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The Success of Hopelessness: The Evolution of Korean Indie Music

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[PB 12.2 (2011) 147-165] Perfect Beat (print) ISSN 1038-2909 doi:10.1558/prbt.v12i2.147 Perfect Beat (online) ISSN 1836-0343 © Equinox Publishing Ltd 2012, Kelham House, 3 Lancaster Street, Sheffield, S3 8AF.. Hyunjoon Shin The success of hopelessness: the evolution of Korean indie music* Hyunjoon Shin is a ‘Humanities Korea’ professor at the Institute for East Asian Studies (IEAS) at Sungkonghoe University. His research focuses on Korean popular culture and popular music, as well as inter-Asia cultural studies. Institute for East Asian Studies Sungkonghoe University Hang-dong 1-1, Guro-gu Seoul 152-716 Korea [email protected] Abstract K-pop has been the most commercially successful music genre in South Korea since the mid- 1990s, as noted by many Asian popular music scholars. By contrast, an underexplored topic is local indie popular music, which experienced a surge in popularity during the 2000s. This paper examines these indie scenes and Boongaboonga Records—a key organization that originated in the Gwanak region of Seoul, and later relocated to the Hongdae region, known as the hub for Korean indie music. It argues that the unique connection that the label and its indie bands have with these specific locations tie into their collective ability to give voice to a young generation affected by political and social change. It also considers the new business model for the record label and how this has developed from these circumstances and the cultural space it inhabits. Keywords: Hongdae; indie music; Korean popular music industry; Seoul; space/place; youth Introduction Since 2007, there has been a significant increase in the popularity of local indie music in South Korea (hereafter ‘Korea’). This music stands in contrast to main- stream popular musics, namely K-pop, which have dominated the mainstream since the mid-1990s and found considerable success in neighbouring Asian coun- tries. Initially produced in the small clubs in the western end of Seoul, Korean indie music has now generated interest overseas with some indie bands partici- pating in music festivals and concerts in Japan (Despres 2010) and North America (Saria 2011), among other locations. At a local level, a growing number of music * This work was supported by the Korea Research Foundation Grant Fund by the Korean Government (MEST) (KRF-2007-361-AM0005).
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[PB 12.2 (2011) 147-165] Perfect Beat (print) ISSN 1038-2909doi:10.1558/prbt.v12i2.147 Perfect Beat (online) ISSN 1836-0343

© Equinox Publishing Ltd 2012, Kelham House, 3 Lancaster Street, Sheffield, S3 8AF..

Hyunjoon Shin

The success of hopelessness:the evolution of Korean indie music*

Hyunjoon Shin is a ‘Humanities Korea’ professor at the Institute for East Asian Studies (IEAS) at Sungkonghoe University. His research focuses on Korean popular culture and popular music, as well as inter-Asia cultural studies.

Institute for East Asian StudiesSungkonghoe UniversityHang-dong 1-1, Guro-guSeoul [email protected]

AbstractK-pop has been the most commercially successful music genre in South Korea since the mid-1990s, as noted by many Asian popular music scholars. By contrast, an underexplored topic is local indie popular music, which experienced a surge in popularity during the 2000s. This paper examines these indie scenes and Boongaboonga Records—a key organization that originated in the Gwanak region of Seoul, and later relocated to the Hongdae region, known as the hub for Korean indie music. It argues that the unique connection that the label and its indie bands have with these specific locations tie into their collective ability to give voice to a young generation affected by political and social change. It also considers the new business model for the record label and how this has developed from these circumstances and the cultural space it inhabits.

Keywords: Hongdae; indie music; Korean popular music industry; Seoul; space/place; youth

IntroductionSince 2007, there has been a significant increase in the popularity of local indie

music in South Korea (hereafter ‘Korea’). This music stands in contrast to main-

stream popular musics, namely K-pop, which have dominated the mainstream

since the mid-1990s and found considerable success in neighbouring Asian coun-

tries. Initially produced in the small clubs in the western end of Seoul, Korean

indie music has now generated interest overseas with some indie bands partici-

pating in music festivals and concerts in Japan (Despres 2010) and North America

(Saria 2011), among other locations. At a local level, a growing number of music

* This work was supported by the Korea Research Foundation Grant Fund by the Korean Government (MEST) (KRF-2007-361-AM0005).

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festivals (such as the Grand Mint Festival which also began in 2007) have featured

indie acts as headline bands. Most notably, Korean indie music and musicians have

found prominence with the broader public through film and television, where

songs are incorporated into television commercials, drama programmes and film

soundtracks, and ‘the indie musician’ is a common protagonist in plots (Tsai and

Shin 2011).

More than just a shift in public taste, the new-found popularity of Korean indie

music points to the changing relationship between the music industry, economics

and politics during the 2000s. In order to examine these shifts, this paper provides

an historical perspective on the formation and transformation of indie music in

Korea from its unofficial birth in 1996 (see Epstein 2000), to the 2000s. The aim

of this paper is to examine, in more detail, the socio-economic forces affecting the

rising popularity of indie music in Korea. It also highlights the specific, regional

factors behind that rise, as opposed to the more typical national-level approach

too often applied in an analysis of Asian popular culture.

This paper begins with a preliminary background of Korean indie music, fol-

lowed by a critical discussion of the association between indie music and place

in Seoul and the district of Hongdae. It then looks at the setting and larger

framework of the local indie scene in Korea and their more recent changes. In

particular, I will present a case study of the indie label Boongaboonga Records

and its associated singers and bands, including Chang Kiha and the Faces (‘Jang

Giha-wa Eolguldeul’) and Broccoli, You Too? (‘Beurokolli Neomajeo’). These artists

have, arguably, created a new musical aesthetic, both lyrically and musically, that

challenges assumptions about modern music in Korea.

