Seismic shift in K-pop: Tension between authenticity, globalization, and cultural roots

“Imagine being in the 12th year of your career and opening for another group just because that group is Western. This is the height of seeking Western validation.” “Nayeon and the rest of Twice are desperate for Western validation.” These were some of the comments on social media following the collaboration between Korean K-pop band Twice and British band Coldplay, which saw the former support the latter at Chris Martin’s six dates in South Korea. They aren’t the only ones to have been criticized in this way by fans in their own country. “All of Jennie’s art and vision is nothing more than a desperate ploy to fit in in America,” is a phrase that sums up a groundswell of opinion about the Blackpink singer, who has just released her debut solo album, Ruby. “Can we just agree that Lisa will never get the Western validation she so desperately craves and will only top the charts in Thailand?” is the question asked of another Blackpink member, who released solo album Alter Ego in February. Both performed last April at the latest edition of Coachella, the most media-friendly festival in the world.

The launch of Blackpink’s solo careers (the group are reuniting to play in Barcelona on August 9 of this year) has rekindled debate not only around their Koreanness, but also about the questioning of the national character of the genre, especially due to its apparent orientation toward a strategy of Western acceptance. One of the cultural explanations for this phenomenon is provided by Julia Rodríguez Castillo, a doctor in communication at the University of Málaga and researcher on the “Korean Wave” (or Hallyu): “Record labels not only create stars, they build a national brand. For years, K-pop has been a central piece of the Korean brand, that is, how South Korea presents itself to the world.”

Mathieu Berbiguier, a PhD holder in Korean studies from the University of Los Angeles, joins the debate: “Many fans aren’t entirely happy to see so many collaborations between South Korean artists and Western artists in Lisa or Jennie’s solo projects. I think this is because there’s a sense of pure, authentic K-pop that’s important to fans, and a lot of it is tied to the language [singing in South Korean] and having Korean/Asian traits. They’re also worried that too many traits from Western singers might make them seem hungry for that validation.”

This summer, Cartagena’s La Mar de Músicas festival in Spain has forged connections with South Korea to focus its programming on offerings from the peninsula. Yunseul, a member of the band Bewave (who will perform on July 23 in Cartagena), also points to language as a differentiating element of the genre. “I think one of the most special things about K-pop is the South Korean language itself. It has a very rich sound, with rhythms and pronunciations that make it very versatile,” the 23-year-old singer responds via email.

The concept of Western validation, however, is per se misleading: it presupposes that legitimate validation must come from Western cultural centers, thus perpetuating hierarchies of symbolic value. As Berbiguier notes: “It’s a bit of a stretch to call it that, as it’s also beneficial for Western artists to associate with K-pop artists. For example, [U.S. singer] Halsey, when she featured on the song Boy With Luv with BTS, received a lot of praise.” In reality, what is interpreted as seeking Western approval can also be understood as a tactic of reterritorializing global success, where artists actively negotiate their place in a polycentric cultural marketplace. “It’s a reflection of the evolving power dynamics between what is considered mainstream and what isn’t, and how K-pop is often considered a threat by Western mainstream pop music,” Berbiguier continues.

As a result, K-pop, having become a global phenomenon, has begun to be evaluated under the standards of authenticity that predominate in Anglo-Saxon cultural markets and, by extension, in Hispanic ones. These standards value authorship, coherent biographical narrative, and supposed emotional transparency as indicators of artistic legitimacy, in contrast to the industrial logic of K-pop, which has traditionally prioritized technical perfection, collective production, and the fictional construction of the “idol” (a term used in the genre that, simply put, defines the idol/artist directed by the K-pop industry).

“The controversy over playback is back in the K-pop industry,” headlined a report in The Korea Herald, one of the country’s leading English-language newspapers, about Lisa’s presence at the 2024 MTV Video Music Awards, and whose Coachella performance is once again in the spotlight for the same reason. “In Europe, consumption is more digital and fragmented: we come to K-pop through YouTube, TikTok, or Instagram, and we look for a more spontaneous or real connection with the artists. We pay more attention to whether they show their personality or whether they seem free in their decisions,” says Rodríguez Castillo, adding a new layer to the authenticity that the West imposes.

This hybridization of values is embodied, for example, in the recent emergence of the group Katseye, a sextet operating under an agreement between Hybe (a South Korean record label) and Geffen Records (in the United States). The band is composed mostly of non-Korean members, selected through a global casting process, although it presents itself under the same esthetic, performative, legal, and production umbrella that has characterized the K-pop genre. The group debuted accompanied by the series Popstar Academy (on Netflix), which documented their audition process. This was what gave them authenticity within the South Korean fan community despite being a foreign band, “because it showed that the girls worked hard to debut and meet the expectations of a K-pop group,” says Berbiguier. The training, therefore, was the same as that of any other aspiring idol. Yunseul adds: “We practiced constantly to show our best selves.” Lena (Wakayama, Japan, 23), a bandmate, joined the team “through another audition program.” “I only planned to stay in Korea for a week, but it ended up being a three-month selection process. I practice our group’s songs every day, we record ourselves constantly, and if something doesn’t fit, we focus on perfecting the details,” adds the Katseye member.

The globalization of the genre has not only made its esthetic and sonic codes visible, but also the power structures that articulate it from within: the total transfer of image and production rights, disciplinary regimes that regulate everything from the body to the personal relationships of idols, and a corporate logic in which the artistic figure is subordinated to business objectives. As K-pop becomes an international cultural product, these practices have begun to be perceived as incompatible with the labor standards that govern other creative industries.

“I think the strict and highly structured nature of the K-pop industry is often misunderstood in Europe due to all this discourse surrounding the genre’s dark side. I would define this as an orientalist narrative that exaggerates and focuses attention only on the negative aspects of the industry, as if other mainstream popular culture industries didn’t have similar problems. This point shows a desire to exorcise K-pop as a way to justify its popularity,” says Berbiguier, returning to the example of Popstar Academy.

One of the direct consequences of this tension has been the emergence of increasingly visible internal conflicts, such as the recent case between the members of NewJeans and the label Hybe. Ador is the Hybe subsidiary led by Min Hee-jin, whose best-known band is NewJeans. The conflict emerged in April 2024, when Hybe launched an internal audit of Ador, suspecting that its CEO was attempting to acquire full control of the company. The dispute reached a new head in November, when the quintet announced the cessation of its activity with Ador. However, in March 2025, a court ruled in favor of the label, preventing the band (renamed NJZ) from acting independently, further intensifying media attention on the structure of the idol system.

As the phenomenon transcends South Korea’s borders, complex questions emerge about the genre’s authenticity, the underlying exploitation of artists, and the hierarchies hidden behind its global success. The perception of the search for Western validation, often interpreted as an effort to adapt to the canons of a hegemonic cultural market, can, however, be reframed as a negotiation strategy within a polysemic global context, where artists attempt to redefine their positions in an increasingly diversified market.

Sign up for our weekly newsletter to get more English-language news coverage from EL PAÍS USA Edition