Episode 16: All-Pass (1)
“And now, let’s welcome Contestant 2. Wow, you seem in high spirits!”
“Yes!”
On the screen, Contestant 2 responds cheerfully to MC Ji Sehyuk’s greeting.
Now that I’ve recalled the name, it’s painfully obvious why I didn’t recognize him at first—his presence is unmistakable.
‘It’s Taeoh, alright.’
Kang Taeoh.
Nickname: Seoul National University’s guitar-playing heartthrob.
I can’t recall his exact major—something in the sciences—but I remember he was the top entrant.
And that he chose entertainment over his academic path.
That’s when it clicked—why someone I don’t recall is standing before me now.
‘There’s a five-year age gap between me and Taeoh… so he’s 18, a high school sophomore. That’s why he didn’t compete.’
In my original life, Blind Singer Season 3 aired from fall to winter, spanning the coldest months.
A brainiac like Taeoh, prepping for college entrance exams, wouldn’t have had time to think about Blind Singer.
But now, Season 3’s timing makes it feasible for him to join for experience or nostalgia.
Amid these thoughts, Ji Sehyuk and Taeoh’s interview filters through.
“I was actually a nervous wreck until just now.”
“Feeling the jitters?”
“Yeah, I was super nervous. But the contestant next to me calmed me down, so I’m at a good level now.”
‘Ugh, this dummy.’
He’s hyping someone else up when he should be promoting himself.
The Taeoh I knew wasn’t this clueless.
‘Well… that was five years later.’
He’s young now, that’s all.
The Taeoh I met had been through college or military service—experiences that shape a person.
That’s probably why he took Song Jaeryung’s words at face value.
The six judges, picking up on this, smile warmly.
AZ, seated next to Seo Yoonje in the center, grabs the mic.
“That’s good to hear. Shall we hear your song?”
“Yup!”
Taeoh’s spirited reply cues Ji Sehyuk to retreat to the MC’s stand.
The stage darkens, and staff hustle in the shadows, checking Taeoh’s in-ear and mic.
Standing alone in the dark, Taeoh begins:
“Like the sunset touching my fingertips,
Today slips away from me.”
Blue and orange lights flood the stage, and Taeoh’s voice—slightly younger than I remember—flows out.
The late Yoo Haseok’s ‘Twilight’s End’.
Adjusted to Taeoh’s key with trimmed lyrics, it’s minimally arranged.
A folk song embodying Korea’s 70s-80s essence, sung by a kid not even born then, weaves a rough yet elegant tapestry.
“Whoa, what’s that?”
Contestant 3, slouched in their chair, sits up straight, captivated.
Their faint murmur drips with disbelief that this is the same rookie who was unsettling everyone earlier.
“Wow.”
“Sounds so young, but he nails Yoo Haseok’s song.”
It’s not just Contestant 3.
Gasps ripple through the waiting room, and hands fidget with masks.
The same vibe probably fills the qualifiers’ room.
‘As expected, Kang Taeoh. A monster even back then.’
A smile creeps under my mask.
The boy who took a long detour before finding his path now seems to have claimed his stage without delay.
And—
‘Looks like I’m not the only one shaking things up.’
The guilt of stealing someone else’s spotlight eases slightly, knowing I’m not alone.
Seo Yoonje poured napalm on this battlefield with AZ, and now Kang Taeoh’s stormed in like a kaiju from a movie. This unexpected twist feels thrilling.
Maybe it’s the comfort of an unforeseen reunion, but I can enjoy Taeoh’s performance leisurely.
‘His inexperience is glaring.’
His singing is flawless, but his hands are restless, a common tic for singers used to instruments like guitar or piano.
His awkward gestures could be called stage mannerisms, but they’re not a big flaw.
Taeoh’s voice captivates the audience before his clumsiness can distract.
“Even if tomorrow’s sun rises again,
The moment leaving me now won’t return.
Where am I to go?
What are we to do?”
As Taeoh’s high notes climax, white lights flare across the giant P-shaped fixtures above the judges.
The waiting room’s gasps turn to cheers.
“Whoa! All-pass!”
“Is this the season’s first all-pass?”
“Singing Yoo Haseok like that? You’d be crazy not to give an all-pass.”
Likely the youngest contestant, Taeoh earns the season’s first unanimous approval from all judges—a juicy tidbit any broadcaster would salivate over.
‘Our earlier chat’s definitely making the cut.’
And that’s not all.
Catching the camera lens on me out of the corner of my eye, I face the screen and clap exaggeratedly.
‘Not having to manage my expression is so nice.’
Tossing Hong PD another must-keep moment, Contestant 3 raises their voice.
“Wow, 2’s amazing.”
“Right? Killer voice. Great song choice too.”
Contestant 3’s timing, jumping in as the camera swings my way, shows they know the TV game.
Compared to Taeoh, their comment timing is angelic.
As Taeoh’s performance ends, the first to grab the mic is the eldest judge, Kim Kwangyong, bassist of the folk-rock band ‘Sandul’.
