
Or act like I was born with it, pretending not to know?
The choice was simple.
Which one would raise his opinion of me?
That was all I considered.
“It’s my first time producing.”
“Your first time ‘producing’?”
As expected, he caught the subtle nuance right away.
I feigned ignorance and added.
“I did prepare in my own way, though.”
“Whatever that preparation was, it worked. It was good.”
He smiled slightly, then leaned back in his chair.
I’d heard bits and pieces.
Kang Yeonho was the best engineer in the country, and he was practically the real head of Lumé Sound.
Lumé Sound.
An engineering label that mainly worked with Manny Entertainment.
Though it was under Manny Entertainment, it occasionally collaborated with other companies too.
Tips from someone of this caliber?
I couldn’t pass that up.
“Earlier you seemed worried about too much breathing noise in Jaeho’s part. Normally, anything below 150Hz gets cut…”
If there was one thing I’d realized after entering this industry, it was that everyone took enormous pride in their work.
Kang Yeonho talked to me for quite a while.
About reducing distortion, the difference mic distance made, why lyrics sometimes got muffled.
I was listening intently when it suddenly struck me.
Oh no, Yehwan.
“Ah, sir. Just a moment.”
I hurriedly pressed the talkback button and slipped on my headphones.
Inside the booth, Yehwan was staring right at us.
“Ah, nothing important. We were just talking engineering stuff. You ready?”
A sulky voice came through the headset.
[For a second, I thought Producer had forgotten me and was about to sulk…]
“Ah, sorry, sorry.”
Yehwan grinned inside the booth.
[Just kidding! I’m ready!]
I couldn’t let my guard down now.
Even if it was just the follow-up track.
I stayed focused on making sure we told our story all the way to the end.
“Yehwan, for Bass, put some power into it like ‘Baysss~.’ For Base, do it more like ‘Bait-ss.’ That kind of feel.”
“Yes, I’ll pay attention to that.”
“Let’s try the bridge again. You’re not here to show off your vocal skills.”
“Then what?”
“Have fun. Like you’re singing at a festival.”
“Well, I dropped out of high school, so I wouldn’t know…”
Kang Yeonho stifled a laugh.
Without realizing it, I was slowly becoming absorbed into Signum, into Stay.
‘I used to be like that too.’
It felt less like work and more like traveling.
Like exploring a new place.
It had been a long time since I’d felt this kind of excitement about a rookie.
Where had he learned it?
Or was it just instinctive sense?
Either way, it didn’t matter.
What mattered was that this recording would become a major turning point in Taeyoon’s life.
“Yehwan, it’s fine if your voice cracks. Just go for it. Really. Engineer Kang says he’ll take responsibility.”
“Hey now, I’m an engineer, not God.”
With light jokes, he helped ease the vocalist’s nerves.
“Don’t act just because the camera’s on. Are you some overseas Korean? If you say ‘Drop’ like ‘Druhp~’ it sounds way too exaggerated. Just say ‘Drop!’ and cut it clean.”
What especially put him at ease was this:
“Your breathing is too forward. It sounds rushed. The lyrics say ‘lower, lower,’ right? Then your breath should settle lower too, calm and grounded.”
It was clear, precise directing.
He wasn’t just focusing on one part, but on the overall flow.
‘Impressive…’
If Forbes ranked him No.1 on the list of producers engineers most wanted to work with, I’d believe it.
He made the vocalist… comfortable.
And when the vocalist was comfortable, every engineer became comfortable.
The workload was cut in half, no—cut down to a quarter.
Kang Yeonho smiled in satisfaction as he looked around the recording studio.
Two cameras in the studio, one in the recording booth.
A total of three cameras blinked as they rolled.