Epik High

As someone who writes a lot of critique, there are times when you just don’t know what to say. Words quite literally fail you. This is especially true for moments when an experience leaves you so utterly awe-inspired, so emotionally moved the prim professionalism of a music journalist seems petty. This is what happened to me following Epik High’s Austin stop of their North American tour. At times like these there’s really only one thing to say:

Thank you.

Dear, Tablo, Mithra Jin, and Tukutz,

You couldn’t have known this, but April 18 was my first time seeing you live. I didn’t quite know what to expect. I knew you’d blow me away. Word of mouth is the most powerful promotion. Every friend of mine who’d ever been to one of your shows informed me I was in for a wild ride. My day had already been unreal. My Lyft driver was a huge fan of yours. Plugged in his MP3 player, and we jammed to your older music until we pulled up to Emo’s Austin. So (to borrow your words) my high was already epik.

As with every concert of an artist I’ve never seen before there’s a certain level anxiety going in. The atmosphere is electric, to borrow a cliché. Trite as it may be, that’s not an exaggeration. The audience is buzzing with so much excitement, the energy in the room is almost overwhelming. Then comes the flutter. You know, that flutter that burrows in your stomach when you know something magical is about to happen.

The opening act, Yoshi Flower. Anyone who knows anything about Epik High’s musical journey (basically every person in the audience) understands the choice. His sound straddles multiple genres, ranging from the surging popularity of trap to the heartache and clever scorn of Kurt Cobain and even the prettiness of Kate Bush in his vocal tone. The choice to use him as an opening act makes sense. A clear reflection of the type of variety found in your music over the years.

But that’s not what I’m here for, talented as the young man is. I’m here for you. For Epik High. For the group that invented K-pop.

As soon as the music starts, the bass shaking the floor and blasting its way through my limbs, I’m completely transfixed. There’s a certain amount of detachment behind a camera. I see you, but I don’t see you. You’re there, but in another dimension. Trapped in seconds I capture with the click of the shutter. It’s safe, a way to remove the fan from the professional. I have to say, you guys made it damn hard for me to do my job. Yes, I’m here to take pictures and eventually write my impressions of the show. But after a while, none of that matters.

I remember the exact moment when the show stopped being a “job” for me. The first tripped vocals of “Burj Khalifa” stutter through the speakers. Then everything just freezes. I’m transported back to the moment I first heard the song. My first listen through of SHOEBOX. The second song of the evening, and I am blessed with the ability to time travel. The entire show is like this for me. Each song takes me back to a moment in my life where your music was the soundtrack.

This is also the first time I realize something about you. Epik High is more than music. Obviously there’s the humor. The interaction between all three of you is magical. Because you allow us to be a part of it. For the two hours of the show, every member of the audience is a member of Epik High. This is our Wu-Tang moment: We’re all a part of the group, a part of history.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? We’re all a part of something special. The commentary between songs solidifies an undeniable truth: Epik High is precious to us, and we are precious to Epik High. The moments when you interact personally with fans in the audience. (I’m sure April’s soul left her body when she realized you were speaking directly to her, Tablo.) The entire case of water you empty on the first few rows. Hell, even the outrageous moments of obviously rehearsed but utterly ridiculous choreography. (Tukutz is the true dancing king. No idol even comes close!)

However, the epitome of the Epik High experience. What makes it such an unforgettable night for me? Those moments of utter silence. When the music sort of lingers there like a rain cloud full to bursting. You talk to us. Really talk to us. Sure, we can all sense the humor. But there’s something so sincere, so earnest that it leaves me breathless. Even declarations of not coming out for an encore hold so much weight. Because it’s just you and us. The shouts of “Encore! Encore!” The screams. The seemingly unending chorus of “Epik High! Epik High!” As an audience we are united, a collective family, if only for these couple hours.

Epik High is precious to us.

When you do inevitably come back out to perform “Born Hater,” obviously the crowd is in an uproar. Then the music just stops. Right before the chorus, Tablo reaches within the depths of who he is. With the grace and eloquence of a poet, he expresses the kind of love for his audience that transcends the music. When Tukutz finally lets the beat drop again, Tablo imploring us to join him in his ultimate love word, “WOW!” there’s a feeling in the audience. Excitement is easy. What I feel wash over each and every one of us is acceptance.

We are precious to Epik High.

You all accepted us. Accepted our adoration, but more than anything else accepted our humanity. That’s something that I’ve not felt at a concert before. That I am part of something with depth and meaning. I am part of something magical. You wanna know the feeling I left that show with? Peace. I wasn’t overexcited, wasn’t babbling like a teenager. I was at peace.

So I simply want to say thank you. From the bottom of my heart. This is an experience that I’ll never forget and one that has set a standard for any concert I’ll attend in the future.

Yours truly,

Cy

Follow Epik High:

[icon type=”apple”]     [icon type=”facebook-square”]     [icon type=”home”]     [icon type=”soundcloud”]     [icon type=”spotify”]     [icon type=”youtube-square”]

---

Written by Cy
Photographed by Cy
Edited by Lena