“How old is Contestant 2?”
He blurts out the question, and MC Ji Sehyuk quickly interjects.
“Questions that could reveal a contestant’s identity aren’t allowed, sunbaenim.”
“Oh, right, my bad.”
Kim Kwangyong laughs sheepishly, takes a sip of water, and continues his critique.
“I made music in the same era as Haseok. I’ve seen countless juniors sing his songs. Regardless of who’s better or worse, I think if Haseok were alive today, he’d sing like Contestant 2. That’s why I was curious about your age. No matter how I think about it, you probably weren’t even born when Haseok performed this live.”
His rare praise, coming from someone who seldom appears on shows like this, sparks another cheer in the waiting room.
Kim Kwangyong tosses a light question.
“By the way, Contestant 2, you play guitar, right?”
“Yup.”
“Yeah, your hands look like they’ve strummed strings. Why didn’t you bring it today?”
“Well, uh…”
‘Why? He was holding back, that’s why.’
Of course, Kim Kwangyong isn’t fooled by such an obvious move.
I can see it, and there’s no way a veteran like him, who’s been in music longer than I’ve been alive, would miss it.
But Taeoh’s performance had the power to make even that obvious tactic endearing.
“Bring the guitar next time. I pressed pass just to see that.”
“Yup!”
Kim Kwangyong wraps up with a faint smile, and Taeoh responds stiffly.
Next, lyricist Yoon Ichae picks up the mic.
“This song, as I know it, was sung by Yoo Haseok when he was 30. But back then, 30 felt different from today’s 30. This might sound old-fashioned, but I think that era’s 30 is like today’s 40 in terms of vibe.”
Kim Kwangyong and Seo Yoonje, who lived in that era, nod in agreement.
“The 70s-80s folk vibe came through perfectly. That only happens if you truly understand the song, lyrics, and mood. So now I’m curious how Contestant 2 would sing a modern song. Great performance.”
“Thank you.”
“It was all-pass worthy. Honestly, this song was flawless, so there’s no critique to give.”
Following Yoon Ichae, Seo Yoonje takes the mic, scanning the room.
The other five judges nod almost in unison, agreeing with him.
Softening his usual music-freak intensity, Seo Yoonje closes his critique.
“But… as Kim sunbaenim said, bring the guitar next time. Your restless hands made me feel awkward. Other than that, it was a stellar stage. Well done.”
“Yup, I’ll definitely bring it!”
“Yes! That was Contestant 2, earning Blind Singer Season 3’s first all-pass! Congratulations, and enjoy your moment in the qualifiers’ room. Next up…”
Taeoh bounds offstage with his signature hop, and the judges’ smiles flash on the screen.
As Ji Sehyuk prepares to call the next contestant, Kwon Junghyun pokes her head into the waiting room.
“Contestant 3! Contestant 1! Please prepare for the stage!”
My turn’s finally here.
Among the judges, watching Contestant 3’s disappointed exit…
“Maybe I heard Yoo Haseok’s song too well.”
Kim Kwangyong mutters abruptly.
The other judges silently agree.
None of them pressed the pass button for Contestant 3.
“Ugh, I think 2 raised the bar too high.”
Yoon Ichae, seated to Kim Kwangyong’s right, smacks her lips and adds.
After Contestant 2’s all-pass, the next three performances earned one, two, and now zero passes.
“Right now… 37 got five passes, 2 got an all-pass, and two got four passes? Man, this is tough.”
Sally, the rapper from second-gen girl group ‘Applime’, seated at the far left, voices her frustration.
To advance to the second round of Blind Singer’s finals, you need at least four passes.
After 19 performances, only four have secured that, with a few three-pass holdovers—but none since Contestant 2’s all-pass.
“Someone needs to shake things up. Should we take a break?”
“Might be good.”
Choreographer Lee Sangwoon suggests, and Kim Kwangyong agrees.
But then—
“Maybe let’s watch this next one first.”
“Huh?”
Seo Yoonje hurriedly speaks, stopping Lee Sangwoon from standing.
He can’t say it’s because the messy hairstyle poking out from the contestant’s mask matches the one he’s been waiting for.
“Oh, looks like the next contestant’s ready. Alright, let’s watch this and take a five-minute break.”
“Sounds good.”
Thankfully, Kim Kwangyong doesn’t notice Seo Yoonje’s urgency, loosening his stiff muscles with a light arm stretch.
Lee Sangwoon sits back down, and Sally and Yoon Ichae adjust their postures, ready to listen.
Meanwhile—
Tap tap.
Seo Yoonje lightly taps the table toward Lee Ahjeong, seated to his left, catching her eye.
“He’s here.”
“He’s here?”
Their silent lip-read conversation goes unnoticed by the cameras.
Ji Sehyuk, getting the cue through his in-ear, ramps up the energy and reads the cue card.
“Alright, let’s bring out the next contestant! Oh, a milestone number! Next up is Blind Singer Season 3’s Contestant 1!”