RICEMEGATRON EXPERT: KOREAN SCREEN INSIGHTS: Excerpts from the History of Korean Popular Music [3]

New Trends are Born (1928-)

You can find the original article in Hungarian here →

In previous entries, we have already heard the voices of Yun Sim-deok ("Hymn to Death") and Lee Jeong-suk ("Jaramera"). However, the era was defined by a triumvirate of exceptionally popular female singers, making it essential to discuss the third:

Lee Ari-soo (1910-2009)

Lee Ari-soo (Public Domain)

Her birth name was Lee Eum-jeon (sometimes erroneously cited as Lee Bo-jeon). Her stage name, Lee Ari-soo, used a given name that is the Korean transliteration of the Western name "Alice." She was born on January 1, 1910, in the city of Kaesong. Her family was deeply rooted in the arts; her maternal uncle, the comedian Jeon Kyung-hee, worked for the Chwiseongjwa and the Joseon Theater Company. Her maternal grandmother, "Madam Jeon," ran a boarding house in Kaesong and was a patron of theater troupes. These influences led to Lee’s stage debut at the tender age of nine.

She attended the Hosudon Girls' School and later joined various "New Wave" theater companies, where she played leading roles in numerous plays. It was with the ensemble known as The Constellation that she first performed what would become one of her greatest hits: "The Ruins of Hwangseong".

From the 1930s onward, Lee focused on popular music. In 1931, she gained fame at Columbia Records with covers such as "Mary’s Song," "The Rhine," and "Resurrection." In 1932, Lee Ki-se, an executive at Victor Records, took notice of her and released the song "Hwangseong-ui Jeok" (The Enemies of Hwangseong; lyrics by Wang Pyeong, music by Jeon Su-rin), which later became immortalized as "The Ruins of Hwangseong." The record sold an astounding 50,000 copies, making Lee the best-selling female singer of her time.

Her career, however, took a sharp turn due to her personal life. In 1933, she planned to marry Bae Dong-pil, a student at Yonhee University, but his family vehemently opposed the union. After a failed suicide attempt by Lee, the parents finally relented, but on one strict condition: she had to abandon the entertainment industry forever. Lee complied, fulfilling her remaining contractual obligations by 1934 and then disappearing into the life of an ordinary housewife. She raised two sons and seven daughters.

Though she was remembered well into the 1960s, she refused all media inquiries. For a long time, even her children were unaware of her former stardom; she likely kept it a secret to protect their social standing during their studies. In her later years, she lived in Ansan with her eldest son. Known locally as the "Hanbok Granny" because she was always seen walking in traditional attire, she remained unrecognized by the public. For decades, the media believed she had long since passed away. When it was discovered she was still alive, plans for a documentary emerged, though they never came to fruition. She lived a long life, passing away in 2009 at the age of 99.

With this recording, we are breaking our chronological order for now, but we will return to it later. For now, let's enjoy the voice of Lee Ari-soo!

Lee Ari-soo sings "The Ruins of Hwangseong," 1932 (Audio via YouTube)

황성옛터

황성 옛터에 밤이 되니 월색만 고요해

폐허에 서린 회포를 말하여 주노라

아 외로운 저 나그네 홀로이 잠 못 이뤄
구슬픈 벌레 소리에 말없이 눈물져요

성은 허물어져 빈 터인데 방초만 푸르러

세상이 허무한 것을 말하여 주노라

아 가엾다 이 내 몸은 그 무엇 찾으려

끝 없는 꿈의 거리를 헤메어 있노라

나는 가리로다 끝이 없이 이 발길 닿는 곳

산을 넘고 물을 건너서 정처가 없이도

아아 한 없는 이 설움을 가슴 속 깊이 안고

이 몸은 흘러서 가노니 옛 터야 잘 있거라

The Ruins of Hwangseong

(Literal translation)

As night falls upon the ancient ruins of Hwangseong, only the moonlight is still.
It speaks of the sorrow dwelling within these remains.
Ah, that lonely wanderer, unable to sleep alone,
Silently sheds tears to the mournful sound of insects.

The fortress has crumbled into a hollow site, where only wild grass grows green.
It tells us that the world is but vanity.
Ah, how pitiful is this body of mine—seeking what,
Do I wander through these streets of endless dreams?

I shall go on, endlessly, to wherever my feet may lead,
Crossing mountains and traversing waters, even without a destination.
Ah, carrying this boundless grief deep within my heart,
This body drifts away—O ancient ruins, fare thee well.

