15. Behind the Lights
BEHIND THE LIGHTS
AIDAN — AMSTERDAM
Tuesday morning at breakfast, everyone was excited, eating their last chance at authentic French pastry and talking about how well the show had gone the night before.
I couldn’t help noticing that the croissants at the hotel, despite the reputation of the dining room, weren’t as good as the ones at the local boulangerie in Banneret-les-Vaux.
I sent a quick text to check on Hayam, and got a photo of her sprawled in Slava’s lap, sleeping peacefully.
Like Jin and Sang-hoon, Slava and Thierry had fallen in love under dangerous circumstances. But our neighbors were an older couple who’d seen much of the world and come to terms with their lives. Jin and Sang-hoon were so young, and it was sweet to watch their love blossom.
Coming back from the buffet table, Liam bent over to pick up a fallen napkin, and the hem of his polo shirt rode up as his slacks dropped, showing off the strap of his athletic supporter and an inch of butt crack.
“Sweetheart, you don’t need to show everyone what you’re wearing under your slacks,” I said. I turned to the rest of the group. “My husband is a bit of an exhibitionist. But I’m sure you all are accustomed to seeing male butt cracks in dressing rooms.”
“Aidan, a little professionalism?” Liam said, but there was a smile on his face.
I was glad to add a bit of humor to the morning, which carried over as the crew gathered their bags and loaded the bus for Paris–Le Bourget Airport. Security was strong and we didn’t have to worry about any wild fans mobbing the leased jet.
As soon as we took off, I sat with Liam, Sunny and Jason at a small round table at the front of the plane. “If we’re on time, we’ll be at the Conservatorium hotel in central Amsterdam by noon,” Sunny said.
“We’ll expect a small crowd of fans outside the Conservatorium,” Jason said. “Someone at every hotel manages to leak when performers arrive. But they’re accustomed to VIP guests so we shouldn’t have any problems.”
“They’ll have an hour for lunch, and then the bus will take them to the Ziggo Dome,” Sunny continued, picking up seamlessly after her husband. “It’s in a neighborhood called Amsterdam-Zuidoost, a half-hour southeast from the hotel.”
“Security has been alerted at the Ziggo Dome about the problem in Cannes,” Jason said. “We expect the tech rehearsal to last until a dinner break.”
“Reservations for a private room at a rijsttafel restaurant near the hotel,” Sunny said. “The evening free, though we’ll discourage them from leaving the hotel.”
“Sounds like you have everything locked down,” Liam said. “Good planning.”
“This is Pryzm’s second tour,” Sunny said. “Though the first one was only in Asia. We’ve had time to work out the schedule.”
The BBJ taxied past rows of blue KLM tails before turning toward a quieter corner of Schiphol.
Instead of jet bridges and crowded terminals, a black Mercedes van waited beside a low glass building.
About fifty eager fans waited behind a barricade, some of them carrying homemade signs in Korean and Dutch, a few waving Korean flags.
In addition, an entertainment reporter spoke into a microphone while a camera crew filmed everything. While it was a lot less chaotic than the crowds had been in Cannes and Paris, I knew that our arrival would be well-documented for whoever was stalking the group.
Liam, Sunny and Jason deplaned first, followed by the five group members.
Each stopped for a moment at the top of the stair and waved to the crowd, Jin last of all.
He listened to the crowd for a moment and then gave them a heart gesture.
The rest of the team deplaned after him, and Liam and Jason shepherded everyone to the van.
Our hotel was the Conservatorium, in the Museum Quarter. The online guidebook said we would be within walking distance of the Rijksmuseum, Van Gogh Museum, Vondelpark, and upscale shopping. Too bad no one would have time to enjoy the city.
Sunny gave them a half-hour to unpack and relax, then called everyone back to the van for the trip to the Ziggo Dome.
It was a giant square box at the edge of a massive parking lot.
Concert ads were projected on the side, and when the ad for Pryzm appeared as we drove up, everyone in the bus cheered, even Liam and me.
The interior felt enormous and empty, and the rows of seats disappeared into the darkness. Only the work lights were on, and every footstep echoed. The emptiness was ominous to me, but didn’t seem to bother the group or the staff; they were probably accustomed to this kind of empty space.
A woman with a headset directed the crew and talent to the dressing rooms, the technical engineer and the music director backstage, and she called a security guard to show Jason, Liam and me around the building. “We’ve set up the stage as you requested,” the security chief said to Jason.
“We’ll be testing out the LED wall later,” Jason said to us, pointing to the rear of the stage.
“As you’ve seen in Paris, no live orchestra.
Everything is synched to the background track, which Choi Min-jae manages at each venue.
