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The Lean, Mean, Star-Making K-Pop Machine

August 6, 2014 | by

How Korea mints its pop stars.


From the cover of The Birth of Korean Cool.

Korean pop’s star-making process has suffered slings and arrows from the Western press—some allege that it amounts to modern-day slavery. It’s true that K-pop labels recruit budding stars and bind them to contracts that can last as long as thirteen years. But Korea had no other way of building a pop industry. It had to create it from the ground up.

Most famous rock bands formed independently, without the help of a producer or record label. This was never going to happen in Korea. Kids didn’t have the time to jam with friends. They were studying—all the time—or helping with the family business. Organically formed bands could experiment with new sounds or improvise or goof off, but Koreans had no such luxury. In the unforgiving Confucian culture, a young person who screws up has a hard time getting back on track. Until recently, when K-pop proved profitable, no Korean would have staked his future on music.

Lee Moon-won, a culture critic, said, “Koreans spend the same effort on everything, whether it’s college entrance exams or an office job. Korea stands for hard work.” Accordingly, a conventional K-pop contract lasts seven to thirteen years; half that time is spent training the stars. Shin Hyung-kwan, the general manager of MNET, Korea’s version of MTV, explained, “It takes time to see who has hidden talents. It’s one thing to pick some person and say you’re going to make them a star, but you have to see if they get along with each other and in society at large. If you are not careful, the whole thing can be spoiled. Westerners do not understand. The performers could get into an accident, some kind of trouble.”

Lee offered insight into the necessity of the K-pop star factory system. In the United States, he explained, the pool of hopefuls is big enough that a kind of natural triage occurs. But “the human resource pool in Korea is small … They have to take measures to be competitive internationally.”

A staggering 4 percent of the population of South Korea auditioned in 2012 for Superstar K, Korea’s biggest televised singing competition. That’s 2.08 million would-be K-pop stars competing in a single year in a country with a population of fifty million. By contrast, even the behemoth American Idol only has about 80,000 contestants in a given year, amounting to a minuscule 0.03 percent of the U.S. population.

The K-pop model requires music companies to invest a lot of money up front for a very distant return. It’s a paternalistic system that disciplines its stars. This isn’t just a matter of ensuring that band members get along; it also means steering them away from drunk driving, drugs, or sex scandals. K-pop star training is an education of the whole person.

But the biggest and most obvious difference, Shin said, is in the quality of the dancing. “In the United States, with the popular bands, the choreography is very different.” And by different he means bad: “If you look at New Kids on the Block, for example, the members are not really synchronized. And in Justin Timberlake’s [performances], the dancers are a bit off. Dancers in American bands are freer and go by feeling. The United States doesn’t have singers who dance really well, unless it’s someone like Michael Jackson, and that kind of talent comes around once in a hundred years.”

Dancing well isn’t enough. K-pop band members must dance in perfect synch, like clockwork. If you’ve ever seen a K-pop video, you’ll notice that while no one is Baryshnikov, they do have split-second precision. To achieve that, you have to put the band together while they’re still young and hold off their debut until they’ve learned to act as one.

To see just how manufactured K-pop is, consider that one Korean television program started four simultaneous and separate K-pop bands with a color theme. Collectively, they’re called the Color of K-pop. Two are girl groups: Dazzling Red and Mystic White. The other two, Dramatic Blue and Dynamic Black, are boy bands. Members wear color-corresponding outfits, and each band has its own character: Mystic White is innocent, Dazzling Red is sassy, et cetera.

If this sounds like a marketing plan straight out of the Gap, that’s exactly the effect the producers are going for. You don’t need to know what the individual singers’ back stories might be—who grew up in a trailer park, who started singing gospel in her church. How interesting is a twenty-year-old’s biography, anyway?

K-pop labels love stars, but not superstars: they don’t want to get into a situation in which one band member becomes indispensable. Bands are treated like consumer products from the beginning. Producers design the band they want—down to the precise look, sound, and marketing campaign—before they even audition members.

* * *

Can K-pop conquer the United States? I asked Martina and Simon Stawski, an ebullient young Canadian couple and self-professed K-pop fanatics. Theirs is probably the best English-language site for analyses and reviews of Korean culture.

Psy, they believe, is popular because he’s funny, but humor isn’t always the right approach. “Sometimes bands will try to go for humor in their videos, but it’s ehgyo [cutesy baby talk] humor. Ehgyo humor is not easily understood [outside Asia].” She’s right—it’s not. Ehgyo is a sort of setup in which a girl infantilizes herself as a means of flirtation; you can’t tell whether she is talking to her older brother or her boyfriend. It’s not quite French-style sexy-baby, like France Gall or Brigitte Bardot. It’s more innocent—picture a petulant child.