About the song:

The word Hwangseong translates to "Imperial Palace Fortress." The song was inspired by the ruins of Manwoldae, the palace in the old Goryeo capital of Kaesong, which was razed by fire several times throughout history.

Musically, it is a slow-tempo piece in 3/4 time, composed in Yona-nuki minor. This is a pentatonic scale that omits the 4th and 7th degrees. This melancholic melody is considered the trademark of composer Jeon Su-rin, and it is precisely this minor scale that links the song strongly to the Japanese enka genre (which we will discuss later).

Contemporary accounts describe the audience receiving the song with thunderous applause and demands for encores upon its debut; eventually, it became a song that the public sang along with the performer. The Japanese colonial authorities attempted to suppress the song’s popularity, as the analogy between the "crumbled fortress" and the state of occupied Joseon was unmistakably clear.

Back to the chronology:

Kim Yeong-hwan, under the pen name Kim Seo-jeong (1898–1936)

Kim Yeong-hwan (Public Domain)

He was born in Jinju in 1898 as the son of a gisaeng. After graduating from Whimoon High School, Kim Yeong-hwan immersed himself in the world of film, an emerging new art form at the time. In 1924, he landed the role of film narrator (byeonsa) at the Dansungsa Theater, and this became the turning point that truly transformed him into a person professionally dedicated to cinema. Around this time, Dansungsa established its own film production department, whose first creation was the film Janghwa Hongryeonjeon (1924); the adaptation and narration for this movie were crafted by Kim, who was 25 years old at the time. (Source: Lexicon of Korean Film Directors) Ten films are linked to his name, for which he was responsible either for the adaptation, the screenplay, or the direction. Among them, The Story of Jang-hwa and Hong-ryeon (1924) reached an audience of 100,000, while Three Beggars (1928) reached 150,000, which represented an outstanding box-office success.

He was a versatile personality—also a violinist and composer—and the creator of numerous popular songs and film theme songs. The film Falling Flowers and Flowing Water, as well as its theme song, are strongly autobiographical in inspiration, as they tell the story of the tragic love between a Jinju gisaeng and a painter. The story, which also evoked memories of Kim's mother and his own upbringing, had already been staged as a play prior to the movie.

Kim Yeong-hwan was the period's premier narrator, film director, screenwriter, lyricist, composer, and violinist, and he was the most popular personality in the capital. He squandered money, frequenting entertainment districts by rickshaw. He lived a luxurious life, but with the rise of sound films, he could no longer find his place, became a drug addict, and died at a very young age of 38.

His musical influence lasts to this day, and his compositions remain enjoyable for modern ears. Through their uniqueness, they steered Korean popular songs away from the forced path determined by enka, the dominant influence of the era.

1. Hits Under the Influence of Japanese Enka

Up to this point, we have discussed songs from the colonial era that gained popularity as "covers"—retaining foreign melodies but featuring new Korean lyrics.

The first song that was entirely Korean in both its music and lyrics was released on a gramophone record in 1928. Titled "Falling Flowers and Flowing Water" (낙화유수), it was composed and written by Kim Seo-jeong, with the vocals provided by Lee Jeong-suk (though some sources attribute it to Yu Gyeong-i).

This song serves as an excellent case study for the factors that complicate the work of researchers attempting to map the musical landscape of the colonial era nearly a century later. Using the example of this song, I can demonstrate a few factors that significantly complicate the work of researchers who set out to map the musical world of the colonial era from a distance of nearly a century. Song titles show a fairly large degree of variability. Since this song was released on a record, it has an "official" title, yet it also became famous as Gangnam Song, taken from the song's opening line. If a song was sung by several people at different times, or recorded multiple times, it might have been given a different title each time. In addition to their official personal names, authors mostly chose pen names for themselves—and if they created in multiple fields, they might have had several. Therefore, for example, for this song, Kim Seo-jeong is listed as the composer and lyricist in one place, while elsewhere the composer is Kim Yeong-hwan—except that the two cover the exact same person.

