SAM KIM

My first experience at the KB RapBeat Festival was certainly a stark example of expectation vs. reality. Let’s just say it was a bitter pill to swallow.

Coming into RapBeat Festival, I had a great deal of anticipation. So much of who I am is wrapped up in R&B and hip hop. A youth spent around soul music and being exposed to the savory sin of rap drew me to the best of the genres from South Korea. Many of the artists on the roster made an immense impression on me at one point or another. I was ready to be awash with emotion just from being in their presence.

Here’s a free lesson for you, dear reader. Your expectations have zero bearing on reality. Remember that.

What I’m (really) Here For

Let me just get it out of the way. While I was certainly excited for a number of the acts, I can’t deny I was at the RapBeat Festival for one artist: DEAN. This isn’t to suggest he’s the only feature that meant a great deal to me. However, my history with DEAN is a complicated one. Prior to 2016, I’d heard whispers about him for about two years. For a reason I won’t disclose, I actively ignored his music.

Until SXSW 2016.

I found out he’d worked with Anderson .Paak (one of the most important contemporary artists of the last ten years), so seeing DEAN perform became a far more interesting prospect. Needless to say the first note of his set sent me spiraling. After that moment… I never saw him on stage again. Every time he or his cohorts made it to the States, I was either attending another concert or didn’t have the money. For a solid three years we just kept missing each other. When I read he was going to be part of RapBeat, I knew it was fate.

What’s in a Badge?

I get to the venue (Seoul Land, a sort of Disney Land without the mascots), and instantly things are a bit different than what I expected. It wouldn’t be until a few days later that I’d realize this, but it’s clear there’s a sort of disconnect between organizers and the notion of “media” or “press.” Ultimately, a press pass at a festival or convention is worth nothing (probably unless you’re writing for a “major” publication). Either those who run these events aren’t banking on international interest or they simply don’t care. Whatever the case, unless you’re staff, you’re barely allowed to have a camera, let alone get close enough to the stage to use it with any relevance.

But I can deal with that. (I just take that L and accept my pictures are going to be lackluster.) I’m here for the music, at the end of the day. Little did I realize at the time enjoying the music was going to be a practice in patience and stamina.

There are three stages at the festival: Rapbeat Planet, Chillax Planet, and Unknown Planet. As one would expect, the Unknown Planet is set for those artists with a following but who are just outside the periphery of “fandimonium.” The Rapbeat Planet has bigger acts and is where the international guests appear. It competes heavily with the Chillax Stage for fan attention. In fact, once you’ve picked between the two you just have to stay there for the whole day. (A fact I know at the time but think I can finagle. I’m so very wrong.)

Chillax Planet

I choose the Chillax Planet as that’s where the bulk of who I’m here to see make their home. The first few acts on stage are lesser known than the handful of headliners, but they hold their own. It’s not an easy feat, keeping the attention of a restless crowd on an unexpectedly hot day. But NiiHWA and Maddox embrace the moment like pros. Their energy is contagious. I can’t help the smile when I see how excited they are to perform in front of such a large audience. Kwon Jin-ah is another surprise. Her voice is actually powerful for all she uses it mostly for a lot of OST balladry.

This, my friends, is when things go a bit pear-shaped.

It starts with Sam Kim. While he’s as ebullient as ever, there’s something underwhelming about his performance. It could be the sound system, which overrides his vocal so heavily I wonder if there’s been a drop in communication between artist and stage staff. There also seems to be an overall lack of energy.

After Sam’s performance, I make the mistake of meandering to the Unknown Planet. A two-fold problem. First, it’s not the stage I actually want. (I was aiming for RapBeat Planet to see PENOMECO.) Second, once I realize my mistake it’s already impossible for me to get back to a spot at the Chillax stage that would mean much of anything for me as a photographer.

Something’s… Off

I return for Colde and Heize. Again, I feel something just isn’t clicking. It could very well just be a me thing. A remnant of a bit of consternation about how some of the day has turned out so far. After all, the audience of 1000+ people is full of excitement. An anxious buzz between acts crests with screams. Oohs and aahs as each artist sings one hit after the other. Colde’s performance is certainly more like his namesake. Heize at least has a genuine connection with her audience. She laments the heat, expressing her worry over those in attendance. She also signs a copy of her most recent release for a lucky fan. Still, I have the creeping feeling something’s a bit off. A slithering notion that sticks in my mind for the rest of the night.

The utterly random drops of straight-up K-pop (Bolbbalgan4) give me pause. It seems the “rap” part of “RapBeat” has a very loose definition. It certainly doesn’t do anything to alleviate the uncomfortable feeling of dissatisfaction I’ve been saddled with for the last five hours. But again, the audience is here for it. Singing every lyric to every popular song from their favorites.

