Little Pink Starfish

Bonnie and Ronnie gave me a rather ambiguous look after what I said.

It was easy to tell what they were thinking.

They were probably assuming Selfish was my magnum opus.

The Billboard charts are full of one-hit wonders.

There are countless songwriters who, after scoring one massive hit, fail to follow it up with anything notable.

But that assumption would be entirely wrong.

Selfish is a song I release in most of my lives—but not because it’s my best.

It’s because it’s extremely versatile as a solo track.

I didn’t even release it during the GOTM era.

“You two are making some pretty rude faces, you know?”

“What did our faces look like?”

“Like, ‘What’s this obvious one-hit-wonder Spaniard talking about?’ If his next song sucks after bragging this much, what then?”

“We weren’t thinking that harshly.”

“You’re Spanish? I thought your native language was English?”

“I’m actually French.”

“…?”

This conversation might have been going off the rails, but that was part of the plan too.

After a bit more meaningless banter, we played the next song.

This time, I didn’t play the guitar, didn’t sing—I just quietly watched Bonnie and Ronnie as the track played.

The song currently playing was the one that signaled the true beginning of Sedalbaekil.

Resume.

A bedroom pop track, Resume is probably the most marketable song in America right now.

Or rather, it will be.

Back in 2016–2017, future bass—led by acts like The Chainsmokers—was the top-selling genre on Billboard.

It didn’t have much longevity, but it was the trendiest at the time.

Personally, though, I’m not a big fan of songs that use future bass as the main style.

They’re fun to listen to, but leave little lasting impression.

That’s not a diss on the genre—just my experience.

As the future bass wave fades, the genre poised for lasting popularity is bedroom pop.

It’s just starting to rise.

But I didn’t play the original version of Resume.

Can’t let it be obvious I’m Korean.

“Is this French?”

“Yes.”

This version is in French.

I speak Korean, English, German, Spanish, Japanese, and Chinese fluently.

And I can read and write French and Italian reasonably well.

So I created a version of Resume with French lyrics.

I didn’t sing it alone.

I performed it with the members of Sedalbaekil.

Sure, it might sound better if I did it solo, but I didn’t want the others to feel left out.

The implication here is simple.

I’d already planned to appear on Sound Fact someday.

This show has way more impact than the mainstream realizes.

Especially if you’re a person of color or from a niche field like K-pop.

As Resume played, Bonnie and Ronnie’s expressions diverged sharply.

Bonnie looked ecstatic, while Ronnie looked conflicted.

I saw that coming.

Bonnie likes psychedelic sounds; Ronnie likes more straightforward ones.

Bonnie’s favorite genre is hyperpop—considered trash by some—while Ronnie’s favorite is progressive rock, which others think of as lullaby music.

As soon as the song ended, Bonnie clapped enthusiastically.

“No way. This is the best bedroom pop I’ve ever heard. Who sang this? Are there pioneers of bedroom pop in France?”

“France isn’t in your digging territory?”

“I usually only dig outside the Anglosphere when something specific happens. I stop at Canada. Was this co-written or solo?”

“I did the entire composition and arrangement.”

“You’re a genius?”

“Could be.”

“…Damn.”

“Why the curse?”

“Because I feel like a fanboy, and I can’t help it.”

Once Bonnie finished gushing, Ronnie tore into the genre itself.

“I think bedroom pop is overrated because of its DIY and self-produced image. The chord progressions are too simple.”

“But it’s not boring, is it?”

“It’s not—but it’s not unique either. Let’s be real—the only thing that makes this song stand out is the singers’ voices. Melody-wise, it’s top-notch. But the sound? Not quite.”

I shrugged at Ronnie’s criticism.

I get it.

That’s just how bedroom pop is.

Some genres are born with inherent limitations.

Rap music, for example, values rhythm over melody. To melody purists, it’s garbage.

From a harmony theory perspective, most rap is dissonant.

But that’s just how DJ Kool Herc invented the genre from the start.

It’s neither right nor wrong.

Same with bedroom pop.

Ronnie’s critique isn’t right or wrong—it’s just personal taste.

So why did I choose to play Resume?

Because I wanted Bonnie and Ronnie to fight.

And of course, Bonnie—acting like a fanboy—became a real fanboy.

Meaning…

“Don’t talk crap. Where else in the world is there bedroom pop with this level of sound production?”

He started defending me.

Side note: I still find the Korean phrase “shielding someone” hilarious.

