DISCLAIMER: This is a critical analysis. Only read if you don’t mind diving, like, really deep.
I have a bad habit.
Like a lot of you, I would imagine, through listening to music for a handful of years and steadily acquiring a sufficient level of personal taste, I often find myself unable to avoid engaging in the comparison of two or more songs, albums, artists- you name it. I do judge myself for it a little bit. From what seems like a righteous point of view, every work, along with its connection to the artist, is its own unique item, a product of its own context and surroundings, a separate entity with a beginning and end, part of an autonomous attempt to deliver an experience from one soul to another. It should be the most respectful approach to not hold one up to the standards of another; to not subject that work or its creator to a very likely dismissal of their own characteristics or efforts when seen as a continuation or descendant of something else- shouldn’t it?
At the same time, the idea of originality in creation is itself a notion almost entirely rejected among the general consensus around what is considered good and bad art. And indeed if, through the years, we didn’t hold the results of our imaginations and inclinations next to one another for comparison and examination- didn’t group them together and separate them from one another alike- would there be ground for critical thought and, thus, what each of us may regard as progress yet around somewhat of a universal axis? Would art serve as a means of connection to us in the same way? One of the biggest aspects of the context that defines a specific piece of art or media is other works of its time, along with what came before its conception. It's safe to say that subjectivity and objectivity are in no case mutually exclusive in that realm.
Sometimes the objects of comparison on one side are not even real; the result of the trick question of “how could this be better?”, innate to critique, innate to any form of media consumption. The comparison takes place between an existing, tangible work and its conceivable better self, its perfect counterpart- always according to my personal biases- that “failed” to be realized. The funny thing- and bad habit in question- is when I find my conversations around “what could’ve been” in the case of a work that fell short in my eyes, turning more passionate than ones about “what is” in the case of something I can enjoy without difficulty. At its core, it comes down to loving art in general, and music in particular; a constant yearning for that perfect moment of alignment and clear communication. There is the urge to compare, analyze context and derive expectations, and when those are not met there is something about missed opportunities and- wronged fandoms’ favorite phrase, though valid- “wasted potential” that’s painful to witness; as if you’ve been robbed of a higher feeling, a stronger, not simply good but thrilling experience.
When BLACKPINK come back, it is a big event.
The four-membered South Korean girl group debuted in 2016 under YG Entertainment, modeled after “girl crush” pioneers 2NE1, the company’s previous successful girl group that disbanded in the same year, and marking the start of a wave that would take over the industry in the following generation. ‘Girl crush’ (which I also touched on in my ‘More sugar, please!’ essay), an English version of the Korean term “ssen-unni” (strong sister), as a name used around the K-pop sphere to refer to girl groups’ concepts with the vague common thread of aggressive, audacious and confident imagery and attitude, takes on quite a heteronormative meaning in its translation, implying the idolization of girl group members by their female audience in a way of desiring to be like them, which alludes to a contrast from the boy group fandom experience, considered to be spurred on by direct romantic attraction and fantasy.
From ‘Ssen-Unni in K-Pop: The Makings of “Strong Sisters’ in South Korea’ by Jieun Lee and Hyangsoon Yi, 2020:
According to Caitlin Kelley (2018), the notion of girl crush specifically in K-pop “functions more as a descriptor of both visuals and message, to varying degrees” and that one can tell a girl crush song through certain signifiers such as sports sweaters, fishnet stockings, less colorful palettes, and a fierceness in women sometimes “masculinized” in dress, haircut, and an attitude that steps “outside the expectations of hyperfemininity,” amounting to more “abstract ideas of relatability, aspiration and female empowerment.”
Practically, the rise of ‘girl crush’ represents a shift in the marketing of girl groups from male to female audiences as agencies began to recognize the latter’s buying power as stronger and devotion as more loyal, making them a more sustainable and, therefore, profitable option in the long run. The K-pop industry’s highly competitive nature calls for continuous innovation on the producer’s part. “Certain women performers tend to mechanically reproduce the ssen-unni image as an embodiment of difference but not contribute to formulating a different kind of discourse of femininity, resulting in performances conveying weaker and limited messages about what it means to be a strong woman”, moreover write Jieun Lee and Hyangsoon Yi.