Poster for Falling Flowers and Flowing Water, 1927 (Public Domain)

In the silent movie theaters of the 1920s, only the films were silent; the screenings themselves were loud with music and speech. The success of these events depended on three key factors, known as "samsa 삼사," meaning the three "sa 사": the projectionist (kisa 기사), the narrator (byeonsa 변사), and the musician (aksa 악사). While there could be multiple technicians or even an entire orchestra, there was always only one narrator, whose duties were multifaceted: at the beginning of the film, they provided the necessary background information; in the case of foreign films, they explained unfamiliar customs; and by delivering an almost theatrical performance, they acted out the lines they themselves had written for the characters of the silent films, and these were even occasionally released on narration records. Back then, the real star was not the actors or the director, but the byeonsa with the most ingenious, colorful personality and performance skills, whose name alone drew in the audience—it is in this light that we must appreciate Kim Yeonghwan's unparalleled popularity at the time. Due to the technical limitations of screenings at the time, the film reels had to be changed periodically; during these breaks, singers or theater troupes would take the stage to entertain the audience with songs and scenes written specifically for the films.

Falling Flowers and Flowing Water was actually the title of a film premiered in 1927. Kim Yeong-hwan wrote the screenplay and composed the theme song. (Note: The kMDB database attributes the screenplay and direction to Lee Gu-young, suggesting a collaborative or disputed origin). The song likely became a hit due to the film, leading to its recording. In the Danseongsa cinema, Lee Jeong-suk reportedly sang the song live, but the version on the film’s commentary album might have been recorded by Yu Gyeong-i, causing further historical confusion.

It is also noted that alongside the two better-known actress-singers, Lee Jeong-suk and Kim Yeon-sil, the name of Yu Gyeong-i has been undeservedly forgotten; despite being more active than them in terms of live performances. We know her voice from narration records, but she never made a solo album, and no identifiable photograph of her has survived.

The studio version of the song (we have already heard Lee Jeong-suk as the performer of "Jaramera" in the first part of the writing.):

Lee Jeong-suk sings "Falling Flowers and Flowing Water," 1928 (Audio via YouTube)

낙화유수 (강남달)

강남달이 밝아서 님이 놀던 곳
구름 속에 그의 얼굴 가리워졌네
물망초 핀 언덕에 외로이 서서
물에 뜬 이 한밤을 홀로 새우나

멀고 먼 님의 나라 차마 그리워
적막한 가람가에 물새가 우네
오늘 밤도 쓸쓸히 달은 지노니
사랑의 그늘 속에 재워나주오

강남에 달이 지면 외로운 신세
부평의 잎사귀에 벌레가 우네
차라리 이 몸은 잠들리로다
님이 절로 오시어서 깨울 때까지

Falling Flowers and Flowing Water

(Literal translation)

The moon over Gangnam is bright where my beloved once played,
But his face is now hidden behind the clouds.
Standing alone on the hill where forget-me-nots bloom,
I keep a solitary vigil through the night reflected on the water.

The land of my beloved is so far away, yet I long for it painfully.
A waterbird wails on the silent riverbank.
Tonight, the moon sets lonely once again.
Please let me sleep within the shadows of love.

When the moon sets in Gangnam, my fate becomes lonely.
Insects cry upon the floating leaves of the water lily.
I would rather fall into a deep sleep,
Until my beloved comes of his own accord to waken me.

The song deserves attention not only because it is the first truly popular Korean song, but also because it is musically unique, and based on its stylistic features, it cannot be classified into any of the current popular musical trends of that time. Due to its purity, many thought it was inspired by children's songs, which was further reinforced by the fact that Lee Jeong-suk sang children's songs. The lyrics are poetically inspired and multifaceted. The falling flower and the flowing water can be a metaphor for the passing of time, or even for the temporality of power, while the loneliness and the longing for the loved one are put into a slightly different light by the "remoteness of the country of my love," which could also be a reference to the fact that, expressed heavily in coded language, it is more about the articulation of the desire for independence than purely a romantic feeling.

The song also became famous as a "Gangnam-song" due to its opening word, which has an interesting music history and geographical implication. The literal meaning of "Gangnam" (강남) is "south of the river". In the 1920s, the "river" meant the much smaller Cheonggyecheon stream, which divided the historical downtown into two: Gangbuk (north of the stream) meant Jongno and its surroundings, which was the center of the traditional Korean population, intellectual life, and national culture, while Gangnam (south of the stream) meant the neighborhood of Honmachi (today's Myeong-dong and Chungmuro), which was the hub of the Japanese colonizers, modern commerce, neon-lit cafes, and Western-style entertainment venues. Thus, according to the slang of the era, the designation Gangnam-song also expressed the mindset of the modern, cosmopolitan, slightly decadent urban youth, in contrast to the more traditional, nationally-minded cultural line around Jongno. It is clear that all this has nothing to do with Psy's 2012 global hit; nevertheless, we can say that "Falling Flowers and Flowing Water" was the first "Gangnam Style", which was born at the very dawn of Korean pop music.

