Excerpts from the History of Korean Popular Music [10]

War Upon War – Who Said Pop Was Easy?

You can find the original article in Hungarian here →

The Jeogori Sisters performing. From left to right: Lee Jun-hee, Kim Neung-ja,
Lee Nan-young, Jang Se-jeong és Seo Bong-hee (Public Domain)

As mentioned in previous parts, the Japanese Government-General established in Joseon supported the development of the entertainment industry, which they deemed suitable for diverting people's attention from patriotic thoughts. Since the goal was the complete cultural assimilation of the country, strict control over the press, literature, and cultural institutions was operational from the very beginning of the annexation; nevertheless, light music compositions could still be released without hindrance for a considerable time. However, the Japanese had to realize that seemingly innocent melodies and lyrics were very much capable of expressing thoughts and feelings they considered undesirable. Although Arirang was banned as early as the end of 1929, censorship became increasingly stringent from 1933 onwards. From that point on, no songs that were nationalist, socially critical, or disruptive to public order (or classified as such) could be released at all.

The situation was aggravated by the fact that in the summer of 1937, Japan attacked China, marking the beginning of the Second Sino-Japanese War, which escalated across the entire Pacific region by 1941. Ultimately, following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, the United States also entered the war, turning the region into a theater of World War II.

Japanese Formal Entry Into Nanking (British Pathé, 1938, Documentary) (Video via YouTube)
(Video via YouTube)

In parallel with this, through a series of various directives and measures, forced assimilation began in Joseon; the population was forced to use the Japanese language and to change their names to Japanese ones. The use of the Japanese language became mandatory in films and theatrical plays, street performances by theater troupes were obstructed, and prominent figures of the entertainment industry were placed under constant surveillance, often being arrested and assaulted. Musicians who had studied in the West, particularly in the US, formed a distinct category; their freedom of travel was restricted, or their operating licenses were frequently withheld. Western music, especially jazz, was banned, and after a uniquely fluctuating period, from 1942 onwards, light music albums could no longer be released at all, only publications containing propaganda music.

Record companies were also severely affected by these changes. Precisely between 1933 and 1936, there had been a massive surge in record publishing, when the number of releases doubled from an initial 300, and sales reached one million copies annually. Stardom flourished, and light music talent competitions enjoyed immense popularity. This burgeoning process was halted by the restrictive measures, which companies sought to evade through various strategies. Since the geographical area of Joseon was not directly affected by combat operations, everyday life continued, even if subjected to drastic impacts. The demand for popular music could not be eliminated with the stroke of a pen; therefore, decreasing publication numbers following restrictions were followed by increases, and even though the production of war propaganda records was ordered, there was, unsurprisingly, no great demand for them among the local population, so the number of pop music albums rose again until the final ban.

Smaller companies could not survive this fluctuation, whereas among the larger ones, change was brought about by the fact that publishers backed by parent entities from enemy war nations were forced to withdraw from the region, and the companies were purchased by local interests, primarily Japanese. The remaining publishers also had to abandon their English names and adopt Japanese ones instead. Finally, in 1942–43, albums containing militant songs were still released, but from the following year, record publishing ceased entirely.

To circumvent censorship and restrictive measures, many strategies were devised; at the end of the previous chapter, "genre mixing" was mentioned, which was a clever tool for designating a song as belonging to a genre that was not currently banned. (For example, if a song was categorized among banned jazz songs based on its accompaniment, the melody and lyrics—which could be a new folk song or manyo—could serve as a basis for permission.) However, with record publishing rendered impossible, publishers had to look for alternative solutions as well.

Naturally, resistance songs existed as well. These were partly marches sung by fighters in the resistance movement organizing abroad, which mostly consisted of Korean lyrics set to Western melodies. In the territories under Japanese rule, these could not be sung; instead, artists had to opt for more nuanced forms of resistance. The references hidden within melodies and lyrics have already been discussed, but we also know of countless other "clever workarounds." For instance, it was recorded that in 1942, singer Kim Cheon-ae took the stage in Japan wearing a hanbok (the prohibited traditional Korean attire) and performed the banned song Bongseonhwa (Garden Balsam / 봉선화) as an unannounced encore, wearing white mourning clothes for the performance. The song was originally composed for solo violin by Hong Nan-pa, who poured the nation's grief following the failure of the March 1st Independence Movement into its melody.

(Video via YouTube)

It is known that record companies also maintained their own entertainment troupes, and when album publishing became impossible, the activities of major companies shifted to these troupes, as this allowed them to employ the musicians and performers affiliated with them.

The largest was the troupe of Okeh Records, which in 1938 assumed the name Joseon Music Troupe and was regarded as Asia's leading entertainment troupe. It was a massive troupe with 60 members, including such artists as Go Bok-soo, Kim Jeong-gu, Nam In-soo, and Lee Nan-young. Within the large troupe, smaller sub-units were also formed, two of which deserve special attention, as they can be called the first girl and boy groups of Korean pop music.

Joseon Music Troupe, an exclusive troupe of Okeh Records (Public Domain)

Jeogori Sisters and Arirang Boys

Both formations were established in 1939 and operated until the country's liberation in 1945. The Jeogori Sisters was formed from the troupe's prominent female singers under the leadership of Lee Nan-young, likely with a lineup that was not entirely fixed, but rather with several singers and dancers alternating at individual performances. As can be seen in the picture at the beginning of the chapter, their costumes were spectacular, always matching the mood of the performed song.

The list of known members: Lee Nan-young, Jang Se-jung, Park Hyang-rim, Lee Hwa-ja, Kim Neung-ja, Seo Bong-hee, Hong Chung-ja, Lee Jun-hee, Shin Canaria, Kim Baek-hee, Shim Yeon-ok, Baek Seol-hee, Ok Jam-hwa, Na Seong-ryeo.

Their popularity is demonstrated by the fact that they also performed in Japan. They took their name from the traditional Korean women's garment, the coat- or cloak-like jeogori worn in the street that also covered the face.

Jeogori Sisters (Public Domain)

Jeogori Sisters (Public Domain)

A recording believed to feature the Jeogori Sisters is Virgin Chorus, with Jang Se-jung as the lead vocalist.

(Video via YouTube)

We do not know much about the boy group, but from the picture, it appears to have been a cheerful ensemble consisting of instrumental musicians. Initially called the Rhythm Boys, they became the Arirang Boys in 1940. Among the members, we find several big names.

From left to right: Song Hee-sun, Kim Hae-song, Lee Bok-bon, Park Si-chun

In addition to those listed under the picture, we also find the names of Yun Bu-gil and Hyun Kyung-seop among the members.

