The S(e)oul of Hip-Hop: Locating Space and Identity in Korean Rap

Abstract

It is a rainy Sunday afternoon in July 2012—the middle of South Korea’s monsoon season—and a large parking lot inside a building in Hongdae is completely filled with high school and university students. It is close to 4:40 p.m. and the occupied space is echoing with noise, or rather large excitement. Three young men with staff badges rush in to organize the crowd. Soon after, people are lined in a big square spiral that coils like the contours of a maze. Each person now has a stamp on the wrist. Excitement does not die down in this basement where some parts are so dark that cell phones are used as flashlights to check off names on the ticketing list. Most have come in pairs, or groups of threes and fours. Three girls in line are guessing which songs will be performed by their favorite artist who is one of the dozen performers tonight. By 5:07 p.m., the crowd is inside and a third of the audience—roughly 150 people—are standing in front of the DJ who is getting ready on the elevated stage. The rest are seated in rows. At 5:10 p.m., Fana opens the third Boxer Show, one of the many series of underground hip-hop shows that are held in Hongdae on a monthly or bimonthly basis.