NOS: Halloween in Hongdae, 2009

The following is an article originally published in the November 2009 issue of 10 Magazine and can be found online at http://10magazine.asia/1443/freebird-keeps-the-indie-ethic-alive-in-a-pop-metropolis/.

All rights reserved by the author. Photo by Erika Lippert.

    On Halloween night, Freebird is loud, dark, and crowded in that surreal manner that only a space punctuated with the glow of stage lights can be. Colors reflect off ceiling-strung streamers exaggerating the already outlandish costumes present. A miasma of noise and smoke pours out of the second-floor entry onto those ascending the candle-lit stairwell in a nondescript building tucked into a side alley off of Hongdae’s club streets. Among those there are a blue-painted Kali, a fully uniformed quartet posing as Devo, and a mass of bloody zombies and ghouls. Inside the club it’s crowded, smoky, but as the music rises the sounds of the instruments are tonally rich and well defined, the vocals clear and resonant. Bands speak of Freebird as a perennial favorite due to its cozy size and sound quality, though I have to exit to talk to the performers between their sets as the volume inside the club makes it hard to hear.

    The first act, The Moon, performs an initially acoustic set driven by the urgent vocals of Jason the hairy-legged witch and founded on the melodic bass of head wound victim Ross. Jake, the band’s drummer and the club’s lone chevalier tonight, joins the others, along with a convincing Mark David Chapman on backup guitar for the remainder of the set, pushing their amps to eleven and merging earnestness with a fun-loving DIY recklessness. I sank a bit to hear about the group’s impending demise. They’ve evolved since their inception, fusing simple (even simplistic) noisy rock with pop melodies, making their music easy to enjoy and easy to move to.

Ankle Attack performs.

    The highlight of the evening was Seoul’s own On Sparrow Hills. Evoking the likes of Arcade Fire and Broken Social Scene, OSH comprises a mini-orchestra of three guitarists (one of whom sings), a bassist, keyboardist, drummer, and an ecstatically-dancing supplemental percussionist who accentuates the band’s lush electronic texture with tambourine strikes and tom flams. OSH’s well-rehearsed repertoire suggests they aim to carve out a more particular niche for themselves and fans tired of the genre rehash bands all-too-common at Hongdae’s live venues. I applaud OSH’s attitude for being as distant as possible from the comfortable nostalgia which cover bands tend to rely upon for their acceptance.