Before we get down to the issue at hand, I must apologise for my lack of presence on this space, as I’ve been busy travelling and working on other projects. I have to admit the future of this blog is quite uncertain. Most of my waking hours will be devoted to works that will be published in journals and magazines, but there are two major advantages when I allow reviewers to scrutinize and critique my writing. First, they’re able to highlight errors and offer suggestions for improvement and second, they offer me the opportunity to engage a wider audience. Like all ‘creative’ professions, it is not possible for writers to be productive in a vacuum and contrary to some individualistic notions, ideas are a lot more social than we assume them to be.
The same goes for the music industry, and of course its most recent phenomenon, K-pop.
I would begin the debate by turning to the detractors and claim the popularity of K-pop is controversial. From an artistic point of view, there is good reason to regard this East Asian genre with a certain air of snobbish disdain. Artistes—some with hardly any talent—are harvested en masse and made to perform and look like a million dollars on stage. The lyrics are incredibly superficial, if not utterly meaningless, and the melody is so formulaic even Bach and Beethoven may no longer rest in peace.
The strangest part? These records sell, exceedingly well.
So what really counts? Are we talking about creative vision, raw talent or efficient production? It’s really easy to dismiss acts like Girls’ Generation (SNSD) or Super Junior as banal cultural products catered for the masses who can’t appreciate ‘the really good stuff’, but then again, who, or what determines these differences? Before we persist with our rage against the industrialist machine, let’s think about these questions and see if it’s actually worthwhile to be so critical with the current state of affairs.
High vs. Low class
A common argument often aimed at fans who subscribe to mass-produced or ‘bubble-gum’ pop would be the quality of their taste, and this distinction seems to be more salient with the longevity of the classical tradition and prominence of alternative genres in the market. This, I argue, seems to be symptomatic of a prevalent social ideal, where a privileged few have access to and are able to understand works of a higher value—the fact that the folks on the street can’t sing to Antony and the Johnsons is simply because they lack the cultural capital to do so. In other words, certain types of music are created for the ‘artistic’ class, or people who are able to gaze upon a painting for hours and ponder over its existential significance, if any. In this case, it really isn’t about the skills nor talent of the performers, even though pulling off a live show for two to three hours like the girls in SNSD is no mean feat. Rather, the question is about social differences, and how certain genres come to be regarded as more elite than others. Being able to appreciate baroque music or complex jazz riffs seems to elevate one’s status as a connoisseur, like how a young urban professional drinking Hoegaarden despises the majority of HDB uncles relishing in their Tiger. Consuming cultural products deemed abstract by conventional standards somehow endows us with a feeling of transcendence, of being apart from the rest of the ignoramuses, like the enlightenment of prisoners escaping from Plato’s cave.
Our taste in music is, however, quite different from the poor souls chained in the cave. Music is affective, which means it is created and produced for our listening pleasure. True, there might be a certain brand, or image behind a label, genre, or artiste. Nevertheless enjoyment, though culturally specific, is universally present in every single listening experience. Music is, at a very visceral level, like pornography. There are many different styles and ways of expressing foreplay, coitus and the orgasm (BDSM practices, like some indie genres, are quite exclusive too), but it is always pleasurable to the avid listener. And since in the case of pornography, it is the missionary position that is normalised and rendered legitimate, shouldn’t the non-mainstream bands follow the deviants and be marginalised? Through this incongruence, we are able to constructively demystify the ideology of good taste. If music is meant to be enjoyed, then what is merely a reflection of bourgeois ideals should not matter. If you like what you hear, don’t be ashamed of having it on repeat. After all, the pleasure’s all yours, isn’t it?
Creativity is social
And this brings us back to the next point, which concerns the creativity of the artiste. A common misconception concerning creativity, no less influenced from the Romantic tradition, is of the artiste as a gifted individual working in his or her own little space, with nothing but dreams and ideas to play with. I might not be a musician, but as a practitioner of the literary art, I must declare that as much I need a quiet space to pen my thoughts, permanent isolation is not the source of my inspiration. Ideas are born and developed whenever I’m out there, experiencing different people and places. They are also fine-tuned and sharpened for clarity through lively debates and constructive criticism. A finished work, if it may be so called, is never the product of a single individual.
The same can be argued of the recording industry. Some artistes write their own songs, others don’t, but a performer is no less important than the producer, session musician, sound engineer or creative director. I have reservations whenever performers tell the press they want to be recognised for their song-writing or singing talent, because there’s a lot more that goes into the mix whenever critical reviewers talk about the success of a record. Consumers are all too familiar with the outcome when band members, overwhelmed with hubris, get into a tussle over creative control—a lawsuit ensues and their solo careers don’t seem to shine as much. South Korean record companies have demonstrated that creativity for all its worth, is in reality a de-individualised process. It makes more sense to have a team made up of people who are specialists in one or two fields, than rely on a single person to breathe life into all parts of the work.
In fact, the buzzword shouldn’t be creativity (i.e. invention), but innovation. And that means improving and transforming existing, or obsolete trends and practices. Given the heightened transience of the market, it helps to have a team that is sensitive to the volatile changes in consumer preferences. If fans have grown attached to something, attempting to take it away would be courting financial disaster, but if they are tired of a particular image, then it is in the company’s interest to conceive and develop a different one. What is unfortunate is that artistes who take creative control seriously will be perceived as sell-outs, but the tension between passion (doing what you want) and submission (giving in to market demands) is inevitable. To quote the frontman of a rock band, ‘No one does this for the money. If that were so, we would be better off selling toilet paper.’ Yet, one needs the money to keep going. So if no one is listening, it probably would not hurt at all to make the necessary changes.
Cultural Technology
Lee Soo Man is a South Korean entrepreneur and founder of S.M Entertainment, the record company and talent agency behind the successes of SNSD and Super Junior. In a speech delivered at Stanford Business School, Lee highlighted the importance of ‘cultural technology’ and how it leverages on globalisation for expansion. Most of Lee’s practices and processes are not new to the industry—the Japanese have developed and produced groups (e.g. Morning Musume) by recruiting and training talents years before the Koreans entered scene. Unlike the eccentric Japanese labels, who were too engrossed with servicing their own dwindling market, Lee has aggressively promoted these acts to the greater Asian market, to the extent that the artistes themselves must learn and perform in other languages in order to connect with listeners from other countries. This arguably marked an important point of innovation which enabled K-pop, and in particular S.M Entertainment’s associated acts, to be palatable to a much wider audience.
The collusion of creativity with capitalism is evident and in many ways, essential to the success of the recording industry. It is important to ask if creativity can be fostered or re-invented to subvert the system, but that belongs to a separate discussion. What this analysis has tried to dethrone, is the illusion of the artiste, or performer as the sole originator of the work and how the market cannot do without the diversity and concentration of consumer preferences. Of course at the end of the day, I must admit I enjoy watching SNSD or After School perform because they look really good on stage. So what if they have severe pitching and harmonising problems and the catchy lyrics and repetitious tunes don’t exactly blow my socks off? If I desire a more contemplative listening experience, there’s always the angelic trio of Kalafina or my dear friend Inch Chua to the rescue.
And may I add that it’s only a matter of time before kinky becomes the new norm? 
