Music review: The magic of K-pop, Psy, and 'Gangnam Style'

There's a certain image that comes to mind when you think of Korean Pop (K-Pop) artists: young performers, sleek to a point that they seem "manufactured," who have perfected the dance moves that accompany their catchy tunes. 

 

Some of us can only wonder about this appeal (because their songs only have a few words in English), but more so about the biggest surprise in the heart of it: that its biggest star is “stocky” 35-year-old Park Jae-sang of an affluent family in South Korea, whose love for music led him away from the family business and into popularizing the “horsey dance.” 

 

It was with this curiosity that I agreed to watch Psy’s concert at the SM Mall of Asia Arena last Saturday. Admittedly, though, I had low expectations.

I didn’t know much about the guy except that he is to be blamed for one of 2012’s biggest hits, “Gangnam Style,” the four-minute dance craze that has likely been played for every gathering and advocacy during the second half of last year.

 

Yes, the song has been on the loop too many times (it has more than a billion views on YouTube), and at some point we've seen our bosses dance to it. Still, I thought, it was just one hit, one that may already be gasgas because even its singer has admitted to getting “sick of it” sometimes.  

Gaga over Psy

 

But there really is something that draws people to Psy. Or even to a look-alike.

 

Adrian, soft-spoken and seemingly timid, caused quite a stir at the entrance, gamely posed with strangers who were too giddy to even bother if he was the real deal. A group of college students even agreed to dance “Gangnam Style” and yell “We love you, Psy!” for GMA-7’s “Kapuso Mo, Jessica Soho” just to have a photo taken with him.

 

It was interesting how the event drew an eclectic crowd—families (with children, who at that time are supposed to be sleeping), barkadas, lovers on their post-Valentine’s date, and even grandmothers in full señora getup.  

I didn’t think, though, that everyone would be up to dancing “Gangnam Style” that night. At least, I promised that I wouldn’t.

It turned out to be quite a long wait—the show began more than an hour behind schedule—punctuated by adult humor and a few song numbers from front acts Ai-Ai delas Alas and “Eat Bulaga” duo Jose Manalo and Wally Bayola, who may have elicited laughs and cheers, but weren't really able to get the audience on its feet.

 

'Finally!' we Psy-ed

 

It was almost 11 p.m. and everyone sat in the dark, busy tinkering with phones and talking to companions, when a group screamed, making us look at the stage.

 

The lights went on. The cheers got louder. At long last.

 

Wearing a pair of sunglasses and an all-white sleeveless ensemble that looked a bit like Elvis Presley’s, Psy went to the center of the stage.

 

The bespectacled boy in front of me woke his little brother up. “Gian, wake up!” he said, shaking the younger one. “Wake up! That’s the guy that sang ‘Gangnam Style’!”

 

Psy asked everyone to stand up, looking around as the crowd obliged. He told the audience to “Jump” (the title of his first song) and to do it “for your own excitement.”

 

He wanted the lights “as bright as they can go” so he could see everyone and “if they’re jumping properly or not.”

 

From that point on, it was clear to me that I wouldn’t be able to sit through that concert.

 

'See your feelings'  

Over at the other side of the arena, I could see his look-alike Adrian, who ironically wasn’t dancing, as if frozen by the sight of the man he impersonates. Everyone else was moving along with catchy tunes that they couldn’t understand. The South Korean singer knew this, and found the need to explain what the other songs meant before he sang them. 

 

“I appreciate your faces because I can see your feelings,” Psy went on. “When I sing in Korean, I know you don’t understand it, which means [your feelings really come from] the music.”  

The audience was down for anything demanded by this man, who turned out to be a performer fueled by the crowd’s energy. Eventually, time came for his last song, and everyone cheered even louder when he finally spotted Adrian in the audience. The look-alike obliged with a sample of horsey dance and got the original’s approval.

 

He turned to the audience, who was becoming restless as he asked, “You know the song, right?”

 

Of course we all did.  

The audience was alive and dancing, but when his song ended, Psy finally addressed us killjoys and gadget-dependent folks.  

“So, during ‘Gangnam Style,’ I noticed that a lot of people were busy taking pictures,” he said in a cool voice that didn’t even hint of how tiring it must’ve been to dance. “But you see, [even] if you keep [on] taking pictures, I look [the] same. This time, not for the record, but for the joy. So please, put away all of your phones!”

 

“Itabi nyo na 'yang mga cellphone n’yo!” the man behind me yelled and the music began once again, sending the crowd into a frenzy.

 

I kept my end of the bargain I made with myself—I did not dance—but allowed myself to sing aloud (the English words in the song, at least). I spent those four minutes smiling, feeling the energy build up in the venue, a perfect send-off to the man and to the song that he said he would like to move past from to make way to a new tune. 

 

'Not a typical flower boy'

 

Everyone seemed awake (the kids included) as we walked out of the arena, only to be treated to free ice popsicles.  

I was able to talk to Janine, a K-Pop fan, who said she enjoyed the concert even when it was not at par with the other ones she had been to.

 

I asked what makes Psy different from the singers and groups that she idolizes. Part of the South Korean’s charm, she said, was that “hindi siya ‘yung typical na flower boy.”

 

Indeed, there must be more than what meets the eye. “The energy, your energy,” Psy had said many times during the concert. It obviously remained in his audience, in the same way that his song lingers in your head. —KG, GMA News