It is never a simple task to define the term ‘indie’ in Western contexts, and the

problem is much the same in Korean contexts. ‘Indie’ is a highly contested term

and its meaning can vary considerably. For the purpose of this research, such a

definition should be flexible, inclusive, and determined by a variety of factors, such

as institutional practices, aesthetic orientations, and political attitudes. From the

mid-1990s to the mid-2000s in Korea, for example, there has been an informal

but clearly recognized divide between major commercial record companies and

smaller, ‘independent’ labels, commonly understood as ‘indie’ companies.1 The

musicians signed to such independent labels are generally referred to as ‘indie’ as

well. But this term holds further meaning, articulating a difference that encom-

passes a ‘DIY ethos’ with regard to such genres as rock and punk—an image which

1. As David Hesmondhalgh suggested, the relationship between majors and indies can be symbiotic (1999: 53), and there was a ‘major/independent collaboration’ in the 1990s UK context. A similar process has been taking place for Korean indies since the late 2000s, when some indie labels and artists have attracted interest from the major labels.

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starkly contrasts with artists from the major commercial record companies, who

are mass-produced by a ‘pop music machine’ (Russell 2008) or ‘K-pop machine’

(Shin 2010), and are mainly constructed idols who perform dance music (Howard

2006: 93–96). It is from this broad perspective that I approach the topic of Korean

indie music.

Background: the roots and routes of Korean indieShortly after decades of military rule ended in 1987, the early to mid-1990s

became a time when popular music and popular culture began to thrive in Korea.

The rock music scene was no exception and became especially vibrant; musicians,

music enthusiasts, journalists, academics, record collectors, and rock club owners

formed their own journals, magazines, and online discussion groups, which they

used to publicly discuss Korean and international rock music. After slipping away

from the public eye for many years, some veteran rockers (such as Shin Joonghyun,

Hahn Daesoo, Sanullim, and Deulgukhwa) capitalized on the newfound interest

in rock, and some attempted to revive their careers by staging comebacks during

this period. To aid this process, ‘classic’ records from many top artists were reis-

sued in CD format, reviving knowledge of Korea’s rock tradition and introducing

it to a new audience.2 Meanwhile, younger indie bands were forming a new style

of punk/rock community which centred around the small live clubs in an area of

western Seoul called Hongdae-ap (lit. ‘in front of Hongik University’), or simply

Hongdae (‘the Hongik University area’).

Contrary to the expectations of many rock music fans, this resurgence during

the 1990s did not endure. Although Korean rock found greater acceptance with

the broader community, it failed to maintain its momentum and was once again

commercially marginalized. As a result, the Korean music scene began to be over-

whelmed by teenager-oriented dance pop and idol bands, beginning with the rap

dance trio Seotaiji-wa Aideul (Seotaiji and the Boys) who had debuted in 1992

(E.-Y. Jung 2007). This iconic group became the model of choice for future teen

idol groups, including the five-member boy band H.O.T. (debuted 1996), and the

female vocal group Fin.K.L. (debuted 1997), to name but two.3 Sales of the classic

2. Once disdained as ‘representatives of decadent foreign culture’ or ‘druggies’ by official government and media ideology, veteran rockers began to garner respect as ‘the pioneers of Korean rock’. In particular, Shin Joong-hyun, who was born in 1938, received much attention and began to be hailed as ‘the Godfather of Korean Rock’, even by mainstream media. For further information about Shin Joonghyun in the 1960–70s, see Kim and Shin (2010), and for 1950–60s Korean pop/rock in general, see Maliangkay (2006). 3. For more information on popular music groups during this time, see Howard (2002, 2006).

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rock reissues and modern rock CDs could not compare with the millions of albums

and countless merchandise moved by this new kind of Korean pop (or K-pop, as it

came to be known), which began to dominate the mainstream.

As K-pop spread across Asia (as part of a deliberate export strategy by several

music labels) in the late 1990s, then greatly increasing in the 2000s, it became the

vanguard of the so-called ‘Korean Wave’, further reinforcing popular perceptions

of K-pop’s dominance (Shin 2009; S. Jung 2011). Therefore, it came as a great sur-

prise in 2008 when a simple retro-rock single ‘Ssaguryeo Keopi’ (‘Cheap Coffee’)

became a national hit. Singer Jang Giha (who prefers the Romanization ‘Chang

Kiha’) became a national celebrity, playing sold-out shows around Korea with his

newly formed band, Jang Giha-wa Eolguldeul (‘Chang Kiha and the Faces’). With

poetic lyrics that spoke to the then ‘youth of today’, Chang was able to connect

with younger generations and create new fans, many of whom had not previously

been rock or indie enthusiasts. The band was not an isolated success story. Around

a similar time, an indie foursome named Broccoli, You Too? released the album

Aengkol Yocheong Geumji (‘No More Encore’) to quiet, but significant acclaim. More

recently the indie band Gu-wa Sutjadeul (‘9 and the Numbers’) has found moder-

ate success but received critical acclaim with the release of their self-titled debut

album in late 2009. The songs by all of these artists offer poignant lyrics and sound

quite different from K-pop. Most importantly, their songs gave voice to a voiceless

generation—songs that were introspective, reflexive, bittersweet, and intellectual.

