schedule self para — sentimental recording
summary — he has no production on the song, and his original line distribution gets shit on by the in-house producers. warnings — none wc — 407
“no it’s not supposed to sound like that.” frustration lies on the tip of his tongue when he’s clenching his jaw shut, teeth pressed. a sharp edge in his tone and it’s a dead giveaway that they’ve taken the melody, transformed it into some cheapened take of weird band-rock, and a corny tune.
but what’d he expect when the file lands in the hands of gold star and their base point is all towards the pride of capitalism?
what he envisioned was different, a slower sounding track that countered the rigidity of the song. one to echo a contrast for the sake of the sentimentality.
funny how sentimentality turns into some cheap garage rock band with the jovial tunes. it’s no longer abrasive, no longer his song when he listens to the final product of the guide. he tells himself to relax, but his body doesn’t listen when it tenses up more at another repeated loop. “stop.” he just says — so much for his cool composure when his annoyance plagues him, forcing his lips to press together begrudgingly.
“are we supposed to record for this then now?”
one nod from the in-house producer, and gyujeong takes it as a subliminal message: get in, get out. you have no say.
because he’s lost all the reigns to his freedom and the creative works the second he dropped it at the hands of gold star to mar as they please. and now, he faces the repercussions of sheer disappointment when the track becomes another song etched into his name — association. sell-out by association.
he doesn’t say much more. just takes the headphones from the hands of the producer, ready to step two feet into the recording booth before one stop. and another kicker to his demise: “oh, you’re not recording that part — we’re giving that to the main rapper, and you’re going to get the rap after the second verse.”
it’s all shit at this point, a massacre of his distribution. not a good frame of reference when the words all come from the scribbles of his hand and the late-night desperation to piece together something for value.
fixing the beanie on his face, he tends to a no-answer instead, flicking his brows as a “gotcha” before heading back into the recording booth. mini-album shit, and he wonders how many more times is he going to get fucked over for his past mistakes?