The way the word “comeback” is used in the fast-paced world of K-pop differs quite a lot from its connotation in the western music industry, as contracts in the first are made based on time dedicated to the career as opposed to the latter’s, based on number of albums. Since idol groups, in that limited timeframe, are typically expected to release music at least twice a year along with completing the entire promotion cycles necessary each time, a comeback in K-pop mainly points towards conceptual reinvention rather than a monumental return of the artist from a period of hibernation probably spent working on their new music. It is an aspect to BLACKPINK which has come to be defining for the brand, the fact that though still a K-pop group at heart, their periods of absence from the music scene- whether intentional or not- seem to have always taken on the latter meaning, lasting far longer than most active acts’ and building high anticipation in the process.
Of course, it’s not just that. The same tactic seems to extend to a lack of output by the group beyond music in that meantime; BLACKPINK’s personalities are gatekept almost as much as their unreleased discography, seeing as their communication with fans tends to be very minimal, livestreams sparse and vlogs or reality shows- both popular ways of maintaining engagement with audiences in the K-pop industry- offer far from sufficient insight into their lives as people. What’s more, it is not rare for the group’s comebacks to be postponed further even after their official announcement, the “mishap” going as far as becoming expected during rollouts and feeding rumors of mismanagement by their company. Yet none of the above seems to be a dealbreaker for the fans, or detrimental to their current position in the global music landscape. Moreso, when they do happen, BLACKPINK’s returns easily become the talk of the town; groundbreaking events that can’t help but gather attention exactly because of their scarcity. Amidst the recurrent noise, the same controversies will get stirred up again and again, while the group’s releases are climbing up the charts, dethroning no1 names, securing one music show win after the other and breaking record after record.
A critical aspect to the usual discussions around BLACKPINK revolves around the reinvention part of the package which becomes, perhaps paradoxically so, a point of ambivalence when it comes to the content of the releases.
BLACKPINK does have a “flagship” sound, a distinct energy and song structure or at least one the group is widely associated with, largely attributed to YGE in-house producer Teddy Park- also a contributor to 2NE1’s discography: simple hook melodies that don’t hesitate to go a little off key for intrigue, heavily distorted vocal samples, trappy drums, a frequent use of half-time rhythm to accentuate the rap verses, melodic pre-choruses to show off vocals and one-liner choruses that leave the work to noisy beat drops, usually with the addition of the signature “YG party chorus” as an outro (a reinvention of the song’s skeleton production mixed into full upbeat EDM and accompanied by some form of unison chant that YGE groups are known to end their performances with). It’s loud, provocative, danceable, fun. The girls mostly rap and sing about being in control, confident in love, young, attractive, and increasingly about being rich: namedropping the luxury fashion houses they endorse and flexing their success on everyone doubting them, indirectly thanking haters for streaming their music regardless.
It’s not an invalid point at all. BLACKPINK songs are almost impossible to avoid. They’re caffeine shots in sound form, crowd-pleasing club bangers that will make you get up against your will, easily recognizable sonically and, lyrically, plentifully pop culture-referential and as catchy as they come. It’s no surprise how the BOOMBAYAH’s and DDU-DU DDU-DU’s ended up running so the DUN DUN’s and DOOM DOOM TA’s could walk, as more (girl) groups started to incorporate onomatopoeia- essentially synonymous with the ‘girl crush’ concept at this point- in their music as a trick to capture both Korean and international audiences at once, following BLACKPINK’s rise to popularity. This could be described as the most tangible manifestation of how the whole mechanism works: even against pejoratives such as “shallow”, “lazy”, “silly”, the music still makes its way to your head (“Straight to ya dome like / Woah, woah, woah” as the girls sing in 2022’s Pink Venom) and, as a result, your playlist, too.