It is too early to say for certain whether this new wave of indie bands will

have a long-term effect on mainstream tastes and broaden the base of indie rock

until it flourishes. If, indeed, rock ‘has not died but has become more geographi-

cally mobile’ (Negus 1996: 163), indie rock in different geocultural spaces needs

to be approached anew and in greater depth, else we risk complacency by relying

on theories based on experiences elsewhere, not where they are currently taking

place. Accordingly, the next topic to be considered here is the relationship between

music and a sense of place. This is done with regard to two specific areas in Korea,

both in Seoul—the western area of Hongdae and the southern neighbourhood of

Gwanak. I will begin with Hongdae, the district best known for its indie music.

Locating indie music: Seoul and HongdaeIn 2003, Connell and Gibson noted that while the ‘domestic output from major cities

may be highly significant’, urban centres such as Seoul ‘have not been attributed a

“sound” in international mediascapes’ (102). Indeed, it is difficult to define the ‘sound’

of mainstream Korean popular music in any sort of way that relates to a certain

place, be it Seoul or another city. In fact, most songs played on Korean national radio

and television sound much the same as other western pop-rock music, but with

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Korean-language lyrics. The adoption and inclusion of western sonic material and

formal song structure can be attributed to the post-1990 period of globalization

(Howard 2002: 90), or ‘glocalization’ (S. Jung 2011: 77–80), when Korean musicians

began ‘borrowing musical sound and structure without considering their social and

cultural origin’ (Howard 2002: 89). Since this time, Korean popular music has been

produced with an eye on global styles, in a manner that is not dissimilar to other

popular music forms throughout East Asia, although to differing degrees.

Some scholars of Asian popular music have turned to alternative genres in

search of a connection between local sounds and geography. Eric Ma (2002), for

example, has looked to rap metal for links between this music subculture and the

Mong Kok area of Hong Kong. Yoshitaka Mori (2009), furthermore, has examined

the Shibuya-kei (Shibuya-district style) sound and scene that emerged in the early

1990s in metropolitan Tokyo. The research on Korean indie music by Stephen

Epstein (2000, 2006) and Epstein and Dunbar (2007), however, has been most

useful for this study, especially with regard to the examination of music from

Hongdae. It should be noted that none of these districts is completely dominated

by one genre or style. Mong Kok, for example, produces much more than just rap

metal, Hongdae creates much more than just punk, and Shibuya produces much

more than just Shibuya-kei. In all of these studies, the places associated with these

local musical styles are situated inside the city that is deemed the national cultural

centre, not outside of it. This suggests that the local distinctiveness of those genres

or styles is different from that of, for example, the ‘Liverpool Sound’ (Cohen

1994) or the ‘Seattle Sound’ (Harrington 2002), where an outside development

is seen as happening in response to and challenging the cultural hegemony of

the national centre (that is, London or New York for the cited examples). The

alternative Asian styles cited above are located within the metropolis—Mong Kok,

Shibuya, and Hongdae all belong to, but are different from, broader Hong Kong,

Tokyo and Seoul, respectively. These districts are fashionable or trendy areas of

their associated cities, and arguably represent the stronger traits of the city: they

are fluid and mobile, with streets of streaming people at all hours of the day and

night. Therefore, if the sounds associated with these places are to be regarded as

‘alternative’ or ‘subversive’ in any sense, it is not so much inter-city rivalry between

scenes as it is a delicate and abstract intra-city difference.

The geographical focus of this research, Hongdae, is an area to the west of

Hongik University, an education facility that is best known for its arts programs.

The term itself, Hongdae, is in fact an informal designation of a cultural space that

may be associated with the university but is not defined by it. Rather, it draws its

identity from the people who live or spend time there. It can be seen as an example

of one of the ‘new imagined geographies of musical life’ (Bennett 2008: 70) in a

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mobile metropolitan setting and active domain of social life. I argue that there is

no definitive relationship between the musical style of Hongdae and the space

known as Hongdae. This is, in part, because there have been no conscious efforts

by the artists and fans to connect the sounds with the place, but also because the

connection between location and musical diversity has only recently emerged in

Korea. When the phrase ‘Hongdae scene’ has been used by the cultural producers

and intermediaries based there, the meaning of that ‘scene’ is akin to ‘musical

scene’ as defined by Will Straw, that is, a

cultural space in which a range of musical practices coexist, interacting with each other within a variety of processes of differentiation, and according to widely varying trajectories of change and cross-fertilization (1991: 373).

Straw’s research does not elaborate upon the ‘material conditions of musical produc-

tion’ (Negus 1996: 186), which distinguish one space from another, and so further

explanation is necessary when applying his definition of ‘scene’ to Hongdae. At first

glance, Hongdae may seem like any other homogenized consumerist area dotting

metropolitan Seoul. Upon closer inspection, however, one can find characteristics

which set Hongdae apart. Its proximity to Hongik University has been noteworthy

in the development of an artistic community in the area, and this has been comple-

mented by the neighbouring community of Sinchon: another university district that

was a hotbed for underground music and student culture in the 1970s and 1980s

(Howard 2006: 89) which began to be commercialized in the 1990s.

What most distinguishes Hongdae from other districts is the live music

venues, record labels, rehearsal rooms, record stores and instrument shops that

have thrived since the mid-1990s. There are also numerous shops, pubs, cafes, art

galleries, restaurants, and informal hangout locations which function as meeting

places for those involved in the area’s cultural practices and activities, many of

which are owned and operated by these people as well. Hongdae does not so

much signify a fixed, bound place for community-based cultural production and

consumption as much as act as a flexible space for communication networks,

information flows, and collaborative creativities to flourish. In short, the central

agents in the Hongdae scene are professional cultural elites that are endowed with

a kind of ‘subcultural capital’ (Thornton 1996).

