kimseungjoo doesn't want to be a superstar anymore. He's said as much, and he's also said that he once held that admission up to the light and wondered if it was a loser's way of thinking. He decided it wasn't. The music he makes now is different from the music he imagined making when fame was still the point – and he prefers what he's making now. For an artist releasing his first full-length album, that's either a worrying thing to admit or a quietly radical one. It reads as the latter.

The singer-songwriter has spent the last few years building one of the more distinct voices in the Korean indie scene. His releases so far are structured like manga volumes — his EP series is literally titled Shonen Manga vol 0.1 and vol 0.2 — and the world-building is consistent. His music sits at the intersection of folk and band sound — acoustic at its core, warmer and more kinetic in the arrangements — and his lyrics are autobiographical in a way that feels less like confession and more like reportage. He starts every song on an acoustic guitar, and only once it's finished does he begin layering arrangements on top. The song has to work before it gets dressed up.

Ask him where his inspiration comes from and he'll tell you: himself. Not in an arrogant way. More like someone who has actually thought the question through and arrived at the only honest answer available. The people he meets, the comics he reads, the music he listens to – all of it passes through him and comes back out as songs. His lyrics reflect that. He writes about jealousy, inadequacy, the size of the place he lives in – because that's where the material is.

Since his debut in 2021, he has built a following that knows his catalogue closely, that has a name (Nudeogi), and that the artist himself clearly thinks about: "escape ∞" was written directly from their stories. The relationship between kimseungjoo and his audience is the kind that can't be faked.

Now he's releasing his first full-length album, recorded at Sangsangmadang Studio in Chuncheon with his band over days of sessions that ran up to ten hours at a stretch – more spontaneous than anything he'd made before. Asked to describe the album's world in a single feeling, he offers two phrases: "A Dazzling Powder Drug Pretending to Be Desperate" and "The Final Impression of a Patient Gown."

What that means, exactly, might become clearer when you hear it. What's already clear is the kind of artist kimseungjoo is – the sort who, mid-rehearsal at his first festival, found himself so overwhelmed singing a song he'd written from his fans' own stories that he had to stop because he couldn't get through it.

Your music has its own world. Did you design that identity intentionally, or did it grow naturally over time?

kimseungjoo I think it developed naturally over time. One question I often find difficult to answer is, “Where do you get your inspiration from?” There was a time when I really thought deeply about that – where do I get my inspiration? And the conclusion I came to was: I get it from myself. The people I meet, the thoughts I have, the music I listen to, the comics I read – everything I experience shapes my inspiration and, in turn, my identity. So rather than being something I intentionally designed, I believe my everyday life naturally formed the stories and world that exist in my music.

A lot of your lyrics feel personal and autobiographical. Is it easy for you to write about your own life, or does it take courage every time?

It’s quite easy for me. I’m not afraid to reveal my sense of lack, the impatience that comes from jealousy, or even talk about things like the size of the place I live in. I think being able to speak honestly about the present is something of a blessing.

Your sound mixes band music and folk in a way that feels very specific to you. How do you know when a song has found the right sound?

I’ve always loved folk music and admired it for a long time. I do also really love band music, but the moment I feel like a song is truly complete–like I’ve found the right sound–is actually before I even start layering it on the computer. It’s when I’ve finished writing the song on an acoustic guitar. From there, I build on it by adding the ideas and arrangements I love, which eventually shape my sound and identity.

When you write a song, where do you usually start – a melody, a lyric, a feeling?

I usually start with the lyrics. If I had to divide lyrics into two types–emotion and events–I tend to prefer expressing and describing emotions through specific situations or stories. For songs with lyrics, I think the melody exists to support and serve the words.

Is there a song in your catalogue that surprised you – one that became more meaningful than you expected when you wrote it?

Among my released songs, it would be “escape ∞.” Nudeogi, the name of my fandom, probably already knows how much I love this track. “escape ∞” actually started as a special project song–I collected stories from fans during a performance and wrote it based on those submissions. While writing the lyrics, composing the melody, and singing it, I kept finding myself on the verge of tears. Later, when Taewook, a colleague of mine, created such a beautiful arrangement for the song, it moved me all over again. I’d say I don’t usually cry during performance – I don’t really count shedding a few tears as crying [laughs] – but during rehearsals for my first festival, ASIAN POP FESTIVAL 2024, I remember singing “Escape ∞” and getting so emotional that I couldn’t even continue the rehearsal – I just kept crying.

You are releasing your first full-length album. Does a full album feel different to make than an EP or a single?

The biggest difference was the recording process. To preserve the emotions and nuances of the album, I stayed at Sangsangmadang Studio in Chuncheon with the band and recorded together for days. That part felt the most different compared to my previous work, and it’s also where I put in the most effort.

What was the hardest part of making this record?

When I work on an album, I pay close attention to the cohesion between tracks – the flow of the listening experience, and how time and emotion move from one song to the next.

With a full-length album, unlike a single or an EP, there are more tracks and a much broader story being told over a longer period. So the most difficult part was figuring out how to connect everything while maintaining that sense of continuity.

Another challenge was the recording process. I usually record instruments based on parts I’ve already arranged, but for this album, I spent a long time in the studio recording more freely with Jaehyung, Dongwoo, Junho, Taewook. We recorded a lot of unplanned, spontaneous takes over extended sessions – sometimes around 10 hours a day. I personally enjoyed it a lot, but I did worry about how physically demanding it might be for everyone else. Still, they played with great energy, and in the end, it was a really fun and rewarding experience.

If you had to describe the album's mood or world in one sentence – not a genre, but a feeling – what would you say?

I find it a bit difficult to define the feeling in just one way, because it feels like I’d be limiting how people experience the album. But if I were to answer in my own way, two phrases come to mind: “A Dazzling Powder Drug Pretending to Be Desperate” or “The Final Impression of a Patient Gown.” It’s a somewhat ambiguous world, so I’d rather leave it up to you to interpret.

Since your debut, what has changed most in the way you think about music?

I don’t want to be a superstar anymore. When I was younger, I wanted to become one through my music, but now what matters most to me is being able to keep making the music I truly want to make for a long time. At times, I even criticized myself for thinking this way, wondering if it was somehow a loser mindset. But the music I imagined when I wanted to be a superstar is very different from the music I make now. And honestly, I love the music I’m making now. I guess being a superstar just isn’t for me.

Korean indie music is getting more international attention now. Do you think about listeners outside Korea when you make music, or do you focus on making something true to yourself first?

I don’t really think about that when I’m writing. If anything, it’s after the song is finished that I sometimes feel a bit of regret, thinking that listeners overseas might not be able to fully grasp the lyrics. But when I’m making music, I create it for myself first. I need to truly like it and feel confident in it – that’s what makes me want to share it with others.

After this album comes out, what do you want to feel? Not what you want people to say – what do you personally want to feel about it?

I hope I end up feeling a sense of dissatisfaction with the album myself. It’s not that I made something lacking, but I want to feel just frustrated enough that it pushes me to imagine and create the next world. At the same time, I hope listeners find it incredibly good – honestly, that’s what I want most. Please enjoy it, if it resonates with you!

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This feature is taken from our fourth printed issue, available for purchase here.