The story so far: I became a K-Pop addict while researching my last novel (Rhonda Wray: Raptor Wrangler), which is about a brave teenage girl who rescues her favorite K-Pop-like boy band from a dinosaur planet. I researched boy bands all through history, culminating with the latest K-Pop idols, and then I went to see a K-Pop band called #SuperM, and that was it, fell in love hard.
And then, BTS announced four shows in Los Angeles: the Permission To Dance tour. Everyone who had previously had a ticket was welcome to join the presale. I had to do it. I got in (in fact the shows all sold out in presale), and wrestled with the buggy interface, finally snagging myself a single seat in the nosebleeds. I further nuked my bank account with airfare and a night’s lodging at the LAX Sheraton (which was so full of BTS Army that they let us use the service elevator after the show because we filled up the lobby).
How was it? Here’s my (highly subjective) review. First, it was terrifying being in a packed stadium. I’m agoraphobic these days, and even being there at a BTS show involved lots of toughing my way through emotions urging me to just stay home. I've actually talked to a couple of therapists about this, and one of the ways I'm dealing with it is by going to rewarding places, like concerts. Pushing myself through the anxiety of traveling there and getting rewarded with the music.
I wrote up a super detailed schedule when I was at home, relaxed and sane, so that when I was out in the big bad world I could just follow instructions written by a trustworthy sane person (me, in another frame of mind). It’s not so much about fear as it is about hyper-hyper-vigilance. If something’s outright scary, like some angry dude on the street punching mailboxes, I can do a hard avoid, but I’m mainly looking out for things that might potentially make me want to alter my course, with a brain filter that’s far too ambiguous, admitting tons of junk data that leads me to make sure my phone’s in my pocket every eighteen seconds or so.
This filter kept me rigid all the way to the stadium – all these people! Omicron variant! Strangers strangers strangers! It’s so high, up here in the nosebleeds! But once the music started, I was completely at home. All of us were. Beautiful younglings dressed in the height of fashion. Lumpy olds like me. Children. The plain and religious. The blinged and worldly.
I came into K-Pop through SuperM, which is very different from BTS. SuperM is chaotic, sexy, potentially violent. If you want a boomer analogy, BTS is the Beatles and SuperM is the Stones. BTS wouldn’t be very credible playing the droogies in a remake of Clockwork Orange; SuperM would (Taemin dressed up like little Alex in his very first video). I’m a huge Stones fan and SuperM hit me right in the rock chakra.
As I gradually expanded my K-Pop awareness, at some point I realized I owned every album BTS had put out, and quite a few of their songs had become my favorites (Save Me, Run, Like, Dope, Spring Day). I have a hard time going full stan over BTS, and still have trouble identifying them. Probably because I take most of my music in pure audio form and rarely watch videos. My bias is Jungkook because I’m a sucker for tenors.
I have a favorite book (Let’s Talk About Love by Carl Wilson) about criticism, and for years I’ve been unsuccessfully trying to get someone to read it and discuss it with me. My main takeaway had to do with the way criticism itself turns out to be this hive mind construct, in which certain artists (Celine Dion is dissected as an example) wind up getting slagged because their target demographic is less lucrative than other demographics who happen to be more antagonistic as well as male; it’s more of a meta analysis of data science than the Dion fan tribute practically everyone assumes I’m promoting but anyway, someday someone will actually read it and have a great intelligent conversation with me about it, and I will then make them main beneficiary in my will. Moving on.
The antagonistic demographic already hates BTS and avoids them like the plague, so none of them were there. Which was surprisingly uplifting, almost spiritual. K-Pop aims right for the exuberant joy that Americans tend to shun as corny and manipulative. Absolutely right it’s manipulative, says K-Pop, as it churns out songs about accepting yourself while striving to be a good person, and enthusiastic songs encouraging people to work out and make love. And be nice to each other, which is BTS’ main niche. Self-discovery, self-acceptance, and social harmony. Let’s manipulate ourselves into being good people, because it doesn’t tend to occur spontaneously.
[Cue antagonistic demographic: ewwww, sounds like religion, I would much prefer hearing songs about exploitative relationships and self-medicating my emotional dysregulation issues with alcoholism, thank you very much. This sounds like music for girls, and everyone knows that girl music is gay.]
BTS came out fighting, with big boisterous anthems – On, Burning Up, Dope. Another glorious thing about K-Pop is the interaction between audience and idols. We control the lighting, and we sing along. Hearing the guys singing about fire while we’re doing the “hot hot hotter!” part and the “la la la!” part, as our lightsticks are glowing red and orange and actual fireballs are puffing out of on-stage vents and – yeah, it was hot.
Elaborate videos played when the members vanished to change into fresh clothes, after sweating through multiple outfits and burning up thousands of calories dancing and singing. They took the time to speak to us, the English-fluent ones translating for the ones more comfortable in Korean. They gave us a thick, healthy setlist full of hits, and sang them while showing us some beautifully smooth dance moves.
It might have been sheer projection on my part, but I felt tremendous “fuck yeah!” energy from the community, ecstatic that an Asian musical act has actually broken through, after decades of being snubbed by the entertainment industry. It’s 2021, the antagonistic demographic is no longer the sole focus and they’re irate about it, and meanwhile, the rest of us are throwing a humongous dance party, with fanlights and singing, and happiness.
My favorite parts? Dynamite, with the stadium erupting in cheerful rainbow lights and happiness (a song I adore, which is currently number two in my iTunes “most played” list, right below Mars by Taemin). Permission to Dance, which I didn’t really like that much until I heard it live and changed my mind. I was eager for Spring Day, which they did the prior three days, but on my day four performance they replaced it with My Universe (with assistance from Coldplay). I wasn’t that disappointed.
During the talky parts, one of them mentioned this might be BTS’ last concert, which made the stadium gasp. They’re all up for their military service, and have actually gotten postponement (unlike Taemin, who is serving for eleven more months). They’ve planned a tour, but if there’s another covid surge, it might be off the table.
And if there’s not, I’ll be there, maybe in a lower seat, waving my lightstick like a fool and screaming along with the other fans. Bow wow wow!