The development of Korean indie: mid-1990s to early 2000sAs I have stated above, the early and the mid-1990s in Korea was an era of optimism

and hope, encouraged by high economic growth as well as political democratiza-

tion and cultural liberalization. It was within this climate that the terminology,

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ideology and attitude of all things ‘indie’ began to develop in Korea, which was

comparatively late compared with other countries around the world. Contempo-

rary forms of Anglophone pop/rock styles were the main sources of inspiration

for these emerging Korean indie bands, and this music starkly contrasted with

mainstream Korean pop, which strongly referenced American R&B and Japanese

idol (aidoru) music. The scene began to grow when the bands found support from

local critics and enthusiasts, and infrastructure and a critical mass began to form

in the Hongdae area.

One of the pivotal events in the early indie scene was held in 1995 at a small

club named Drug in Hongdae. Titled A Tribute Concert for Kurt Cobain, the event

was held as a mark of respect to the Nirvana singer/songwriter who had died the

previous year, and it attracted young people who were fans of the grunge sound

and who were also, I argue, dissatisfied with the mainstream K-pop of the time.

Through the popularity of this event, Drug and several other live clubs in the area

became hotspots for indie bands and their fans. Once a steady number of indie

bands emerged in the scene, musical events dedicated to indie were intermittently

held; these included small-scale festivals, band nights at local venues, and DIY

records releases for albums that bypassed Korea’s mainstream distribution net-

works. Although these events were viewed and represented as subcultural rebel-

lion by the mainstream media, they did not arouse any significant moral panic.

Rather, they were welcomed as a component of the new generation’s culture

(K. Lee 2006). Indie bands may have been agents of cultural and creative change,

but they were also comprised of harmless misfits. The first generation of Korean

punk bands were, for example, largely youth from middle-class families who had

adopted a rebellious clothing style and attitude.4

The culture of Korea has changed significantly from 1998 onward when the

effects of the Asian financial crisis were felt throughout the nation and, as a

consequence, society restructured to reflect a neo-liberal ideal. There was also an

ideological shift which encouraged a sense of competitiveness in Korea that super-

seded creativity. Serious social problems were widespread: social polarization, a

collapse of the middle class, the casualization of labour, employment instability,

the disintegration of the family, and more. The economic boom in information

and communication technology during the early 2000s seemed promising, but

this growth was not steady. In reality, a side effect of Korea’s economic success

was that conditions for young people worsened. The younger generation became

victims of the restructuring process, with many becoming freeters (a Japanese

4. For further discussion about the punk scene in Korea during the 1990s, see Epstein (2000), who notes this was a successful era for many punk bands.

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term referring to young people who are under- or unemployed or are freelance

and who struggled make ends meet), and youth unemployment became a serious

social problem, of which there is still no clear solution.5

The Korean music industry was also suffering during these years of social and

economic change. The saturation of teenage pop music in the market, coupled

with the decreased buying-power of teenagers due to the economic crisis, contrib-

uted to the rapid decline of the music industry in the 2000s. Moreover, the effects

of the digitization of music, file-sharing and music piracy—all of which was fuelled

by the spread of high-speed internet throughout Korea—was disastrous for the

artists and creative workers in the industry (J.-Y. Lee 2009: 492). All of these factors

combined to push the development of what was known as ‘total entertainment

companies’: highly-successful businesses which created, marketed and managed

multi-purpose music stars who had additional endorsement contracts to ensure

widespread cross-promotion. This situation, whereby ‘the rich get richer, and the

poor get poorer’, left little space for indie music to flourish in Korea’s music indus-

try. Indie bands struggled through a lack of financial support and decreased album

sales. In order to survive, some ‘went mainstream’ (in that they began following

the conventions of mainstream Korean popular music models), while other indie

bands defiantly retained their ethos and identity (as skinheads, shoegazers, etc.)

but with little hope of breaking through to wider audiences.

The live performance scene also suffered. By the mid-2000s, it was common to

see indie bands playing small clubs to small audiences of just a few dozen, even on

weekends, which was usually the most popular time for gigs. The lack of financial

security and the depressing climate forced many indie bands to quit playing music

and instead seek other livelihoods. The loss of revenue meant that many live clubs

began closing down, while others were run more as social enterprises than com-

mercially driven businesses. A few clubs even relocated to the fringes of Hongdae,

to escape the mass gentrification of inner Hongdae, which had occurred as a result

of the economic boom. Ultimately, the old charm of Hongdae was replaced by the

markers of hyper-consumerism—malls, chain stores and international franchises—

and what was regarded as the first wave of the indie scene dissipated.

The second wave of local indie music began to emerge in the late-2000s.

Whereas the first generation of indie bands and their fans had consciously dis-

dained or simply disregarded the commercial domestic pop/rock music, the second

wave began to scrutinize their place within Korea’s broader popular music land-

scape. This self-examination was provoked by widespread societal anxiety as a

result of neo-liberal globalization, and also an awareness of the failures of the first

5. Refer to Mori for a useful case study of freeters in a Japanese context (2009: 479–81).

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wave of indie artists. It led the musicians to pay more attention to the place of

Korean indie music within the historical legacy of Korean’s pop/rock music scenes.