Several similar troupes existed, but the following story particularly highlights the industry's entanglement with the patriotic spirit. When Victor Records became available for purchase, it was bought by Korean alumni of Columbia University, led by Seo Min-ho. They handed the record division over to the Japanese, but retained Victor's theater troupe, which, after several reorganizations, ultimately took the name Bando Opera Troupe. Seo Min-ho and his associates had a dual purpose with this: alongside securing the survival of their artists, it was only through the troupe that they could ensure their own freedom of travel. These troupes performed not only at domestic venues, but also in Japan, Manchuria, and—what was particularly important for Seo and his colleagues—even in Shanghai. Although they did not succeed due to the Japanese operatives shadowing them, their goal would have been to establish contact with the resistance stationed in Shanghai. The repertoire of these troupes consisted mainly of variety acts, with Bando leading the way in performing full-length, continuous works.

Pearl Harbour from Japanese POV, 1940s — Film 1015341 / Documentary (Video via YouTube)

The darkest period unfolded between 1942 and 1945, when these troupes also functioned as "frontline theaters," visiting Japanese troops in Manchuria, occupied areas of China, or even Southeast Asia to entertain and inspire the soldiers of the "Holy Army," or to boost morale among those working in the mines and factories of the industrial fronts. On top of that, they were expected to donate a portion of their earnings to state—mostly military-industrial—purposes. All the while, they had to endure seeing the themes of their native or Asian classic repertoire twisted to fit Japanese war ideology, turning their art into a tool for propaganda.

By this time, the majority of renowned performers and creators were forced to write and perform songs that glorified the Japanese and encouraged enlistment in their army. The amount of pressure required to achieve this varied from individual to individual. Naturally, some were driven by professional self-interest, while others broke under brutal torture. Even in the case of those who seemingly yielded easily, we cannot know what levers were used to hold them hostage; one thing is certain: the Japanese spared no means. The saddest examples are precisely those where the individual's entire body of work and worldview stood in complete contradiction to these forced acts.

In this writing, there is no scope to detail the prevailing social conditions in depth, but perhaps alongside what has been presented so far, the following facts speak vividly. Although the geographical territory of Joseon was not touched by combat operations, it constituted a target area for plundering resources required for Japanese military operations in every domain. While food rationing was introduced for Koreans, food supplies were requisitioned to sustain the Japanese population and armed forces. The surrender of metal objects and metallic household utensils was mandated, from which weapons were manufactured. Hundreds of thousands of men were taken to labor camps in Manchuria, Japan, or various Pacific islands, where they were forced to perform hard labor, mostly in mines. Ultimately, voluntary military service was replaced by mandatory conscription; the number of men forced into the Japanese army is estimated between 110,000 and 200,000, many of whom received kamikaze training as young men. The situation of women was no better; the number of those forced into becoming "comfort women" to satisfy the sexual demands of Japanese soldiers—either through various promises or simply by abduction—is likewise estimated at 200,000. Perhaps in light of this, it becomes easier to understand under what pressure those songs and lyrics were born that remain a stain of shame in the eyes of posterity to this day.

Since I have already presented the major hits of the era in previous chapters, I pondered whether it was necessary to quote anything at all from the militant/pro-Japanese music here. But when I heard the following song, a very peculiar feeling came over me. Before I write about this, let us listen to another song, which is important for deciding whether I am right.

The Pacific March (Taiheiyo March, 太平洋行進曲) is entirely a Japanese composition; its composer is Fuse Hajime (布施元), its lyricist is Yokoyama Masanori (横山正徳), and its performers are two famous opera singers, Fujiwara Yoshie (藤原義江) and Shike Fumiko (四家文子). It is important to emphasize this because it did occur—as in the case of the march Battotai—that a song adopted from the German fascists was sung with Japanese lyrics.

Composed to demonstrate the power of the Imperial Japanese Navy and its Pacific expansion, this march serves as an example of what a genuine, Japanese-composed, enthusiastic, victory-intoxicated military song sounds like. Its loud major melody is bright and powerful, with brass instruments conveying the conquering momentum as they march relentlessly toward their goal.

(Video via YouTube)

Now let us listen to the Korean song, whose authors are no lesser celebrities than composer Kim Hae-song and one of the era's finest lyricists, Cho Myung-am. The performers need no introduction either: Lee Nan-young and Nam In-soo. Its title is 25 Million Intoxicated (이천오백만감격), and its lyrics contain almost all the clichés and symbols of Japanese imperialism. For the sake of intelligibility to Koreans, the first two verses are in Korean, while the third is in Japanese.

The number in the title refers to the total population of the Korean Peninsula at the time, attempting to create the illusion that everyone was equally enthusiastic about conscription. They openly name the enemies to be destroyed by the conscripted young people, namely the war adversaries: the US and Britain. Mandatory Japanese emperor worship assumes a ritual performed with religious fervor on the part of Koreans as well. Propaganda sought to sell mandatory conscription to Koreans as a gift, as an equalization with the Japanese, taking it for granted that they would gladly sacrifice their lives for the emperor. 

(Video via YouTube)

Well, I can now write down what stunned me. This is a very powerful song, as was to be expected from the composer. It is the bluntest propaganda according to its lyrics, the main points of which are duly underlined by musical emphases. Obviously, due to the composer's exceptional talent, we are not listening to generic music, and perhaps it is precisely thanks to this that I can sense what I do. This is nothing less than a special audacity that I cannot attribute to anything other than a very conscious decision on the part of both the authors and the performers. In contrast to the major melody of the Japanese march, here above the bouncing, likewise marching rhythm plays a dark-characterized minor melody with rather strange melodic contour: the end of every line and melodic arch drops into the depths. Thereby, the minor key conveys not sadness, but a kind of portentous, threatening tragedy. We hear music of elevated emotion, but of a kind that I can least associate with festive celebrations; I hear it much more as funeral music fitting for a great hero's burial. It appears as though it were written with double encoding, which the performers convey perfectly: while fulfilling the prescribed propaganda task, it does so in a way that simultaneously mourns the victims of combat operations. I suspect it could not have been difficult for Koreans to decipher this message, since—as we have seen in countless examples in previous chapters—they were able to decode hidden messages in songs from the smallest musical references and half-words in lyrics.

I have described all this to convey how tragic I feel the situation of Korean artists was, which I could characterize with two adjectives: absurd and grotesque, though obviously many in other fields ended up in similar situations as well. The grotesque will become evident later; for now, the absurd refers to their being forced into a choice in which no good decision could be made: for if they did not obey the oppressors' command, they played with their lives, whereas if they bowed under pressure, their Korean contemporaries and descendants passed judgment on them.

As was to be expected, confronting and historically processing the colonial period triggered extreme emotions and dragged on for a very long time, perhaps not having ended to this day. Seventy years passed after liberation before the collection of militant songs was published as part of analyzing their content and music. With the demand for social cleansing, investigations were launched to uncover and list individuals who had collaborated with the occupiers.

