Devil’s Music - Chapter 109: Drop The Beat!

Geon Kim arrived in Compton, California, pulling his suitcase. Geon, as usual, had his face concealed beneath a hat and a mask while he studied the map on his smartphone.

“Compton High School, and behind it, ‘West Cocoa Street,’ right?”

Dr. Dre had summoned Geon to his studio on West Cocoa Street. Unlike his visits to Professor John Corigliano and Hans Zimmer’s homes, Geon opted for a hotel instead of staying at Dre’s house, given he was visiting alone. Turning left from West Arnoldra Drive, Geon confirmed he had reached the correct destination.

“The building with the ‘Beats’ store on the first floor, wasn’t it?”

Observing the tranquility of Compton Street in the late morning, Geon walked a bit further and noticed a large headphone store on the first floor. With a brisk pace, he entered the store. A slightly imposing African-American woman with dreadlocks and chewing gum glanced at Geon. After a momentary hesitation at her appearance, Geon spoke.

“Um… I have an appointment with Mr. Young.”

The woman scrutinized Geon for a moment, then went to the counter and operated a PC, seemingly messaging someone. After a while, she nodded at Geon.

“Go downstairs on that side.”

“Oh, yes. Thank you.”

Nervously descending to the basement with his heavy suitcase, Geon saw an exceptionally glamorous door. At the top of the golden-framed door were the elegantly engraved words “Beats Studio.” Hearing faint music from inside, Geon confirmed he was in the right place and adjusted his attire before removing the mask and hat.

Carrying the heavy suitcase, Geon reached the basement and encountered a door that looked dazzling. On top of the golden-framed door, the words “Beats Studio” were engraved in fancy letters. Observing the deserted studio through the large glass window, with engineering equipment scattered in a luxurious room, Geon spotted a black man with a hood, wearing headphones and leaning back with crossed arms. Carefully opening the door, Geon entered.

“Um… hello?”

The black man, with headphones on and initially unaware of Geon’s words, sensed someone approaching, took off his headphones, and turned to Geon. The black man, wearing a black hood, didn’t appear very tall but had a large build and a fierce appearance. Geon, meeting his sharp eyes, was taken aback and then opened his eyes in surprise.

“Oh, it’s Ice Cube!”

Ice Cube, raising an eyebrow, asked, “What? How did you get in here?”

Geon shook his head slightly to regain his composure and said, “Ah, yes. I’m the one who had an appointment with Mr. Young today, they call me K.”

Only then did Ice Cube release his clenched fist, stood up, and extended his hand to Geon.

“Oh, yeah. I heard from Uncle. You came to learn the Cu Base program, right?”

While shaking hands, Ice Cube, who also gave Geon a friendly shoulder bump, asked with a grin when Geon laughed awkwardly at his unfamiliar greetings and his tough appearance.

“Uncle just went to make a call. Sit here and wait for a moment.”

“Yes, thank you.”

As if Ice Cube was going to cut off the conversation, he said that and waited until Geon sat down before immediately throwing a question.

“But hey, you’re a Juilliard student, right? The one directing Marilyn Manson music videos and Scissorhands music. Why learn this program? Just play directly. Thinking of trying hip-hop?”

Geon replied, sitting somewhat awkwardly.

“No, I haven’t thought about that yet. I just wanted to learn the program, so I asked our professor, and he introduced me to an amazing person. Haha.”

Although Ice Cube had said that he speaks kindly, Geon couldn’t help but send a slightly apprehensive look due to his intimidating appearance. Ice Cube, seemingly unconcerned about Geon’s unease, bombarded him with questions.

“Oh, really? Is there hip-hop in Asia too? Oh, what was it? ‘Rich Chigga’? He was good. ‘Dat Stick,’ right? That song was pretty good. Are you from that country too?”

Geon shook his head and replied, clapping his hands.

“Oh, no. He’s from Indonesia. I’m Korean.”

Ice Cube expressed a slightly surprised expression.

“Oh~ Korea! I heard a story that Korean hip-hop musicians came and performed when my movie was released in Korea last year. Korea is small, but it’s a big market in the art business.”

Ice Cube suddenly stood up, approached Geon, and extended his fist. Geon, looking at the fist, raised his own, and when their fists met, Ice Cube chuckled.

“Nice to meet you. I look a bit scary, huh? I hear that a lot. If you don’t cause me trouble, I’ll be good to you. Let’s get along while you’re here.”

Feeling a liking towards the unexpectedly friendly Ice Cube, Geon’s guard seemed to soften as he smiled. Ice Cube, after laughing with Geon, checked his wristwatch. A dazzling metallic watch hung on his wrist.