BLACKPINK is currently the biggest girl group in the world, a success story that finds justification in various factors among others: there is the head start at an established company, the target audience’s evident support, the sexy, glamorous styling and aesthetic that suits the image of a global superstar act, the heavy and smart usage of English in their lyrics, the equally clever highlighting of the members’ performance skills in their choreography and unique sonic identity, as well as their international makeup (South Korea, Thailand, Australia and partially New Zealand) and English-speaking skills on an interpersonal level. For the general western public, predominantly exposed to popular music, BLACKPINK’s sound hits the golden ratio between familiarity and innovation, and offers just the right spice to anyone’s musical palette. For fans of K-pop, or more seasoned listeners, on the other hand, this may be a take that has slowly been losing relevance over the years, as with the recent appearances of more creative takes on the ‘girl crush’ sound and the concept’s novelty steadily wearing off, many would argue that BLACKPINK has remained formulaic, stagnant in what the group and their ever-shifting fandom has known for so long, their consistency lately taking on the negative connotation of repetition and redundancy.
Frankly, BLACKPINK is not the K-pop group you go to for diversity.
The BLACKPINK girls are not conceptual chameleons like Red Velvet (SME) or a group whose extensive discography intentionally reflects their progressive maturation like TWICE (JYPE)- two of their largely successful peers (whom I’ve also talked about previously here and here). An entirety of six years into their career as of now, the group’s catalog can barely count a little over thirty tracks- commercial jiggle for Samsung included- what could be, as a Twitter user funnily pointed out, equivalent to a single Taylor Swift album. As of 2022- with a few exceptions which we will examine later- nothing out of the vast majority of their tracks has strayed too far from the core of the descriptions above sonically or aesthetically, a recurrence that has only added fuel to the fire of conversations around whether the group truly deserves the crown in their possession. BLACKPINK’s discography admittedly suffers from an entirely overbearing amount of strict formula: a worn-out skeleton prettily adorned with the latest on the runways and a fluorescent spotlight shining on it. It doesn’t mean the songs are all identical or non-functional, but it does mean the margins have been extremely narrow in terms of what the group has had to offer. The discography is boring if you look at BLACKPINK as music artists. The distinction holds significance.
When you choose BLACKPINK you do so in search of an ultra-specific experience. Here are these four girls, each an ambassador of one or more elite luxury brands, drenched in money and glamor, living in designer, taking expensive trips to the world’s richest capitals, attending private parties and fashion shows, and networking with the biggest names in the fashion and entertainment industry. They are more U.S-focused and more individually promoted than any other K-pop girl group- in a way that resembles what is often referred to as the “Fifth Harmony syndrome”: the mere co-existence of solo artists on a stage, rather than joint effort of a group that should make up a performance larger than the sum of its parts. Personalities hindered and untouchability heightened, the BLACKPINK members put together the ultimate influencer fantasy under a music career closely aided by self-insertion.
A closer look at the girls- or the personas at the center of it all- will make the larger picture even clearer. Archetypes have historically been assigned to members of musical ensembles in the East and West alike, to render marketing more effective by catering to the target audience’s varying needs in more ways than one. Alongside the rise of ‘girl crush’ in recent years, and therefore the intensified demand to have the fantasy the industry offers suit a new demographic and help establish fandom ties along dynamics vastly different than before, K-pop’s archetypes when it comes to girl groups have shifted towards satisfying the female gaze first and foremost, with BLACKPINK getting on the wave earlier than most.
Jennie (main rapper, lead vocalist) is the “mean girl” or “princess”, both nicknames given to her by the general public, indicating her place at the very center of the group. She embodies the very essence of BLACKPINK (“pink” for pretty, “black” for savage), a fashionable baddie with a strong reputation; the Blair Waldorf type of “villain” turned hero. Jisoo (lead vocalist, visual, eldest) is a regal beauty with a commanding voice and attributes admittedly favored more by the Korean than the western public; the face of every female K-drama protagonist that exudes gentle poise and elegance. Rosé (main vocalist, lead dancer) is the high-pitched, sour candy-toned voice we associate with BLACKPINK’s music right away and the member most accessible to the international public, being a native English speaker; the girl-next-door with a feminine, indie guitar-playing sensibility who can turn icy when she wants to. Lisa (main dancer, lead rapper, sub vocalist, youngest) is more of a wild card, a- self-proclaimed- foxy dancer with a cunning smile and playful, tomboy-ish attitude one moment, endearing, girly mannerisms the next, who doesn’t shy away from bold fashion or fast rhymes. There is a certain level of ambiguity to Lisa’s persona that makes her the Carrie Bradshaw standing out among perfectly tailored characters- for that matter, Lisa has the largest Instagram following out of the four by a mile.