During this time, Korean popular music recordings from the 1970s and 1980s had

become popular. Fans and record collectors from Korea and around the world

eagerly sought after original and re-issued albums, thus establishing a pop/rock

music canon.6 Music from these decades were of particular interest to performers

associated with the second wave of Korean indie, and among the most enthusias-

tic were amateur musicians who were studying at Seoul National University. The

following sections take a closer look at this second trend through a case study of

the development of a music scene on Seoul National University campus and the

related indie record label, Boongaboonga Records.

Campus culture: musical life in GwanakLike the Hongdae region, described earlier in this article, Gwanak is a zone of cultural

production associated with a university campus. Seoul National University, arguably

the most prestigious higher education institution in Korea, is located within this

official district in a mountainous area at the south end of Seoul (and is also named

after the nearby mountain, Gwanaksan). Whereas Hongdae is in a busy part of the

city, Gwanak is a working-class neighbourhood with little infrastructure that is far

from the metropolitan centre. The isolated nature of the area has resulted in a range

of unique activities, creative works and modes of individual expression, especially

inside of the campus perimeter where the students mainly congregate.

Up until the mid-1990s, this zone was strongly associated with student activ-

ism, political protest, and music. A song style called minjunggayo (‘the people’s

songs’), which was heavily influenced by American folk/protest songs, was per-

formed here by noraepae (‘singing troupes’)7 in the 1970s and 1980s, when the

6. Matthew Bannister has analysed canonism in indie guitar rock, noting that a canon is ‘a key means of stratification within indie scene’ (Bannister 2006: 79) and indie’s ‘complex (but often ignored) relation to “rock tradition” ’. What happened in the 1990s in Korea looks similar to the process of canonization in 1980s Anglophone contexts. However, a difference is also clear. The process of canonization of the Korean rock tradition, which had previously to then been largely disregarded or ignored, represented a big break from the previous local style of rock connoisseur-ship, which had valued only international rock traditions until the 1980s. Whether this process also caused stratification in Korea’s indie scene is difficult to determine. Through this paper we can see that canons have been both constructed and deconstructed through the battles over memory and the critical evaluation of tradition. 7. Me-ari (‘Echo’)—a singing group with a variable and flexible membership—played an especially central role in the minjung song movement since the group was founded in 1977. For more information about the history of the song movement and this ensemble, see Hwang (2006: 41–44).

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democratic movement was most active. Students were easily recruited into the

noraepae (upon the provision that they were ‘intelligent’), and the troupes provided

resources to support and encourage the creation of music. They would gather in

a room for rehearsals, and musical instruments and recording equipment were

handed down from seniors to new and junior members. Although not musically

sophisticated, the members of the noraepae possessed enough cultural capital to

at least attempt at becoming music artists.8

Not all music was deemed acceptable in Gwanak. During the 1970s and early

to mid-1980s, localized Korean folk music was preferable to rock and pop, which

were criticized for their more overtly ‘American influence’ (Hwang 2006: 43, 45).

Following the political democratization and cultural liberalization that began in

1987, rock music began to find increasing acceptance, most notably after the mid-

1990s. This led the way for changes in the culture of the campus song movement in

the early 2000s. Although most student musicians still preferred to be associated

with the term ‘folk music’, some pioneering amateurs based in Gwanak began

to experiment with an indie rock sound—they retained an attitude born from

the campus song movement while also incorporating elements of local popular

music. In the context of Korean popular music history, this convergence of ‘folk’

and ‘rock’ in student culture is significant, since the two genres had been divided

for a long time due to the political climate and student ideology.

In the early 2000s, the Gwanak campus area became a vibrant space for

new musical pursuits in folk/rock and other forms of popular music. Even so, it

is difficult to pinpoint a ‘Gwanak sound’ in musical terms. We can look to three

significant compilation albums for insights, as they feature music by amateur

Gwanak-based soloists and bands.9 These albums, produced from 2002–2004,

were released under the collective title Band Band Jjan Jjan.

Some of scene’s musical pioneers, who had played on the Band Band Jjan Jjan

recordings, began to venture off campus to play in the live clubs of Hongdae.

8. The noraepae had financial backing from the student union which approved of their cultural pursuits, including concerts, exhibitions and festivals—all of which brought together like-minded students with political agendas. A formal organization called Chukjehaneun Saramdeul (‘People who do festivals’, or simply Chukhasa), formed in 2003 and became the primary coordinator of university cultural activities, including on-campus festivals. There is some controversy regarding Chukhasa, and it can be argued that the depoliticization of student culture can be attributed to the organization. However, the cultural capital accumulated from planning and organizing cultural events proved to be beneficial when some of the Chukhasa-affiliated Seoul National University students graduated and relocated to Hongdae. 9. Chang Kiha contributed one track to the second compilation album (released 2003), calling himself simply Kiha. Yun Deok-won, the current leader and frontman of Broccoli, You Too?, and Song Jae-kyung, the leader of 9 and the Numbers, contributed one track each on the third compilation (released 2004).

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One such ensemble, Nunco Band (which formed in 2002 and debuted with the

EP Paneun Mulgeon (‘Sellable Commodities’) in 2003, was the first to experiment

with the post-campus Gwanak sound. The band was fronted by Kim Namhun

(a.k.a. Kkamak-gui, who had organized the first of the Band Band Jjan Jjan

albums) and featured the notable drummer Change Kiha. Nunco Band became

the cornerstone for the post-Gwanak movement, determining whether the

cultural activities that had previously taken place only within the boundaries of

campus would find success elsewhere in Seoul. Nunco Band was not immune

to criticism: it was often dismissed by the student movement as ‘not political

enough’, and even disregarded by some established Hongdae bands as lacking

in musical sophistication. Even so, Nunco Band forged its own path and actively

pursued an audience in Hongdae that would be receptive to its sound. Other

Gwanak bands were not so successful, and lacked longevity: over half of the

ensembles disbanded and many musicians quit playing music altogether after

they graduated from university, and no longer spent time in the Gwanak area.

