Five years ago, I was doing my best to inspire reluctant Daegu kids to read, speak and write in English. In a few cases, I may have been successful. It was a two-way street, as I learned things from them. I had not been in the classroom long before one black-haired girl inquired breathlessly, “Teacher, do you know Big Bang?” I was then unfamiliar with that all-male musical group, but I went to Google and got hip. Ah, K-pop. It seems to be on every other television channel. And until recently, a music store stood across the street from my apartment. It hosted monthly gatherings of K-pop bands and scores of their enthusiastic female fans. I accosted a woman in the street and asked who they were. These guys must be really big, I told her. No. She informed me that they were newbies, just beginning on what they hoped would be the path to stardom. The girls were begging for autographs, shrieking and taking cell-phone videos of young men who had not yet done anything. Color me puzzled.
Now admittedly, there is a generational issue here as I am older than the performers and nearly all of their fans. A cultural difference surely is involved as well; were I of Korean descent, I might have a much greater appreciation for K-pop. But I honestly doubt it. K-pop seems so very shallow to me. These big companies—including SM Entertainment, YG Entertainment and JYP Entertainment—have a system for choosing and promoting boy- and girl-bands. (They do seem to be exclusively single-gender.) With an eye on recent trends, they hold tryouts, choose a few good-looking kids and then give direction. The cut of their hair is dictated, as well as their clothes, their singing style, their dance moves, the personalities they project to fans and the media—everything. They are even told how to preen and pout. Many who seek that extra something undergo plastic surgery. It seems completely artificial to me, and I am a person who is inclined to like, admire and respect things Korean.
One may fairly contrast it with the system in Cuba. There, the singing, the dancing and the playing of instruments is learned from the ground up. It is organic, rich, deep and polyrhythmic. I would dare say contemporary Cuban music has soul. There are no businessmen in Havana seeking to manipulate the popular music scene. It happens and evolves naturally.
I despaired after reading a news article recently about the Gangnam district where I live in Seoul. It says that more than 100 hip-hop dance schools operate here, and the number of teenagers attending them is on the rise. Hagwons that once taught ballet, piano or classical guitar have given way to establishments that emphasize how kids can impress the aforesaid businessmen and become K-pop stars. Some of them attend classes every night of the week and spend their spare time studying K-pop videos on YouTube.
Korea, like all countries, has problems, some of them quite serious. Our best and brightest should be focused on solving those problems and creating a better future. We emphatically do not need them wasting precious time and energy on puerile dreams wherein they might become a part of the next Girls Generation, Super Junior, SHINee, TVXQ or T-ara—regardless of the fact that if they are among the chosen few, they will be awash in money and adulation, and sell out Madison Square Garden.
What’s that sound, you ask? It’s the sound of me, whistling in the dark.
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