A MASS CULTURE
BÉBE YANA exists on the fringes of experimental K-pop artists, taking the kind of sonic risks that would’ve been impossible during her idol days. A former member of K-pop girl group EvoL, the then 18-year-old spent years conforming to someone else’s artistic vision in a hyper-competitive music industry. She trained around the clock, forgoing sleep and food at the behest of her management company and their arbitrary idea of what makes a perfect pop star.
The mainstream K-pop machine is notoriously cutthroat, and it was a semi-miracle she’d even made it this far. But all that time training and competing against other potential idols meant she’d been robbed of those formative experiences essential to discovering your identity. So when EvoL was essentially disbanded after YANA and two of her bandmates were allegedly terminated in 2015, her future was unclear both personally and professionally. At least until she went to live in the U.K. for a year, where she fell in love with underground club music, and returned to Korea “fully inspired to make music again,” YANA told The FADER in an email: “It feels like the girl band was if I was in school, and now as a solo artist I have graduated and opened my business.”
Her latest venture is her new single “Icy on My Neck,” a reflection of Seoul’s growing underground dance scene, which has rapidly grown over the past few years. Berghain fever has swept the city and roving drum & bass nights have become some of the most popular events amongst younger Koreans. And with U.K. club and German-style techno taking over the scene, it’s clear that other K-pop artists have followed YANA’s lead.
Within a year of YANA releasing 2021’s bass-heavy single “Strawberry Kisses,” big entertainment agencies quickly followed suit, debuting a new wave of Y2K-influenced pop acts like LE SSERAFI and NewJeans, whose “Super Shy” ended up topping The FADER’s Best Song of 2023 list. And while some critics have attributed this 4th generation of K-pop to TikTok trends and artists like PinkPantheress and Charli XCX, they’ve also credited YANA with helping bring the sound of the underground to Korea.
Yet another example of how she bridges the gap between ‘90s glitter pop and old-school U.K. bass sounds, “Icy on My Neck” sees YANA stretching out a classic drum & bass loop until reaching the climax, which quickly descends into a soul-shaking clamor of triple-time production. Amid trance-like piano and flirty take on, YANA brings a sense of Y2K brattiness to an onslaught of rapidfire breakbeats. Her sugary vocals are glitched-out and chopped-up, syncing up with the skittery jungle breakbeat while also retaining the polished clarity you’d expect from a K-pop star.
It’s a confidently chaotic track that pushes up against the sleek hyper-production endemic to mainstream Korean pop music, for good reason. Crowning herself the queen of K-pop excellence, “Icy on My Neck” is a celebratory track that comes almost a decade after being “iced out” of the industry, with a little added smirk towards the new girl groups that will always “wanna be me someday.”
Can you tell me a little bit about your interest in underground club music? What makes you gravitate toward genres like Jersey club and sounds that have a very strong U.K. club influence?
I’ve always been a dance girly, ever since I was young and, to this day, that is the root of my musical soul. In 2019, I went to Europe for a couple months for a trip, and stayed in the U.K. for a month. Going to jazz festivals, random lunch church recitals, jams on the street, and electronic-based clubs was [such an authentic] experience, especially the club culture. The music hit so differently compared to what I had experienced back in Seoul. It wasn’t like a cultural shock, but it felt more like a cultural awakening and had quite a big impact on my perspective.
Coming back to Korea after the trip, I was fully inspired to make music again and started in my room. I think that experience was when I brought the electronic, underground club music energy with me. These genres, to me, bump my heart, and I also love how interactive these genres can be.
When did your interest in these bassier sorts of sounds start? And when did you decide to start experimenting with them?
It was during COVID. Since there weren’t a lot of options, I was mostly making music in my room or hanging at my friend’s studio most of the time. That naturally led me to explore, experiment, and discover new things. It literally was a whole music laboratory vibe. I low-key miss that period of time. We basically did everything in the studio: discover new music, share our thoughts, eat, make music, and sometimes throw small parties.
Whatever genre it is, bassier sorts of sounds have always caused me to vibe with the music instantly. At that time, I was obsessed with a lot of PC Music, U.K. garage, Jersey club, and hyperpop sounds on Soundcloud. Inspired by that, I explored more vocal mixing, like how to use my voice as an instrument by chopping vocals. I got to experiment with blending sounds with my voice. I loved how my [vocal] tone and the dance-y, heavy beats blended together.
It was such an exciting new discovery for me besides just making and recording songs. What I love the most about this discovery is that it expanded my creativity territory and putting those ideas all together while making music is one of the most exciting parts I enjoy.
