“Perhaps creativity is best indulged in the darkness of the ungodly hours of a new day,” I surmised when attempting to piece together fraying threads of a new blog post concept—the one of many a failed attempts over the last year—called “Midnights and Ghosts; Songs from the Darkness.” It’s 01:42 AM. It’s a bad Taylor Swift parody. I obviously trash the idea because I’m thankfully neither that stupid, nor that desperate. I don’t know why I even recount its existence. I suppose the stupidity has to show up somewhere.
Perhaps my real conclusion at the time should have been, “delirium begets bad ideas, and wilder fixes” because the aftertaste of that discarded piece of writing after months of stranded half-written work was incredibly bitter. I then found myself at the brink of the remaining hours of 2022 (a rather underwhelming time period) feeling a particularly pungent sense of decay of myself, my work, and whatever I found fun for reasons I don’t think I can possibly recount. I had finally come to a biting sense of desperation that somehow manifested as whatever this K-pop list is for the internet to accept in the name of 2022. Frankly, it’s not so much a list to fit in the canon of the the “End of Year Review,” but a blurry Polaroid of my 2022 K-pop experience; a tribute to the world I’ve spent a good decade writing about my love for under the guise of being a person with taste, and feeling that I have finally reached the nirvana of having absolutely no taste at all. See, there was a person who told me that 1, year end lists should always be ordered (this is not), and 2, that nothing about 2022 is worth publishing after December 31st (this is) and I took that as a challenge.
With that in mind, under the sway of Sophie‘s “Immaterial,” I raise my glass to all of you, and I hope you have welcomed 2023 with open arms. “With no name and no type of story,” cheers to us all.
Seventeen Leaders, “Cheers”
Narrating the night they drunkenly clunked out a song recounting their rise to the top amid the gaze of the non-believers–“blurt out now, edit later,” as they say themselves–“Cheers” is lyrically yet another take on surrendering to the narcissism of telling the world that that you’ve made it to capital-‘C’ Celebrity. Musically, it is the clubbing experience of a Heineken 0.0 drinking 20 year-old who suddenly discovered the exhilaration of dancing in a crowded room where everyone and no one is watching. For them, it’s a night to remember. For everyone else, it’s a night that would almost certainly be forgotten in the morning.
Yet with maybe a flicker of alcohol-induced mental clarity, they later ask, “Do we even like us?” though it came with the same audacity they had boasting that they were going to eschew kick and snare like it was the greatest achievement of their lives.
They obviously don’t care what the answer is.
Neither do I. Song of the Year.
STAYC, “YOUNG LUV”
If “Cheers” is the naive partier walking into a club thinking they’re cool, then “YOUNG LUV” is the crooning of a lovelorn child who recently discovered the drama of love’s tragedy and wants to scream into the raging winds of the storm—Sieun’s shriek in the final chorus does not desire to go gentle into that good night, just as it should.
NewJeans, “Cookie”
The meteoric rise of celebrated art director Min Heejin’s critical and popular darling project from “Attention” to “Ditto” left nothing but the metallic taste of hemosiderin rising from the blood of my dark, dark heart bleeding from my tongue. The group’s existence as the combination of nostalgia for a youthful period I have no fondness for, and a bold dose of hipster effortlessness with nothing in its eyes—in other words, the antithesis of my skin, muscle and bones with a lifetime of burns—could only lead to such a disdain, and yet we have “Cookie.” Ironically the singly marginally maligned output of theirs because of its lyrical content, “Cookie” touches upon the its R&B flourishes with an earnestness and real innocence (ha!) that is deserving of its complex, buttery notes. I believe it’s here where the clear, almost conversational, vocals of the group shine and the underlying warm drone of their musical style feels real. It’s the holistic experience of the first bite of the crisp exterior and soft interior of a classic chocolate chip cookie and remembering its simple, earnest comfort.
(I also recommend SWJA’s excellent cover of the song, which did wonders for my appreciation for it. And here’s “Hype Boy” because I would be lying if I said it wasn’t addictive.)