Martina had some practical suggestions for broadening K-pop bands’ appeal in the United States. “They’d have to not use a lot of makeup for guys,” she said. “The clothes can’t be too tight … some of the bands [have] too many members.”

There’s also the matter of Korea’s squeamish youth protection laws, instituted in the nineties, partly to clamp down on the sexual exploitation of children and partly to protect children from corruptive material. Record labels assign strict age limits on albums, sometimes for odd reasons. “Mirotic,” a song by the boy band TVXQ!, was originally only for purchase by those over eighteen because of the lyric “I’ve got you under my skin”—it had to be changed to “I’ve got you under my sky” to be legally sold to a younger audience. The penalties for being consigned to the nineteen+ age rating are high; it means the song in question gets no radio or TV play. When Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way Ball” toured in Seoul, her concert was limited to the nineteen+ crowd with another turn of the screw: anyone eighteen and under was barred from entry even if accompanied by an adult.

If I had to pick a male band that had a good chance of crossover success, it would be Big Bang—especially one member, G-Dragon, whose real name is Kwon Ji-young. (Dakota Fanning is reportedly a fan.) G-Dragon was in training for about eleven years before setting foot on a public stage. When I first saw him perform, I didn’t know what to make of him; he arrived solo, which for some reason made me worried for him. He has a slight build with soft features, his eyes rimmed with tons of black eyeliner—more than I used to wear even during the years when I listened to the Smiths and read Nietzsche.

He bellowed to the audience what the non-English-speaking world believes to be a universal cry: “Whassup!” Then he led the audience in a neo-Dadaist chorus.

G-DRAGON (in English): When I say GET YOUR, you say CRAYON! GET YOUR!

Weirdly enough, Korea didn’t even have crayons when I was growing up. It was a source of some wistfulness in my household, actually. The closest substitute was Cray-pas—a more sophisticated pastel cousin. I wasn’t sure I was hearing G-Dragon correctly until I saw that the giant screen behind him was showing images of crayons. And then he launched into one of his biggest hits: “Crayon.” Trust me. It’s a good song.

This essay is adapted from The Birth of Korean Cool by Euny Hong. The Birth of Korean Cool copyright © 2014 by Euny Hong. The trade paperback original published August 5, 2014, by Picador USA. All rights reserved.

Euny Hong’s work has appeared in The New York Times, The Washington Post, Wall Street Journal Europe, International Herald Tribune, The New Republic, The Boston Globe, and The Forward. She is also the author of the novel Kept: A Comedy of Sex and Manners. She is fluent in English, French, German, and Korean.



  1. Ji Eun Kim | August 6, 2014 at 3:11 pm

    The Color of Kpop was a special collaboration stage produced by SBS for ONE night only. End of the year music programs are very popular and elaborate in Korea. The members of the different color-themed groups were chosen from already established groups (KARA, Sistar, MBLAQ, Infinite, etc) and they collaborated for that one stage. To use that as an example for how manufactured Kpop is when fans were watching the different collaborations for their favorite member — knowing their “backstory” all too well is incredibly misleading.

    Channels like Mnet as well as other cable networks in Korea are actually very active in revealing a group’s backstory, especially where members come from, how they joined the group, and how hard they worked to remain at the company that accepted or recruited them. It may be edited and dramatized to jerk at the viewer’s heartstrings but that’s actually one of the most effective ways to garner fans. The most recent one to jerk at my heartstrings was WIN: Who is Next by YG Entertainment. Korean culture has quite a soft spot for sentimentality and sympathy toward someone who is working hard toward their goals within the accepted parameters. To say people would not be interested in a 20 year old’s backstory is an incorrect assumption.

    Because of Hallyu (the spread of Kpop into other countries), the definition of what Kpop IS has changed a lot. However, to me, it will always be Korean music in general. Your statement about rock bands and organically developed groups being “impossible” in Korea is absolutely not true. There are many long running groups that developed from years of friendship and collaboration. Many have also reached fame and fortune. The difference is they’re respected and loved in Korea but they’re not necessarily headlining a Dome Tour in Japan like TVXQ or doing a world tour like Big Bang.