Within the core of the BLACKPINK experience, lies an essence of vicarious living which propels engagement forward. The unforeseen promotion of individual star power to a degree where it overpowers a music artist’s ensemble, easily results in the building of passionate solo followings behind each member through cultivated projection, and therefore strong buying forces, kept satisfied with releases of products related to the girls in the dry periods of awaiting a music comeback. This simultaneously empty and open space acts like a factory to a flow of content that ensures fandom preservation, where self-insertion narratives and imaginations flourish, while in-fighting is curiously encouraged. Driven by a perpetual effect of constantly going back and trying to “fix” things- adjust personalities to your liking, point out discrepancies between fans and the company, assign the group different imaginary concepts because “this is how it should be done”- the momentum is kept alive, to a point where it perhaps wouldn’t be illogical to assume this could be part of a calculated strategy.
I understand that this is a peculiar manner of talking about people and music business overall. The goal, however, is to neither condone nor condemn. Surely, the influencer fantasy doesn’t singularly apply to BLACKPINK (plenty of artists worldwide pose as the faces of luxury campaigns, share minimal information about their lives and release new material sparsely) and cases of behaviors mentioned above can be encountered in various fandoms, especially around the K-pop sphere, given the industry’s highly interpersonal character. Nothing is to say that they are “wrong” or deserving of disdain on the consumer’s part. On the contrary, that level of involvement- from a healthy and positive standpoint- can be a lot of fun regarding socializing and the exchange of ideas, as well as a gateway for creative expression (I literally made my own playlist encompassing the general idea of an album I would give BLACKPINK if I could, which you can check out here). If anything, this blend of deviation from the typical K-pop comeback schedule and marketing tactics combined with a persistent grip on unique K-pop fandom dynamics simply speaks to the phenomenon of BLACKPINK’s slow departure from the scene and propulsion into global stardom.
The lurking question of “is it really that serious?” can be provided a million different answers, which ultimately tread the line between subjective judgement and objective truth, the first concerning individual fandom experience and the latter an undeniable reflection of culture.
BLACKPINK’s appeal and successful breakthrough in the American and, therefore, the international market in the context of modern-day capitalism aligns with hip-hop’s rise to #1 mainstream music genre in the U.S in recent years, specifically the new generation’s flashy, braggy, sex-money-drugs, “turn up” commercial pop rap and trap that began dominating the charts in late 2017 and 2018. BLACKPINK’s 2018 single DDU-DU DDU-DU debuted at #55 on the Billboard Hot 100 breaking the record for the highest charting K-pop girl group song in the U.S at the time, with the group moving on to sign an American record label deal with Interscope later that year, indicating plans to expand their promotions on a wider scale. BLACKPINK’s hip-hop follows that same line of fulfilling the listeners’ need for escapism while kept PG-13, with a focus on fashion, swag, being the baddest, hottest, richest, most wanted and envied in the game.
From ‘How Blackpink Went From Strangers to Sisters to Pop Supernovas’ by Haeryun Kang for Rolling Stone, 2022:
“I don’t think hip-hop is just about rapping. Look at Rihanna, she could make anything hip-hop. Hip-hop means something different to everyone,” says Jennie, who loves Brockhampton (and just saw them at Coachella).
“To me, it’s the spirit of cool — vibes, swag, whatever words you can use. I think Blackpink’s hip-hop is something the world hasn’t seen before,” she continues. “We, four girls in their twenties from different backgrounds, are using -Korean and English to weave pop music with a hip-hop base. Maybe if the really cool rappers in America, who do ‘real hip-hop,’ look at us, it can seem a little like kids doing things. Our hip-hop isn’t the rebellious kind, but we are doing something very cool. What hip-hop is this? I don’t know! It’s just cool!”