(Video via YouTube)

The Research Institute for Collaborative Activities was established in 1991 and in 2008 published the Dictionary of Pro-Japanese Collaborators, which included artists. Generally speaking, collaboration was easily condemned, but uncovering the specific situation of individual persons painted a much more nuanced picture, as a result of which distinctions had to be made in their assessment as well. Therefore, during the investigations, they attempted to tier the degree of cooperation by taking into account factors such as activity, repetition, and systematic nature. Thus, among the following, Lee Nan-young was not included in the list, whereas her husband, Kim Hae-song, her later partner, Nam In-soo, and her brother, Lee Bong-ryong, were—the latter's status being modified following an appeal.

In connection with this, I found the following point of interest: As the head of Okeh Records—the only Korean record publisher operating during the period of Japanese rule—Lee Cheol naturally possessed extensive pro-Japanese connections; how else could he have operated the company? However, upon reviewing the publisher's activities, the aforementioned research institute reached the conclusion that both the firm and its associated staff (that is, contracted composers, musicians, and singers) were in a subordinate position relative to the Japanese. The recording of pro-Japanese songs occurred during the war period, when this pressure grew much stronger and resistance became nearly impossible. The reason for this is also to be found in the fact that during the occupation, and long after, a military/bureaucratic ranking system was in use: 갑·을·병·정 (Gap, Eul, Byeong, Jeong). This ranking derived from Hanja (漢字) designated a hierarchy within an organization or institution, as follows:

The Hanja-derived rank designations:

• 갑 (Gap) = Category "A" (highest)
• 을 (Eul) = Category "B"
• 병 (Byeong) = Category "C"
• 정 (Jeong) = Category "D"
  
  

This is an official, old ranking system of Chinese origin (천간 天干 – Heavenly Stems) used in contracts, rankings, military classification, and even school records. Since those belonging to Okeh Records did not even reach Level B in the musical hierarchy, belonging instead to Categories C–D, they were considered insignificant, rankless, and low-prestige. And this was the reason why the investigations ultimately concluded by taking their vulnerability into account.

United News 1945 — Liberation of Korea Archival Stock Footage (Video via YouTube)

The Second World War in Europe came to an end on May 8 (or May 9 in the Eastern bloc), 1945, and when I held a historical document in my hands thirty years later, my heart truly sank: it was a newspaper from that very day, consisting of a single page printed with giant letters that read: PEACE. I cannot even begin to imagine what liberation must have felt like for Koreans—bringing not only peace, but also the promise of a better world through freedom from Japanese rule.

In truth, the first chapter in the history of Korean popular music closed right here. It would be wonderful if I could write that pure ecstasy prevailed in people's hearts and that the country immediately embarked on a path to prosperity. In reality, however, chaotic years followed, and a tragic historical chapter postponed the moment when genuine transformation could finally begin.

The Japanese capitulation took place on August 15, 1945, but just a few days prior, Soviet forces had already advanced into the northern regions of the country and engaged in combat with the Japanese. American troops, on the other hand, landed at Incheon only on September 8, accepting the surrender of the Japanese in the southern part of the country the following day. The disarmament and repatriation of Japanese soldiers began immediately, though the relocation of the approximately 700,000 Japanese civilians residing in the country dragged on into the first half of the following year. What matters most for our story is that by the end of 1945, the Japanese military and colonial administration had ceased to exist on the Korean Peninsula. Yet this created a massive vacuum: the economy and public administration had to be rebuilt from scratch, while the Japanese left behind a region thoroughly looted and drained in every respect. As for the entertainment industry specifically: since almost all publishing companies were in Japanese hands, their withdrawal caused the complete collapse of the record industry. Publishers were not the only thing lacking; raw materials and technical equipment were entirely unavailable as well.

This situation is vividly illustrated by a story from the period, recorded by composer Hwang Mun-pyeong. At a meeting of an artists' association, the idea was raised to write a new song to welcome the liberating Soviet and American troops, as well as the independence fighters returning home alongside them. With lyrics by Go Ryeo-seong and music by Kim Yong-hwan, the composition was born under the title Open the Four Great Gates, referring simultaneously to the four gates facing the cardinal directions in Seoul's city wall and to a revitalized historical continuity. For lack of better options, the song was printed on handbills, and a makeshift recording was made with an hastily assembled choir in a crude studio. Lacking proper materials, the record was made of wax-coated aluminum, which could only be played at the radio station for two or three days before becoming uselessly noisy. Much later, this song was reconstructed, so we can listen to it today.

(Video via YouTube)

Manufacturing records continued to face severe obstacles. In 1946, Corona Records released a record in Busan, while in the capital, Seoul Records—established by businessman Lee In-pyo on the site of the former Polydor Studio—also issued its first release. These two records introduced a series of albums produced entirely with Korean capital, Korean technology, and Korean artists. The production technique was astonishing: due to the complete unavailability of shellac, old Japanese records were collected, their surfaces melted, and the new recordings pressed onto the liquid mass. The press itself was a converted oil press; using this method, they could produce about 20 records a day, which customers could acquire only through prepaid orders. Several smaller companies were also founded in those initial years, but due to the hardships, they quickly went bankrupt. At the same time, these record labels almost immediately began organizing talent competitions, discovering a succession of future stars. A crucial development occurred in 1947 with the establishment of Orient Records in Daegu, which possessed the only record manufacturing plant in Korea. The soundproofed room—insulated with multi-layered blankets and usable mostly at night—could only be called a studio with a stretch of the imagination, yet Daegu became an extremely important hub for popular music during the Korean War, much like Lucky Records, founded in Seoul in 1948.

A new technological breakthrough helped overcome this situation: in 1950, magnetic tape and reel-to-reel tape recorders appeared, providing the capability for direct recording. Tape could be spliced, edited, used repeatedly, and—representing an especially huge leap forward—the equipment was mobile.

The artists' gathering that had conceived the aforementioned welcome song had originally met to work out a new operational structure for stage troupes and to manage the assets of the Joseon Theatrical Culture Association. Naturally, this organization had also originally been in Japanese hands, and taking it over and drafting new regulations was likely no easy task, as Japanese centralization efforts had often created conflicting interests among artistic units placed under the authority of the very same body—in this case, theatrical and entertainment organizations.

During this period, the task of bringing popular music to the audience fell upon theatrical and entertainment groups. These troupes existed in close alignment with the film industry, and their programs generally consisted of a shinpa (melodramatic) first act followed by a variety-style second act. In addition to existing troupes, new ones were formed, though many proved short-lived. Out of the troupes that had also functioned as frontline theaters toward the end of the colonial period, 195 were registered in August 1945. Ownership and operation of the overwhelming majority of theaters remained in Japanese hands, setting off a peculiar game: attempting to reclaim them while simultaneously using them to prevent communists from gaining excessive influence in the theatrical world. Since the film industry also needed time to get off the ground, live stage performances—especially musical shows—became immensely popular. These generated substantial revenues, which—what a surprise—also led to tax evasion offenses.

