By Rut Labrada, Arts & Entertainment Editor
Three years ago, I was a senior in high school when K-pop fans began to debate the existence of a fifth generation of idols, only five years after the beginning of the fourth generation in 2018.
For those unaware of the intricacies of the K-pop system, since the birth of the K-pop genre in 1992–the debut year of Seo Taiji and Boys–the genre has gone through several “eras,” with each era being defined by certain sounds, music trends, and styles.
The first two eras lasted roughly 10 years each, but subsequent eras have become shorter and shorter as a direct result of the rise of micro-trends and the perfection of the “K-pop formula” by the powerhouse entertainment companies in Korea.
But as the years pass, and K-pop companies perfect marketing and musical strategies, has K-pop as a genre lost its creativity and individuality? Has it gone down in quality?
During my study abroad in South Korea this past summer, I took a class called “Music of Korea: From Traditional Music to K-pop,” led by Los Angeles– based composer and haegeum performer Jeonghyeon Joo, and the professor posed these very questions for discussion in our class.
With the rise in popularity of TikTok dance trends and popular sounds, it is undeniable that K-pop songs are becoming shorter, with simpler beats and lyrics, to account for shortening attention spans and provide easy promotional material for idol groups and singers.
Where the norm was once for a song to be roughly 3 and a half minutes, newer songs are closer to 2 and a half minutes, and they often lack a bridge, arguably the best and most important section of a song.
Furthermore, many newer K-pop groups lack the distinct group identities that older groups had.
If we rewind time to 2018, we’ll see that most groups’ songs were easily recognizable thanks to their unique concepts. Red Velvet was classy and elegant (with a bit of cultish horror and misandry), Aespa was futuristic and video-game-like, and Twice was cheerful and cute, just to name a few examples.
That’s not to say that there are zero groups today that have a distinct identity–many continue to follow unique concepts and styles–but there are noticeably less groups in which the idol members are given the opportunity to involve themselves in the music creation and creative processes.
Thus, many songs have become over-produced and formulaic, created just to fill certain checkboxes, like the catchy chorus or the easily replicable dance for the TikTok trends.
Even promotional materials that once were created by the idols themselves have become soulless and over-designed.
One of my favorite K-pop dance videos is BTS’s “Baepsae” dance practice, which opens with the BTS members playing a game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who would do the freestyle dance towards the end of the song, and all the members are laughing and joking with each other throughout the video.
The charm of this dance practice video, and other old dance practice videos, is that viewers could learn about the real personalities of the group members. The outfits for the dance practices were not carefully designed by a team of stylists, and each member hilariously looked like they were dressed for a completely different event.
Even the recording of these videos has become a completely staged process. Where before, dance practice videos were actual practices, now, they are simply another version of a performance video.
Gone are the days where we could see idols behaving as real humans, making mistakes during practice or wearing silly outfits, like RM’s pink hat and overalls in the “Baepsae” video.
Without dance practice videos, BTS member Jungkook’s iconic white shirt, jeans and timberland boots outfit would never have become an inside joke within the BTS fandom.
As an industry, K-pop has already had many controversies regarding the impossibly high standards that are placed on idols, as well as the abuse that idols have faced for failing to meet these standards.
For example, Wonyoung of IVE has received countless hate comments for simply seeming a little less than overjoyed while she was at an airport.
If we take away the few spaces where idols are allowed to truly be themselves without being reprimanded or receiving thousands of hate comments, we are actively building an industry that will overwork its employees and cause them to lose their passion for music as an art form, which will eventually drag down not only the idols, but the entire genre.
I’ve had enough of soulless releases and catchy TikTok trends. Going forward, I hope to see K-pop companies embrace the charms that drew fans to K-pop in the first place–the passion of their artists and the creativity and joy that come with imperfection.
The Spectator The independent student newspaper of Valdosta State University