What can K-pop learn from Psy?

“By satirizing standard K-pop tropes in Gangnam Style, Psy may have subverted K-pop’s chances of making it big in the West,” writes John Seabrook in the Annals of Music section of this week’s New Yorker magazine.

Insightful, yes, but true? Not so fast.

There are many aspects of the Korean character that I came to admire during the four years I lived in Seoul from 2006-2010: the tenacious work-ethic; the teamwork; the reverence for elders; the strong family bonds; the refined social grace; and the nationwide striving for excellence in all manner of human endeavor.

There is, however, one conspicuous omission the attentive reader may have noticed: the sense of irony. An economic miracle on both sides of the Han River may have sparked upwards, but, really, how many analysts and experts have you ever heard “laughing” about it?

Seabrook’s brilliant essay in the Annals of Music is full of firsthand accounts and interviews with some of Korea’s top “idols.” Korean idols, Psy included, are full-time employees of talent agencies who teach them to sing, dance, smile, shake, wink and wave.

Through the agencies, pop stars are manufactured from the raw materials of youth and beauty. A few are highly paid, but idols are granted no artistic freedom and this in turn creates a homogenous pop culture in Korea that meets an image of squeaky clean, non-subversive glamor.

Fortunately for Psy and for Western fans who find themselves suddenly connected with him, the agency that signed him, Y.G., is known for giving its idols some degree of creative freedom.

Here in the Western antipode, the life of an idol couldn’t be any different. Scandal and controversy are the normal currency of artistic success. Many Western idols are also the products of agencies and zealous managers, but even the most contrived American (or Canadian) pop star like Justin Bieber has been known to write a song or two.

This creates a substantially different image in the popular imagination _ a more human, less polished figure. And the West with its tireless ethic of second chances is far more forgiving of their stars’ imperfect morality when it sots the red carpet.

The two big questions within Korea’s competing talent agencies these days are: first, how can we break into the American music market? And second, how can we create a genre of pop music that bridges the East and West divide?

Let me offer an answer that Seabrook came within inches of grasping but evidently failed to realize. It took the overweight, clumsy, pot-smoking, rebellious Psy in his ridiculous safari shorts to reach a large audience in the West. Whether through cunning or through accident, Psy, singing in a language that the vast majority of Western people are totally ignorant of, has so far managed to attract 402 million views of his video on YouTube.

The irony is thickened when we recall that Psy himself is a product of Gangnam’s neighborhoods. He was raised down there on that side of the river and was no stranger to Gangnam’s choicer amenities. His video takes a few jabs at the pretentious Gangnam lifestyle and that is precisely the point at which he finds himself admired the world over.

Come to think of it (if you can indulge me a sweeping generalization), I don’t know of one significant work of art that doesn’t challenge the unexamined tropes of its times, and in this case, the opulent lifestyle of Gangnam is in the artist’s unforgiving, satirizing sights.

If K-pop would like to avoid having artists like PSY subvert its “chances of making it big in the West” as Seabrook suggests, then it might want to mix a bit of subversion into its own candy-sweet repertoire.

The writer is a taxi driver in Boulder, Colorado. He is also a blogger at cabbieconfidential.com. He can be reached at sleeper223@yahoo.com.“By satirizing standard K-pop tropes in Gangnam Style, Psy may have subverted K-pop’s chances of making it big in the West,” writes John Seabrook in the Annals of Music section of this week’s New Yorker magazine.

Insightful, yes, but true? Not so fast.

There are many aspects of the Korean character that I came to admire during the four years I lived in Seoul from 2006-2010: the tenacious work-ethic; the teamwork; the reverence for elders; the strong family bonds; the refined social grace; and the nationwide striving for excellence in all manner of human endeavor.

There is, however, one conspicuous omission the attentive reader may have noticed: the sense of irony. An economic miracle on both sides of the Han River may have sparked upwards, but, really, how many analysts and experts have you ever heard “laughing” about it?

Seabrook’s brilliant essay in the Annals of Music is full of firsthand accounts and interviews with some of Korea’s top “idols.” Korean idols, Psy included, are full-time employees of talent agencies who teach them to sing, dance, smile, shake, wink and wave.

Through the agencies, pop stars are manufactured from the raw materials of youth and beauty. A few are highly paid, but idols are granted no artistic freedom and this in turn creates a homogenous pop culture in Korea that meets an image of squeaky clean, non-subversive glamor.

Fortunately for Psy and for Western fans who find themselves suddenly connected with him, the agency that signed him, Y.G., is known for giving its idols some degree of creative freedom.

Here in the Western antipode, the life of an idol couldn’t be any different. Scandal and controversy are the normal currency of artistic success. Many Western idols are also the products of agencies and zealous managers, but even the most contrived American (or Canadian) pop star like Justin Bieber has been known to write a song or two.

This creates a substantially different image in the popular imagination _ a more human, less polished figure. And the West with its tireless ethic of second chances is far more forgiving of their stars’ imperfect morality when it sots the red carpet.

The two big questions within Korea’s competing talent agencies these days are: first, how can we break into the American music market? And second, how can we create a genre of pop music that bridges the East and West divide?

Let me offer an answer that Seabrook came within inches of grasping but evidently failed to realize. It took the overweight, clumsy, pot-smoking, rebellious Psy in his ridiculous safari shorts to reach a large audience in the West. Whether through cunning or through accident, Psy, singing in a language that the vast majority of Western people are totally ignorant of, has so far managed to attract 402 million views of his video on YouTube.

The irony is thickened when we recall that Psy himself is a product of Gangnam’s neighborhoods. He was raised down there on that side of the river and was no stranger to Gangnam’s choicer amenities. His video takes a few jabs at the pretentious Gangnam lifestyle and that is precisely the point at which he finds himself admired the world over.

Come to think of it (if you can indulge me a sweeping generalization), I don’t know of one significant work of art that doesn’t challenge the unexamined tropes of its times, and in this case, the opulent lifestyle of Gangnam is in the artist’s unforgiving, satirizing sights.

If K-pop would like to avoid having artists like PSY subvert its “chances of making it big in the West” as Seabrook suggests, then it might want to mix a bit of subversion into its own candy-sweet repertoire.

The writer is a taxi driver in Boulder, Colorado. He is also a blogger at cabbieconfidential.com. He can be reached at sleeper223@yahoo.com. <The Korea Times/Rod Bennett>

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