What You Missed in K-pop 2024: First Half Pt. 3
Or… aespa takes the mid-year ranking’s #1 spot. We also talk about album cohesion, meta-narratives, K-pop's break (?), and Charli XCX.
It’s the same as the previous two parts, but it’s also an over 2K word essay on aespa’s career trajectory, the current pop landscape, and whether it’s K-pop’s time to break, so it’s not.
Pt. 1, featuring the longer prologue and placements #10 to #7, plus an honorable mention, can be found here.
Pt. 2, featuring placements #6 to #2, can be found here.
#1 aespa - “Supernova”
The ongoing, collective critical reception of aespa’s career suffered its biggest blow, in K-pop terms, when this group was no more than a year old: the perfect debut project. Savage, the SM Entertainment quartet’s very first extended play which established their extraterrestrial, hyperpop-indebted sound backed by unhinged sci-fi lore, converted doubters to believers upon its later 2021 drop. Across six tracks, the mini album managed to strike a golden ratio between the enigmatic, “Frankenstein” novelty of its hit predecessor “Next Level” and familiar, girl group K-pop tropes, resulting in the stimulating listenability of its ultra-poppy yet futuristic and just-a-little-left-field production which came without a hair out of place. Aespa were there; they were new and different; they were hot. They would struggle to recreate that magic for years to come.
To paraphrase the “big fish, small pond” analogy, the blessing and curse, here, lies in nailing an art hardly anyone else is practicing. Behold, the concept album. “Gifted kid syndrome” or whatever you want to call it — come out of the womb doing one thing flawlessly and you will be held to that standard for the rest of time, whether you like it or not. Every subsequent effort that doesn’t match the excellence of the first will be called lackluster, inadequate, disappointing. In aespa’s case, it’s been called “incohesive” a total of 3.5 times post debut1, a jab at the evident-to-the-naked-ear lack of artistic vision behind tracklists, but also SM’s unspoken aim at the group’s sustainability within the music industry through the increasing employment of “easier,” playlist-optimized tracks (plus contractually obligatory ballads) that don’t recall the compelling complexity of Savage in the slightest.
The latter case (and its leading example, English-language, US-promoted, acoustic pop single “Life’s Too Short”), to the degree that it concerns the global general public, suggests that aespa’s renowned, experimental pop sound, which still rules over Korean title tracks, is internationally inaccessible. Which could’ve been correct in 2016, under the circumstances that rendered Charli XCX’s PC Music pivot with Vroom Vroom EP “pointedly uncommercial.” Thankfully, it is 2024 and the lime green, everydance-everypop-everysynth-fusion chaos of BRAT has earned the UK singer her biggest Billboard opening to date at No. 3 — which also happens to be aespa’s peak with pseudo-LP Girls (2022) — alongside boasting a Metacritic 95.
A question that’s been going around online spaces and, by extension, my head as of late: Does keeping up any sort of creative integrity have merit beyond recognizability for musicians, in an age where fans themselves criticize like industry insiders and strategize like board executives?
If the whispers of Chappell Roan’s name I hear coming from the back are anything to go by, then maybe… yes. It’s the year of pop girls being rewarded for following their unique vision, when that not only looks — aesthetically, stylistically — but feels — lyrically, relatably — authentic (alongside being well-produced). When talking about K-pop, this singularity aspect, usually encompassed in the phrase “meta-narrative,” is, in its scarcity, a glass ceiling of sorts. An often overlooked factor in conversations about the genre’s ever-speculated US break, the meta-narrative, as a device that drives public interest in pop acts, illustrates the story behind the person and the meaning within the vessel.
The harsher way to put it would be that, in K-pop, most authentic meta-narratives look roughly the same across the board: Ambitious teens with dreams to stand on a stage in front of their own fans work very hard under a universal system to eventually achieve their goals. Indeed, who doesn’t love a “dreams come true” story, especially when the successful person shares various traits with you? Who isn’t moved seeing their successful person who shares various traits with them tear up when reminiscing about obscene amounts of mental and physical effort that paid off and actually got them somewhere?
However, as much as a K-pop act’s come-up struggles wrapped in other empathetic parallels might mean to their devotees who, initially, likely gravitated towards them for aesthetic reasons, for the general public, a glimpse into that particular type of emotional weight can be an ultimately unpleasant reminder of the entertainment industry’s capitalistic nature, even as collective opinion shifts in favor of artistic development over finessed virality. There is relatability, and even some sense of aspiration which happens to correspond to what Meaghan Garvey describes as today’s pop stars being “as unlucky and confused as you and I,” but still “doing the work.” You’ll see K-pop intentionally amplify those themes via any means possible — variety and reality shows, customized, in-company interviews, tracks dipped in Disney-like, inspirational sentimentality like “Live My Life” off aespa’s latest album. Yet, what isn’t usually palpable in these displays of hustle and achievement is a distinctive point of view; a collection of personal brand elements that would transcend the idea of mere employment under entertainment.