“The history of hip-hop in Korea did not begin with rappers and DJs; it did with dancers performing to New Jack Swing,” write blogger T.K. Park and music critic Youngdae Kim in Vulture. “The fact that the cradle of hip-hop in Korea was the dance club has deep implications that can be seen to this day in mainstream K-pop . . . the identity of Korean hip-hop as dance music flowed into the mainstream K-pop idol groups, particularly through the producer YG.”
With its ambiguous undercurrent of vague ignorance towards hip-hop’s historic significance in the U.S, Jennie’s statement on what BLACKPINK’s hip-hop entails manages to make a distinction typically gone unacknowledged in the K-pop industry, where image often tends to outweigh substance resulting in juvenile, imitative approaches to rap, and the appropriation of Black cultural elements as costume. K-pop rap serves a thoroughly pop purpose, commonly used as a medium to add texture to your standard pop song or carry out a certain aesthetic of stereotypical, dumbed-down toughness and coolness, most of the time lacking the wit and charisma that makes even some of the sleaziest and shallowest examples of contemporary chart-topping rap good, not to mention its view of the rapper’s personal participation in the writing as optional. Although BLACKPINK’s endeavors don’t sit at the most uninspired end of the K-pop rap spectrum overall, these awkward moments are still present in their material, yet mostly overlooked.
You can be critical of the music you consume, without denying the good time it is, sometimes not despite its weaknesses but perhaps because of them. Gimmicky sounds, nonsensical lyrics and purely performative arrogance can still help someone feel lifted and confident even momentarily, which is why the package can be appreciated solely for what it is. BLACKPINK’s popularity, for the most part, doesn’t lie in the quality of their music or the artistry behind it. Their perceived lack of behind-the-scenes engagement and minimal effort to make it to the top is often rather praised, discography insufficiency seen as part of the achievement and applauded outright by predominantly the high fashion-worshipping, influencer and nepotism baby-revering demographic that is closely associated with their fandom’s brand- given everything explained above, perhaps inevitably so- as well as, I would argue, subconsciously by the capitalist value system instilled in all of us to a degree: a realist ideology that implicitly accepts that everything should be a business and thus, can justify “art”’s shortcomings when acknowledging its goal to make money, encouraging cash-grabbing tactics even more passionately when the “winners” are idolized. The hype is in the glamor, the myth, the luxury cloud where it's easier to escape for a while than having to grapple with the mundane truth of daily life. When Jennie and Lisa deliver rhymes about Chanel and Celine, they’re still talking about their reality in a sense, but the fantasy is the listener’s to indulge in. For the three minutes a BLACKPINK song is on you are that girl. Everything is cut out, all sparkle, all fierceness, no heart required. Predictably, that is also what highlights the other side of the coin.
“When we complain about music, what we’re really complaining about is other people”, writes Kelefa Sanneh in the book ‘Major Labels’, as mentioned in Mic The Snare’s ‘the one word that’s ruining music’ video essay. A few recent examples of popular music dragged through the mud on the side, which Mic The Snare points out, whether it is the nursery rhyme-sampling Twinkle Twinkle Little Bitch by Leah Kate, the house music co-opting Honestly, Nevermind by Drake, or the ad-adjacent Music For a Sushi Restaurant by Harry Styles, share traits found in the BLACKPINK music brand with the common thread of being reminders of the disingenuous nature of capitalism: how it couldn’t care less about the struggle of maintaining honesty behind art or getting recognized for the soul in it, while unashamedly favoring an uninventive, nostalgic hook, a well-established name or a catchy, generic melody. In BLACKPINK’s case that would also include the cashing in on pretty faces, teenage insecurity and the influencer myth to keep the bubble afloat. In many ways it could seem like BLACKPINK have taken the easy way out and it has worked to their advantage.
Anyone in their right mind, however, would know that is a far from sensible assumption to make.
