Sandbox, 9/18

Music is my religion. Listening to Mos Def when hip-hop used to tell stories and bring up social problems was my down-to-earth version of reading the bible. Listening to PSY (10 years before "Gangnam Style") on my CD player while going to a predominantly Jewish middle school in the Bronx was the one string of a connection I had in my life to hold on to for my Korean identity. Partying to reggaeton with my Hispanic friends and getting "hyphy" with the West Coast friends were all the psalms I rejoiced in. And, for a good while later in my life, electro-house was my church where I went every weekend to rid the negativities in my life and be reminded that life can still be good.

Whether one uses it as an outlet of stress, to find solace in after a tragic event or to come together in celebration, music creates an unspoken universal platform to rid ourselves of negativity, even if for a glimpse of a moment. In this way, music was, is and always will be my gospel: good news worth spreading.

It was truly devastating when I started to realize that the popular music scene was becoming as commodified as 21st century religion. The truth behind music had become overridden by money, thus becoming mechanized, produced and packaged for consumption--stripped of soul, connection and reason. Just as politics of “religious” leaders used fear of the unknown afterlife to coerce membership and justify violence, production labels exploited teens’ intrigue for sex to make issue of their “musicians” to sell more records. This was especially true in K-pop, where plastic, auto-tuned boy groups and girl groups with little musical talent were filling out the charts, kicking out the older generation of legitimate musicians and barricading off the newer independent musicians.

I remember going to my first club in America (other than the "clubs" I had visited for Bar/t Mitzvahs at age 13). It was a teen’s night at a three-stage club in New Brunswick, NJ. The first stage was playing techno music; the second stage was a hip-hop stage; the third stage, salsa. Quite frankly, I did not fit in anywhere. This was not the ‘melting pot’ I learned about in school.

The party scene at Duke was no different: separate, with little to no interaction between different cultures. I originally came in as an Economics major to make my parents happy, but soon decided to change my major to Sociology in attempt to understand social behavior better in hopes to find ways to make this world better. I decided that happiness reached beyond my parents and myself. This led me to my decision of serving my two-year Korean military duty after sophomore year as a social worker in a daycare center for blind women.

I first went in, pitying the handicapped. I imagined they would need my aid doing anything or going anywhere. However, I was more than shocked to find them living very normal lives, enjoying the same activities as anyone, with some even gallivanting through the busy streets with their walking sticks. Many of the women seemed happier and more confident than myself, and at times I felt like they were helping me. The center held many musical activities and, being sharper in their hearing, the women were amazing at performing. There even was a singing group that toured all over Korea and sang at conferences for handicapped people, to bring joy and spread positive vibes. This was music.

Afterwards, with hope back in my heart, I headed to my first big music festival: Ultra Music Festival in Miami. As one of the most renowned electronic dance music festivals in this world, UMF pulls in hundreds of thousands of people from all corners of this Earth to gather together in joy in celebrating dance music. Perhaps it is due to the minimal use of lyrics, electronic dance music (EDM) has witnessed a vast boom in the music and party scenes around the world in the past decade. After being thrown into the media craze of terrorism, war and other acts of violence, I had become skeptical of true peace. But as I saw all the different national flags being thrown up in the air to represent one’s nationality, in harmony, my hope was reinforced.

Unlike the exclusively hip-hop club, reggae bar or a salsa joint, these festival cultures started to expand into encompassing a very broad spectrum of music. It started to bring people of all ages and races together, in the PLUR* mentality (*Peace, Love, Unity, and Respect: a major philosophy behind rave culture). On top of that, hallyu, the Korean Wave, was spreading all over this planet thanks to social networking services and media streaming platforms. I figured that if I could mix and blend flavors from multiple cultures and genres, like K-pop and EDM, I could possibly aid in connecting different people, who would not have any other reasons to connect. Because that’s what DJs do: mix.