Five very different people. One of whom was–
“Five minutes, reporter Thompson,” came the voice of the organiser who had led me to the room. It broke the spell, and I cleared my throat as I pulled out my recorder and laid it on the table in front of me.
My pulse thudded so loudly in my ears, I wondered for a wild second if the recorder would pick it up.
“I assume you’re happy for me to record this interview?” I directed my question into the void, expecting it would be one of the managers who answered, but instead, it was Minjae.
“That’s fine, Miss Thompson.” There was a slight, but noticeable pause, and then– “Are you well?”
My fingers stilled, hovering over the ‘record’ button.
I looked up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time. He looked the same.
No. That wasn’t quite right. He looked the same, but changed, somehow. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, nor did I have the luxury to spend the time studying his face.
“Yes, thank you.” I said automatically, trying to ignore the way my throat felt slightly scratchy.
I pressed ‘record’ and pulled out my notepad, and my creased sheet of questions. I folded one leg over the other and felt a curious sense of disassociation as I briefly scanned the questions. The sheet trembled ever so slightly. I gripped it harder.
Finally, I took a breath, sat up, and rolled my shoulders back.
I faced the sofa, and took in the group as a whole, not settling on any one person. The smile I plastered on my face had nothing to do with any real emotion. It was enough.
“GVibes,” I said, grasping for the professional voice I’d cultivated over the years. It shared only a fleeting resemblance to my actual voice.
“It’s been a few years since you last performed in the US. As you know, you have an enormous international fan base. How did it feel to perform your first overseas concert in LA?”
My face was a mask. The polite half-smile covered my mouth like armour.
I watched as a myriad of expressions rippled over them. The two youngest members shifted in their seats, and it seemed as if Ace kept trying to catch my eye, but I resolutely did not let my eyes settle anywhere for too long. I did notice when Woojin discreetly tapped him on the knee though, halting his fidgeting. I would have wondered what they were thinking, had I not keptsuch a firm grasp on anything that didn’t serve me professionally in that moment. It was a desperate grip.
It must have been only seconds before their own professionalism kicked in, and Minjae cleared his throat to take the question.
“Reuniting with our fans has been something we have looked forward to for a long time. Whenever we travel abroad to perform for them is a time we value, and it felt really special to be able to share that with Vibers here in the States.”
I made some notes on my notepad before moving onto my next question. I exhaled minutely, feeling like we’d cleared the first hurdle. Now we each had our expectations set of how this would go.
“You were officially on hiatus during your time in the military, yet not only are you performing at the Music Choice Awards, but you’ve also been nominated for the category of Social Artist. How does that feel?”
“It’s a surprise,” Minjae said, “and an enormous honour. In some ways, it means more to us than something like Top Group, because Social Artist is a category that is chosen by the fans. Even though we’ve been away for so long, just being nominated in this category means our fans are still cheering us on. That means more to us than winning.”
From some people that might have sounded affected, like fan service, but coming from Minjae, with the approving nods of the members beside him, it was completely genuine. I’d always loved that about them, and despite myself, I felt a real smile cracking through the one I’d plastered on.
“While there’s not been any official announcement, there is some expectation you’ll release a studio album in the new year. Can you give us any hints about what to expect?”
I’d read the question from my notepad, so it was with some surprise that I looked up to hear Woojin speak. His answer, while heavily accented, and occasionally sprinkled with Korean, was clear, and this time, my smile was more genuine as I met his eyes.
“We are not the same people we were when we made our last album,” he said, “whatever we produce next will reflect that, and how we have grown as people, and artists.”
The interpreter stepped forward unobtrusively to provide a brief translation. I didn’t bother telling her I didn’t need one. I jotted down some notes, nodding to myself.
“On that note, would you be able to tell us how you might be different, as artists today, from when you last produced music?”
There were noises from the group, mainly between the two youngest members. To my surprise, Lee answered first.
“When we were away,” he said haltingly, and I nodded in encouragement, unintentionally falling into a more informal manner, “we saw what other performers did, and it made us wonder where we fit in now. The world has changed, so have we. We want to show everyone who we are now.”
It was a bit of a non-answer, but I hadn’t really expected a descriptive one.