A shorter video, which likely shows materials related to the movie, as well as Kim Yeong-hwan, the creator of the song:

(Video via YouTube)

2. The Emergence of a New Musical Genre: The Future Trot

In the same year, 1928, when "Falling Flowers and Flowing Water" was released, another song by Kim Yeong-hwan was also issued on a gramophone record. The "삼걸인(세동무)," meaning "The Three Beggars / The Three Comrades," was once again a film theme song, the lyrics of which were written this time by Moon Soo-il; it was first sung during screenings by Kim Yeon-sil, but the record recording was made with Chae Dong-won, whose stage name was Chae Gyu-yeop.

Chae Dong-won sings "The Three Beggars / The Three Comrades," 1928 (Audio via YouTube)

세동무

지나간 그 옛날에 푸른 잔디에
꿈을 꾸던 그 시절이 언제이던가
서녁 하늘 해지고 날을 저물어
나그네의 갈 길이 아득하여요

장미같은 내 마음에 가시가 돋혀
이다지도 어린 넋이 시들어졌네
사랑과 굳은 맹세 사라진 자취
다시 두 번 피지 못할 고운 내 모양

즐거웠던 그 노래도 설은 눈물도
저 바다에 물결에 띄워 버리고
옛날의 푸른 잔디 다시 그리워
황혼의 길이나마 돌아 가오리

Three Beggars / Three Comrades

(Literal translation)

When was that time in the past,

When we used to dream on the green grass?

The sun sets in the western sky and the day grows dark,

The traveler’s path to take is far and faint.

Thorns have grown in my rose-like heart,

And thus, this young soul has withered away.

The vanished traces of love and firm vows,

My beautiful form shall never bloom a second time.

That joyful song and those sorrowful tears,

I cast them all away, floating upon the waves of that sea.

Longing for the green grass of the old days once again,

Even if it is a path of twilight, I shall return.

Why do musical experts consider this song a watershed? Because looking back at earlier popular music, the strong influence of Japanese enka could clearly be experienced in them. However, by the late 1920s, a new kind of music crystallized, which in its sound and emotional range was much closer to Korean ears and hearts. The change did not happen overnight, but Kim Yeong-hwan brilliantly tapped into the new direction, and in this song, he practically summarized the new characteristics. For this reason, this song is considered the beginning of a musical genre that unfolded subsequently, which for a long time did not even have a name, but later became a favorite of the domestic audience as trot.

3. Folk Songs Adopt the Rhythm of the Era: The New Folk Song

Alongside the popular songs appearing from 1910, which were mainly under Japanese musical influence, people naturally continued to gladly sing folk songs, but their constraints by tradition stood in contrast to the flexible adaptability of popular songs. Yet in 1926, something happened that carries significance for both film and music history. The silent film Arirang was premiered, which became the first patriotic cinematic work, and the song sung for the film's closing scene became the starting point for a new popular song genre. This genre was designated as "new folk song."

The copies of the film were lost during the Korean War, but a detailed description of its content survived, based on which it was remade several times as both a silent and a sound film. According to contemporary accounts, the audience was asked via flyers to sing "Arirang" together with the main protagonist, as this also became the title of the song.

The film song was first released on a record by Columbia in 1929; unfortunately, we know the name of neither the composer nor the lyricist. The complete song cannot be heard either, only a short excerpt of it, as this is a release of the film's narration record, with Yu Gyeong-i singing on it.

Yu Gyeong-i sings "Arirang", 1929 (Video via YouTube)

아리랑

아리랑 아리랑 아라리요
아리랑고개로 넘어간다
나를 버리고 가는 님은
십리도 못가서 발병나네

Arirang

(Literal translation)

Arirang, Arirang, Arariyo,

You are crossing over the Arirang pass.

My dear, who abandons me and leaves,

Will suffer from sore feet before walking even ten li.

Following this, countless further releases of Arirang were born with various performers, different lyrics, and different instrumentation. The most interesting part is that the song "lived a double life," because while it became an expression of resistance for Koreans, it became a hit in Japan as well.

4. Couplets Gaining Independence from the Cabaret Stage: The Manyo

The manyo, which appeared in the 1930s, cannot go unmentioned either; it is the collective name for a genre of popular music featuring humorous and satirical songs that stood in stark contrast to the melancholy of enka. As an example, let us listen to a popular song from 1939, performed by Kim Jang-mi. "The Good-for-Nothing College Student" satirically depicts and criticizes the arrogance of the "wealthy college students"—the highest elite class of the era—who neglected their studies and were preoccupied only with fashion and dating.

