How do you perceive South Korean music? How does it appear? Largely, when the Western audience think of South Korean music, their knowledge does not spread much further than K-pop. K-pop, for those who are not familiar is a sweeter-than-sugar take on pop music, a sickening blend of 90s styled UK pop with ludicrous audiovisual elements that bolster the nauseating aura of the music further – see Gangnam Style and well, that is K-pop in the very minuscule nutshell it deserves. Artists such as Jambinai have long been excluded from the perception of South Korean music and what we expect. This is where things get interesting for music from that side of the world however, probably more interesting than you could ever expect.

Seoul’s Jambinai emerged in 2009, forged by a trio of individuals, Ilwoo Lee, Eunyong Sim and Bomi Kim, when they met at university. The concept for Jambinai was to present a contemporary take on their nation’s traditional music. Their production of music takes into account Western instruments and genre aesthetics whilst merging these with traditional instruments; Lee’s ‘piri’ – a Korean flute made of bamboo and Sim’s ‘geomungo’ – a Korean zither being two examples. The striking splicing of Korean traditions with Western sensibility leaves Jambinai with an exceptionally niche but similarly entirely unique sound. The likes of Slint, Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Yndi Halda step forward as the purveyors of post-rock, leaving the blue print that Jambinai wedge their sound within.

A Hermitage is the sophomore record by the trio and sees the band further try to explain Korean music to a Western audience, this time through the perspective of South Korean social problems. The interesting lens they have chosen to communicate the message through acts as an obscure portal of choice, it sees their sound find hellish intensity and crass darkness. The closer to the album perhaps being the finest example of this, ‘They Keep Silence’ has the rush of Suuns, the claustrophobic tiptoeing and explosive chases. Guitars lacerate through drumming sections as Sim’s geomungo causes bovine lashings throughout the rear end – to some, this music may be unlistenable, completely unapproachable, hence the niche it targets. What it does though is cement it as interesting to understand. Lee explains the darkness chosen as being the perfect purveyor of their music, transforming it from Korea into an understandable outline for their Western audience. This bravery must be admired, they have tipped the preconceived understanding of Korean music on its head and fractured the candy floss shell of K-pop exposing its decadent centre. This is heavy but bears the potential to trigger emotions within the audience, a sincere act of frisson, there is a purpose to the weight of it all though.

As mentioned previously, Lee suggests A Hermitage looks inwards towards Korea’s own social problems as much it does to expand the music into other sectors of the world. South Korea is noted for having the highest suicide rate in the world and haemorrhages social issues at the moment, Lee puts A Hermitage forward as a bellowing call to arms for the isolated youth of today. It is painfully evident within this piece of art that this is an issue that needs addressing. The musical tangent that runs between tradition and the contemporary is a poignant reminder of where Korea was and where it now is. Targeting the solipsistic nature of Korea allows A Hermitage to stand as something that could soundtrack the darkness whilst offering the cathartic light through it – nowhere better is this documented than on ‘For Everything That You Lost’. If the title of the track does not pose the implication alone, the music elevates it further. Gentle at the beginning, soundscapes are set and then developed in a fashion to Explosions In The Sky. Painted perfectly and so eloquently by pianos, guitar and raining drums, it is pastoral in the way it outlines its purpose giving a utopian feel to the often dark world that South Korea can present.

‘Echo Of Creation’ is entirely numbing with its lamenting guitar section, cutting above spits of feedback and tension and release, bursts of destructive energy yell above murmuring vocals. Hovering delicately above a course of ticking on the geomungo and doom-laden bass, gentle whistling surfs a steady wave before the wall comes crashing down once more. Jambinai really begin to prove themselves as a worthy contender in songwriting, building together and severing as they please. Ruthlessness appears the way to find the Western heart on A Hermitage.

‘Abyss’ is jarring with its stuttering opening and terrifying reversed electronics, sounds whistle over in a klaxon-like fashion – Kevin Shields I’m sure is taking note here for MBV LP 4 scheduled for release in 2054. Exceptionally progressive and intimidating as a song, it asks as many questions of music as it does anything else, Jambinai are now a trio pushing music harder and further than anyone dare before. ‘Deus Benedicat Tini’ targets the conservative forces that oppose South Korean people currently, described by Lee as a rallying call. It is thunderous in what it poses as a song. Skewed by left-field brass sections from the start, horns wail and scream as loud as the guitars, entirely captivating in how aggressive and purposeful it is, it begins to prove the fact further that Jambinai are a group with a message of soulful intent. Assertiveness is often left adrift in music today and to hear it within A Hermitage is entirely reassuring. Exhilarating and heart-stopping in what it does, the energy and cathartic feel is inexplicable and mesmerising. On first listen it is good, by the fifth it is entirely compelling.

The apocalyptic nature of A Hermitage builds and swells throughout the album. Unabated in it’s message and how Jambinai go about delivering it, each song on the album is ultimately so self-assured in what it demands of the audience. The utopian heights on ‘The Mountain’ emphasise this fact further, harnessing the listener with the taepyeungso – a traditional reed instrument – the group once again point to their traditional roots as a reasoning for the apocalypse. It is vastly intriguing to see a band point so close to home whilst being so exterior in their intentions. It is beguiling to see how they have pinpointed a darkness within South Korea’s current social situation and presented it in a fascinating format for the rest of the world to understand.

This is as an exceptionally important album for the world to hear. Socially speaking and musically speaking. Terrifying to some, it is a message of true purpose for the isolated youth of South Korea and it needs appreciating. The eight cathartic mini-symphonies on A Hermitage are cinematic of a dark time, offering a light where darkness may have previously swamped all that is positive.
Tom Churchill

Facebook: facebook.com/jambinaiofficial/
Twitter: twitter.com/Jambinai