At one point, you were part of a pretty prominent K-pop group. What was that experience like and did it influence your decision to go solo?
Yes, it definitely did. I was 18 when I was in the girl band. If I look back now, I was still discovering my identity. During the K-pop days, we trained and practiced really hard, especially during promotion. We would only get to sleep two to three hours a day. The most fun part was going on tours and living with the girls but, on the other hand, it was also very tough to go through issues with the company or not having much freedom. I consider that a period of time [where I was] learning the basics and understanding the industry.
After the disbandment, I wasn’t planning to go solo right away. I needed a break from everything. I went back to uni, studied, went traveling, and started to just casually make music in the meantime. I also wanted to discover what I was willing to do besides music, but my gut feeling was, “I want to do something with music.” That didn’t change, so I decided to follow my heart.
What was your transition from pop to club music like?
My music preference has shifted multiple times, like hip-hop, R&B, classical music, jazz, and various electronic genres. I knew I wanted to create something dancier, and this idea came from the experience from my K-pop group days.
2020 was a big transition year for me — the music lab era with friends — and getting obsessed with a lot of [bass-driven] electronic music. At that time, people barely knew about this scene, especially in Seoul, but I was like, “This is so pop,” and was confident I could make it good with my voice and the visual ideas.
I see club music as pop itself, and the exposure from the internet and lots of parties makes club music blending into pop easier.
Are there any particular artists, songs, or genres that have really inspired your work? And how do you integrate these influences into something that’s uniquely BÉBE?
The influence comes from a variety of lifetime experiences and changes depending on what phase I’m in. It’s like creating my own library inside my brain. The process of creating music for me feels like meeting a new fate, if this makes sense. The influences and current mood bleed into the story of when I go into the studio and it ends up as something uniquely me.
The album, The Power, from Vanessa Amorosi, has had the biggest impact on my music journey. I was such a huge fan of hers, and this album was the first [actual] pop album I ever had. This album is not only representative of 2000s dance music, but it also had several versions. This inspired me to [bring some] soul to dance music and taught me how fun it is to enjoy different versions of remixes.
Lately, a lot of DJ edits have influenced me a lot, such as nusar3000, VTSS, and sim0ne. I actually purchased waterproof swim earphones. It’s my new thing, having fun while swimming multiple reps. Listening to the new Brutalismus3000 EP while swimming is quite an experience.
How did “Icy on My Neck” come to be? What was the songwriting and production process like?
Dayrick, the producer, and I were casually making songs together in the studio. Once I heard the main loop Dayrick was making, the hook came out on the spot, and I thought it was very catchy. So we started to develop it from there, playing around with the voice, writing the verses, and trying various compositions. The mixing journey was also fun. We tried out several ideas to give some diversity and spice to my voice.
Lyrically speaking, are there any particular themes or emotions you’re interested in exploring? And if so, why?
I usually go back and forth between my analog lyric notebook and my Notes app. For this song, all the lyrics came out from my analog notebook. This helped me to write down the lyrics in a more conversational tone, like the verses are written as if I was going to talk to a friend who was being jealous at some point. “Icy on My Neck” is a song for girls to stay strong, confident, and resilient to. The whole lyrical journey was focusing on expressing my personal experience and the general message I wanted to imply in the song.
The club scene in Seoul is exploding right now. Why do you think that’s the case? Where do you see it heading over the next few years?
It’s exploding! I feel like the people in Seoul have always loved partying. The biggest difference since the last couple years, is that the DJ scene has become huge and there are so many talented Seoul based DJs now… This could be a reaction to the global scene, but I think the fact that Korean people are very sensitive to trends made it boost up. And when Korean people dig into something, I think they work really hard and reach a certain professional level fast.
I still think the Korean [mainstream] public hasn’t had that many underground sonic opportunities yet. So if they get to experience more with the current flow, I think the major club scene can be way more diverse. I’m not sure if other countries are like this too, but the interesting thing about the club scene in Seoul is very much location-based. In most of the Gangnam-area clubs, hip-hop and EDM are dominant. Hongdae has an underground hip-hop scene, and Itaewon has techno, jungle, drum & bass, and house parties and clubs. The fact that it’s location based creates our own club cultures. You can stick into one area, enjoy basically three to six parties — or sometimes more — going back and forth the whole night or until the morning. Maybe in a few years, when more people around the world get to experience this, they might come here just to party.
*This interview has been lightly edited and condensed for clarity.