It is difficult to refrain from repeatedly mentioning 2NE1 here- whose reunion performance at Coachella this summer was the group’s first together in over six years- as they deserve a moment of center stage in this conversation, their existence having played a big part in shaping the defining characteristics of BLACKPINK as we know them. 2NE1, in their 7 years of activity as a group, managed to become the faces of a unique sensation in the K-pop landscape that fans still refer to as “music by girls, for girls”. Whether with the gritty, club-shaking vinyl and metal of I Am the Best, the brutal honesty, neon paint and urban grunge of Ugly, or the sorrowful guitar and piano contrasting stylish pulses in Missing You, the four-membered ensemble brought something special to performance, stage fashion and girl group fandom that has been extremely hard to replicate since. Many may be aware of 2NE1’s initial marketing as “the ugly group”- in the words of member Minzy- or “group to laugh at”: an image, or rather projection, that may have been responsible for the room given to them to deviate from norms, experiment with outrageous styling and bold visual concepts, and tackle lyrical themes unprecedented at the time in girl group music. Despite the sexist undertones in the idea behind 2NE1’s creation- or more likely because of them- the group ended up exceeding YG’s expectations by filling in a void of unpolished, raw femininity in the industry, resulting in a large female following that felt seen and heard by them.
“I tried to make the YG version of a girl group like I did with 2NE1. But this time I wanted the girls to look pretty too, with skills.”, said YGE founder Yang Hyun-suk (known as YG), in a statement about his intention behind the formation of BLACKPINK. It would be naïve to not acknowledge how the description sounds like an attempt to please everyone by still capitalizing on the concept of female empowerment that eventually made 2NE1 profitable- now revamped in a conscious, admittedly watered-down, and particularly calculated manner- while catering to high-selling beauty standards at the same time and eventually even centering beauty in place of music. The flimsy foundations of BLACKPINK’s existence, held in place by years of grueling training and the resulting performance skills of the girls both on stage and off, constitute an unstable house to operate in. Nobody will try to argue any intellectuality or artistic complexity in their tracks, yet no one can deny the amount of practice and dedication it takes to carry out their career. And contrary to popular belief, the members don’t exactly lack creative control regarding their output.
via Rolling Stone:
Blackpink are involved in every step of the creative process, from conceptual brainstorming to final styling. They’re co-writers on smashes like “Lovesick Girls” and many others, as well as on their solo singles, some of which are massive hits.
“We don’t just receive a completed song,” says Jisoo. “We are involved from the beginning, building the blocks, adding this or that feeling, exchanging feedback — and this process of creating makes me feel proud of our music. If we just received pre-made songs, it would feel mechanical. I feel more love for the process, because we say, ‘How about adding this in the lyrics? How about adding this move in the choreography?’ ”
In addition, there have been instances where the girls have been mentioned or rumored to have participated in the writing and production of many of their songs, however without achieving certified credit by YGE. The only occasions where members’ names officially adorn the list of contributors in BLACKPINK’s catalog so far, excluding Rosé’s participation in two of her solo songs- 2021 electronic fusion On The Ground and acoustic pop Gone- have been 2020 single Lovesick Girls off the group’s first full length- four years into their career and “comically” titled THE ALBUM, after fans had been asking for it for so long- (Jennie, Jisoo) and 2022 B-side Yeah Yeah Yeah off the latest Born Pink (Jisoo, Rosé). Understandably, there are reasons why fans want to see the girls’ credits on more of their tracks beyond caring for them to receive their rightfully deserved royalties; “They’re super talented. […] one of the songs we co-wrote with them, and they contributed lyrics and melody, […] they know what they’re doing”, said One Republic’s Ryan Tedder- the Grammy-winning songwriter and producer also credited on Bet You Wanna feat. Cardi B off THE ALBUM- of his recent sessions with Jennie and Rosé and one of the three songs he contributed to creating for Born Pink, of which none made it into the final album. Moreover, songs highlighting the members’ point of view tend to be tinged with a vulnerability and tenderness listeners don’t typically associate with BLACKPINK. They offer needed breaks from the limited style palette of the group’s standard songwriting team and a layer of intimacy to their sound, present in their first steps with 2016 country-influenced acoustic pop B-side STAY, later revealed to have been co-penned by Jennie, as the most notable example, but barely there since the boom of DDU-DU DDU-DU in 2018.
