The greatest strength of a musician is their ability to communicate in the language of music. The melodies they make become containers that they then fill with stories imagined or drawn from personal experience, and they connect with listeners through their voice. From there, they form a connection with each other. Considering that, it’s only natural that listeners would be excited at the prospect of potential new music. After all, it’s like opening a new chapter of conversation. That’s the case for artists who write their own music, anyway.
But TAEYEON is unique. The vocalist is remarkably devoted to her role. Although she’s been involved in the songwriting process now and then, those songs were the exception for her, not the rule. Generally speaking, she’s taking the music and words someone else has written and conveying them through her own lens and the emotion in her voice. It’s what makes TAEYEON’s music feel less like a conversation with her listeners and more like a compelling force with the constantly shifting emotions she sends out into the world. As she explained in an interview, “Even with the same song, the way I express it changes depending on how I feel that day.” And, as listeners, we’re helpless against the powers of her persuasion.
Who am “I”?
When I first heard the news that TAEYEON was going to put out her debut solo album, my first thought was, “What took so long?” TAEYEON was already Korea’s most iconic female singer. It hadn’t even been a year since her 2007 debut with girl group Girls’ Generation before her song “If” off the “Hong Gil-dong, the Hero” TV soundtrack became a massive hit. Shortly afterward, her song for the series “Beethoven Virus,” “Can You Hear Me,” was likewise met with acclaim. She was only just starting to make herself known, and already she had left a permanent mark with her voice. Since then, she’s lent her voice to countless TV soundtracks. So when news broke in 2015—eight years after her debut—that her solo album was on its way, it felt like a long-awaited letter had finally arrived in the mail.
Given her string of successes with TV were all ballads, plus the fact that the genre is the best choice for showcasing vocal chops, it was widely expected that TAEYEON’s first solo single would likewise be a ballad. But TAEYEON chose to go with a modern rock song instead, going with a full band for her solo work. Instead of a love song full of longing, she sang an ode to life. Hearing her sing a modern rock song about “overcoming the pain to soar gloriously” was an unexpected twist, but the fact that it was such a change in pace made the song resonate that much more with listeners.
From there, she progressively came to explore more and more genres she could take on. The tropical house track “Why,” the alt pop song “Fine,” and the dreamy neo soul track “Something New” all took her down new, unfamiliar paths every time. At the heart of her endless exploration was TAEYEON herself. The mere act of lightly asking someone why they would ever hesitate over taking a little trip somewhere felt like a reflection of the artist committing to life’s adventures. She also opened up about raw post-breakup emotions with direct, unadorned lines, like when she reacts to the title “Fine” with the words, “Not me.” She was committed to trying new things, but always in a way that stayed true to herself. She wouldn’t stop trying to figure out who she was even while expanding her musical range of possibilities.
A spell she casts on herself
When TAEYEON released “Four Seasons,” she talked about the experience on her Instagram. “At first, I couldn’t relate to it at all,” she wrote. “I didn’t think of it as being about me, and I even tried forcing myself to feel like it was. I tried my best, but I still felt like it really differed from my experiences and personal background. But listening to ‘Four Seasons’ now, it’s suddenly hitting me. Maybe it really is about me and about how music’s been the biggest part of my life, even now that I’m 30. About how I’m feeling now, and about the music and songs that have always been a part of my life and that I’ve always fought with and loved.
Like that.”
For TAEYEON, music is something she has given her all to. It’s somewhere all seasons pass through, and what she’s poured all her passion, her quietude, and everything in between into. The end result of redefining her relationship with music is that she now counts herself among the people she compels through her songs. When that persuasion turns inward, it becomes a spell she casts on herself.
“Spark” was the first part of that spell. The unforgettable drumming strikes like a heartbeat in the background while TAEYEON continuously casts her spell, urging the spark that is the artist inside her to ignite. She started her adventure with cautious steps, but now she sings with ferocity, like she’s found some kind of answer. But the spark wasn’t simply meant to start a fire or make her shine brighter. It was within those flames that she forged herself. Every song that followed seemed to rise up from the embers left behind. She speaks directly to herself, brushing off any lingering feelings post-breakup like they’re nothing and reflecting on her emotional wounds. The string of releases “What Do I Call You,” “INVU,” “To. X,” and “Letter To Myself” unfold almost like a single narrative.
On “What Do I Call You,” the indifference in her voice suggests she’s suppressing residual emotion, compressing it rather than letting it fly free, enduring what’s left hanging in the air after love has grown cold. She seems to be asking the man to define what’s left between them, but in fact, it’s up to her. Asking him is actually pretense because it’s actually the singer who’s deciding how to label her ex. On “INVU,” she sings about how she knows she’ll be hurt if she falls in love but is nonetheless powerless to stop herself. She twists what could’ve been a miserable situation into a moment of emotional irony by repeatedly singing the title—which sounds just like “I envy you.”
We get a glimpse of the composed resolve with which she takes control of the situation on “To. X.” She’s singing about her relationship ending, but she’s unruffled as she does. Somebody else used to pull the emotional strings exclusively, but now she’s cutting them and regaining autonomy over her own feelings. Now her songs are no longer about looking for something—they’re about being unshakable. Even when she’s not entirely convinced of her own confidence, she just keeps singing to herself. She’s learned the way to understand herself and how to change the world that surrounds her.
That way comes to full bloom on “Letter To Myself,” which she writes surrounded by a vast soundscape. She tells herself not to give into self-loathing, singing with the hardened voice that only someone who’s lived through every emotion can have. There’s no need to hide your emotional bruises and scars, she tells herself. Just let it all out, no matter how raw it is. And never lose yourself. Just like when she kicked off her solo career with “I,” she revisits rock music to fully convey her words. She once again reminds herself to soar, this time to help her heal.
TAEYEON has spent the last 10 years of her music career exploring herself, expressing herself, and making promises to herself, all the while casting spells her own way for self-comfort and self-consolation. Singing has proven to be a way for her to reveal her emotions, prove herself, and stand as a record of her life. Even if she doesn’t personally write the words she sings, she transforms them into her own. She’s gone beyond compelling only her listeners to even compelling herself. What TAEYEON sings resonates with the singer herself. Today, she remains in pursuit of her emotions as she sings, infusing herself into every measure. When you look at it that way, it only makes sense to be helpless against her persuasiveness.