The Rap Star [EN]: Chapter 106

< Verse 16. Ripple Effect >

(Omitted)

……The changes 888 Crew will bring seem enormous.

So, is a musician who conquered the mainstream with underground music underground? Or mainstream?

Of course, it can’t be strictly divided. Some might argue they’re underground because they originated there, while others might say they’re mainstream because they’ve targeted a wider audience.

In hip-hop culture, the word ‘underground’ carries a unique weight. Originally, it simply means ‘beneath.’ However, in the art world, it signifies pursuing avant-garde artistic endeavors from the ground up, rather than chasing the glamorous tastes (capital) of the mainstream. This pride in underground culture is particularly strong in hip-hop.

Underground might seem similar to garage art at first glance, but their meanings diverge upon closer inspection.

Garage, true to its name, refers to art (usually music) created in a garage. Garage rock is a particularly well-known genre.

To elaborate on garage culture, it embodies the DIY (Do It Yourself) spirit, suggesting that great music can be made even without ideal environments or advanced skills. Garage culture remains garage even when it reaches the mainstream, as long as it retains that DIY ethos.

But underground culture is subtly different.

Under Ground

Over Ground = Main Stream

The contrast between ‘Under / Over = Main’ reveals the nuance. Although not its original meaning, in modern music, ‘underground’ has evolved into a concept opposed to ‘mainstream.’

In hip-hop, underground musicians often tell stories with themes and methods that mainstream artists can’t touch, refusing to be absorbed by the mainstream. These stories might include critiques of the establishment, political satire, or even explicit narratives.

But here’s where the irony kicks in.

The ultimate way for underground artists to prove their musicality is to transcend the underground. They continue making music with an underground approach, but their audience expands beyond the core fanbase to include mainstream listeners. This is the ideal scenario for validating their artistry.

Because if their underground music captivates even mainstream fans, their musicality becomes undeniable. Think of Nirvana bringing alternative music to the masses.

So, isn’t it ironic?

Making music in the underground while embracing the underground spirit, yet ultimately aiming for the mainstream.

Underground fans often say that ‘the underground has absorbed mainstream fans’ in this situation. But since culture tends to absorb the smaller entity, it could also be said that ‘the mainstream has swallowed the underground musician.’

Of course, this debate has been thoroughly explored in the rise and fall of hard rock, which dominated the world from the late ’60s to the ’80s. There’s no need to rehash that familiar narrative.

So, why revisit this common story at length? Because it’s a crucial discussion to have ‘at this moment,’ as hip-hop, led by 888 Crew, ascends into mainstream culture.

Returning to the initial question: if you conquer the mainstream with underground music, is that musician underground? Or mainstream?

The answer is already implied. It hinges on whether you can maintain the purity of the ‘Rock Spirit’ in rock or ‘Be The Underground’ in hip-hop.

The 888 Crew has entered mainstream culture through their official bootleg (a term that, as mentioned, is quite intriguing). With album sales of 6,500 copies, they can’t be entirely labeled as underground.

Moreover, the sales curve is still rising. In other words, ‘capital’ has become involved in 888 Crew’s music.

The official bootleg is an album worthy of praise, regardless of opinions. Its only real weakness is the lack of a unifying theme, but given that they themselves labeled it a bootleg, it’s a minor imperfection, not a fatal flaw.

Therefore, the focus should be on 888 Crew’s next album. What if they achieve commercial success while staying true to the ‘Be The Underground’ spirit?

Perhaps we’ll be fortunate enough to witness the emergence of a truly groundbreaking artist.

– Popular Music Critic Lim Young-ho

***

‘Wow, is this guy putting pressure on us?’

Sanghyun read Lim Young-ho’s review on the bus to Seoul. He didn’t have a smartphone, so he’d printed it out before leaving.

The review was lengthy, spanning 12 pages of A4 paper in 14-point font.

‘Hmm…….’

Lim Young-ho was a highly respected music critic. Even without his titles as a professor at Seoul National University and director of the Korean Popular Music Research Association, he was a well-known figure who frequently appeared on television. 888 Crew had now reached a point where they were being reviewed by critics like Lim Young-ho, not just hip-hop specialists.

The review was sharp, as expected. Sanghyun felt that vague thoughts he’d had were now articulated clearly.

He was particularly struck by the statement that the ultimate goal for underground musicians to prove their musicality is ‘escaping the underground.’ It mirrored his own feelings.

Then Junhyung spoke.

“Is it fun?”

“Would I be reading this if it were just for fun? I’m reading it because it’s about us, out of curiosity.”

Junhyung, who had been dozing in the next seat, half-opened his eyes and yawned.

“I skimmed it, but I don’t really get it. Well, I vaguely understand what he’s saying, but we didn’t make the album with some grand purpose in mind, did we?”

“That’s right.”