That was the case with Lovesick Girls, THE ALBUM’s third single after How You Like That- one of the group’s most trademark tracks- and Ice Cream with Selena Gomez- a surprisingly bright and pastel summer pop song, though ultimately a little too radio-friendly and unimaginative in that sense. Lovesick Girls, although loud and unapologetic in its 2013 inspiration with none other than David Guetta leading its production and simultaneously reminiscent of 2017’s As If It’s Your Last- speculated to have been meant for 2NE1- in a way that lands the track in a nebulous soundscape closer to outdated than nostalgic, managed to take a slight detour from BLACKPINK’s streak of pompous, exclusivity-serving and formula-reliant singles up to that point, granting the group some missing accessibility and groundedness fans had been longing to experience from them for a while. The song shows the girls, to a certain extent, arriving to the other side of 2019 Kill This Love’s aggressive battle chants and marching drums, by centering its charm around their own bond and switching out red for purple, anthemic horns and military snares for vibrant synths and playful guitar riffs, and leather harnesses against vacant set stages for down-to-earth rooftops, convenience stores and smudged eyeliner against tulle skirts. It’s clumsy love amidst doom and, if we look further into it, perhaps the first symbol of a pattern regarding BLACKPINK’s full album rollouts: a different, experimental- on their terms- main single after a flagship pre-release used to re-establish the brand while breaking the group’s absence, and one that doesn’t aim at untouchability and being a hit, but rather just being; not a big thing, but simply the next thing and not necessarily representative of BLACKPINK the cloud, but of BLACKPINK the music artists.
Shut Down fulfils about half the prophecy. Born Pink’s main single, released exactly a month ago today, sees BLACKPINK trying their hand at the popular trend of classical piece sampling in K-pop by turning a small introductory segment of the violin verse in Paganini’s La Campanella into an ostinato to craft a heavy-tempo pop-rap track over its base, where the members take turns putting their haters and doubters in their place- once again. The song runs a little less than three minutes long, leaving a bridge and final chorus to be desired and thus, being perhaps a better fit for an appetizer rather than this album’s main course. As a track, however, it works. Shut Down features a chorus that all members can sing, most notably Jisoo- usually reduced to playing Rosé’s counterpart in a range that strains her deeper voice- confidently delivering in her range and some of Lisa’s best rap moments since debut. The song falls on the more interesting side of the spectrum of K-pop’s classical sampling endeavors, the choice of piece well-suited for the mark meant to be hit with its sticky, royal, devilish and a little macabre tone, incorporated in its original violin timbre effectively underlined by powerful bass, however limiting as to its potential given the sample’s short length.
Born Pink, as BLACKPINK’s second full length album, comprises four tracks in English and another four in Korean- of course with the occasional English woven into all the right places- out of which Ready For Love is an eye-rollingly formulaic promotional single for the group’s collaboration with battle royale video game PUBG Mobile, first released as an animated music video on YouTube in July of this year, and Hard to Love marks the first ever (surprise) solo track by a member under BLACKPINK’s name; a pretty, emotive, radio-friendly pop-rock number featuring arena claps and a couple of awkward lyrical moments with Rosé at the mic, which would seamlessly fit into her 2021 solo project, R. Yeah Yeah Yeah, co-written by Rosé and Jisoo, serves the purpose of offering another glimpse into the group’s softer “pink” side which it achieves, however not avoiding falling into the trap of the generic, filler disco/synth-pop track that seems to be the norm for every pop record released after the success of The Weeknd’s Blinding Lights in early 2020.