Then Zion.T. The first of the artists I’ve waited to see live for three years. (Yes, he and DEAN have both evaded me since SXSW 2016.) More of the unnerving sound imbalance. So low is his mic (or so loud is the backing track), for 80 percent of his set, I can’t even hear what he’s singing. My only point of reference is his stage at the formerly named K-pop Night Out at SXSW three years ago. He was supported by a backing band. His musical dexterity was breathtaking.

Here we just get an overloud backing track. A performance that’s sadly more style than substance. His charisma pretty much carries him. I can’t even hear his voice, so it’s kind of a moot point. It actually causes me emotional pain to stand there and listen to what amounts to a karaoke performance. (Sans the drunken banter.)

For the past three hours I try to put my finger on exactly what it is that makes me feel like I’m missing something. Like I’m an outsider regardless of being smashed between hundreds of people. Sometime during Zion.T’s performance I realize what it is. More on that later.

you.will.knovv

At this point I’ve been on my feet for eight hours. I begin to question if I’m actually going to see DEAN. Is it worth it? Knowing I’m not going to actually be able to photograph him the way I’ve dreamed of doing for the past three years. Is it really worth it? I already make the heartbreaking decision I’m not going to even attempt to see my boys of VMC, MKIT RAIN, or Beenzino at the RapBeat stage. So… I stay. Because, dammit, this is what I’m here for in the first place.

First is MISO. As I’ve come to expect from her, she’s more accustomed to standing behind a soundboard or DJ booth than she is as a frontwoman. She holds herself in, as if she’s trying not to shatter apart. If I didn’t already have the inclination that she’s more of an introspective artist than most, her performance might have been uncomfortable. Of course, I sense a bit of unease in the audience around me. But MISO truly lets her music speak for her. I can’t fault her for that.

Now, DEAN. The act pretty much everyone in attendance has been waiting for. Again, my only point of reference is his first tentative steps onto the Spotify back patio stage in 2016. So when he actually alights, my stomach begins the familiar butterfly-tremor of anticipation. The first note of “Bermuda Triangle” rings through, and the crowd explodes. I, too, can’t help the excitement at seeing something I’d only experienced on my computer screen.

Then that sinking feeling comes back. Something’s just not right here. He goes through his entire setlist, bringing another artist from the newly formed you.will.knovv collective. Rad Museum makes an appearance between songs from DEAN’s catalog. When he gets to “Howlin’ 404,” I hope against all hope that he’ll have the brass ones to perform the acoustic version. He does not. (As I believe that version was mostly for him, I can understand why.) The guitarist who always shows up during the acoustic portion of DEAN’s set is no more of a surprise than the songs he sings. He even sits on stage for the same two songs: DEAN’s rendition of Corinne Bailey Rae’s “Like a Star” and the guitar portion of “Instagram.”

DEAN sings the now (in)famous line from “Love” that always gets the girls in a tizzy. I feel nothing. He ends with his ultimate hype song, “I’m Not Sorry.” Nothing. Dammit, how is it the one person I’ve been aching to see for so long has left me feeling as cold as the sudden chill in the air?

The “Ah-Ha” Moment

For those of you who don’t know, I’m also a huge fan of indie bands from South Korea. I’ve got a particular soft spot for the punk bands that trudge among the small clubs and bars of Hongdae. It is, for many of them who’ve had the balls to give up a guaranteed income and dedicate their lives to the hustle life of a musician, their jobs.

And here comes the “Ah-Ha” moment. The difference between the local bands traipsing between dozens of dive venues and the headliners of something like RapBeat Festival is the calibre. Ultimately, the size of the paycheck.

Somewhere between “Howlin’ 404” and “I’m Not Sorry” it finally dawns on me. For the artists who show up on the two main stages of RapBeat, this is just a job. Another end of the week payday. They know (and probably count on) the fact that their notoriety affords them the opportunity to work for a guaranteed fee of their (or their company’s) choosing. A one-day event like this doesn’t constitute anything more than a day at the office.

This isn’t to suggest they don’t appreciate it. Every artist, no matter where they’re from or their tier, has the utmost respect and adoration for their fans. All artists do this for the love of it. Otherwise they wouldn’t do it. The difference is someone like DEAN or Beenzino or Bolbbalgan4 doesn’t necessarily do it for the paycheck (something they know they could get anywhere). New and/or local bands like The Sound or DTSQ don’t have the same luxury. They do it simply because they love it.

A labor of passion from both sides, except one knows their chunk is going to be significantly bigger than the other.

Expectation vs. Reality

There was a pervasive feeling that I was watching a roster of artists working at their desks. A concert as a matter of course. Playing the songs everyone knows in the way they know them. The expectation was I’d be lifted. Thrown in the midst of music I grew up on, I thought it would be more of a homecoming. The reality is, I was plopped in the middle of a 9 to 5. But, as I opened with, those were my expectations. It’s a bitter pill to swallow but one I’m grateful for. After all, taking your medicine is supposed to heal you, right? Thank goodness I’m cured of the sickness of expecting more when all the signs point to something much less.