Choi Yeon-soo, once an earnest K-pop aspirant called D:elta, peers through with one of the most stunning art pop works in this decade.
The early 2010s is the time when Choi Yeon-soo got his start as a professional singer in South Korea. It was the period where K-pop was on the major upswing from being the perfected formula out of the country’s cultural scene to a near-hegemonic global phenomenon. It’s when names like Wonder Girls with Sunmi, Psy, 2NE1, and more become household names in American clubs, role models for Europop groups, and even de-facto ambassadors to nearby Asian countries. Everyone wanted to be the next Beatles, but it’s South Korea itself that is brimming to the core with defining the cultural zeitgeist.
Choi Yeon-soo was initially a member of one boy band who aimed for greatness called AlphaBat. He worked under the stage name of D:elta and was one of its original 9 members when they were signed by the record label called Simtong Entertainment. In 2014, they released two extended plays (typically called “mini-albums” for its promotional value) with positive reviews. This helps to build hype surrounding them which led to a few awards won. Newfound fans especially enjoy the emphasis AlphaBat placed on hip hop even when rapping is one of the more common tropes in K-pop.
This however is a dream that whittles soon. In the years that followed, a combination of shuffling record labels and changing members led to AlphaBat struggling to make any more mini-albums until 2021 where they went into a de-facto hiatus without any more updates. Yeon-soo specifically departed from the boy band without any announcement in 2016 which marked the first major remodelling attempt. In the next year, he started his own social media accounts under the mononymous name of Yeonsoo instead to mark a new chapter in his career as an independent artist. In the years since, he released his first solo album No Love in 2021 along with a series of EPs and singles.
Enter 2025. With only a minor buzz from his small yet endeared fandom, Yeonsoo released This is How I Disappear. I doubt that the title is inspired by My Chemical Romance’s standout track from The Black Parade back in 2006; it does however have an ironic hint. This isn’t so much a retirement note or an acceptance towards obscurity as it is a reincarnation into something anew. It distances itself considerably from the K-pop background and instead makes a dramatic leap onward to art pop with what is largely a maximalist kind of direction. This will come to mind Quadeca’s Vanisher, Horizon Scraper this year or, for the noisier side, Sky Hundred by Parannoul last year in its rockier way.
The vastness comes in ‘After The Love Has Gone’ which consists of several segments – the bitter piano ballad, the sudden orchestra that intertwines with the guitar, gradual ambience, and sophisti-pop elegance. All in order and then some in the final stretch. It’s an aspect which leads the album well throughout its runtime all for the better. While knowing the Korean language is most certainly a perk, Yeonsoo makes clear the sentiment in each song. On ‘Eyes Wide Shut’, it provides the veneer of a lo-fi take on sophisti-pop at first before it gradually breaks down with a more heartbeat-like drumming rhythm and emotive synths. In another with ‘I Will Always Love You’ and ‘Dreamer’, they’re both led by piano but they’re enhanced in their resonance through the respective use of synths and ambience. Much of the tracks see its atmosphere be dictated by its textures which amplify the emotional reaction out of the listener and its structures are pitch-perfect in dictating how you should feel about it.
Additionally, a key component that enables so much of the album’s greatness lies in its notable shoegaze influence. If Parannoul represents the sound and fury of My Bloody Valentine, then Yeonsoo’s music in This is How I Disappear echoes the borderline towards dream pop that is Slowdive. ‘Naked Truth’ lays bare the vulnerability as one example with its more post-rock structure where the instrumentation and mixing at hand are rendered mute all the way to its crescending climax. ‘I’m Your Night’ thunders with its climatic bridge where the guitar feedback storms in a sense that threatens to fog away Yeonsoo’s singing. ‘Run To You’ crackles with the guitar note dissonance in the background which intensifies for a third of the track. Even in more accessible tracks like ‘Is It Too Late To Tell The Truth?’ or ‘After The Love Has Gone Part 2’ does the fuzzy noise echo the memory-like verisimilitude in Ride’s ‘Vapour Trail’.
Otherwise, the production and mixing not only compliments so much of the record but is almost as much an indispensable instrument with how influential it is in shaping the maximalist direction. ‘And Then There Were None’ sees its post-rock direction flourish through the melding of the pianos, snares, and guitar into a whirlwind of dissipated and hazy feelings. The piano notes in ‘Missed Calls’ are as clear as Yeonsoo’s vocals as to lay bare the pain of being left out and the end especially has a funereal impression that only adds to the loneliness. There is an ethereal kind of tremolo that feels subtle in ‘I Know The End’ which backs the more chill energy within the track. For one of the interluding tracks in ‘Selfish Love’, the clean piano melody conflicts with the wavering synth which feels almost galactical in its imposing presence. These productions thus serve to further add to the sentimental intent of Yeonsoo’s direction.
What all three major aspects that make This is How I Disappear brilliant culminate towards is akin to a supernova. ‘Demolition’ exemplifies what makes the album great with its array of genre influences, potent mixing to amplify the impact of the textures, and a strong climatic crescendo which embodies the emotion pouring out in its entirety. It even reminds me of Godspeed You! Black Emperor with how its seemingly minimal first half gradually builds its way towards an electric feedback and dissonance of guitars that symbolise giving in to your anguishes. When the outro track which is the same name as the album comes, the thesis is revealed to be one about accepting an end to a relationship with the tremoloing sounds in the background offering a closure compared to ‘Selfish Love’ before it soon fades into the background.
This is How I Disappear stands as one of the best albums of the year – and a horribly underrated one at that. Yeonsoo goes far and beyond his K-pop background to conjure up a record which is wholly ambitious all the while backing its worth up with immaculate production and instrumental decisions. As handicapped as my final feelings on it are due to how I know little of the Korean language at all, every note and production choice has value in the ways it makes you feel specifically about being a culprit in a failed relationship. It might not be up there with McKinley Dixon as the surefire best of the year, but it’s only by an inch or two. Otherwise, this is one that could easily rear its head in critical reception in a few years’ time as an overlooked masterpiece in Korean music as a whole. You should check this one out for sure.
4.9/5


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