Hyperfocus #11: The graceful melancholy of GFriend, still K-pop's unlikely heroes

GFriend's tenth anniversary—and unexpected reunion—gives me a chance to look back at how one of my favorite K-pop groups carved a space for themselves despite the odds.

GFriend, clockwise from far left: Yerin, Eunha, Umji, SinB, Sowon and Yuju.

Having lived in a tropical country all my life, I spent way too much thinking of what to wear when I had the chance to go to Seoul. All of us, really—me, my folks, and the ex. There were several trips to fast fashion stores looking for our winter wardrobe: coats, gloves, scarves, innerwear that keep the heat trapped in.

We were there from the night after Christmas 2015, until the morning of the first day of 2016. The temperatures were, as expected, cold. On our first full day, when we went on our guided city tour, it was -12 degrees, a challenge for me considering we were doing a lot of walking and I tend to have my laces undone. Imagine stopping every so often on slippery sidewalks and trying to tie your shoes with gloves on. I should’ve bought slip-ons, but are they appropriate for winter?

But apparently this was nothing for Koreans. “This is a warm winter,” our tour guide¹ said. It was a bit of a cloud hovering over me throughout the week, as we unknowingly tried tteokbokki and fell in love with hotteok and grappled with me having an allergy attack after eating beondegi². We’re not having the full effect? True enough, there was no snow… well, except for five minutes on the fifth day, when the ex and I were at the Nowon district to meet with one of her aunts. It was a warm winter, as snow quickly turned to rain, and it felt like just another scene in Manila, but overcast, and much, much colder.

That winter was the backdrop for “Rough”, perhaps GFriend’s trademark song. Maybe it got colder, although the snow on the music video was clearly fake.

I’ve written a lot about the group both on the old music blog and the Once Monthly, so forgive me if I’m anxious about repeating myself. But I don’t talk a lot about how, in the beginning, we weren’t into the group. The ex wrote about them first, about their debut “Glass Bead”, and she certainly wasn’t that kind. When I finally wrote about “Rough” I was going on about how it sounded similar to the two singles that preceded it. I think I was aware that it’s supposed to be part of a trilogy, but I suppose I wanted to see more.

Somehow, “Rough” eventually grew on us. I won’t dare speak on behalf of the ex, but for me, two things were in play. One, I was understanding the innocent sound that K-pop was trading on at the time.³ This being the transitional period between the second generation and the third, we were still seeing groups like GFriend and Lovelyz follow the template set by Apink and early Girls’ Generation⁴. It’s worth noting that all of those groups are also known for their distinct vocal textures, which tend to play nicely with “soft” songs that evoke innocence and youth. You could conceivably draw a line between GFriend’s Yuju to Lovelyz’ Kei, Apink’s Eunji and SNSD’s “kid leader”, Taeyeon.

Two, I always had the thing for the sweeping—my musical North Star is arguably one example. Even as a kid I liked the intricacy of orchestral pieces that I hear in the right place at the right time, and it seems it was a matter of time before it happened with “Rough”. Arguably it also defined the other K-pop songs I latched on to in those early years, almost always released in the winter, like April’s “April Story” and “The Blue Bird”, or Pristin’s “We”⁵, or, eventually, Lovelyz’ “Destiny”.

Not that “Rough” is all lush and fully orchestral: the School trilogy always had a jolt of electric guitar that somehow feels organic, perhaps a nod to how GFriend didn’t solely bank on their innocent image. They were also known for their synchronized and sharp dancing, incidentally solidified by a viral video of the group soldiering through “Me Gustas Tu” on a very slippery stage, and later when they almost single-handedly started the trend of dancing to their songs at double the speed.⁶

And then things got a little weird. GFriend could not forever trade on innocence, so they pivoted towards their “powerful” image. “Navillera” still had that vestige of youth, but the song and the music video was so propulsive you knew they were turning the page. (They also began introducing some sort of lore surrounding Eunha, which I never really quite grasped.) “Fingertip”, the follow-up, went further with its somewhat sci-fi visual concept.

In hindsight, there must have been some sort of struggle within their label, Source Music, as to how to properly present the group. GFriend were refusing to be pigeonholed. Their strong variety game kept them going, earning a reputation as chaotic beagles at par with their contemporaries Mamamoo—incidentally, they both headlined the final season of the second generation variety stalwart Showtime.⁷ Musically, however, they weren’t capturing my imagination as much as they should. I liked “Fingertip”, but apparently the response to it was more mixed; “Love Whisper” felt like a bit of a U-turn towards their earlier elegiac sound. (It did feature perhaps the scariest choreography gimmick one can think of: dancing in a shallow pool of water.) I was okay with the songs, don’t get me wrong, but I suppose I couldn’t help but compare them to “Rough”, by now one of my ride-or-die K-pop songs.

Only in putting this thing together did I understand another behind-the-scene shift that would prove instrumental to both GFriend’s trajectory and my enjoyment of them. All of the group’s singles at this point were produced by Iggy and Youngbae, but after “Summer Rain”, the former’s one-time mentor and partner, Noh Joo-hwan, took over producing duties. (This Reddit post breaks down the timeline well.) By this point he had already written a handful of ballads for the group, and also had a hand in the underrated “Sonatine” by LOONA 1/3. His own sensibilities bordered on the whimsical side of orchestral, but not quite the way IU would’ve done it, and his sound would prove to be the best vehicle to convey where GFriend was at this point.