Typa Girl echoes classic bouncy and earwormy BLACKPINK sass and swag over a simplistic beat not redeemed by the mediocre lyricism and cherry-topped by the line of “I’m not like these other girls at all” that frankly should’ve been left in its pre-2010 era, while Tally aims to be a strikingly vulnerable declaration about the right to a private life as a public persona, reminiscent of THE ALBUM’s closer, You Never Know and, although a nice sentiment for the group, falling victim to the same problem of invisible input by the members for themes seemingly so introspective, as well as a lethargic and repetitive pace, only slightly compensating with Jennie’s heartfelt delivery of the chorus. A moment on the record I really enjoy is a rare case of a tearjerker in BLACKPINK’s discography, ‘00s-style heartbreak piano ballad The Happiest Girl, wherein Lisa’s singing shines like it never has before. And of course, there is Pink Venom, the album’s opener, as well as pre-release single and “another BLACKPINK formula track”, this time adorned by a couple of tiny twists like traditional string instrument touches and a surprisingly minimalistic and lowkey hook that echoes early ‘00s girl band sultriness. It’s addictive, bombastically produced and everything BLACKPINK is known for. It does the job well.
The elephant in the room that can’t be ignored here, made even more noticeable by the nostalgic elements and uncanny, almost clinical minimalism of Shut Down’s music video- featuring recreations of iconic moments in past BLACKPINK music videos, eerily empty spaces and no other faces present other than the girls’- is the question of whether this is the last of BLACKPINK we are bound to see, given the group slowly approaching the end of their seven year-long contract at YGE. The four members are set for a world tour until next summer and plans for a next comeback, or a possible renewal, as well as individual career inclinations are so far unknown. If Born Pink marks the official finale for BLACKPINK under YGE, that would leave the group re- or de-branding at the peak of their fame, massive amounts of money tied to their name which, should the girls decide to continue promoting as a group under another company, would most likely cease to represent them because of trademark issues. Worst case scenario? Unbeknownst to us, this is already the very last BLACKPINK record and the members are planning to go their separate ways once their remaining responsibilities are settled.
So “what could’ve been”?
BLACKPINK, since their debut in 2016, have defined a certain trajectory for artists- especially female idol groups- in the K-pop industry, which arguably wouldn’t look the same as today without their influence. They established an effortlessly identifiable sonic and visual experience with their distinct song formula and signature aesthetic, then steadily lifted themselves out of the scene and its high demands of constant output on both a music and content front, as well as ongoing experimentation, to find comfort in global stardom and the western show business’s affection for viral pop and luxury allure.
It is tempting to try and look at BLACKPINK singularly as K-pop artists; come up with an array of concepts and themes a girl group debuting in 2016 with all the fire in their eyes and an image that strikingly stands out among their contemporaries in the industry could explore, as their fandom gets bigger and stronger over the years, and even imagine what their discography could look like today if they were to go along with standardized comeback schedules- three full albums around the six-year mark, double or triple the mini albums and singles, attempts at subunits besides their solos, surely more writing and production credits for the members and perhaps even an overall sound that wouldn’t resemble their current identity at all. It also makes sense to think about what could’ve come out of a more approachable BLACKPINK, the likely difference in fandom ties and dynamics based on how much of the girls would be accessible.
But would this thought process be worth it when ideas around keeping up artistic sincerity vs achieving global A-list success in the current music business climate are more conflicting than they are compatible? How each follower or listener views- or complains about- BLACKPINK depends on their personal wishes and therefore ideas about music, life, culture and their intersections. Opinions may differ based on the priority they center around; On one hand, an issue of fair treatment, care and effort put into the quality of music, a message to be delivered that speaks to something true and necessary. On the other, the cloud; the oasis, the joy of letting go and the preservation of fleeting, yet satisfactory comfort.
I would love to hear where your heart lies.
Thank you so much for caring to check my words out! I’m so glad to have you here and I hope this was an enjoyable and informative read!
Comments are always appreciated. Feel free to reach out to me in any way you prefer. I would love to hear from you!
Relevant/secondary sources:
‘Subjectivity In Art’ by CJ The X
‘(G)I-DLE’s “TOMBOY” in the context of an anti-feminist presidency’ by Kpopcast
‘Carrie Bradshaw: The Original Influencer’ by The Financial Diet
‘The Culture Industry: How Capitalism Ruins Hip Hop’ by 1Dime
‘Classical & Jazz Musicians React: BLACKPINK 'Shut Down'' by ReacttotheK
Special shoutouts to mera and i-spy’s YouTube channels for the thought-provoking observations and commentary across their videos that helped shape this piece!