Stray Kids, “Maniac”
Birds. The eerie psychosis of flutes. Something about Dr. Frankenstein drilling into my skull with the thud of bass. Birds…one suddenly faintly tapping, maybe gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
I too wonder,
“…what this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking ‘Nevermore'”?
Changmin, “Maniac”
I thought I had given up on the duet version of DBSK at this point, but Changmin’s solo album Devil was a surprisingly ambitious release that I don’t think a male idol has topped this year. It’s psychotic musical theater that the K-pop world didn’t know it needed. “Maniac” is frantic and crisp in a way that feels different for Changmin, yet takes perfect advantage of his vocal idiosyncrasies and comforts. I need a live version with live everything–band, backing vocals, you name it.
Taeyeon, “INVU”
Soul-heavy House/dance pop is a genre often done poorly—mostly because it seems that most pop vocalists and producers care more about getting to an end (be it showing off the drops and instrumentation or finding the climax of the song) rather than displaying love for the process of getting there. “INVU” on the other hand, is beautifully composed from its first line. “Falling in love~ 너에겐 난 option~” carries a stunning languid warmth from the way “Falling,” “love” and “option”are vocalized against the coldness of the song’s instrumental opening, and numerous juxtapositions like that one make “INVU” one of my favorite songs of the year.
But that’s really a subtlety. The front-and-center triumph of “INVU” is its chorus, and its glorious evolution. The track might be an attempt at a House adjacent song, but the pop-drop here is truly a garnish and not the star. INVU doesn’t do anything shockingly different when it comes to its overarching structure: it’s still verse—prechorus—chorus—verse—prechorus—chorus—bridge–chorus like 90% of pop music in the modern era. What’s different is that these sections blossom into something both new and familiar as you listen through. Each chorus is a variation of its predecessor, building up on the greater journey of the song. I think I audibly gasped the first time I heard the second chorus. For me, “INVU” is an exceptional pop version of the classical Epic Hero that may take me a lifetime to get over, as a small part of me always gets close to the feeling I had when I first heard it.
(Oh here’s “Some Nights” and “Toddler” as a bonus.)
aespa, “Girls”
After one year of K-pop songs,”Girls” would be the song I’d want to sing at karaoke, without a modicum of doubt. Aespa brings out the cinematic energy in girl group K-pop where the musical trends are going anywhere but there. The amalgamation of orchestral, EDM, and rock elements give a strong palette for this song’s melodic equivalent of a battle cry, but I think that “Girls” soars in the subtle build ups, the surprisingly graceful underlying instrumentation, and the beauty of undercut vocal aggression. For example, the relaxing back-end of the chorus is an absolute highlight that brings out the real agenda of “Girls,”–support and comfort despite trying times. I also may regularly complain about Yoo Youngjin‘s melodic style being on the verge of staling out, but “Girls” weirdly gave me hope for the future with the elegantly built double bridge paired with an incredible dance break. “Blooming in chaos,” indeed.
Seventeen, “HOT”
If you asked me what my most listened to song (yes, song) in the last two months was, it’s probably “HOT”—a frequent companion on my morning commutes. Infinitely loop-able, there is something magical about the way “HOT” has pure quantized musical energy fanning out into a spectral panorama like a stream of photons passing through a double slit. It’s neither here nor there, both generic and unique. With melodic bass, a buoyant post-chorus, and ever-morphing, exhilarating pre-choruses that really, truly, glisten in the sun, “HOT” feels more like an experience than a song. And to be honest, I’m a simple person with simple needs. If I want to sing along, it’s good. If I want to dance too, then it’s really good. “HOT” is exuberant in a way that I think even Seventeen themselves have not fully come to realize.
Red Velvet, “Feel My Rhythm”
The best came first in an in-explicable year of classical music samples in K-pop, as Red Velvet’s “Feel My Rhythm” is absolutely the gold standard of how sampling long-form work like western classical music isn’t about taking a riff and slapping it in a decoration but an opportunity to craft something new from its underlying themes and variations. Bach‘s Suite No. 3 in D Major is everywhere in “Feel My Rhythm,” and where it isn’t, the echos are. With “Feel My Rhythm” there’s also something uniquely Red Velvet about how the whole work comes together in a mystical ambient elegance that is their signature. It cannot be mimicked.