In retrospect, Gwanak, despite all its cultural activities during the first half of

the 2000s, essentially functioned as a talent pool for Seoul’s broader indie music

scene, the centre of which was Hongdae.

Boongaboonga Records: a case study of an indie labelBoongaboonga Records (hereafter BGBG, as it is more commonly known) is a

company born out of Gwanak campus life, but only really came into its own during

the post-Gwanak music movement.10 In 2004, BGBG began operations by setting

up a home recording studio on Ssukgogae (‘Ssuk Hill’) near the Seoul National

University campus. With a desire to become self-reliant, the label released a finan-

cially independent album, titled Gwanak Cheongnyeon Pokeu Hyeobuihoe (‘Asso-

ciation of Gwanak Youth Folk’) in 2005. This album is considered its first official

release, and is also the last one associated with the musical identity of Gwanak,

and, as such, it showcased four artists from the campus area. One was Yoon Deok-

won, who appeared under the stage name of Green Tea Banana and would later

become the leader of the significant band, Broccoli, You Too? (as discussed later

in this article). Another artist was Song Jae-kyung, who adopted the stage name

9, and who would later lead the group 9 and the Numbers (after leaving BGBG

and setting up his own label, Tunetable Movement). After this album, BGBG’s

focus shifted toward cultural business activities outside Gwanak campus, and the

company moved its offices to the Hongdae area in 2005.

10. In fact, the word ‘Boongaboonga’ comes from a term used to describe dogs and cats masturbating.

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Before going into detail about BGBG’s business activities, some further back-

ground regarding changes to Korea’s indie music business in the mid-2000s would

be beneficial. The harshest period for the music industry had already passed when

BGBG formed in 2004, and new developments in digitization and production

greatly changed how the music business functioned in Korea. By 2004, the digital

music market had already overcome its initial chaos and was relatively stable.

Most unauthorized internet music distributors ‘went legal’, prompted by the

success of the digital music online stores set up by domestic media giants, such

as SK Telecom and Mnet (Lee 2009: 493). Korea became the first country where

digital music sales exceeded physical sales, showing how rapidly and completely

the music industry had embraced the digital revolution in music. On the produc-

tion side, the ready availability of home recording equipment eliminated the need

for bands to record in a professional studio. It became the norm for most indie

artists to make home-recordings cheaply and quickly, resulting in the release of

about 300 indie record titles into the market each year since the mid-2000s. It was

important for bands to promote these new releases through live performances

and, as such, several new live music venues were built in the Hongdae area and

greater Seoul, and a variety of music festivals began to emerge. As a consequence

of their increased record sales and widespread exposure through live perform-

ance, some indie bands and indie record labels became commercially successful.

For example, the two labels Pastel and Happy Robot reached a level of success far

beyond their humble indie beginnings by diversifying their business into areas

such as digital aggregation and festival organization. All in all, the division between

the major players and the indie scene was becoming more fluid.

We can view the development of the indie record label BGBG within the

context of the Korean popular music industry at this time. As a newcomer to

the scene, BGBG made a name for itself as a self-proclaimed ‘no budget (not

low budget) indie label’ with ‘sustainable entertainment’, and used the jargon-

istic slogan ‘survivally sound and sustainable DoReMi’ [sic], which was often

shortened to the acronym ‘SSSD’. At first, business was tough for BGBG. The

sales of their first two albums (namely Gwanak Cheongnyeon Pokeu Hyeobuihoe,

as mentioned above), and Cheongnyeosileop (‘Youth Unemployment’, which was

a side project of Chang Kiha and his senior friends) were poor, such that the

label nearly closed in 2006. During this difficult period, the BGBG staff and their

artists had many serious debates about business practices and the label’s direc-

tion, causing some people to leave the label.11

11. BGBG was not financially able to release another album until late 2007, which saw the release of the EP Aengkol Yocheong Geumji (‘No More Encore’) by Broccoli, You Too?

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In order to curb the crisis, BGBG developed three specific operational strategies

that did not require significant financial outlay. First, they produced and sold CD

singles using a more cost-effective method: copies were manufactured using a CD

burner and blank CD-Rs, then distributed to a few specialist shops. They referred

to the singles as ‘small-scale handicraft-manufactured records’, as opposed to full-

length albums, which they called ‘big-scale factory-produced records’.12 Second,

BGBG organized a series of coordinated shows, called ‘label shows’, where most of

the artists under the same label would appear on stage in the hope of producing

some synergy. This label show format was partially inspired by how universities

usually organize performing art events—in effect, a throwback to their Gwanak

days. And third, they put a great amount of effort into online exposure and pro-

motion. While such a strategy is not unusual these days, it was novel at the time.

BGBG’s goal was to boost personal communication with fans by using all available

virtual spaces, both domestic and international, including homepages, blogs, and

Korea’s various social networking platforms.

