Journalist, Author & Syndicated Columnist
What follows is not only the story of Korean popular music, and how it birthed the K-pop business, but also how a small peninsula nation learned how to make art in the face of colonialism and political change, culled sonics from all corners of the globe, and keeps striving to find new ways of distilling the purest, most thrilling aspects of the human experience into four-minute packages of pop revelation. For Rolling Stone.
If anyone should be allowed to have a love life without being hated on, it’s Heechul. Now 36, he has been an integral part of the Korean entertainment industry for almost two decades. As a member of the beloved idol group Super Junior, Heechul and his bandmates helped introduce K-pop to international audiences.
Since the beginning of time, celebrities have tried to hide their dating status. Part of it was for privacy issues. But there was also a business element. Managers wanted to make it appear as if their clients were available to fans. Certainly, this holds true for K-Pop and K-Drama stars, who are forced to spend an inordinate amount of time evading questions about their love lives.
One of the things that has impressed me about K-Pop’s idol system is that it has developed some truly talented actors. They remind me of performers during the Golden Age of Hollywood, when entertainers were trained to sing, dance and act. Two highly-acclaimed K-Dramas — “SKY Castle” and “Memories of the Alhambra” — featured young K-Pop stars in strong co-starring roles. In the former, SF9’s Chani (né Kang Chan-Hee) put in a stellar performance as a high school student framed for murder. In the latter, EXO’s Chanyeol (né Park Chan-Yeol) played a terrified teenage game developer.
A month ago, KPop For Thought contacted me, asking if I would like to answer a question for her online newsletter about K-Pop. And this is the question she sent me: “I always see you bonding with your son through K-pop on Twitter, and it’s such an amazing thing. In times where some people say that being over 18 is too old to like pop music, could you talk a bit about your experience as a K-pop fan and mother?”
The heroine of this Korean drama is the epitome of a long-suffering doormat, whose life would’ve been so much better if she grew a spine and stood up for herself. Instead of being guilted into giving up her hard-earned money — that she had ear-marked for returning to college — to her ungrateful older half-sister, who is “studying” overseas in the United States; or giving up her own body, so that she can pay for her father’s surgery; or letting virtually everyone treat her like a servant … Eun-Nim just swallows her pride and accepts it as her life.
If you were given the opportunity to be reunited with your childhood love, would you do it? Hye-Jin jumps at the chance, because she has nothing but good memories of Sung-Joon.
• At 4, I wondered what a chink bitch was.
• At 5, I came home from kindergarten singing, “Chink-a-chink-a Chinaman, sitting on a fence.”
• At 6, I watched in horror as a blond boy called my father a motherfucking gook.
Young K-pop fans may have killed for the chance that we’ve had: to walk backstage on M Countdown, a popular cable television music program. Stepping inside Thursday, we saw immaculately-styled Sung Min, a member of Super Junior, whiz by us. Then up ahead, in the room with a paper sign showing the group’s name on the door, there was Shin Dong having his violet-colored hair styled up, as Si Won stepped out and with a manner worthy of a world star said hello to his interviewers.