Itzy, “Voltage”
The best of Itzy this year came in Japan, with both “Voltage” and “Blah Blah Blah.” The high-octane itch that I was seeking from Itzy and ladies as a whole was satisfied in spades by these singles; just the post-chorus in “Voltage” was a groove greatly missing from K-pop this year. The pre-chorus is surprising in the way it’s less of a bombastic element but a transitional light burn from the most fun arpeggio vocal hook I’ve heard since Red Velvet‘s “RBB (Really Bad Boy).” To top it off, we get to have a variation of it in the bridge to also get the catharsis of the climatic charm it has in a cute win-win scenario.
In short, “Voltage” is fun. I really missed shameless fun.
NCT Dream, “Arcade”
Melodic elements is not something that’s say absent in the world of boy group K-pop, I would have to be blatantly lying to claim that. That said, to get that really nice half-step loving charm out of dance pop in groups not named TXT (namely the very pretty “Crown” and its chromatic hook) is pretty rare, and I’m talking about the bright spectrum, not the common melancholic vibe in sad-boy pop (e.g. Oneus‘s “Same Scent“). Unfortunately for TXT the texture that they go for relies a lot on reverb and their more metallic and nasal timbres take away from the nice blend of frequencies that come from the full natural voice. That’s where I think “Arcade” fit in really nicely this year. The pre-chorus in “Arcade” is arguably the most graceful output from the guys this year and the prettiness of the chorus justifies it, only to get topped by the bridge and final chorus, that is. Simple can be really successful.
(I’m gonna also mention the best boy group title this year, “Beatbox,” because it would be terrible not to do so.)
WJSN Chocome, “Super Yuppers!”
WJSN knew exactly what they were doing when they went after the void left by Orange Caramel and Crayon Pop. Need I say more?
SNSD, “Forever 1”
Youha, “Last Dance”
“Last Dance” brings back what I believe to be a defining K-pop 2nd generation subgenre–sensual K-pop–that is basically non-existent in the great monolith that some have dubbed “girl crush.” The silky black dress with sheer lace and bare feet in a dark studio covered in reds brought back all sorts of nostalgia for the likes of Hyorin and Jooyoung‘s “Erase,” Girls’ Day‘s “Something,” and Sistar‘s “Alone,” and my love for the gothic hook was instantaneous and maybe even spiritual. But hitting nostalgia with a hammer is not what makes “Last Dance” iconic. I’ve always defined K-pop as the marriage of theater, music, and dance, and this song shows that perfectly through its performance video. “Last Dance” taken alone may not be that impressive, but it became more than the sum of its parts.
Le Sserafim, “Anti-Fragile”
Seulgi, “28 Reasons”
Rather than the sparkling flirt with Hell captured by “Anti-Fragile,” “28 Reasons” openly tries to drink it all in. Mediative in its execution, Seulgi embroiders the fine details into seemingly simple melody and relatively sparse instrumentation, particularly in its verses. Starting from the gentle taunting, matter of fact, line “I kiss your brother, 그 맘 훔쳐 (I steal that heart)” that staccatos as it sinks into the deep drawl of “독이 퍼져도 못 느껴 (you can’t even feel the poison), my pleasure…” and drags “못 느껴.” The end feels nigh in her voice. You can almost feel her breath against your ear as she does it, tantalizing with audible pop of the lips to make sure that you don’t leave your fear behind entirely. In fact, the use of pauses and dragging accents to build drama throughout a song that lives on the cusp of monotone really feels earned, especially the bridge, because it’s accomplished in a non-repetitious way. And to cap it all off with the most climatic of all anti-drops, “You’re in danger, but it’s okay. You’re a grown up. You’re grown now.” Absolutely seductive.
Photo Credits:
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A Splash of Inspiration 