” He pointed at the straight stretch out into the audience.
“That’s the runway,” he said. “The circular part at the end is the B stage. It allows the performers to spread out and do different kinds of movement instead of standing in a straight line. Melissa, the choreographer, will rehearse special moves with each of them.”
“That open area along each side of the runway,” Liam asked. “Is that ticketed separately? Or do people leave their seats to crowd up there?”
“That’s the pit area. Yes, that’s ticketed separately. We let those ticket holders in first so they can secure the best positions.”
“In Paris, I saw Jin leaning down to talk to the audience and touch their hands,” Liam said. “Will he do that here, too?”
“Unless you think it’s too dangerous,” Jason said. He nodded to the security chief. “Willem tells me they have very strict security at the entrances so no one can come in with anything that could hurt the idols.”
“People who buy tickets in the pit never have assigned seats,” Willem said. “Pit ticket holders arrive much earlier than everyone else, because it’s first-come, first-served within the pit. Those people will start lining up tomorrow morning to be right in front. Sometimes even before sunrise.”
“And they just...” Liam pointed toward outside. “...stand there?”
“All day.”
“What about food?”
“They take turns.”
“The restroom?”
“Their friends save their places.”
Liam looked horrified, and I had to laugh. My big strong Navy SEAL husband was appalled at standing in line all day. “And if they come alone?” he asked.
Willem shrugged. “They pray they can make a friend.”
Everyone laughed. Then Willem added, completely deadpan, “On some of the fan sites, they compare adult diapers. Which ones are best so they can stay in place.”
“You are joking,” Liam said.
“I am not.”
Liam stared at him. “I’m really getting an understanding of fandom.”
“Wait until tomorrow night,” Willem said. “Even if they don’t know a word of Korean, many fans will have memorized the lyrics to every song. And most Dutch people speak English, so everyone will join in at the chorus.”
I’d learned a lot about K-Pop music from listening to rehearsals and shows.
The songs often began in Korean, then switched to English for the chorus.
In some cases, particularly Jin’s solos, everything was in English, and I understood not just the words, but the emotion behind them.
Especially in the middle of one song, when I noticed he always looked offstage for a moment, finding Sang-hoon.
“Behind the pit, there’s a security barrier,” Willem said. “Dutch fans, even the most obsessive ones, will be polite enough not to try and crash through. Even so, we’ll have security staff standing facing the audience along the barrier.”
Jason and Willem left to go over more security protocols, and Liam and I climbed the stairs to take seats in the first mezzanine level, where we could have view of the whole room. The building almost felt haunted because it was so empty.
The group members filed out onto the stage, taking their places.
Sang-hoon and Mina had them all in comfortable rehearsal clothes.
Black cargo pants, T-shirts and sneakers.
Woo had managed to get hold of one of the T-shirts sold to the crowd in Paris, with each of their faces in a circle surrounding J’aime Pryzm in red letters.
Red hearts were sprinkled around. Jin’s hair was clipped back and his T-shirt was a brilliant white.
From the side of the stage, a stage manager called “Cue twenty-seven.” The house lights faded, and the first bass note rolled through the room but instead of being accompanied by twenty thousand screams, it echoed.
The LED wall came alive and a spotlight found Jin, in the middle of the group, all of them standing still.
Jin raised his right arm in a robotic movement. Then his left arm, right leg, and left leg. Quickly the other members were mimicking his moves as they sang along to a backing track.
Everything was so repetitive, as the lighting direction, the lead camera operator, and the video director needed small adjustments. I couldn’t imagine how hard it must be to go over the same moves and the same melodies over and over again until everyone was satisfied.
As I watched them run through the pacing for that number, I realized again that the polished performance fans saw was built on hours of disciplined, unseen work.
“So far so good,” I said to Liam.
“Don’t jinx it.”
Sunny joined us halfway through the technical rehearsal. As Jin sang an English chorus, “My heart is for you,” he looked offstage for a moment. “See Sang-hoon in the wings?” she asked as his attention immediately returned to the audience.
“That’s sweet,” I said.
“Even more important, he’s put his own heart into that song, and the audience recognizes it. I compile stats on each performance, and his have been growing like crazy since Cannes.”
“Since the explosion?” Liam asked.
“Something happened between them after that,” Sunny said. “I have been watching them for years, and I was sure they were in love with each other, but I believe they finally acted after Sang-hoon rushed to rescue Jin.”
She smiled. “They’re good for each other.
” She sighed deeply. “I just wish their circumstances were different. I’ve only spoken about this with Jason, because of the clause in both their contracts that prohibits idol-staff romances.
We are worried that Eun-ji might be forced to separate them, and that would be a disaster for the tour. ”