Personally, “Time For The Moon Night” is my favorite song of theirs, ever.

I remember listening to it on release day, in April 2018, and I was floored. This is the melancholic sound of theirs I loved… but it isn’t exactly that sound either. Easiest way to put it, the almost doe-eyed innocence of “Rough”—although that song’s lyrics, about one not being in the right place nor the right time for their love, can be heavy—had given way to a weariness, perhaps a desperation, that somehow still sounds beautiful. The group’s vocal texture was still being utilized the way you’d expect it to be—you have Umji keeping things cool and Yuju sending things to the stars, but everyone else contributes by being steady and, in Eunha’s case, sustaining—but it also all feels fresher, and also more familiar. I still don’t know.

The lyrics, though, somehow hit even harder.

기다렸던 시간이 지나고
The times I’ve waited for have passed
이제 보내줄게 아냐 아직은 너를
Now I’ll let you go
내방에 몰래 몰래 간직하고 싶어
No, I still want to keep you in my room secretly tonight

That hesitation, that moment of weakness… I’m not saying this is a theme unique to their songs, though. This being in a language I don’t understand, I don’t have the energy to find translations for everything. I know I’m latching on to this because I already like GFriend in the first place, and “Time for the Moon Night” was objectively becoming the commercial breakthrough that “Rough” or “Navillera” was a few years before. Also, all that I said earlier about the sweeping and the lush and the melancholic. This was what I was waiting for.

The formula (and production team) was kept for the next few singles. I honestly forget about “Sunrise”, but it had a chills-y ending that made the most of Yuju’s then vocal troubles, and how Eunha stepped in for the big notes. And then there’s my other favorite GFriend song, “Crossroads”, which I now feel was the apex of the group’s quest to keep what made them popular in the first place, but not be stuck with their earlier innocent image. It’s a song that’s even more urgent than “Navillera”—I know this comparison does not quite make sense on paper, but it does—coupled by their first music video that shows none of the choreography. And it’s about bonds, and almost breaking them, and repairing them, and coming back to them.

Unfortunately for us fans, more behind-the-scenes movements were going to change things. “Crossroads” was the first single released after Source Music was bought by Hybe. Flush with money after the monumental success of BTS, the emerging juggernaut sought to reshape and disrupt all of K-pop—particularly, perhaps, the almost-sacrosanct idea of the “Big 3” agencies that every newcomer has to learn first—by going on an acquisition spree.

I acknowledge that what I’ll say next is mostly my take on what really happened, as these things don’t tend to leak out, at least until the tumult that overshadowed K-pop in 2024. But it felt to me that GFriend’s whole package was not compatible with Hybe’s global ambitions. To be fair, before the acquisition the group still dabbled in the prevalent pop sounds of the time—I don’t play “Fever” a lot as a result—and the more upbeat “Labyrinth” was almost chosen as a single instead of “Crossroads”. But corporate priorities are also sacrosanct, so the group’s final trilogy of singles don’t exactly connect the way the School Trilogy did. Sure, you can say that, thematically, “Apple” and “Mago” are also odes to female friendship the way “Crossroads” was, but with way less drama, but you just know that was an attempt to Hybe-ify their sound.

In May 2021, GFriend announced that they were disbanding at the end of their contracts—imminently, as it turned out—but it felt that they did not want to leave. Again, my interpretation was, corporate priorities were sacrosanct. Now, is there a direct correlation between this and the controversies surrounding NewJeans and (to an extent) Illit? I don’t know. They’re not even under Source Music, but other Hybe sublabels. They had Le Sserafim, a group that I should like in theory because of the presence of Miyawaki Sakura⁸ and Huh Yun-jin⁹, both previously contestants on Produce 48—but I felt an intense loyalty to GFriend, and a disappointment at how they were not given a proper goodbye, that I refused to enjoy any of their stuff. Fans, right?

The disbandment felt like a final nail in the coffin for me. I still listen to K-pop, but you do hold the first groups you embraced more dearly, and it certainly was the case for me. GFriend was no more, and although their members went on to individual work—or not, in the case of Viviz, who boldly mined the original group’s legacy—it just felt different. It also didn’t help that by this time, Mamamoo had also pretty much broken up (although not after one more world tour) and, also, that the newer groups were following a more aggressive sound that I didn’t quite lean towards.¹⁰ I mean, you certainly don’t see a lot of school uniforms as costumes like, say, fromis_9 did with their frankly catchy debut. To this K-pop listener for a decade (plus five years, depending on when you’re counting) it was the end of a chapter, the final links to a time when everything was new and fascinating giving way to one where everything is… not.

Of course I still listen to GFriend. (I wouldn’t mention them on the playlists otherwise.) Despite the fact that, technically, the ex introduced me to them, I had somehow extricated it—and all of K-pop, to be honest—from her; it’s become my thing as well. But for the most part, I listened because of those fuzzy feelings you get when you remember something fondly, and that’s always mixed with a tinge of sadness that you’ll never really truly be back at that point in time, because thing are not what they used to be, including you.