Despite many initial obstacles, everything changed when one of BGBG’s artists,

Chang Kiha, suddenly rose from obscurity to stardom. His breakthrough, which

completely surprised the staff at BGBG, was largely due to the fact that he had found

resonance with audiences via the internet. Using their own initiative, online fans

uploaded video clips they had taken of his concerts, festival appearances and TV

show performances, in effect giving Chang a major push of online publicity.13 This

translated into sales of Chang’s mini-CD, which was the label’s ninth ‘handicraft-

manufactured’ record. To keep up with demand, the staff had to burn approxi-

mately 10,000 copies of the single on CD-R from July 2008 until February 2009,

when Chang released his first full-length debut album, Byeol Il Eobsi Sanda (‘Living

the Nothing Special Life’). The album was recorded with the assistance of his newly

formed backup band, the Faces, and together Chang Kiha and the Faces were invited

to perform at numerous industry showcases events, music festivals and TV music

shows throughout 2009, until Chang declared that he needed a break.

12. The language used is perhaps reminiscent of Marxist discourse on the development of capitalism, twisting the words with humour and satire that echo the long history of student movements in Korea. 13. The three most important moments of Chang Kiha’s media exposure in 2008 were his performances at, first, the 10th Ssamzie Sound Festival on 3 October; second, the TV music show Hello Rookie at Space Gonggam (EBS) on 29 November; and, third, another music show Lee Hana-ui Peppermint (KBS) on 21 November. The second performance was released as a digital bootleg album and was circulated on the internet. In 2009, his two songs ‘Ssaguryeo Coffee’ (‘Cheap Coffee’) and ‘Dal-i Cha Oreunda, Gaja’ (‘The Moon Becomes Full, Let’s Go’) became the subject matter of a parody sketch by some famous comedians on the reality program Muhandojeon (‘Infinite Chal-lenge’), receiving the highest viewer ratings of the year and becoming a cult favourite for fans.

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Chang’s case highlights the significance of digital media to the indie music

industry at that particular time, as well as the role of internet fans in growing and

sustaining the popularity of a star. The website which played the most important

part in elevating Chang and BGBG’s status was DC Inside (http://www.dcinside.

com). It had started out as an online community forum space for digital camera

users but evolved into an online hotspot for all kinds of subcultural, rebellious

and anti-mainstream activities. The website, which is still in operation today, has

members who are called pye-in (lit. ‘geek’), which refers to one who fails or refuses

to get a regular job in fear of (or in hate of) the fierce competition pervading every

field of society. Pye-in are heavy consumers of all sorts of internet-based enter-

tainment but are not necessarily indie music fans. Chang Kiha was the first indie

artist to attain star status because of his fans’ unpaid, volunteer labour in produc-

ing and circulating user-generated content about him, such as uploading footage

from televised concerts. It was the grassroots efforts of fans that transformed this

underground artist into a cultural icon through the medium of internet culture.

This example shows how old media sources (such as television) and new media

sources (such as the internet) combined to greater effect in the age of so-called

media convergence. Chang was one of the main beneficiaries of this ongoing evo-

lution of digital media within the cultural industries.

After surveying the indie scenes developing out of Hongdae and Gwanak, and

tracing the development of the indie label BGBG, it is useful to now take a closer

look at the social and cultural relevance of selected indie songs from these scenes.

A question is raised: is it still possible to relate indie music to specific places, even

after the music was popularized beyond the boundaries of these locations?

Korean indie music: place and meaningOver this course of this article, I have made reference to the music of several Korean

indie bands, including Chang Kiha and the Faces, Broccoli, You Too?, and 9 and the

Numbers. I contend that these bands, among others, appeal to young audiences

in the 2000s through poignant and bittersweet lyrics that relate to the everyday

lives of the ‘hopeless’ younger generation. Some notable songs include Broccoli,

You Too?’s tracks ‘Janinhan Sawol’ (‘Cruel April’, 2009) and ‘Jol-eop’ (‘Graduation’,

2010), and 9 and the Numbers’ songs ‘Seokbyeol-ui Chum’(‘Farewell Dance’, 2009)

and ‘Kaliji Bugi’ (‘College Boogie’, 2009), among others. These songs describe the

plight of frustrated young Koreans in contemporary society, especially those who

are desperate to obtain a permanent job after graduating from university.14 Chang

14. Other songs by these artists are not explicitly about generational frustration, but are rather moving tunes with tongue-in-cheek lyrics about everyday life.

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Kiha has been hailed as the voice of this generation—the so-called palsippalman-

won sedae (literally, the ‘880,000 won generation’, the amount a low-paid casual

worker usually earns in a month and struggles to survive on), as young people

are commonly called in academic and media circles. Although Chang has been

reluctant to identify his music with this generation, the evolution of this discourse

was beyond his control and the association is now well established.

With regard to the musical content of these songs, it is important to note that

there are diverse influences from both domestic and international repertoires,

and these influences also come from a variety of historical periods. Even after a

cursory listen, one can hear the influence of American bands—including the avant-

garde new-wave group, Talking Heads, and the alternative rock band, the Flaming

Lips—in some songs by Chang Kiha. Similarly, one can hear stylistic similarities

between songs by 9 and the Numbers, and British groups such as Manchester-

sound exponents the Stone Roses and electronic dance duo the Pet Shop Boys.

The adoption and adaption of Western and local Korean trends and traditions by

bands such as these can be considered examples of indigenization or domestica-

tion. However, I argue that the process today is different from the glocalization

evident in Korean popular music up until the mid-2000s, which largely ignored

the importance of history and place with regard to local popular music.