Some dramatic troupes experimented with shortened or adapted versions of literary musicals and classic operas, meeting with more success in the capital and less on rural tours. There was even a troupe conducting educational propaganda to prepare for the upcoming 1948 elections. Tension between the two parts of the country grew continuously; although holding propaganda performances was technically forbidden, anti-communist musical dramas were nevertheless produced to counter the spread of communist ideology.

Popular music had suffered a unique distortion of its sources during the final years of the colonial period, as Anglo-American music was banned, whereas music from Germany and Italy—allied with Japan—was not. Following liberation, American music began to pour in with the presence of the 8th Army. Although belonging to neither category, tango music became widely popular. Previously gloomy melodies brightened and filled with optimism, and in parallel, dance halls began to sprout like mushrooms.

Seoul Night Song - Hyun In

In 1947, radio station HLKA established its own popular music orchestra, broadcasting its concerts regularly. The operation of AFKN (American Forces Korea Network) also launched across several phases. However, ideological tensions made it impossible to establish a unified popular music organization.

The friction between the two parts of the country eventually reached the point where they mutually banned each other's artists and cultural products. Along with this, a peculiar migration began among artists between the northern and southern halves. Some simply clung to their hometowns and families; among those who moved north, some were driven by ideological reasons—many of them theater directors and actors, fewer musicians. Concurrently, musicians with Christian backgrounds or those fleeing Soviet anti-religious and anti-property measures escaped to the South. The incompatibility between the two halves became increasingly obvious; the dividing line hardened, separating families and rending the nation in two. The initial sounds of joy quickly faded from songs, into which melancholy returned. It was then that Park Si-chun's song, with lyrics by Lee Bu-pung, resounded, and Nam In-soo heartbreakingly sang the yearning: Go Away, 38th Parallel!

(Video via YouTube)

가거라 삼팔선

아~ 산이 막혀 못 오시나요

아~ 물이 막혀 못 오시나요

다 같은 고향땅을 가고 오련만

남북이 가로막혀 원한 천 리길

꿈마다 너를 찾어 꿈마다 너를 찾어

삼팔선을 탄한다

아~ 꽃 필 때나 오시려느냐

아~ 눈 올 때나 오시려느냐

보따리 등에 매고 넘던 고갯길

산새도 너와 함께 울고 넘었지

자유여 너를 위해 자유여 너를 위해

이 목숨을 바친다

Go Away, 38th Parallel

Ah~ are the mountains blocking you, so you cannot come?
Ah~ are the waters blocking you, so you cannot come?
Though we would all go to and from the same homeland,
North and South block the way, a thousand-li road of resentment.
In every dream I search for you, in every dream
I search for you, I lament the 38th parallel.

Ah~ will you come when the flowers bloom?
Ah~ will you come when the snow falls?
Crossing the mountain pass with a bundle strapped to my back,
Even the mountain bird cried alongside me as it crossed.
Oh Freedom, for you, oh Freedom, for you
I dedicate this life.

Yet on June 25, 1950, the unthinkable happened: the North invaded the South, initiating a bloody war that reduced both halves of a country—still unable to stand on its feet after the devastation of colonial rule—to ruins. The North enjoyed open military support from China and secret backing from the Soviet Union (who drafted their strategy and armed them). The South was immediately joined, following a UN resolution, by the US 8th Army, which had temporarily withdrawn from Korea in 1948 but remained stationed in the region. The battle lines of the three-year war plowed across the entire peninsula, as illustrated by this map:

Roke / Wikimedia Commons (CC BY-SA)

The map vividly demonstrates why the fluctuating frontlines of the wartime period forced the center of the entertainment industry to shift to the southernmost regions.

One could endlessly list the names of musicians and performers who disappeared, fell victim, were abducted to the North, or in the worst cases executed—or in the best cases saved by Southern forces—amid the chaos of war. Here we arrive at the application of the other adjective mentioned at the beginning of the article: grotesque. For no other word can better express that grotesque twist of fate with which destiny "played" with the lives of many artists. Many who had been forced during the colonial era to participate in comfort performances for Japanese soldiers on the battlefields now found themselves in almost the exact same situation under a different banner: entertaining and giving strength while their own lives were frequently in peril. There were numerous victims of unexpected attacks; among these, a case of true horror was that of the married couple Lee In-kwon—who was performing with the military's cultural unit—and Ahn Gwan-seon, also a singer. During a performance, a bomb struck the stage, and the wife died before her husband's eyes.

Two emblematic songs of the Korean War were born out of tragic stories, the first in 1953. Be Strong, Geum-soon! (굳세어라 금순아) was performed by Hyun In, composed by Park Si-chun, with lyrics by Kang Sa-rang. The song deals with one of the most dramatic episodes of the Korean War: the Hungnam Evacuation (when a hundred thousand northern civilians fled from advancing Chinese forces onto American warships in the freezing northern port) and the January 1951 retreat. The man in the song was separated from his sister (or sweetheart) in the chaos of Hungnam and, upon reaching the southern refugee camp, thinks of her, trusting that she too survived the peril and that they may yet meet again. The song became an anthem for refugees; a TV series with a similar title and theme was produced in 2005, and the scene is precisely recalled in the film Ode to My Father (2014).

(Video via YouTube)

Miari Hill of Painful Deep Sorrow (단장의 미아리고개), released long after the war's conclusion in 1956, was nevertheless inspired by traumas experienced at the front. Miari Pass, located at the northern gateway to Seoul, was the site of the bloodiest battles when North Korean tanks pushed into the capital. Later, abducted Southern prisoners of war, politicians, and intellectuals were driven north in chains across this pass. The word "Danjang" (단장 / 斷腸) in the title is a classical Asian expression literally meaning "viscera torn apart by grief"—the expression of the absolute greatest pain.

The song is written from the perspective of a wife whose husband is dragged away barefoot in a freezing blizzard over Miari Pass, bound with wire by North Korean soldiers. In the middle of the song features a famous spoken monologue in which the singer tearfully addresses her husband, pleading for his return.

Behind the song lies the personal tragedy of lyricist Ban Ya-wol, who in reality lost his young daughter while fleeing over this pass during the chaotic days of the September 28 recapture of Seoul—and in the desperate rush, was unable even to bury her.

Composer: Lee Jae-ho | Lyricist: Ban Ya-wol | Performer: Lee Hae-yeon

(Video via YouTube)

The Korean War ended on July 27, 1953, with an armistice agreement; no peace treaty has been signed to this day. It claimed approximately one million casualties among Southerners and 1.5 to 2 million among Northerners; combining the Chinese, American, and other casualties from over twenty nations, the total could reach 3 to 4 million. The country lay in complete ruins, permanently severed in two. The world of popular music suffered severely as well. As we have seen previously, many industry professionals had died at a young age (life expectancy during this era was very low to begin with); together with those lost in the war, not many remained in the field, and even among them, few were still young. It was clear that young talent was needed—artists who, turning toward changing times, were already looking toward new musical directions.