So, when it was announced that GFriend would reunite for their tenth anniversary, I had mixed feelings. Sure, it’s a poetic full circle moment considering the (perceived) circumstances behind the split—but you just know things will be different. But you’re happy to see the six girls together anyway. Not every K-pop fan gets that chance.

“Season of Memories” was also (co-)written by Noh Joo-hwan and Lee Won-jong, but it’s one of those songs with other writers in the mix, so my expectations for something even slightly grandiose have been dashed, in favor of a vague disco hit that doesn’t quite hit as hard as “Mago”. (There are those piano flourishes, though, reminding me of the piano house music I recently highlighted in one of my playlists, the sort that LP Giobbi does.) I shouldn’t have put my hopes up. These are different times, and the group wouldn’t want to risk sounding like an outdated throwback. But then, this reunion does not seem like a one-and-done deal, with the group holding several concerts over the coming months. They even released a new lightstick for the occasion, which is not something I’ve seen done for other K-pop reunions.

There’s one scene in the new music video that nods to the fact that the group does have a pretty sizeable following: the scene where a computer-generated audience full of lightsticks shows up. That gave me chills. I remember their second visit to Manila, and their first full concert here. The lines were long, if not a bit chaotic, because not everybody knew about the queuing numbers that you were supposed to get online a few days before, which is why the ex and I were at the barricades at the second most expensive section. We were surrounded by excited Buddies, singing loudly to the music as the clock ticked to seven o’clock. When the singles kicked in, we all knew they were close.

It was my first K-pop concert, so I was a bit overwhelmed by both the logistics and the whole experience in itself. Frankly, I don’t remember much, except for the time the ex being the only one singing along to Yuju’s cover of Ailee’s “Heaven”—incidentally also produced by Iggy and Youngbae—and, later, somehow managing to touch her hand when they went around the venue. I don’t even remember what I felt when they finally performed “Time for the Moon Night”. I must’ve just soaked in all of it.

Sure, that response is partly because we were surrounded by fans, but I remember those first months ten years ago, when we were ready to dismiss GFriend. The odds were certainly stacked against them: it’s difficult becoming one of K-pop’s best-known groups if you’re not from a big agency. Fast forward to now, and they’re fondly remembered as one of the representative groups of the third generation, thanks to their discography, their stage performances, and their all-around chumminess. I called them K-pop’s unlikely heroes back on the old music blog. They still are now.

And look—we have a reunion, we have a new song, and we have new memories to make. I know I’m a different person now, but there’s no harm in making the most of it.

1. Her name is Sunny. For some reason I remember that. I also remember how, as we gathered outside our hotel in the Dongdaemun district, she thought we were missing one person, until she realized I was already standing around. Apparently she thought I was a local, someone from the provinces. I guess my wardrobe choices—really, a trench coat I got from H&M and sadly never wore again—worked.

2. Beondegi is essentially silkworm pupae, boiled and served in a simple broth. It tastes like peanuts. I regret not being able to finish it because I was having a breakout—the one time we ended up using the ex’s allergy medicine the entire trip.

3. I had been heavily exposed to K-pop for three years at this point. Consider that I first took it seriously because of Lee Hi, and then became a bit of a fan of Akdong Musician, before finally planting my flag on a radish field. The innocent sound wasn’t fully jiving with me back then.

4. I am not commenting on how SinB is actually Jessica.

5. Technically it was first released under the name Pledis Girlz, essentially Pristin minus Nayoung and Kyulkyung, who won on the first season of Produce 101 and were promoting with I.O.I at the time.

6. I say “almost” because it was originally a caller request from a fan to a Weekly Idol episode. One innocent suggestion became a rite of passage for third generation groups. The caller must be so proud of herself.

7. They only appeared together in the final episode, however. I come back to it occasionally to see the leaders of both groups be terrible with carpentry.

8. Of course she was also part of AKB48, she who cannot wink, stoically withstood the smell of a fart, and has a thing for Red Velvet. The first two facts are obviously from her variety show appearances in Japan, although I can no longer find clips for either on YouTube.

9. Kirin-chan! That said, her time in Produce 48 pretty much ended in a villain edit, because one of the objectively better voices in the competition wanted a little too badly to be the lead vocal. “It’s because she was raised in America,” the ex said, and, well, the culture clash tracks.

10. At one point I was annoyed at how every new girl group—and, again, I prefer them because I was exposed to them first, by virtue of the ex preferring them, more than anything else—seemed to just be aping the sound of Blackpink. Everyone was doing the girl crush concept, and they weren’t even being different about it like (G)I-DLE were. I understood how the innocent sound didn’t fly with everyone, but Korean female groups were unfortunately pretty monotonous beginning at some point in 2018 or so. I think it’s why my new favorite group is Billlie: because they have more soulful songs as well, from “Eunoia” to the one Christmas song I like, “Snowy Night”. That said, I know I won’t stan them as hard, because I am way too old for this.