In 2011, the influence of domestic repertoire from the 1970s–80s is as impor-

tant as international repertoire. By multiplying the amount of influences, sources

and references, this new music is considered neither an international genre with

Korean lyrics, nor a domestic genre with international references. I argue that it

is a new form of musical creativity that has radically changed the dominant logic

of popular music in Korea; it is a harmonious resonance of different historical

genres and styles, rather than a ‘typical’ surgical process of appropriation and

displacement. The new indie sound since the mid-2010s differentiates itself from

mainstream K-pop by refusing to try and catch up with the latest international

trends, and by that same logic it simultaneously challenges the global hegemony

of international pop/rock by denying it as the only fashionable source in popular

music. Overall, it can be said that this new sound was an artistic reaction to the

social crises and cultural depression instigated by rampant development and neo-

liberal globalization. In creating this new sound, these artists distanced themselves

from the hard-work ethos permeating mainstream Korean society as well as the

ideology of infinite competition brought on by global capitalism.

At this point, it is pertinent to consider the relationship between local music

and place: how are local places, be they Hongdae, Gwanak, Seoul or anywhere in

Korea, imagined through song? For Koreans, who can understand the language

of the lyrics, the connection is obvious, and even for those whose everyday lives

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are organized around such places, the music of certain bands plays a ‘sensual role’

in the creation and depiction of place (Cohen 1998: 434). The Korean indie case

is difficult though, because for the most part these musicians and artists do not

intentionally associate themselves with certain places. Rather, they conceptually

construct and rationalize their relationship, as similarly noted by Peter Webb

(2007) in his study of the ‘Bristol Sound’. We can ask, therefore, is there some-

thing unique in terms of instrumentation, song structure, chord progression, or

rhythmic patterns in this indie music that warrants calling it the ‘Hongdae Sound’

or ‘Gwanak Sound’? While an examination of these aspects could prove enlighten-

ing, a musicological analysis is beyond the aims of this article, and I will instead

briefly consider how lyrics create meaning.

The difficulties described above are part of the reason why Broccoli, You Too?

created and performed a song titled ‘Bopyeonjeogin Norae’ (literally ‘Universal

Song’), which is a song about any place and any time. The song begins with a

self-reflexive statement that declares it to be ‘one of those plain love songs’ in

which ‘neither the place nor the time nor the mind is remembered’. I find that

this song reveals something significant about the singer, Yoon Deok-won, who

started his musical career at Gwanak and migrated to Hongdae, and the way

he constructs music with a sense of place. Like the title of another song by the

band, it is a narrative about ‘boys and girls at the margins’, and it explains the

emotional state shared by the generation who were in their twenties during the

first decade of the twenty-first century. Hongdae and Gwanak are two real and

yet also imagined places that have produced certain songs according to the mate-

rial conditions available for music making. With the ability to articulate life for a

struggling generation, some ‘Korean’ indie songs have moved beyond the margins

to find relevance with a mainstream audience, with some achieving nation-wide

appeal.

ConclusionIn the past, academic studies of Western popular music and place have chiefly

focused on local sound at a sub-national level (in the city, town or village). By

contrast, research on Asian popular music tends often to disregard local music

in favour of ‘national’ sounds—as such all music from a particular country is des-

ignated according to the nation: for example, Japanese popular music, Chinese

popular music, etc. I argue that this approach is prevalent not only in Western

but also Asian academic circles. This article has taken a different approach. In

my case study of Korean indie music, I have shown that ideas of ‘place’ in Korean

music can, and should be, conceptualized in other ways—place in Korea should

neither be equated with the nation nor should it be detached from it. This means

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that the history of ‘national’ popular music in Korea and, arguably, other parts

of Asia needs to be re-examined through a deconstructive lens. Popular music

in Asia is not a single linear development of coherent sound, which is produced

and communicated by the national centre, but is instead a range of multiple and

discontinuous processes creating scattered sounds in, and from, different local

places.

While mainstream K-pop has become one of Korea’s largest exports through

globalization and regionalization in its own sense (cf. Shin 2009), it is gradually

losing its connection to the everyday lives of common people through what I

believe is the rapid and blind appropriation of global trends. More relevant are

the narratives about life in a specific time and place, which are created by those

in non-mainstream popular music scenes, such as indie music artists. At this

point in time, and in spite of K-pop’s status as the international face of Korean

popular music, it is Korean indie music that seems to have taken on the role of

constructing a sense of place over the last decade. Even under extreme pressure

from a neo-liberally restructured society and the remaining tensions left over

from the Cold War, the Korean younger generation is ‘living the nothing-special

life’.

Korean music critics and enthusiasts have often contended that Korean pop-

rock songs from the twentieth century were about hope amidst despair. As this

study has observed, indie musicians in the twenty-first century are instead singing

about despair amidst hopelessness. By rebelling against neo-liberalism and creat-

ing commodities from these emotions, indie musicians have forged a new path

for Korean music: they have created a new business model, built from a new

economic and cultural space.

Notes on Korean romanization

This article uses an adapted version of the revised romanization of Korean roman

letter notation, which is the official system adopted by South Korea. I have, for

example, included hyphens for a select number of words, in order to assist non-

Korean readers with their understanding of the original Korean script and grammar.

These include, for example, jol-eop rather than joreop for ‘졸업’, and Gu-wa rather

than Guwa for ‘9와’. With regard to the romanization of Korean names, I have

adopted internationally accepted spelling styles and have also maintained the

original spelling of a name as determined by that person or a band (e.g. Shin Joong-

hyun, or Chang Kiha and the Faces). All surnames precede given names, in keeping

with the established Korean order.

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