In the next installment, we will take a closer look at the impact of the US military on Korean musical life.

Sources:

아리랑 보이즈

저고리 시스터즈 

기획특집/해방공간(1945∼50)의 우리 문화예술＊대중예술

내일을 지향하는 대중예술의 가치관 정립

한국대중음악자료원 설립 연구

대중가요

일제말 식민통치 침략전쟁 찬양 ‘군국가요’ 40곡 복각, CD로 제작

이천오백만 감격

'조선악극단' 마지막 증인, 강윤복의 일생

Yun Nak-soon's Blog

이동순의 가요이야기 1-28
http://www.yeongnam.com

가요계 이면사 - 중앙일보

 

Decoding Rain’s 2014 Album "Rain Effect"

An Attempt to Uncover Hidden Messages in the Light of the Background Stories

You can find the original article in Hungarian here →

(Author's screenshot)

In case the name does not ring a bell for someone:
Rain, whose real name is Jung Ji-hoon, is a Korean solo singer, dancer, and actor. Like many performers around the world, he was also inspired by Michael Jackson to choose a musical career. He debuted as a soloist at the age of twenty in 2002. He is among the most popular and respected artists across Asia, but he was also the first Korean performer to play at Madison Square Garden. Already in 2005, he received a historic Grand Slam shower of awards: he achieved a triple success by winning the most important MTV awards in the South Korean, Japanese, and Chinese/Taiwanese regions. The film-loving audience of the world could get to know him through the Wachowski sisters as the leading actor of Ninja Assassin (or, before that, as Taejo in Speed Racer), as well as the main character of Park Chan-wook's film titled I'm A Cyborg, But That's OK (receiving an MTV Movie Award for the former, while the latter film won the Berlinale Alfred Bauer Prize). Nowadays, several of his series can be seen on streaming services, including Red Swan (Disney Plus) and Bloodhounds 2 (Netflix). His most recent musical release is the track titled Feel It in May 2026.

The top row compiles Rain’s complete subsequent album discography (Source: music.bugs.co.kr),
while the bottom row frames his cinematic journey, juxtaposing his foundational early acting roles with his most recent work (Author's screenshots)

Let's begin our retrospective journey into the 2014 reality of the album's birth:

Rain's last album dated back to 2009, and the path leading up to it was also very interesting. Rain's musical world showed a peculiar transformation after he got out from under JYP's wings. Following his becoming independent—or rather, becoming his own master—already Rainism, but even more so Back To The Basic, was a resolute return to the starting point, which can be identified with the harder musical world of Bad Guy. The newer songs, occasionally already bearing Rain's name as a composer, clearly received a more metallic sound, often with guitar and drum bases characteristic of harder rock, though they preserved their richness in genres and styles. This was much more conspicuous in the sound of the concerts than on the studio albums, where at times the thundering of a serious rock band filled the space. One of the reasons for my curiosity was whether Rain would continue this direction, or if he could continue it at all?

Why? Because during the four years, the trends of K-pop changed as well, and no matter how sovereign a creator Rain is, first and foremost, the reality of the Korean entertainment industry is his lifeblood. And in that, interesting phenomena reared their heads. From the endless sea of cloying pop ballads—which started with the stifled voice of a dying swan and endlessly self-repeated, but without exception culminated in vocal soaring—and songs building on the "jump-around-rap-jump-around" schema that often carried the pulse of local festival music, those were able to stand out who either openly embraced the absolute brainlessness of this mainstream and subverted it in its own inverted way by deploying the full toolkit of Dada (e.g., Big Bang), or, sensing and riding the "rebellion without a cause" of the young beneficiaries of the consumer society, were able to give voice to this mood filled with suppressed, helpless rage in their songs (e.g., B.A.P.). Perhaps I do not need to write down that this polarized and overly generalized characterization does not need to include the top-tier representatives of the genre, since they possess the marks of sovereignty beyond the genre schemas. Along with all this, electro-music influences and artificial autotunes dominated the world of tracks, perfectly reflecting the musical imprint of a technologized society fabricated with electronic devices. It is a particular curiosity that, as a sure sign of the overproduction crisis, younger and younger "idols" dominate the field, which anyway builds on the emotional world of teenagers.

What can a creator do in this world whose entire existence and artistic image was built from the guilt of the bad boy who wants to reform and henceforth wants to serve the good, and from the motifs of "let's perform to the maximum because that is what wins its reward in the end," while his musical taste is rooted in the sensual, playful world of smooth jazz, soul, and R&B? Moreover, the ten years of a magical career now weighed on Rain's shoulders as an oppressive burden in the sense that everyone was watching with eagle eyes to see what this battle-hardened veteran—who is still terribly young, being only thirty-one years old, yet counts as a "grand old man" in the pop scene—would put on the table as a "big hit," especially after a two-year forced hiatus, with a thoroughly tarnished reputation.


The Military Incident and the Media Onslaught: Hero to Zero?

The other reason for my immense curiosity was precisely how Rain would pour out of himself that immense amount of disappointment and bitterness that he gathered completely unexpectedly—and in reality, completely unfairly—during his military service. Because I took it for granted that we would receive some kind of answer to these on the new record, since how else would a musician process the good and bad experiences of their life other than by singing them out of themselves, framed in music and lyrics.

It is also no secret that the release of the record can be compared to the turning points of the most exciting dramas: the moment arrived where the fate of the protagonist stands or falls. Therefore, with bated breath, I awaited the release time of four o'clock in the morning in our country, naturally as a "fan" who worries for Rain's fate, loves and respects him very much, but is not without criticism.

I must also recall the image we preserve of Rain from his last active days, back in the fall of 2011, before the military machine swallowed him up. We saw a performer standing at the pinnacle of a dizzying, decade-long career that started from the very bottom; fully aware of the value of his achievements, he occupied his literally manifested regal place at the top of the genre’s hierarchy during his final concert, burning this image deeply into the consciousness of the audience. At the same time, Rain, as always, unintentionally revealed his more vulnerable feelings as well—his fear that the two-year forced hiatus could destroy the results of all his struggles up to that point. And because he is a person blessed with extremely sensitive instruments, it was as if all his other senses beyond the five physical ones suggested some ominous foreboding, which provided an explanation for his hypersensitive state before his enlistment.

Unfortunately, his premonitions did not deceive him. After a year-long series of military achievements performed like a superhero, trouble struck, and a massive one at that, making it doubtful whether it would be possible to stand back up. Fate wove the threads in such a way that, precisely due to his prominent public role, Rain became the subject of a surreal story. In this story, political infighting, the ambivalent feelings of the Korean people regarding mandatory military service, the overheated patriotic expectations due to the de jure state of war, and the ineffective criticism of the incompetent, corruptible leadership of military affairs that gave cause for attacks all materialized in an incredible hype.