The nuance comes in the veneer. Manufactured narrative, or concept, remains K-pop’s unrivaled strength, with heaps of creativity involved in its development. SM has been well-versed in this process, historically known for ushering forward-thinking ideas in the K-pop space even when a little outlandish, or idiosyncratic. In this context, aespa can be seen as the last bastion of the company’s futuristic branding and visual identity as envisioned by founder Lee Soo-man (before his official departure from it in early 2023), whose “delusions of grandeur” often reserved room for marketing plans that read convoluted or, in some cases, simply audacious.
Avatars, supervillains, and interlinked dimensions like the infamous “Kwangya” weave together aespa’s fictional, sci-fi universe; an accompaniment to the group’s Spotify presence that more than provides a lens through which their music can be perceived and analyzed, as story terms are frequently incorporated in song lyrics, rendering basic lore knowledge a prerequisite to understanding what the girls are talking about half the time. Besides being a fun sidequest for fans, though, the narrative framing informs the totality of aespa through sonically making its way into their discography. It became the very premise for their explorations of avant-garde, hyperpop-inspired sounds that immediately set the act apart from peers upon Savage’s release.
For the past year or so, notably after the ambitious 2022 single “Girls” which marked a sort of closure to the first hypothetical chapter of aespa’s storyline set in their interdimensional universe, it seems like SM has been cooling it on… all that. 2023’s MY WORLD EP saw the girl group’s adventure get transferred to the “real world,” where the members put on their Y2K-style miniskirts and crop tops and hit an American high school party as they sang about being “too spicy” in the same-named title track. It was a blast; a summer pop song for the ages, with all the light-hearted, coquettish attitude necessary to be touted as “a breath of fresh air” in aespa’s discography, and simultaneously the right amount of grimy bass, dissonance, and eccentric structure to still comfortably announce itself in it. The EP’s most popular B-side, Ariana Grande-emulating, trappy R&B tune “Thirsty,” could’ve belonged on any other girl group project of the same period and up to about five years prior. The music video, drawing stylistic inspiration from Friends and other classic, 2000s American TV programs, showcased a side of aespa stripped of “Black Mamba”’s, “Flat”’s, and “Synk”’s. It did great — and thus, the door to the real world was open. Interestingly, it was decided that it also had to stay that way for as long as possible.
It begs a question of why. Moreso when SM 3.0’s (the company’s new direction according to a post-Lee Soo-man, reassembled board) idea of realizing that aspect of aespa’s concept seems to have been less about a smooth transition from the undebatably flagship aespa song “Next Level” that would’ve maintained threads to what makes aespa… aespa, and more about progressively eroding the experimental elements that rendered the group’s music engaging in the first place. Let’s be fair, though. If the show-stopping because expertly pulled off, 3-in-1 song structure of “Next Level” that catapulted the act onto the main stage in 2021 sits at the wildest end of the spectrum of all aespa title tracks up to this moment, “Spicy” probably marks the tamest end.
Last November’s “Drama” — a smash in its own right, partly thanks to its viral choreo — was nothing short of bombastic; an endeavor into dynamic, operatic melodies underlined by spirited, discordant rap sections and femme fatale imagery that treaded new ground in a remarkably accessible manner. Today, the song finds itself at over 200 million Spotify streams higher than every other track on its mini album with the exception of “Better Things,” the (much) better English-language single of the group’s, released three months prior as a summer drop. Amusingly, the Drama mini is a summer project released in November, featuring half-hearted B-sides, whether mid or uptempo, that read like SM vault tracks repurposed with the scrapped prospect of filling out that May’s MY WORLD; toplines that don’t go anywhere, redundant instrumentals, shallow, bubbly cuts devoid of any signature aespa charm.
Armageddon marks aespa’s very first full-length album at the fourth year of their career, and we are gathered here today to talk about “Supernova,” the pre-release single on everyone’s mouth that has already entered the competition for Song of the Year 2024. We are also here to talk about the slightly less impactful but equally imaginative, high-concept, and electrifying titular track “Armageddon.” And lastly, why the album as a whole falls flat. ICYMI, the pattern here: aespa keep delivering singles against all odds. The odds in question? The gradual watering down of their longer projects by album B-sides sprinkled in like trinkets around the main order.
“Supernova” is an event. Arson, superstrength, dancing and floating amid hurricanes, are just some of the things our girls get up to throughout the song’s action-filled music video which, in its lively yet muted color palette, encompasses aespa’s glitzy, futuristic idea of the perfect summer appetizer. With production helmed by none other than Dem Jointz, “Supernova”’s “sampleception” involves Afrika Bambaataa’s iconic “Planet Rock” (1982) and, hence, Kraftwerk’s “Trans-Europe Express” (1977), weaved into an electro-house extravaganza that gives the impression of modernized 2010s SM girl group flair along the lines of Girls’ Generation and f(x). Its main body consists of four-on-the-floor pulses, and an abundance of diverse, technicolored synths, while the track breathes through stripped, gliding bass and slices of isolated vocals. And of course, the great highlight can be found in the Miami bass break on its backhalf, overlaid with an addictive, cheerleader-esque chant that gets its moment to shine there, before the song explodes into its grand final chorus. Full of contagious energy, icy attitude, and a generous coat of sugar, “Supernova” practically asks to be looped into oblivion; in itself, a necessary ingredient to the Song of the Summer cocktail.