    It’s interesting you bring up G-Dragon and then earlier in your essay you mention how Kpop likes stars but not superstars. Ah, but G-Dragon IS a superstar in Korea. However, he’s also a member of Big Bang. The other members are incredibly successful as well in their respective endeavors outside the group, but GD usually faces the brunt of the attention, controversy, headlines, and album sales for his solo albums.

    Having a member stand out, especially when they’re just beginning to promote, is a commonly used marketing ploy for many groups. For A PINK it was Eun Ji, for Sistar it was Hyorin, for MBLAQ it was Lee Joon, for B2ST it was Doo Joon. The company figures if one member brings in a fan, eventually the fan will grow fond of all the members.

    Every once in a while you get a natural tipping point where the general public deems one member is more “special” than the others and you get people like Suzy of Miss A. She’s a member of the group but she’s also her own brand now because of her enormous popularity. However, that doesn’t happen very often.

    Good luck on your book of essays. However, please present the information on Kpop correctly. It’s already so misconstrued to the general foreign public.

  2. Mark Connor | August 6, 2014 at 5:44 pm

    Why is K-pop top down? The reasons here like study and dedication to work also apply to Japan, which does have a grass roots music scene. Actually the reason, at least four guys, is the military service, which hits them right at the age they would be forming bands.

  3. denwanai | August 31, 2014 at 6:58 pm

    College kids in the US who listen to G-dragon, interpret “Get your Crayon” as “Get your Cray on” As in crazy or cray cray. If you hang out with teenagers, they us cray as crazy all the time.

  4. zop | September 3, 2014 at 10:48 pm

    Where KOREA EXPO?
    When KOREA EXPO?
    Ah ha?

  5. Sue D. Jones | October 22, 2014 at 9:50 am

    Star-Making K-Pop Machine: I fell fall in love and also make me joke :).

  6. Ann R. Krause | December 23, 2014 at 9:29 am

    Star-Making K-Pop Machine is it possible? It really attractive for that, I hope it will show soon. Nice technology. Happy Merry Christmas

  7. JSB | October 20, 2015 at 10:00 pm

    Where did you get the 2.08 million Koreans? I suspect that might be an exaggeration.

16 Pingbacks

  1. […] machine. Here’s an excerpt that left me wanting more, along with another little snippet here, some positive reviews here and an interview with the author […]

  2. […] Hong, E. (2014, August 6). The Lean, Mean, Star-Making K-Pop Machine. Retrieved April 3, 2015, from […]

  3. […] they get in, a subsequent step is a military-style training program, initial grown by Johnny Kitagawa in a 1980s and after polished by a K-pop machine. It is an […]

  4. […] hard to wrap your mind around jsut how huge K-Pop is in South Korea. According to the Paris Review, 2.08 million Koreans — an unbelievable 4% of the entire population — tried out for […]

  5. […] are treated like consumer products from the beginning," Euny Hong wrote about the industry in the Paris Review in 2014. "Producers design the band they want — down to the precise […]

  6. […] are treated like consumer products from the beginning,” Euny Hong wrote about the industry in the Paris Review in 2014. “Producers design the band they want — down to the precise […]

  7. […] are treated like consumer products from the beginning," Euny Hong wrote about the industry in the Paris Review in 2014. "Producers design the band they want — down to the precise look, […]

  8. […] are treated like consumer products from the beginning,” Euny Hong wrote about the industry in the Paris Review in 2014. “Producers design the band they want — down to the precise […]

  9. […] are treated like consumer products from the beginning,” Euny Hong wrote about the industry in the Paris Review in 2014. “Producers design the band they want — down to the precise […]

  10. […] Hong, E. (2014). The Lean, Mean, Star-Making K-Pop Machine. The Paris Review. Retrieved 13 January 2016, from […]

  11. […] để tưởng tượng nổi K-pop có ảnh hưởng lớn thế nào tới Hàn Quốc. Theo tạp chí Paris, năm 2012 có tới 4% dân số Hàn Quốc đã tham gia cuộc thi “Superstar K” với mong […]

  12. […] hard to wrap your mind around jsut how huge K-Pop is in South Korea. According to the Paris Review, 2.08 million Koreans — an unbelievable 4% of the entire population — tried out for […]

  13. […] pop, hip hop, and electronic, and mainly features glossy boy bands and girl groups whose labels strictly train them in dancing, singing, and […]

  14. […] State of Play is somewhat expected out of pro-gamers in the Korean gaming industry. I connected this intensive training system to the Korean music industry where young teenagers are scouted by large entertainment agencies, […]

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