At the origin of this hype, the media positioned the most well-known subject possible, Rain, regardless of whether he could have had any role at all in the current aspects of the hype—yet they turned his name into a trigger word for the scent of scandal in the media. Yet, his offense was merely that during a few seconds of transferring from a car to a taxi, he did not properly wear the cap that goes with the military uniform, which paparazzi—constantly breathing down his neck even during his military time—captured and then presented as a tabloid sensation in the press. While this is indeed mandatory according to the rulebook, it is not so on the heads of private soldiers and their superiors in everyday reality.

They even spread a false accusation claiming that Rain met with his famous actress girlfriend during his official leaves, but this did not prove to be true during the subsequent investigation, which, of course, no longer interested anyone. However, the rumor alone was enough to incite public anger. Since celebrities serving in the military are completely defenseless against the attacks that hit them during their service time (as even public verbal statements are forbidden for them), the ultimate result was the discharge of a star brought into bad repute with a tarnished renown, and personally, a young man who honorably withstood the pressure weighing on him, but was nevertheless spiritually tormented, living under the pressure of terrible stress for long months, and who had lost weight because of it.

After the torture of the last half-year of military service, another half-year of silence followed, without a single statement. No one knew what was happening with Rain, how he was processing what had happened to him, and whether he would pick up the gauntlet thrown down at him, or if, becoming disillusioned, he would rather retreat and become a monk. The latter was also a quite likely scenario.

My first impressions

Since one could sample the songs of the record fastest on the iTunes Store page—literally, because as a purchasing incentive, they provide a 1-1.5 minute listening opportunity for the songs—I tackled this immediately, naturally along with many thousands of others.

And then... I thought I wasn’t hearing right. The musical samples revealed a strong electro-sound, strange high-pitched singing, rap inserts, and some unmistakable K-pop feeling. The familiar Rain-voice—that husky, yet velvet-brown, stroking voice—was simply nowhere to be found. My first feeling was immense disappointment; somehow, I felt that Rain and his new agency had made a poor decision because they forcedly wanted to race against the currently trendy artists of the K-pop mainstream, specifically by striking a sound similar to theirs—of course, as a sort of declaration of war, showing that they could easily do such a thing too. I found this to be a complete mistake, and I don't even need to mention that there was no trace anywhere of the hard sound flirting with rock. However, I saw the titles of the tracks: Baby, Marilyn Monroe, Superman... and I thought, why must everything be done to win the favor of America? Furthermore, I also thought that it is certainly impossible to win over there in this manner, if that were the goal. Having gotten over the first shock, of course, I waited for the album to download and started listening to Rain Effect in its entirety—and from track to track, a strange, brand-new, yet very familiar realm opened up before me, which minute by minute revealed its values and brought my entire being under its influence. I hereby apologize to Rain for forgetting for a moment that in his person, I am dealing with a sovereign creator of exceptional quality.

Finally: the album itself

So, let’s see the album, which I have since been able to hold in my hands in its physical release as well. Although I treat it as a single album due to the near-total identity of the musical material, we can actually speak of two releases: the original CD-sized edition and the deluxe box set special edition.

(Author's screenshots)

Its title: RAIN EFFECT. This is straight talk; there is no need to analyze its confidence. Rain has an effect—this is the voice of self-confidence. The packaging of the album seems modest compared to the over-designed K-pop albums, and it reflects well on Rain’s current verbal message: "I have eliminated all greed within myself." At the same time, its appearance is extremely elegant, and it has a surprising visual element: the case is a double CD case, and by opening the front, we can perceive that the cover is not just a metallic, 3D-effect photo, but a plastically formed translucent element has been placed over the silver print; this provides the special, radiant effect. The embossed cover of the accompanying photo book plays further with the image of silvery rainwater, and the typography of the lettering is also a perfect hit. The Special Edition carries these design elements further. The front element of the transparent plastic case refracts the light like a prism, while the separate CD holder inside shapes a water droplet over the disc. But my favorite is the tiny detail that even the barcode is shaped like a raindrop. The photo book is, of course, much richer, and it is also accompanied by a notebook.

(Author's screenshot)

The graphic design of the first double page of the photo book is very beautiful, the way it evokes the feeling of trickling rain by arranging the titles of the tracks into vertical lines. Inside, from all the photos, a young man with a smileless, extremely serious, and pure face looks at us, who, although visibly freshly kissed by a woman, wears the mark of the lipsticked lips on his face with the exact same naturalness as the tons of jewelry on his fingers.
 

(Author's screenshot)

There is something aristocratic about his appearance; the pictures evoke paintings depicting the highly self-respecting, jeweled, fur-wrapped male nobles of old times. Yet the man is ultra-modern, along with the fact that the retro feeling of the eighties somehow echoes back from the photos as well. This man, although seemingly a self-contradiction, is understatedly provocative, and because of this, his charisma is certainly extremely powerful. It is clear that he has a secret he does not want to share, and his attraction lies precisely in this mystery, which calls forth female principles: for just like in the story of Duke Bluebeard, every woman wants to open that certain seventh door.

(Author's screenshot)

In the strongly icy-feeling silver-white dominance of the packaging, the "heart" of the CD box, the disc containing the songs, is a fresh blood-red color, and this same color echoes back in the word "effect" as well, which, knowing the precedents, offers opportunities for an extreme number of associations.

For the design of the packaging of Rain Effect, +1 point goes to Rain.

Without exception, the lyrics of the songs are credited to Rain, and let’s look at the composers... well, look at that, we find his name at every single song as well, and JR Groove is indicated as co-composer. Therefore, we can hear an author’s album in every sense. This is a novelty, though not without precedents, since Rainism, or the two leading tracks from four years ago, Hip Song and Love Song, are also Rain’s own music.

1. Rain Effect  🎧

Just like on Rain’s previous records, the album begins with an opening salvo. Up until now, the sounds of either whispering rain or thunder served as atmospheric intros, but these are nowhere to be found now. Instead, we power up as if we were embarking on a mission aboard a super-spaceship emerging from an ocean, with a vehicle powered by some kind of fuel called Rain Effect. I remembered a meme circulating on the net, according to which the image of rain brings the word 'rain' to the mind of every English speaker, except for the admirers of our current performer, who immediately associate it with 'Rain.' Well, on this album, there is no longer any need for the sounds of nature’s rain, because the person in question is THE RAIN himself. A powerful opening salvo. By the way, we could already know the music as the musical accompaniment to one of the music video teasers.

It also belongs to the sphere of preliminary knowledge that the record has two 'title songs,' though neither of their titles is identical to the title of the record. Since Rain’s private personality, and consequently his stage persona as well, cannot be described as one-dimensional, they probably decided on this solution due to the presentation of the two dominant image elements with equal strength.