Korean really is a fun language.

As Bonnie and Ronnie started arguing, I could see the audience reacting through the monitor.

They love when those two fight.

No idea why—but they just do.

Though it’s rare to see them fight this openly—it only happens when a song strongly appeals to one of their tastes.

If Resume had been just an average bedroom pop track, Bonnie would’ve probably just said, “I like this genre, but it’s not for everyone,” and left it at that.

“Why don’t you take Van Gogh as your role model?”

“What?”

“Cut your ear off.”

“That story’s a myth. He only cut the earlobe.”

“Who even knows that?”

When their argument devolved into childish banter, I stepped in to steer things back on track.

“Alright, Pat and Mat. Let’s pivot this conversation.”

“What?”

“Just listen to the next track first.”

“Why?”

“So we can talk about both songs together.”

“…?”

“…?”

Though they were emotionally invested, they realized the argument was dragging on too long and played the next song.

This time, Ronnie’s eyes widened—and Bonnie’s narrowed.

Why?

Because this track was progressive rock.

The song that first etched the character Han Sihon into the public’s mind.

Under the Streetlight.

Of course, this wasn’t strictly traditional prog rock.

It leaned more toward post-prog.

More accessible to the general public.

Even so, the way the melodies built layer by layer, exploded at the climax, and then scattered as if nothing happened—fit the structure.

Also, it was my own remixed version.

I could easily tailor it to Ronnie’s taste.

As Under the Streetlight ended, their roles reversed.

“You think this is better?”

“Of course. Look how much more went into the production.”

“By that logic, Madonna is the greatest artist of all time.”

“Michael Jackson, obviously.”

There’s no right answer between warm, simple bedroom pop and complex, majestic prog rock.

It’s just a fight.

As I watched the two of them bicker like that, I couldn’t help but smile.

Eventually, the argument cooled down.

“…Damn.”

“…The guest looking so pleased is pissing me off.”

I must’ve looked too satisfied watching their childish spat.

Snapping out of it, Bonnie and Ronnie added some analysis and explained the pros and cons of each song.

Then they asked me:

“What language is this?”

“Thai.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Thai doesn’t sound like this. And it’s not Japanese either.”

“Oh, was it Hindi?”

“You’re not planning to tell us, are you? No wonder they call you Question Guy.”

“You seriously wrote, composed, and arranged both of those songs?”

“No, no. I didn’t write this one. Just did the remix arrangement.”

“QG, you’re really weird.”

“How so?”

“English, French, and some unknown Asian language. You’re linked to all these cultures, and even charted on Billboard, but we’ve never heard of you?”

“Especially a song like Selfish—if it had been released, there’s no way it wouldn’t be famous.”

Instead of answering, I just shrugged.

Maybe it’s time to start dropping hints.

“You’ll get a clue in the next song. About who I am.”

“You’re not lying?”

“Nope. For real.”

Honestly, someone might figure it out from the next track.

---

Jamie had completely stopped working.

She sat still in her chair, just listening to the podcast.

Usually, radio or podcasts are best enjoyed alongside daily tasks.

They’re meant to be good background audio.

But right now, curiosity was gnawing at her, and she couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

It felt like solving a riddle from the Sphinx.

Plus, Jamie had one bit of crucial information.

It was Korean.

The progressive rock song had Korean lyrics.

There was some English sprinkled in, but the main lyrics were clearly Korean.

And yet, QG hadn’t mentioned it was Korean.

He joked about Thai or Hindi, then changed the subject.

Maybe it was just a joke.

But if he did it to hide his identity?

Then QG must be a composer deeply connected to Korea.

But still…

What about the native-level Spanish and West Coast English?

That threw her off again.

As Jamie puzzled over this, the hosts and guest launched into another loud conversation—and played the next track.

Today’s broadcast had been high-energy throughout, but the difference was that the hosts were genuinely invested.

Bonnie and Ronnie were both genuinely curious about QG’s identity and eager to explore his musical world.

What was funny was that at some point, they stopped pointing out flaws.

They talked about the strengths and weaknesses of bedroom pop and prog rock—but those were critiques of the genres, not the sound.

That’s when Jamie suddenly sat up straight.

Wait…

The song playing through her earbuds sounded really familiar.

Sure enough, Reddit and music forums were full of shocked reactions.

No one knew the artist—but the song was DROP, a viral hit on short-form content platforms.