If I had to describe Jimin in one word, it would be “captivating.” He has charming good looks, and is a fantastic dancer, but what I like about him most is the way he sings. You can sense the devilish allure in his voice. His unique voiceprint is as delicate as handwriting inked with a fine pen, and yet resolute at the same time, and there’s a kind of turbulent beauty in that—the kind of charisma that turns heads. No matter what song he’s singing, the mere presence of his voice brings to it what could only be described as a light. It can be a subtle twinkle like a star in the sky, or it can strike like lightning. In the song “Angel Pt. 1” from the latest Fast & Furious movie, Jimin adds something like a sudden flash to the song through his vocals alone, even though the pentatonic A part he sings repeats the same melody over and over. That’s just the kind of voice he has.
Jimin’s 10-year career has been punctuated by a series of legendary breathtaking moments: the “333” moment at the 3:33 mark of the “FIRE” music video; his exquisite triple threat of dance moves, vocals, and facial expressions in the intro to “Blood Sweat & Tears”; the way he dances solo like a falling cherry blossom in “Spring Day”; the expressive power of his agonizing performance in “Black Swan”; the performances he’s put on at awards ceremonies and year-end shows like his cover of “Perfect Man” and his fan dancing. Among K-pop idols, Jimin’s already a master of his craft, and is considered among the greatest pop artists of his generation. The way Jimin lights up the stage like magic is so admirable that, if there exists an ideal for an idol to strive for, Jimin has surely already achieved it.
But for the sake of perfecting his craft, Jimin seems to have equally struggled with insecurity and trepidation. He has often looked distressed in footage from before, during, and after his solo performances and when performing at major year-end events. That’s despite the fact that those are the same performances that generate massive amounts of buzz. In a recent episode of SUCHWITA with guest TAEMIN (and where Jimin makes a surprise appearance), SUGA talks about how, when Jimin is about to go on stage, the other members of BTS “pray while watching him! ‘Jimin, please don’t get nervous up there.’” Even though Jimin puts on performances that couldn’t be more magnificent, he nonetheless pressures himself into making something even closer to perfection. That’s why, he says, he has been adamant about getting ample practice. His perfectionist tendencies must be a double-edged sword: that which pushes him to put on breathtaking performances but also causes him anxiety that eats away at him.
I would have thought the process would surely have given him a considerable amount of pressure, but to see Jimin in his Production Diary, he doesn’t seem to be all that bothered. Sure, the difficulties of creative work are on full display, but it’s obvious how happy he is and how much fun he’s having. In the documentary, we see the artist hard at work with a select group of trusted individuals, not busily meeting with a slew of different people. One of the central themes of Jimin’s album is what it feels like to be let down by the relationships you have with other people. In the same breath, as time goes by, it’s thanks to his relationships with others that he finds the strength to move on. Jimin can be seen dancing with the producers excitedly to the beats they’re working on and exclaiming about how much fun he is having. It’s amazing to watch the BTS member discover how fun it is to make music as he goes. Although he spends most of his time in just a handful of mundane places—his living room, producer Pdogg’s home (which practically becomes Jimin’s, too), the studio at the label, the recording booth—Jimin passes through the entire gamut of human emotions, showing he’s more than just a singer.
The documentary also gives a glimpse into other people who helped make the album a reality. BIGHIT MUSIC producers Pdogg, GHSTLOOP, and EVAN appear in practically every scene, and the way they sit around bouncing ideas off each other and making music on the spot smacks of how bands work together. After having practically lived together for 10 months, Jimin went as far as to call the four of them the Smeraldo Garden Marching Band when he appeared on the documentary’s quiz show. BIGHIT MUSIC has a history of releasing songs made entirely in-house like this at pivotal moments—as with “FAKE LOVE,” for example, the lead single off BTS’s 2018 album LOVE YOURSELF: Tear. That explains why the music somehow comes across as relatively closed off and inward-looking compared to the usual approach to K-pop, where the credits feature long lists of names from song camps or an A&R catalog. It’s especially interesting when you consider that the album went to number one on a number of charts, including the Billboard Hot 100.
The other BTS members make appearances in the documentary as well. RM, for instance, comes in when the lyrics to the first part of the lead single aren’t quite coming together, dropping some sound advice before walking out again. RM helps Jimin sort out his raw emotions after putting them down on the page: “It’s about the intention of the song,” he says, explaining that an artist must know it like the back of his hand; “I think you need that scenario,” he adds, reiterating the importance of narrative; “Write your draft,” he helpfully instructs. Jung Kook shows up, too, on the track “Letter” that Jimin wrote for fans, giving an incredible performance as always during the chorus. Also making an appearance is j-hope, who himself was the first to put out music under the Chapter 2 banner with his album Jack In The Box. He gives Jimin some sympathetic and sensible advice for the BTS member feeling at a loss in the face of taking on this monumental challenge for the first time: “After trying it one time, you will clearly see where” to focus your efforts next time. We also learn in the commentary video that “Set Me Free Pt.2” is so named because SUGA was originally meant to be the featured rapper on the track, and thus the title is a reference to “Interlude: Set me free,” a track off SUGA’s mixtape D2.
What jumps out from the documentary time and time again is Jimin’s persistence. Even when he twists himself into knots all night trying to get the lyrics for his first album just right, he refuses to quit. Just as he practices his choreography to death, he holds on to the very end when writing songs. What makes the songwriting different from dancing is that he no doubt ended up facing his own emotions and dealing with them while writing. At one point in the commentary video, Jimin says he felt like a kid “who always writes in my journal” and that now he has “shown a part of mine.” He says it in passing, but you can tell the strife he’s put himself through in the way he says “always.”
Everyone knows that all the members of BTS adore putting on performances. The whole reason they feel the thrill and excitement they do on stage is because ARMY is there in the audience. When they make music, they’re doing it in anticipation of a future when they can see their audiences or get through to listeners—in other words, it’s an exercise in delayed gratification. It’s said that, when the world closed its doors during the suffocating COVID-19 pandemic, Jimin went through the hardest time of his entire career. But he once again stayed behind closed doors, this time of his own volition, in order to create FACE. It’s hard to look inside yourself and face the real you. It only makes sense for it to be painful if you stir back up emotionally trying times to face those feelings again and sing. But while songs need not necessarily be a means to bearing your whole soul, that’s exactly what Jimin chose to do, and he pursued his task with absolute honesty—just like RM did with his self-titled mixtape and SUGA did with Agust D in the early days of BTS. Like it was something they just needed to do.
After having watched Jimin’s Production Diary, the Jimin who released FACE is distinctly different from the man before. The insecurity and trepidation are still there, but now that he has experienced the feeling of liberation from having confronted his emotional baggage once, I have this vague sense of assurance that he won’t crumble when the time comes for him to face a new challenge. I’m excited to see what Jimin’s next move will be, now that he’s more growth-oriented than ever and has found more solid ground. As a fan of his vocals, it’s especially nice to have this to look forward to because I know he’s going to do even more with his already magical singing voice. I can say with total confidence that the only person in the world who can sing like Jimin is Jimin. I feel like I caught a glimpse of the man who will work tirelessly toward his next project, using everything he learned from opening up and relentlessly introspecting while writing and promoting this album.
The most memorable scene in the entire documentary is when he’s finished working on the album and then says, “It was the opportunity to know what I should do more clearly. I can say that there are more things I want to do.” Jimin, despite having achieved so much and having suffered through even more, still has the same twinkling eyes of a dreamer.
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- Jimin is his own genre2023.04.04