2. 30 Sexy 🎧 🎬

As the entrance to the album, in the definitive place of the first track, following the 'Thirty sexy, thirty, thirty, Thirty sexy, thirty, thirty' acapella introduction, we launch with eight massive drum beats that hit all the way to the viscera, which thud all the way through in the background, but the main musical motif is dominated by some kind of voluptuous elongation. This is dance music at its finest, which is erotically provocative. Not a teen disco, but the tingling (exciting) game of mature sexualities, specifically drawing attention to the fact that maturity stemming from age hides deeper and more extraordinary excitements.

If we pay attention to the lyrics, it turns out that we also get an underlying meaning: the eccentric male character’s mating dance, which entices women yet places his own erotic charisma at the center, takes place on stage, in the light of the spotlights, and the object of seduction might not even be a single woman, but THE WOMAN, all of them who dance together with THE MAN in the space dominated by pheromones. This is a surprising and playful confession about the efficacy of the individual experiencing the fulfillment of their gender, and of the stage persona keeping the audience under the spell of a somewhat narcissistic version of this same power.

Rain takes advantage of the English linguistic playing field to the fullest extent with the help of a tiny slip: he continuously pronounces the word 'thirty' audibly as 'dirty.' Whether intentionally? His English is much too good for us to blame this on his accent. The music is once again a double game, because although it is a powerfully rhythmic party music that induces contemporary pop-music ears to dance, it nevertheless also blends the world of what is by now retro-pop into itself; the falsettos of the refrains especially conjure up the sounds of Earth, Wind & Fire, even specifically September, which Rain sang with such great love as the encore surprise of his last concert tour.

3. La Song 🎧 🎬

As a sharp shift, to the sounds of a brass band, we drop into a Latin carnival atmosphere, into which exciting Afro-rhythms blend in a matter of moments. If I wrote about the drum beats of 30 Sexy that they are massive, then I don't even know what adjective fits the heavily cracking deep sounds of the brass instruments here. Their continuous pulsation creates the atmosphere of a street party, into which, like a musical orgy, the chorus of the crowd singing together blends alongside the rap, as well as the asymmetrical game conjured up by the rhythm section with percussion and the sounds of the beatbox. The dynamics of the track delight with rich variety; it is exciting how during the 'dance time' he can suppress the loudness of the basic atmosphere for the sake of the masterly interplay of the guitar-percussion-beatbox, which we find as if peeking into a side street, so that turning back, the flowing mainstream of the carnival hits us with even greater force.

(Author's screenshot)

If the protagonist of 30 Sexy is the sophisticated and somewhat mysterious man, then here as a counterpoint we find the heartbreakingly charming street rascal who survives even on the back of ice, who has no idea about sophisticated pleasures because he looks for the primary joys of life in everything—and finds them. He is certainly not lonely; buddies, women, and stuff thought to be good surround him and accompany his every step. Wherever he goes, good cheer follows, to the greatest joy of all of us. Let’s just remember: director Park Chan-wook also mentioned as a fundamental characteristic of Rain that he is "mischievous" at every possible moment. In La Song, Rain shows another thousand kinds of possibilities of his slightly husky but powerfully ringing, natural timbre, with which he also smuggles numerous acting performances into the song. Naturally, rap does not pose too great a challenge for him either. Fitting for the song, the lyrics are direct, they do not try to say more than necessary, but they do so in the appropriate language of slang.

After the title songs, the record serves up another surprise, because it seems that there remained an unprocessed problem in the topic of the male-female relationship.

4. Oppa (feat.HYUN A) (어디 가요. 오빠 / Where Are You Going, Oppa?) 🎧

We have arrived at perhaps the most extraordinary track on the record, a duet sung with HyunA, in which the tension between the trivial textual content and the arrangement of the song hides the key to the solution. Of course, only if I am well mistaken. For those who are just getting acquainted with K-pop: girls address both their beloved and their famous favorites as 'oppa' (older brother), and they are capable of repeating this with some spine-chillingly affected whining. In the song, a girl is "oppa-ing" in its most annoying form, asking the boy to hang out with her instead of going about his own business again. Interestingly, the boy answers the girl in the plural ("Play by yourselves, oppa has a lot of things to do").

Why on earth? Perhaps because the song revolves around the fact that all girl fans want the exact same thing from the star of their hearts: continuous 'entertainment,' just as girls in love want exclusive 'care.' Although the boy knows that the girl is right when she warns him that his life will pass by if he only cares about his profession as a performer, he nevertheless flees to the stage, where he can fall in love with all those women whom he is incapable of loving outside the stage. The text is a simple lovers' tiff, in which the girl demandingly affects airs and the boy answers the woman/women, who are slightly a burden to him, with affectionate patience, but the music lifts this dialogue away from primary reality from the very first moment. The eerie vibration playing in the background reinterprets the text and makes it a game of internal, spiritual force fields. The boy is only present in his words, because it is as if he carries the vibration within himself, which keeps him captive in another world.

How did Rain put it? When he steps onto the stage, he still shivers, he becomes electrified. This moment indeed occurs in the song when the force field, which until then was only vibrating, almost explodes, and this is the moment when the synchronization of man and woman occurs in the shared rhythm of the heartbeat. Yet, the conceptual duality still remains in the lyrics: the girl thinks that the boy is finally vibrating on the same wavelength as her, while the boy speaks about the ecstatic experience of virtual lovemaking with every woman born on the stage.

Rain has already formulated several times that he has arrived at that threshold of his life when he longs for a real relationship, and he knows how much he lost in his twenties that counts as a naturally lived experience for his contemporaries (of course, he gained plenty of other things instead of these, he is aware of this too). The problem is nonetheless latently there in the text and the music: can such a virtual relationship experience substitute for reality? The song somewhat modifies Karinthy's summation about the futility of love relationships, according to which the mission is impossible because the woman wants the man, while the man wants the woman. In Rain's case, the situation seems even more hopeless: the woman here too wants the man entirely, while the man wants his own life, in which a woman would nonetheless come in handy. The female performer of the duet, HyunA, is an excellent partner for Rain in this masterly little piece.

5. Marilyn Monroe 🎧

Upon reading the title, after the previous ones, I really did not know what to prepare for. However, from the plucking of the very first guitar sound of the song, golden Californian sunshine flooded everything in the room, and the opening word of the song, 'Beautiful,' resounded with such warmth and innocent wonderment that the essence of Rain’s unparalleled performing ability and the purest traits of his being were condensed into it. The song of intimately simple beauty beautifully refutes the previous one, or rather, perhaps much more pushes the problem contained within it into place: there is no trouble here, since if the real, grand emotion comes, it conjures a playful and innocent youth out of all of us again. We know that the core experience of Rain's past year was a new love, and the lady happens to be a beautiful actress. Of course, everyone immediately started questioning him, so this song is a love confession, right? Rain, with his stoic smile, only answered that well, last year he watched the movie titled Marilyn Monroe released in theaters, and he was fascinated by the star's beauty. And we believe him. Why shouldn't we? Though, of course, we would love to be this much in love...