Aptly to do with discovering alter egos, “Supernova”’s moody, apocalyptic, analog horror-inspired, and Rick Owens-wearing sister “Armageddon” presents the other side of the coin. “Armageddon” — a wordplay on the repeated hook phrase “Imma get ‘em” — adopts heavy, old school hip-hop rhythm for its skeleton, which it occasionally lets blossom into synthy, harmonic sections only to drop back into the grimy, dark ground, trapped in claustrophobic, tension-filled toplines. On first listen, this is a release of aespa’s whose eerie tone and swag-driven aura uncannily resembles the trademark style of labelmates NCT 127. On second, its subtle, feminine details, largely underlined by solo artist and co-producer SUMIN whose gentle, experimental R&B color is very much present here, carry the track over to aespa’s S tier. Understandably, it makes sense for this to be the moment in aespa’s career where listeners start raising a few complaints about formulaic song structures — a concern which I am personally inclined to overlook due to my fondness for stimulating pop music. Aespa’s unpredictability may be bordering on predictability at this stage, but its meticulous execution leaves very little room for criticism when it comes to pulling off multiple musical ideas around the three minute mark, and that is, perhaps, “Armageddon”’s biggest strength. When bridges are going extinct industry-wide, you just have to respect the hustle that is that and a dance break.
So we have two singles, one just that bit more brilliant than the other, both getting the full promo cycle treatment on Korean music shows and both taking TikTok by storm. The pre-release phenomenon has been the talk of K-pop town in fan circles for quite some time now, seeing as the industry seems to be increasingly adopting a model of putting the effort equivalent to piecing together two title tracks into a single comeback, to more effectively build anticipation and amp up streams and visibility upon LP releases. It’s not that the art of the album (especially the concept album) has ever been one of K-pop’s priorities in its less-than-30-year-old existence — universally acclaimed LP endeavors in the industry can maybe be counted on one hand, with the vast majority pulled from roughly the last decade. Still, the question on the minds of many is whether this new approach could be negatively impacting the quality of extended records through the disproportionate division of attention.
Looking to Armageddon for answers, it’s difficult to deny the concern’s validity. On the surface, out of eight additional tracks, only three could be considered to occupy the same aesthetic space as “Supernova” and “Armageddon.” Sensibly placed back to back on the fronthalf, yet unreasonably only after the two singles, “Set The Tone,” “Mine,” and “Licorice” all pertain to “Supernova” and “Armageddon”’s vitality and underlying grit, nevertheless in far more straightforward fashion. The latter two provide satisfactory album moments through Savage-adjacent, dramatic R&B and catchy electro-pop, while the should’ve-been-tone-setter’s prolonged atonal sections and redundant instrumentals render the song mostly forgettable. Armageddon’s second half gives way to the light-hearted disco-pop of “BAHAMA,” a cut that could belong on an imaginary B-side of last year’s “Better Things” as much as it could on Girls’ Generation’s August 2022 sugary anniversary release FOREVER 1, which featured songs like “Lucky Like That” and “Closer.” Follow-up “Long Chat (#♥)” is bouncy and melodic, yet mechanically so, as well as slightly clunky, while “Prologue” sounds like a track made around a decade ago; which could definitely also be the case for orchestral ballad closer “Melody,” placed just after Disney channel anthem “Live My Life” — aespa’s second YOLO-themed song in less than a year.
Perhaps the proto-aespa vision can survive through persistently immaculately-produced singles. Perhaps the issue has solely revolved around label finances all along, Savage was a lightning-in-a-bottle happenstance, critique is useless, and dressing room music is the future. An entertainment executive in New York could be losing their mind at the sound of “Long Chat (#♥)” in an H&M as we speak. Yet amid this talk about the mainstream rise of unapologetically eccentric pop, and the modern “YMCA,” I can’t help but wonder whether a loophole for K-pop’s organic break could be open. Personality undoubtedly is and will remain a hard thing to translate over to the West, let alone the unpacking of the nature of K-pop’s parasocial relationships and notoriously politically incorrect, behind the scenes shenanigans. But is there another form of authenticity to be found in that space? What is K-pop’s “truth” if not the collective efforts of multicultural groups of creatives working together in production studios and video sets to realize ambitious concepts through attention to craft and detail? What is aespa, with their international make-up, niche yet majorly current musical direction, and ingenuity-requiring concept, if not the perfect vessel for that truth? If there is any merit to this theory, I would like to believe they haven’t missed their chance.
Thank you for reading! This series consumed my entire month, but it was such a pleasure writing about music for you all. Always something to talk about in K-pop…
You can find all songs mentioned in the ranking in the Of The Moment playlist:
Comments are always appreciated! Feel free to reach out to me in any way you prefer. I would love to hear from you. Have a wonderful week!