“Why hasn’t Uncle come yet? I need to go out for a moment. If he asks where I went, tell him I went out with Kendrick for a promise. Okay?”

“Oh, yes. I understand. Have a good time.”

After Ice Cube opened and left the door, Geon sighed in relief.

“Phew, he really looks scary. He must have lived in a gang or something; the aura is no joke. Anyway, why is this personal studio so fancy? Look at those devices in the room. Just selling the machines in this room would probably be worth millions.”

Relaxed, Geon got up from his seat and admired the figures and albums displayed on the shelves. While looking around, Geon stopped and reached out to pick up a CD.

“Wow, ‘The Chronic’ album. Huh, it was from 1992? It was released before I was born. But it’s still famous; it must have been a remarkable masterpiece.”

Unable to open the CD, as it was still sealed, Geon began reading the writing on the back of the album. Suddenly, a voice from behind caught his attention.

“Wassup? Oh, you’re K? You came while I was on the phone?”

Surprised, Geon barely managed to keep hold of the CD he was about to drop and turned around. A black man, appearing younger than his 50 years with short hair, was grinning at him.

“Oh, Mr. Young. Nice to meet you. I’m K.”

“Oh, don’t call me Mr. Young; it sounds awkward. Just call me Dre. Friends call me that too.”

As Dre approached, he extended his hand, and K, recalling Ice Cube’s greeting style, shook hands before bumping shoulders. Smiling, satisfied with K’s greeting, Dre spoke.

“Oh? Do we have some black friends around?”

Geon awkwardly smiled and replied, “Actually, I was with Ice Cube until a while ago. He greeted me like this, haha.”

Dre listened to Geon’s words and looked out the window of the recording studio.

“Oh, really? But where did he go?”

“Uh… Kendrick? I think that was his name. He had a promise and went out.”

Dre chuckled and sat down in the studio.

“That kid works hard, huh? Still surprising that there are people who don’t know my name.”

Geon, thinking he might have made a mistake, widened his eyes. Dre laughed and said.

“Kendrick, I mean. Kendrick Lamar. Haven’t you heard of him?”

“Oh, yes? The rapper Kendrick Lamar?”

“Yeah, him. Know him?”

Scratching the back of his head, Geon replied.

“Oh, I didn’t think the person who left, pretending to meet a friend, and the one mentioned by the friend would be the same person, haha.”

“Yeah, they’re friends, hehe.”

After turning on the large LED monitor on the desk, Dre spoke.

“Since you’re a music school student, I don’t need to teach you about composition. Should I focus on showing you how to use the program? Sit here next to me.”

As Geon quickly sat in the chair next to Dre, who turned on the monitor in front of him, Dre said.

“We have three PCs, so you can learn by following what I do on that one.”

Watching Dre’s actions, Geon clicked on the Cubase 9 icon on the desktop. Turning towards Geon, Dre began explaining.

“This program, Cubase, isn’t just a vague composition program. It’s a program designed to arrange and edit the signals of music easily. If you want to simplify it for a music school student, think of it as having staff paper and a pen inside your PC. You decide what notes to draw.”

Geon nodded earnestly as he listened to Dre’s explanation. After a while, Dre finished his explanation.

“This program is just a sequencing program. To release your composed music as a record, the quality won’t be enough. In the end, after comfortably composing, you either use the same company’s ‘Steinberg Nuendo’ or record with instruments directly, and you have to do additional work to ensure quality.”

For about two hours, Geon diligently learned from Dre, starting from how to create a project to setting up devices and connecting instruments as input. Dre talked continuously, as if he were thirsty.

“Cough, I need something to drink. Do you want some juice?”

Geon, without taking his eyes off the monitor, replied.

“Yes, I’d appreciate that. But what is this folder?”

As Dre got up to get something to drink, he laughed after looking at the screen in response to Geon’s question.

“You don’t recognize it from the folder name? It’s called ‘shit.’ It’s just filled with crappy music. Either I didn’t finish making them, or I made them and put shitty music in the folder, hehe. Oh, I copied that folder and saved it separately to play around with.”

Geon burst into laughter at Dre’s words. As Dre went out to get his drink, Geon clicked on the folder. About a hundred music files appeared. After putting on headphones and playing the music, the waveform signals of the played music were displayed on the program screen.

“Isn’t it good? Why is this called crap? Can’t a musician like Dr. Dre be satisfied with this kind of music?”

Geon, suddenly inspired, began jotting down the beats and sounds flowing from the headphones onto the notebook where he had been taking notes. The notes written by Geon gradually started to shine. After noting down all the notes, Geon took off the headphones and pondered while looking at the notebook.

“Oh, so that’s why. Haha. Well then, shall I try turning shit into gold?”

>

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