Courtesy of Henrik Donnestad

Daivd A. Tizzard

“When a new song dropped, I would wake up before school, turn on five or six different devices, and log-in using my mum’s, my sister’s, and my friend’s accounts. I would then just sit there streaming the song. I wouldn’t even really be listening to it. I was just making sure to stream it. I would then be really tired at school that day but, at the time, it felt worth it.”

I’ve noticed a trend this semester across my nine different university classes here in South Korea: there are fewer international K-pop stans than before. Of course, there are still those who are absolutely mad about the culture; those who can tell you the names of every member, the physical condition they were in when they shot a certain video, and how their personality changed between the release of album one and album two. But, at the same time, there is an increasing number of students who simply shrug their shoulders and express little real interest in the culture.

The main question on my mind: What percentage of the numbers we see associated with the promotion and validity of K-pop groups today are real and how much is fake?

When we think about culture, we often focus on the enjoyment that it brings people. A new movie or song comes out and we either enjoy it or we don't. However, it’s more than enjoyment. According to W. David Marx, sometimes we watch and listen to things because doing so gives us status. And that status add value to the experience, whether we acknowledge it or not. We associate ourselves with different things to gain credibility.

K-pop is no longer the status-giver it once was during the heights of the pandemic. Then it seemed that mainstream television shows and broadsheet newspapers were rushing to feature K-pop and talk about it. A cool new trend, a........

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