(Author's screenshot)

6. Baby (차에 타봐/ Get in the Car) 🎧

If the previous opus belonged to love, then here is its most bitter concomitant right away: jealousy. And what do we hear? The fleeing oppa of the third track already wants to possess the lady of his heart entirely, and it even completely unhinges him that he sensed a foreign scent on her. What sorrow, shame, self-torment, and desire for retaliation resound in this song! And although it hurts a lot, the whole thing is still soft, like Rain, who fundamentally could not hurt a fly. But be careful anyway, because because of this, he can still land a heavy blow on someone.

7. SUPERMAN 🎧

First of all: like this, in all capital letters. A top-tier, playful track, one of the highlights of the record. Electro sound and a rhythm orgy at its finest. Rain makes three characters speak: the girl and Superman, in his dual form. Sounds never heard before burst out of him, and this cheerfulness suits him terribly well. The text is also humorous, launching with an acrostic: from the starting letters of the lines of the first stanza, the word SUPER can be read. This is the song of the man who wants to and can dazzle a woman, who is indeed a super Superman capable of miracles—if this is called forth from him. Because the one and true woman capable of doing so is nonetheless needed for this.

(Author's screenshot)

8. I Know (알아버렸어 / I Found Out) 🎧

It is as if the line of love songs continues with the memory of a painful breakup. As if. Yet this is the text during whose translation the feeling grew stronger and stronger within me that this might not be the case after all. The in medias res, heart-wrenching, suffocating "keep keep keep keep you stand up" piercing into the silence—which is a desperate self-encouragement to "stay standing, endure" all of this, do not collapse under the pressure of what happened—already offered a strong double meaning. Throughout the text, there are lines that can be interpreted in two ways, which can equally be the imprints of a romantic disappointment or, in a roundabout way, tell the story of the past year’s disillusionment.

It wasn’t even a minute, perhaps, while you left me, 
how could I forgive you?
It’s too late anyway, I’ve already seen through 
your treacherous pretense and too many lies.

How on earth did the two of us end up here like this? Ah… 
I will really erase you, and I will forget you!

It is time already that I can leave you, erase you. 
I am drifting, just like the wind and the clouds,
I love you, but still, I might not be able to see you anymore. 
Ah… there is no air… air… here, I am suffocating… 
Though my heart is breaking, I will leave you nonetheless, 
Memory, if you are a thorn, I will simply cast you out!

Could one speak more clearly than this about the disappointment that Rain must have experienced due to the public mood that suddenly became hostile toward him? Due to the baseless persecution? Due to the fact that with his ten years of efforts and stunning results, he did not earn the slightest credit with many people? In the arrangement of the track, the musical vibration of Where Are You Going, Oppa? returns; a similarly agitated vibration dominates here as well, making the alarm of the lonely soul quite terrifying.

If the previous track was the highlight of playfulness, then now we have arrived at the musical climax of the album. Although it will not be a disco hit, Rain nevertheless included all the pain and bitterness that he experienced in the previous year. What he sings in it is not least an exceptional performing achievement either.

My suspicion regarding the interpretation is turned almost into a certainty by the place the song occupies on the album, because what follows after it, I Found Out is a clear prelude to it.

9. Dear Mama Don't Cry 🎧

Judging by the title, we have arrived at the most concerning song on the record. We know the backstory, the fact that Rain carries deep within himself a trauma that can perhaps never be processed. Yet, it was strange to see that we encounter such a song on the record of a man specifically appealing to his adulthood. But like almost every track throughout the entire album, this one caused a surprise too. Because there is no question of crying over old pain again. There is no question of trying to win back the sympathy of the audience by deploying cheap tricks. There is a much more brutal reckoning in this immensely pure song.

Why on earth must it be endlessly proven to the mother, who has been dead for fourteen years, repeating incessantly that she does not need to cry? In fact, why is the mother crying, watching her son’s fate from somewhere in another existence? Rain did not write a single word stating that what happened to him last year was a tragedy. He did not write a single word stating that what happened hurt him very much. He did not write a single word stating that he might have doubts about whether it was worth spending ten years of his youth in the service of the audience that he placed before everything else and loved, yet which treacherously betrayed him. A mother can feel these doubts. A mother who made her son promise that he would do everything to live this life. And life granted everything she wished for her son. Except that at this moment, the meaning of every sacrifice became doubtful. That of the mother, who died in the struggle for a livelihood, and that of the boy, who performing beyond his strength turned the maternal dream into reality, which was naturally his own as well.

This is the song of a reckoning, and specifically of a very tough, manly reckoning, in which it is stated that "But I made it. I fulfilled what you wanted for me." This is the cornerstone of self-evaluation, which is the most important point of alignment. The rest is the whimsical game of fate. Thus, it also gains meaning why there is nothing to cry about over what happened. And most importantly, from here, one can stand back up, and with dignity at that, for the continuation. Or one can close the accounting with the past.

The repetitive structure of the song, Rain’s infinitely gentle pleading, and the pulsation of the drums accompanying the singing—imitating a heartbeat—create immense tension. The most important sentence of the text is delivered almost hidden, as a line of rap spoken in a faded, tapping voice, which on the one hand testifies to an infinitely tasteful moderation, and on the other hand is a solution that speaks for itself. That the song nonetheless culminates in suffocating crying is something we owe to the bitter runs of the saxophone.

10.  사랑해 (I Love You) 🎧

It was released exclusively on the Special Edition. The song is an earlier composition that Rain recorded as a special gift for the Rain Effect Special Edition. The lyrics can once again be interpreted in two ways: they can be read as a personal confession to a single individual, but equally as a message to the fans.

(Author's screenshot)

10 (11.) 30 Sexy (East4a Deeptech Mix) 🎧

The record ends with the double-tempo mix of 30 Sexy, which on the one hand makes the track much more danceable, and on the other hand gives a peculiar, more nervous atmosphere to the original song, conjuring up again the two aforementioned precedents, and looking toward the future with an excited, restless vibration.

In summary: in his first author's album, Rain performs a surprising thing. He put on the table a string of songs that is pop music to the core, has a contemporary soundscape, is playful and varied, and is largely suitable for dancing as well, and these songs carry the heavy messages packed into them in such a way that they do not become weighed down by them for a single moment.

How did the already quoted film director Park Chan-wook put it regarding Rain?

"What is truly surprising about Ji-hoon is that a sort of rage, a desire for revenge, and sadness—all the shades of darkness—materialize in his case in an extremely optimistic and cheerful way." [1]

He was right to a vast extent.

.  .  .

[1]
Park Chan-wook made this remark at the press conference for the film *I'm a Cyborg, But That's OK* in May 2006.