Kim Jang-mi sings "The Good-for-Nothing College Student", 1939 (Audio via YouTube)

엉터리 대학생 (大學生)

우리 옆집 대학생 호떡주사 대학생은
십년이 넘어도 졸업장은 캄캄해
아서라 이 사람아 참말 딱하군
밤마다 잠꼬대가 걸작이지요
연예나 졸업장이냐 연예나 졸업장이냐
아서라 이 사람아 정신 좀 차려라 응

우리 옆집 대학생 행수장사 대학생은
공부는 다섯 끗 다마쯔낀 오백 끗
아서라 이 사람아 참말 섭섭해
밤마다 잠꼬대가 걸작이지요
공부냐 다마쯔끼냐 공부냐 다마쯔끼냐
아서라 이 사람아 정신 좀 차려라 응

우리 옆집 대학생 붕어 새끼 대학생은
학교는 못 가도 혼부라면 한 몫봐
아서라 이 사람아 참말 기막혀
밤마다 잠꼬대가 걸작이지요
홍차냐 소다수이냐 고이(커피?)냐 보드라프냐
아서라 이 사람아 지각 좀 들어라 응

The Good-for-Nothing College Student

(Literal translation)

The college student next door, that hotteok-addicted college student,¹

Even after more than ten years, his diploma is nowhere in sight.

Give it a rest, my man, it is truly pitiful!

Every night, his sleep-talking is a real masterpiece:

"Is it romance or a diploma? Is it romance or a diploma?"

Give it a rest, my man, snap out of it, will you!

The college student next door, that cosmetics-peddling college student,²

His studies are worth only five points, but his billiards score is five hundred!³

Give it a rest, my man, it is truly disappointing!

Every night, his sleep-talking is a real masterpiece:

"Is it studies or billiards? Is it studies or billiards?"

Give it a rest, my man, snap out of it, will you!

The college student next door, that little-fish-brained college student,⁴

Even if he cannot make it to school, when it comes to dating, he does his part.⁵

Give it a rest, my man, it is truly mind-boggling!

Every night, his sleep-talking is a real masterpiece:

"Is it black tea or soda water? Coffee or delicate pastries?"⁶

Give it a rest, my man, get some sense into your head, will you!

Explanatory Notes on the Era's Expressions

호떡주사 (Hotteok-jusa): Hotteok is a popular, sweet Korean fried pancake. In the slang of the era, jusa (주사) referred to an obsessive person—similar to how the term was used for alcoholics or gamblers. Here, it denotes a student who spent all his money and time binging on street food instead of studying his books.
행수장사 (Haengsu-jangsa): Haengsu (행수) referred to fashionable perfumes, cosmetics, and pomades, mostly imported from Japan at the time. Instead of carrying books in his bag, this kind of college student either traded in cosmetic products or used them excessively to appeal to women.
다마쯔끼 (Damatsukki): Derived from the Japanese word tamatsuki (玉突き), meaning billiards. The text highlights that while he barely gets by in his exams (5 points), he is a pro at the billiards table (500 points).
붕어 새끼 (Bungeo-saekki): Literally "crucian carp fry" or "little fish." In the context of the era, it was a mocking term used for naive, easily seduced youths, or clueless young people aimlessly drifting along with modern fashion trends.
혼부 (Honbu / Honbu-ra): Derived from the Japanese honbu or the contemporary slang "hon-bura," meaning to wander around idly or chase girls in modern districts. It refers to the carefree, idle lifestyle of the era's café-dwelling playboys.
고이 (Coffee?) / 보드라프냐: Go-i (고이) was a contemporary phonetic corruption/imitation of the word "coffee" in the café culture, while bodeorapnya (보드라프냐) is a slang term derived from an adjective meaning soft and delicate, referring to western-style pastries and baked goods.

5. Everything That Arrived from the West: Jazz Songs

Alongside the appearance of Korean songs of Japanese origin with an enka character, the native trot initiatives growing out of them, and the new folk songs building on domestic folk music, jazz imported from the West was naturally popular in Joseon too, and by the late thirties, swing in particular. However, the genre and its designation crystallized more slowly; initially, any composition containing foreign (European, American, or Latin) musical elements was collectively referred to as a jazz song. Selected at random from the recordings of the era, here is the Korean adaptation of Benny Goodman's 1936 song "Sing, Sing, Sing," which was released on a record in 1939 performed by Son Mok-in.