Last July, Song Sohee took the stage at the 2024 Yeowoorak Festival, the National Theater of Korea’s traditional Korean music festival, then in its 15th year. Her portion, titled Aerial Dance: Hwaganjeobmu, revolved around her third EP, GANGGANGSULLAE, released that spring. However, the show also encompassed her journey as a singer-songwriter over the past several years, featuring everything from her first original song to some unreleased tracks. The performance, showcasing the new branches that had sprouted from the roots and trunk that have grown throughout her 20 years of studying and performing Gyeonggi folk songs, carried through to the end of the year with Aesthetic Flow, the first concert she’s ever held. While the setlist remained largely the same at the show focused entirely on her, there were some additions, such as cover songs she had previously performed on the airwaves and a guest appearance by sEODo BAND. But there was also a key difference between the two shows, because Aesthetic Flow was recorded live and released on Song Sohee’s YouTube channel. And since then, her song “Not a Dream”—still yet to be officially released—has resonated with countless listeners over the past couple of months.

By February 1, the video of Song Sohee performing “Not a Dream” had garnered around four million views, but as of February 22, it has skyrocketed in views, more than doubling to over 8.7 million. Many attribute this surge in popularity to the drastically bold transformation of “traditional” musician Song Sohee. But she’s been performing this aerial dance—her journey over diverse musical territory, much like the dance of a butterfly flitting among flowers—regularly and dating back to before 2022, when she joined MAGIC STRAWBERRY SOUND and began focusing on creating pop music. A clue lies in how she included the Gyeonggi traditional folk song “Song of Plum Blossom” in different arrangements on her first two EPs, NEW SONG (2015) and Modern Korean Folk Songs (2018). Here, she showcases her skill in careful control when it comes to sigimsae, a traditional Korean vocal technique that adds ornamentation to a single note. Alongside her vocal prowess, her arrangements deftly cross over between traditional Korean music and global influences. For example, her 2015 arrangement, “Maehwa Hyanggi (Song of Plum Blossom),” features both traditional Korean and Western instruments prominently, combining a slow rhythm rooted in gutgeori jangdan with elements of the blues. On the other hand, her 2018 version, recorded in collaboration with ethnic fusion band Second Moon, borrows folk music from other cultures, like the Irish, for an accompaniment, in a clear, pure interplay of styles. This approach falls under what is most commonly recognized as Korean fusion or crossover, a blend of distinctly Korean sounds with non-Korean, creating something at once familiar and novel.

This is precisely what sets Song Sohee’s recent original songs, including “Not a Dream,” apart from her earlier crossover works like her EPs or her Gijinmaekjin Project. In her music, the distinction between traditional Korean instruments interpreting Western instrumentals and classical pansori performed against a backdrop of popular music is neither audibly nor visually explicit. Unlike typical crossover projects, where there’s a constant push-and-pull over how far to draw the line between two genres and how much to blend them, Song Sohee’s approach is different. As she’s mentioned in various interviews, the side of her that’s skilled in Gyeonggi folk songs rarely takes an active, or at least not directorial, role when her other side is crafting pop music. Rather than blurring boundaries to expand the shared space between the two worlds, Song Sohee firmly maintains the division, crossing back and forth from one realm into the other. In other words, her original compositions rely more on a separation than a fusion between traditional Korean and Western music. Her deeper exploration of new territory begins with her own deliberate journey across the boundary—from Gyeonggi folk songs into popular music, and from her folk side to her pop music side. As she demonstrated on the stage of the KBS 2TV series Immortal Songs, Song Sohee navigates this transition seamlessly. Her voice moves effortlessly from the intricate twists and trembling notes of “Monggempo Taryeong,” accompanied by a simple janggu rhythm, to the relaxed humming of “Journey to Utopia,” soaring with all the buildup of a full backing band. She “straddles two worlds,” her artistry “sustained without hierarchy” as she moves freely between them.

The place Song Sohee has ventured into seems, to borrow her own words from an interview she did, less like a “genre seeking the one right answer” as traditional music has achieved over many long years, and more like a space where varied solutions can be proposed. As such, this world can feel like a kaleidoscope of swirling, overflowing information. Her two singles from 2023, which reflect this sense of chaos, use different genres of popular music like costumes for her pop music alter ego to wear. “Infodemics” features the guitar work of Ilwoo Lee, a traditional Korean instrument player and member of rock band Jambinai, who collaborates with bandmates Choi Jae-hyuk and Yoo Byung-gu on a storm of intense music, representing a “flood of words and text.” Meanwhile, “Asurajang” expresses the dizzying chaos of life events through a disco-inspired dance track crafted by K-pop producer MILLENNIUM, known for hits like “Love Scenario” by iKON and “NAKKA” by AKMU. And at the center, leading it all, is Song Sohee. Taking the helm like an expert navigator, she adapts her voice in ways entirely distinct from in her work with Gyeonggi folk songs, responding to the soundscapes around her as they bounce and swell. Whether it’s piercing through the sweeping post-rock world of sound in the chorus of “Infodemics” or playfully changing the ends of notes like Shin Shin-ae’s dazzling vocal artistry in the titular, lively trot track “Asurajang,” she takes full command, shaping each moment with purposeful expression.

