Pop Music
in
Asia
Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's Choson Punk
Since 1994, a punk rock scene, centred on a smattering of clubs in the fashionable Hong'ik and Shinch'on districts of Seoul, and with increasing representation in provincial cities, has taken root in the Republic of Korea. Although dwarfed in popularity by hip-hop and dance music, punk claims a significant following among high school and university students; each year more and more bands form, and the number of punk CD releases continues to grow at an exponential rate.
The
sleeve of the Crying Nut CD Hasuy(breve)onga, which translates as 'Underground
Love Songs' or 'Love Songs from the Sewer'
PERMISSION: DRUG RECORDS
Termed Choson Punk by its adherents (the title draws upon the traditional name for Korea), this local version is attempting to stamp, largely with success, a particularly Korean flavour upon the genre. No Brain's decision to record the Sex Pistols' seminal album rested not upon slavish imitation of punk tradition, but, as the liner notes state, a desire to introduce their fans to a band that remains little known in Korea. Packaged with Never Mind the Sex Pistols... is a sampler compilation CD entitled Munhwasagidan ('Cultural Swindling Troupe') that offers a state-of-the-art glimpse at Choson Punk, circa 2001, in all its variety. This ranges from the aggressive hardcore of A-Zak's 'Fuck the Korea', to the amusingly jaunty -- if gross -- punk-pop of K'odakchi ('Snot') by Paedar(breve)un hy(breve)ongjae (Half Brothers) and No Brain's own curiously soulful Chongch'un-un pulkkoch'iora ('The Bloom of Youth is a Flame').
Crying Nut
album cover
On a recent visit to Seoul, I had the opportunity to see
the Japanese band Lolita No. 18 play, supported by local talent. Only
in 1999 were performances by groups from Korea's erstwhile colonizer
officially authorized, and whether they should be allowed is again being
questioned as the two nations become embroiled in a heated dispute over
disingenuous accounts of the colonial period in Japan's school textbooks.
Nonetheless, Lolita No. 18 met with a warm reception, and their cries
of 'Annyong haseyo'
and 'Kamsahamnida'
-- 'Hello!' and 'Thank you' -- were greeted with roars of approval by
the crowd. When they and their supporting bands charged into fiercer
numbers, skinheads clad in Doc Martens forced their way to the front
of the stage and slam danced frantically in a familiar expression of
international punk brotherhood. 
The cover of No Brain CD
Never Mind the Sex Pistols
PERMISSION: DRUG RECORDS
One of the most salient features of the punk scene in Korea is its
growing diversification, with all the debates about authenticity and
selling out that one might expect. As some take an ever more uncompromising
punk stance and seek out a more abrasive sound, others edge closer to
the commercial mainstream. In June 2001, Crying Nut, the most successful
Korean punk band, released a new CD entitled Hasuyonga
('Love Songs from the Sewer'), the band's strongest effort yet. To my
mind, a Korean version of The Clash's Sandinista,
one track even includes a p'ungmul
break, incorporating the traditional percussion instruments of Korean
farmer's bands. The song is an impressive amalgam of foreign and indigenous,
urban and rural, modern and traditional. It also contains music from
the recent indie movie Yi
soryong-ul ch'ajarat ('Looking for Bruce Lee'), which stars
the band and has been playing to sellout crowds. During the course of
a week, I heard Crying Nut played in Internet cafés and in a
noraebang (a local
version of karaoke clubs) and spotted their faces in a montage during
a TV commercial. It suddenly dawned upon me: these guys are everywhere.
The cover of Chos)on p¯ongk¯u
('The Korean Punk Compilation')