As all idol pop does, Cherry Bullet’s two EPs, Cherry Rush and Cherry Wish, are filled with pieces of the past that are easy to assemble. But given that reception to both EP’s lead singles, “Love So Sweet” and “Love in Space,” which are presented like two parts of the same series, has included people discovering some unexpected similarities with Patti Kim’s “I Can’t Live Without You” and Kim Gun Mo’s “Wrongful Meeting,” it is clear that idol pop has a distinct connection to old pop music, as though it is the former’s uncle or grandmother. The reason for this lies in how the chorus of “Love So Sweet” (“Sweeter than candy / Sweeter than chocolate”) mainly progresses across the bright major scale but makes the occasional move up and down in half notes, and the way the rapid melodical rap in “Love in Space” starts minor and visits the major scale before returning to minor again—both techniques that tell us the power of the most familiar harmonic progressions, which has proven a successful formula for countless songs. The important thing to note is that those progressions we hear in the melody of the vocals are not the only components that make up the tracks. The two Cherry Bullet tracks share similar characteristics, such as a subtly changing synth that lightly flickers right on the beat and burying the conventions of pop music melody in a sound apparently styled on retro music and that suggests neon lights. When a bullet containing a whiff of familiar idol pop coupled with that sweet and sour cherry scent is fired off, where does it head to? 

“Whatever” and “Broken” use the same disco rhythm and electric guitar riffs ingredients that are widely used in so many songs these days and, like many other tracks—most notably “KKa KKa”—contain the high-fructose energy of mid-2010s girl groups, with ample electric instruments that send attention-grabbing sparks and a vocal style that revolves around high-intensity sound effects. Looking back on the similar shiny and peculiar sheen of the electric sounds in “Ping Pong” or “Stick Out,” this idea of artificial sweetener as characteristic of the group is just the concept to express the impressive tracks Cherry Bullet has put out to date. Particularly noteworthy is the way “Hiccups” recalls idol pop of the early to mid-2010s, which at the time combined vintage Motown soul and song structures with clear hooks, while at the same time adjusting it to match their own sound. As when they danced in ’50s Americana outfits and sang “barararam” in “Follow Me,” “Hiccups” has sweet doo-wop harmonies and melodies—sounds like [doom-ba-ba] or [shoo-wop shoo-wop]—and a classic percussive lineup of drums and tambourine/cowbell reverbing through the track. Yet unlike “Shy Boy”, “Lion Heart,” or “You Don’t Love Me," which all used real instruments, “Hiccups” openly embraces its digital production process with the addition of trap hi-hats and off-beat vocal samples, all underscored by a quivering synth.

Compared to other idol pop songs, Cherry Bullet’s tracks are so extremely sweet that they could almost hurt your gums. Two of their songs—“Keep Your Head Up” and “My Boo,” each representing one of the group’s two EPs—show how that sparkling sweetness is synthesized to maximize not only its sweetness but its intensity. In “My Boo,” the colorful synth note that has been altered into the song’s signature electronic sound is arranged such that it can waver brightly around the song’s fantastic harmony and shifting notes. As though a high voltage keeps flowing through, the track calibrates the intensity of this distinct sound, perfectly combining the sensations that accompany “electricity surging through you.” On the other hand, “Keep Your Head Up” feels like each element of the song is a stunt driver generating heat as they brush up against the others. Where “My Boo” is enveloped in an instant electric shock sent right into your ear, “Keep Your Head Up” makes heavy use of vibration and waves—that particular feeling when speed and excessive collide with one other—by loudly, and sometimes unexpectedly, throwing in both thumping and levitating synths, and the sounds of roaring engines, tearing tires and even hoarse voices leading to a collision. The overall structures of the songs seem to function as the carbon dioxide that pairs with the expertly synthesized sweetness to put listeners into a state of auditorily induced euphoria that makes them feel as though they are drinking an acidic, throat-tingling fruit cider.

Nevertheless, the aftertaste from these tracks is not simply sweet, but sometimes astringent as well, not unlike the choruses of their lead singles, which themselves resemble older pop music, strongly suggesting the group seeks out its high-fructose fuel across time and space. The minor chords and moves across the scale in semitones, coming at just the right time and in the right space, as well their high, nasally vocals come together to form the mulberry-sweet familiar pop music sound of old. Korean dance music has long pursued the unbelievable pleasure that the reds, yellows and blues of Western electronic pop music gives rise to, and as such, Cherry Bullet’s tracks too contain high-concentration synthesized sweetness. But when it came to idol pop, the customary elements of older pop that found their way into melodies were somehow seen as flaws or obstacles in the way of devising the “perfectly sweet” pop song. Cherry Bullet takes aim, with great accuracy, at the recent past—a time when idol pop was not yet completely separated from older pop’s particular attributes and, moreover, intentionally capitalized on them. Perhaps this, then, is the bullseye their bullet shot straight through. Despite the condensed, electric cherry taste of their sound, Cherry Bullet shows that idol pop can leave listeners in thrilled wonderment without filtering out the sour taste of conventional pop—one that elevates us above the limits of the pop music of today and yesteryear by making good on euphoric melodies tasting of cherries, berries and mulberries.

With all that in mind, we can go back to think about how the melodies in “Love in Space” and “Love So Sweet” sound like they are referencing the famous songs from Korean pop song history mentioned earlier. These similarities show where today’s idol pop has fixed its gaze as regards pop of the present and past: to promote itself as a style defined by a self-contradicting structure with customary elements of pop inside. To achieve this, the artists avoid sticking with the consistency that older styles are known to have and instead shake that stable ground and push the boundaries that pop old and new is expected to offer listeners by mashing together sounds that have been manipulated to be ultra-sweet or fermented to perfect sourness, all occupying the same level. We can find a different sort of allegory for this method in “Q&A,” Cherry Bullet’s debut single. Released before the group retooled their image in recent years with their two EPs, the track uses the unusual concept of an “operating system” to demonstrate that the group is confident they field any question, no matter where it comes from, while expressing infinite curiosity and interest towards the listener, and features a mix of old game consoles beeping and blipping their chiptunes and a nu-disco groove amplified by the fat bass. A rumbling in the build-up echoes a car’s ignition and sounds just like the whirring fans of a computer as it boots up. That is how their operating system of idol pop works: patching codes carried over from the older systems of pop and making them operate as one. The music to be played during its operation sounds strange—like there is a continuous, automatic assembly and magnificent glittering, and like the song is following the rules of a predetermined algorithm, as in the lyrics, “Before I ask you I think I know it.” Their album tracks that sprinkle on artificial sweetener through their almost tingly use of modern and older electronic pop, and the singles that have an underlying conventional taste to keep the sweetener from dominating the song entirely, work in tandem to set up the system which operates Cherry Bullet. There is a familiar sweetness that triggers your taste buds, but if you touch the computer screen and get a static shock, that sweetness turns oddly astringent on the tip of your tongue.