“Especially the part about Bootleg 0.5 was hard to swallow. Did he say it represents exactly half the commerciality of the official bootleg? That it’s a clever device? We didn’t name it with that intention. We just compiled songs we’d already released.”

“Did Kurt Cobain set out to destroy hard rock with his album? Did the Beatles plan the British Invasion? It’s all like that.”

“Is that so? Well, we just have to make our music. Why should we worry about what others think?”

Sanghyun glanced at Junhyung, a hint of nervousness in his gaze, prompted by Junhyung’s question mixed with a yawn.

As Lim Young-ho pointed out, capital was now involved with 888 Crew. And it wasn’t a small amount. Current album sales were estimated at around 7,500 copies.

Although the sales rate was slowing, the response remained strong. Sanghyun believed they could reach 10,000 copies before the year’s end.

‘Depending on how popular Hip-Hop the Vibe is, maybe even more.’

If labor costs were disregarded, 888 Crew made a profit of about 7,300 won [approximately $6 USD] per album. Crunching the numbers, their total profit from album sales so far was 54,750,000 won [approximately $45,000 USD].

About fifty-four million seven hundred and fifty thousand won.

Of course, there were deductions to be made: server maintenance and expansion, payment for the part-time student handling orders and shipping, album storage rental, design fees for Woominho and Kim Hwan (the cover designers), t-shirt production, beatmaker fees, taxes, etc.

However, Sanghyun estimated that over 30 million won [approximately $25,000 USD] would remain after all expenses.

Thirty million won was by no means a small sum.

No, it was a significant amount, considering 888 Crew’s age and experience.

‘What will happen?’

In this situation, what would Junhyung and the other 888 Crew members think? Would they want the next album to sell even better? Or would they prioritize musical growth?

Sanghyun didn’t know the answer. He wasn’t pretending to have all the answers while observing his crew. He was genuinely concerned about 888 Crew’s future, filled with both anticipation and worry.

In that sense, ‘Hip-Hop the Vibe,’ their reason for going to Seoul, would be a true turning point for 888 Crew’s music.

Fame and popularity, which they hadn’t fully grasped, were now following capital.

After experiencing these things, what kind of music would 888 Crew create?

***

“Oh, what should I do?”

Heo Tae-jin, the general manager of Hip-Hop the Vibe 2, paced the conference room, deep in thought.

Hip-Hop the Vibe 2 was an ambitious project for the broadcasting station, now reorganized as KMnet.

After Hip-Hop the Vibe 1 had flopped spectacularly, his colleagues and superiors, who had dismissed hip-hop as a niche culture with limited appeal, had completely changed their tune.

‘Hey, this is going to be a huge success, right? Music and competition are a great combination. A rap competition is a fresh idea.’

‘You think so?’

‘Yeah, you’ll do great, but maybe you need one or two more experienced PDs [Production Directors] to oversee the bigger picture?’

And at the heart of this shift was 888 Crew.

888 Crew didn’t distribute their music on major streaming platforms. So, they weren’t on the charts, but their album sales this month were the highest by far.

Some in the broadcasting industry were already suggesting that if 888 Crew were signed to a major agency and had their music serviced properly, they could aim for the top spot on terrestrial music shows with the right marketing.

He also knew that terrestrial broadcasting stations had been trying to get 888 Crew to appear on their music shows for some time, asking them to register their music.

‘Ah, this will require a major shift in the editing direction.’

Ironically, Heo Tae-jin’s worries stemmed from 888 Crew’s growing fame.

He had initially envisioned a specific image for 888 Crew in the first round of the competition: ‘a team that only *I* know about.’

The public has a peculiar tendency. They seem to support the mainstream, but they’re also drawn to appealing underdogs. And the more impressive the underdog appears, the more possessive they become.

For example, if there’s a very established team, they’ll naturally receive strong support from viewers. So, if a ‘very established team’ competes against a ‘moderately established team,’ the former will likely win.

But what if a very established team competes against a new team that’s ‘incredibly appealing’?

The outcome becomes unpredictable, generating significant viewer interest.

The ideal scenario is for the underdog to gradually rise in prominence. It’s like David challenging Goliath, preparing to take down the giant. This makes viewers feel like the team is growing ‘because *I* supported them when they were unknown.’ They then click on the content featuring the underdog, like feeding a Tamagotchi [a popular virtual pet from the 90s].

Of course, when Heo Tae-jin first cast 888 Crew, they were already somewhat known. However, their fame wasn’t comparable to Stars Records or Bounce Rhyme, who were already on TV. To be precise, 888 Crew was *becoming* famous at the time.

‘But now they’re *too* famous.’

A lot had changed since the official bootleg’s release.

You could tell by the actions of the ‘terrestrial music show PDs,’ who had been comfortable with their fixed formats for years, hated anything disruptive, and seemed incapable of adapting. They were actively trying to get 888 Crew to appear by asking them to register their music.

< Verse 16. Ripple Effect > End

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