Chapter 46 My Turn! Draw a Card!
June 20th, a little after 3 PM.
DM Entertainment, Dance Studio.
Jiang Shu stood beside Yin Huilin, watching the dancers on the stage move to “Love Dive,” which he was singing.
The lack of an official version of “Love Dive” didn’t stump these capable choreographers. This version was already quite good, much stronger than a demo, at least it was sung completely according to the lyrics and music.
Most people who hire dance studios for choreography are given song demos.
Song demos are fine, at least you can tell what style the song is.
But some abstract ones even come with just sheet music, asking them to choreograph based on that.
It’s ridiculous…
Although Yin Huilin and her team have that ability, choreographing from sheet music is very brain-intensive. A song like “Love Dive” with complete lyrics and music is an ideal client.
Clients who provide a fully recorded song for choreography are like gods, top-tier!
As Jiang Shu’s voice, which sounded like he was about to run out of breath, faded, the complete choreography for “Love Dive” also concluded.
Seeing the dancers, who weren’t even breathing heavily, Jiang Shu raised his hands and applauded.
As he moved, Yin Huilin also followed suit and applauded.
The dancers all breathed a sigh of relief. From the looks of it, they had passed.
“We’ll use this version of the ‘Love Dive’ choreography. Everyone can rest for a while now, and we’ll resume work once the B-side tracks for the mini-album are finalized,” Jiang Shu said with a chuckle.
“How can we rest?” Yin Huilin said with a wry smile, “If dancers don’t practice for a period, their skill level will decline.”
“But you have to rest, right?” Jiang Shu asked in surprise.
“We definitely rest, but we don’t take long vacations. At most, we just reduce the amount of time we practice dancing each day.”
Professional dancers and artists are ultimately different. Artists, even lead dancers, only need to master the choreography for a song. However, the dancers under Yin Huilin not only need to be proficient in various K-pop related dances but also require long hours of practice to maintain their condition.
Choreography is somewhat similar to songwriting; without a flash of inspiration or a sudden burst of insight, both are creative processes that require a large accumulation of experience to complete.
Simply put, if you don’t have the talent to be a genius, then work hard to be an experienced veteran.
Of course, “no talent” here is relative to gifted individuals. Compared to ordinary people, these individuals are each a genius in their respective fields.
Jiang Shu also wouldn’t interfere with the experts from an outsider’s perspective.
“The choreography is complete, Director Yin. Please arrange to record a video version, and then find a few people for special training to teach the IVE members the dance later.”
“No problem,” Yin Huilin replied.
“Alright then, I’ll be leaving first.”
“President nim, please.”
Yin Huilin saw Jiang Shu out of the dance studio. Only after watching him walk into the data statistics room nearby did she return to the dance studio.
In the data statistics room, Jiang Shu just happened to be passing by, so he came in to take a look.
The staff in the office were all buried in their work, so much so that no one noticed Jiang Shu’s arrival.
Jiang Shu also didn’t disturb them. He quietly walked over to the staff member responsible for compiling the B-side tracks for IVE’s mini-album, “Love Dive.”
“Let me see the submitted song information.”
Jiang Shu’s voice interrupted the staff member’s rapid “clacking” on the keyboard, and he looked up blankly.
Heart stopped!
Who understands this feeling, my friends?
You’re working, and you look up to see President nim standing next to you?
The staff member sprang up from his chair in a flash and bowed deeply to Jiang Shu.
“President nim!”
His big movement also caught the attention of others in the office, and upon seeing Jiang Shu, they too quickly stood up and greeted him with a bow.
“Everyone, sit down. Go back to what you were doing,” Jiang Shu waved his hand, looking at the staff member in front of him, “You too, give me the submitted songs.”
“Yes!” the staff member replied loudly, quickly pulling out a document from a stack of files.
“President nim, this is the summary of submitted songs. It only has the song titles and producer information. The detailed song data is in the folders in the room. Do you need me to send it to your email?”
“Hmm, send it over,” Jiang Shu nodded, taking the document containing the brief information.
“I’ll have someone bring it back to you after I’ve reviewed it,” Jiang Shu said, raising the document in his hand.
“Yes!”
After Jiang Shu left with the document, several clear sounds of relief echoed in the office.
Even though Jiang Shu had never lost his temper, the psychological pressure that came with his position still made them quite uncomfortable.
Jiang Shu returned to his office with the document he had obtained from the data statistics room.
Opening the folder, there weren’t many A4 papers inside, only three. However, each page contained quite a few songs, with each line representing a song, only listing the song title and the producer’s name. If the producer had well-known works, it would be noted next to their name.
Jiang Shu quickly browsed through them. Most of the producers on the first page were those with well-known works, and Jiang Shu had heard some of their representative songs.
While K-pop had become a chaotic mess, the Korean film and television industry, though also affected, hadn’t undergone such drastic changes as K-pop. Some film and television works and songs were still released as scheduled.
Among these producers, there were quite a few who had created classic OSTs for films and TV shows.
Jiang Shu used a pen to check off a few well-known producers’ names, planning to listen to their works more closely later.
He continued to look down. There were only three pages in total, and the submitted songs combined were less than a hundred. Jiang Shu quickly reached the last page.
He casually glanced at it, but in an instant, Jiang Shu’s gaze fixed on one song.
Song Title: “Glasses”
Looking at the producer’s name after the song title, a big question mark appeared on Jiang Shu’s forehead.
Same name?
It must be the same name, right?
How could she suddenly appear?
This doesn’t make sense!
Questions popped into his mind one after another, but Jiang Shu very quickly turned on his sleeping computer, opened his email, and found the compiled song data that the staff member from the data statistics room had sent him not long ago.
Compared to the document in his hand, this compiled data contained much more information.
He entered the producer’s name, and a song popped up.
Jiang Shu clicked play directly.
The song was unfamiliar, but he was all too familiar with the voice.
This voice could be said to be one that most listeners who frequently listen to Korean songs would have heard more or less. Her classic songs followed one after another, and despite a string of negative news surrounding her, she consistently stood at the pinnacle of solo female singers.
Jiang Shu’s gaze fell back on the producer’s name column in the document.
He could now confirm that this was not a case of the same name.
Producer: Lee Ji-eun.
