BTS drops the dynamite in London
It is extremely hard for me to write about BTS simply because I have never had this sort of relationship, reaction, or whatever to a band, let alone a boy band. My background in music, where my soul thrums with happiness, is with the drums and rock and roll. I grew up on a steady diet of classical music, opera even, jazz, blues, hip-hop, and the mighty rock and roll. Some pop was thrown in for good measure, which is why I joined Whitney Houston’s fan club when I was nine.
But boy bands? New Kids on the Block, yes, for a spell, but for fun—not because their lyrics or music changed my view of the world. It was something fun to dance to in the schoolyard, boys to have grade-school crushes on, not really something that helped change my point of view about who I am.
BTS is truly the anomaly in my life. I never thought I would fangirl this hard, research this deeply, and practically follow them daily just to see what they’re up to. The term “parasocial” came into my consciousness because of them, and I never thought I would be grooving to a rap in Korean, nonetheless, that was inspired by the teachings of Carl Jung’s persona. I never knew I could dance to a song that is about loneliness, wondering if we are heard, and likened to the lone male whale that sings at a frequency no other whale can hear. My English literature major heart caught up.
The beats to the songs were catchy, too, and danceable, Dope being the second-ever song I heard, and well, I got hooked. I wondered if I could play the beats themselves.
The fandom is famous for being fiercely protective of the band and each other, to the point that it is now being likened to a cult. I would not say it is, but the influence of BTS truly is strong. These boys from South Korea influence people to be good, do good, fall in love, be good friends, question themselves, love themselves, go on bike rides, love trees, and just be human beings in the simplest and purest way possible. They sing about the simple pleasures in life, like coffee and just falling in love with a dimple (listen to Dimple). Army is known to have taken this to heart by planting trees to help reforest areas, organizing ocean cleanups, naming whales after the boys, setting up community cleanups, creating online groups of doctors who are Army to help those with medical questions, and doing many other things as well.
I was lucky enough to hang out with my million-strong Army barkada to breathe the same air as our audio besties.
So when the opportunity to watch them comes up, you take it—after battling your fellow Army using bandwidth and luck to buy that coveted ticket. Which is exactly what I did, and well, initially I lost out. But the opportunity came when a friend of a cousin had tickets for sale to London while I was going to be there for my graduation, and there was no other proper answer other than, “How much, and can I transfer today?”
Upon arriving at the venue, Tottenham Hotspur Stadium in London, the place was already sprawling with Army. The capacity of the stadium is around 65,000 people, and they were all there early. The air was ripe with excitement, and everyone was just so happy to be there—and with each other. I had experienced two solo concerts before, for Suga in Singapore and J-hope in Manila. If I was excited then, this was absolutely on another level. I wanted to go as early as I could, but seeing as it was a heat wave and would mean being there for nearly eight hours instead of four, I decided to go later. I would rather keep my strength for the concert itself than spend it standing in line to get in.
We got in about an hour and a half before the show itself. As it is with Army, a lot of our seatmates were giving out cute freebies of photocards, stickers, and other little cute things. I felt bad I couldn’t contribute, but I just did not have the time to do it while preparing for the trip.
Then the show started. I had made a sign and was holding my Army Bomb and phone. At some point, I put down both the sign and the Bomb to take everything in. I put the phone away too for most of the concert.
My first reaction, as it seems to be with everyone, was that they were finally real. These seven men who have been singing and speaking in my ears in a language I don’t understand, whom I have been watching on my laptop, phone, and TV screen, telling me that I was good enough, that I was strong, that it’s time to party—and what has become normal for years—were now in front of me. My audio besties were here! We were finally breathing the same air. I will leave the outfits and looks of the boys to others with more expertise. They all looked amazing, and I have to give it to the designers and stylists—they were able to make their couture movable for the high-velocity dance moves BTS is known for. Kudos to that. But I will say that my goodness, I want their skincare routine. They looked absolutely stunning.
As always with any live show, I look at the gear (the drum make and model, how the set itself is laid out, where the monitors are, etc.) out of habit, the stage itself, and the performance, of course. This is the first time I have seen a 360-degree stage like that, with the middle section rising up and displaying LED screens that showed videos of the boys and images that were part of the performance. I should have guessed, having seen j-hope’s concert in Manila and Suga’s concert in Singapore, that they would incorporate some of the influences from those tours, such as the video accompaniment on the LED risers and the graphics that looked like absolute works of art flashing between and during sets and songs. It was a visual assault, with all this happening while the performance went on. And because they are seven men, it was impossible to keep up with them all as they performed in separate areas and along the runways jutting out from the main circular stage. They took turns performing on each of these, danced together on the center stage when it rose, took time to deliver their speeches and messages to Army, and simply put on one hell of a show. Their backup dancers, crew and support teams on and at the sides of the stage were as perfectly synchronized as their dance moves, down to the beat, with not a second wasted.
And none of mine was either. I was speechless—and actually still very much am—about it. It seems unreal to have seen them, and it is true: there is absolutely no bad seat at a BTS concert. Just make sure you get one. I would even go so far as to say that seeing John Mayall in a concert with only about 100 people, with Eric Clapton just sessioning for him, or meeting Sting, or Crosby, Stills & Nash, or even INXS, was amazing—but this was up there with those experiences.
As I was writing this account of the concert, news had just broken that all seven members simultaneously posted on their Instagram Stories that they are NOT, in fact, attending or submitting their biggest album yet, Arirang, to the Grammys. This is an answer to the Academy trying to create an Asian category so that BTS will “finally” get their due after being nominated five times. Once again, BTS redefined that conversation by simply taking themselves out of it. Though, as any Army worth our salt knows, the boys have always wanted this award. Undeniably, as musicians, this is the zenith of what has traditionally been considered achievement. They just turned it on its head and said, “Annyeong.” Even though the message was written in Korean with no translation, it is a sign. Asian music—or Asian-made music, or Asian-language music such as Korean, Chinese, Japanese, Filipino, Indonesian, or Thai—should be held to the same standards as everyone else because we are pushing ourselves just as hard, if not harder, than those who have “made it.” We aren’t holding ourselves only to our own standards, especially when you are reaching the numbers BTS reaches. SB19 is on the same path, and I would, as a Filipina, be extremely distraught if I heard them, or Bini, or Rivermaya, or any of our acts being placed in an Asian category when we have repeatedly held our own against our Western counterparts. Music is music and, apart from math (I reluctantly admit this), is emotion and ideas communicated without the need for language. I don’t need to know Italian fluently to know that the aria Un Bel Di Vedremo is about longing and hope; I can hear it.
And I can feel it.
Just like when they played in Japan and the Japanese Army sang Arirang in their song Body to Body. Through the content they put out, but especially through this concert, BTS has been able to convey these ideas and emotions while hardly singing a word of English. When they did, the world exploded. And when you see them, your mind will too. Maybe then the world will be a little more open to these seven South Korean “boys” in a “boy band” and realize they are really making serious music—and music worth listening to.
That concert was absolutely life-changing, and I hope I get lucky enough and find the bandwidth that will allow me to get another ticket and another chance to hang out with my million-strong Army barkada and see my audio besties do what they do. Perhaps the anomaly wasn’t BTS. It was thinking music ever needed to fit neatly into a category. A beat is a beat after all, right?