Song Sohee’s remarkable flexibility to tailor her vocals to each song is even more all-encompassing in GANGGANGSULLAE, where themes of nature intertwine with those of self-reflection. Providing the perfect backdrop for the journey she undertakes on her first pop EP—a project focused more on her identity as a pop artist than as a traditional musician—is Odd Martin, a producer and songwriter who’s worked with Norwegian pop singers like AURORA and Sigrid. Thanks to his involvement this time around, the music becomes a blanket of mystical fog, enveloping everything in exotic electropop melodies. Song Sohee uses the delicate clarity characteristic of her Gyeonggi folk vocals to particularly stunning effect in Odd Martin’s ethereal soundscapes. Within a single track, the singer transforms the shape of her vocals in various ways, building up the exhilaration as the pieces fall into place. For example, with each chorus of “Dear My Lover,” the chant of “eheiya” grows progressively clearer, while the latter part of the title track “GANGGANGSULLAE” is marked by her vocal imitation of instruments, stretching out in strikingly impressive ways. Her lofty high notes enhance the imagery of “Against the Dark Ocean” as they drift dreamily above the Earth, while in “Deer Spirit,” her voice shifts dynamically with each phrase, feeling like a race through an endless forest. In this way, Song Sohee wields her vocal shape-shifting skills with mastery all throughout the EP. She shows us that there’s no single formula for how or what she will express with her voice.

As Song Sohee finds her voice in pop music rooted in Gyeonggi folk songs, the familiar traits of pop become intriguingly unfamiliar through the occasional infusion of traditional Korean musical elements. This may explain why “Not a Dream” is so surprising for listeners and resonates with them in such a positive way. “Not a Dream” extends the mystical atmosphere and slow buildup of GANGGANGSULLAE while the singer puts meticulous effort into her vocal artistry and ornamentation. Some critics have drawn comparisons to distinctive artists like Irish musician Dolores O’Riordan or Enya, who are celebrated for their unique singing styles. What gives the song its distinct sound, however, is the seamless interplay between these pop or Western folk influences and Song Sohee’s interpretation, enriched by traditional Korean techniques. Just as the characters a comedian plays are, while seemingly unrelated to the real person, ultimately just another embodiment of that performer, the attempt to draw a boundary between traditional Korean gugak and Western music is a futile one. In the end, both the skill of her traditional and pop sides converge to put on a single, cohesive artistic performance.

The clear, pure sound characteristic of Gyeonggi folk singing perfectly complements the radiant, uplifting atmosphere of “Not a Dream,” allowing Song Sohee’s expressive power to shine as she embellishes elongated syllables through more use of sigimsae. It's most prominently heard in the soaring chorus, where the seamless shifts in flow—between phrases like “maum-eul” (“feelings”) and “noha” (“let go”), or “i-gos-eseo” (“here”) and “nal bulleo” (“call to me”)—guide listeners on an emotional journey before they even realize the transitions have occurred. This breathtaking spectacle may indeed reflect what she effortlessly declares to be, “geurae, nae-ga baran geo” (“yeah, what I wished for”). And it’s this refreshingly liberating sensation that resonates so strongly with the countless listeners touched by “Not a Dream”: the feeling of freedom—from taking the path of your dreams to painting an entirely different world in the colors of your choice.

Breaking free from the realm of Gyeonggi folk songs in which she had spent most of her life, Song Sohee began her journey to “the sound of bells atop utopia, crossing through dreams.” Through vast, open ocean, fighting against its dark waves, she’s now reached a place “beyond utopia” through “Not a Dream.” More than anything, the singer has resolutely believed, ever since taking her first step on this journey to utopia, that this is no mere “dream voyage.” If the audience’s embrace of “Not a Dream” proves that what she envisioned beyond the boundary wasn’t a dream at all, then the song is her description of what the landscape on the other side might be. When her next song—currently in the works and set to be released in the first half of 2025—finally arrives, her journey will continue on toward those distant horizons step by step, or with each flap of her wings. Gradually, she will reshape the boundaries explored by countless musicians before her, in ways we could once only dream of.