We Count by Minyohub

This album, *We Count*, is what happens when a 24-hour shift stretches into sound. We took the hum of the city, the flicker of fluorescent lights, and the quiet grind of keeping things running, then tried to make it all sing. It’s a relay, really, moving from an oncology lounge, where Eunchae charts drip times on crumpled cafeteria napkins, through parking decks where headlights smear on concrete, and right into the low thrum of server bays where Taek counts uptime. That tension, that push and pull, is what we bottled.

You’ll hear it in the music, how our minyo-hop meets post-rock. Baritone guitars hold long, heavy arcs while Hyejin’s haegeum threads through tight snare flurries. Taek folds pansori vowels into his clipped cadences. We built this from the ground up with what was around us: hospital monitor pips tuned to pentatonic steps, server fans pitched to D and A, the contact-mic’d spokes of Daon’s bike bowed with rosin. It’s all in there, sidechained to the kick, layered under Eunchae’s voice that shifts from a gravelly hum to a scraped-throat cry.

The main idea, if you have to call it that, is simple: everything counts. The small, often unseen work, the quiet promises we make to keep things connected. We even opened it up for "Care Rides," where folks sent in their own route traces, tire clicks, glove snaps, server pings. We mapped those sounds into the rhythms, turning daily errands into a sort of collective chant. It’s why tracks like "Care Ride" feel so welcoming, like you’re part of the team. And that hook, “숨이 차도 연결해, 끊기지 마” – when it slams to mono in "연결해," it feels less like a chorus and more like everyone shouting together.

There’s a real narrative here, a journey. From the steady 87 BPM swing of "Napkin Map" setting the stakes, through the quiet suspense of "Lift Delay," to the sharp intake of breath when everything stops in "정전 카운트." We stood in the dark, counting, just waiting for the power to surge back. And when it does, in "심장 위," Eunchae’s cry, “테크는 사람의 심장 위에 선다,” feels earned. It's the only full peak on the album, a raw burst of triumph.

We’re putting this out not just to listen, but to be taken apart. The final songs, "첫차" and "식판 쪽지," talk about releasing annotated stems and route maps. We want clinics, bike collectives, dev forums to rebuild these pieces. It’s our way of saying that folk memory isn’t just old stories; it’s being carried by daily work, right now, in your ribs, stinging your eyes, steadying your hands. This is our attempt to capture that, to make the unsung pulse.

Minyohub. Minyo-hop, post-rock. We sing shifts: hospital hum, server whir, bike chains. Korean stories, raw.