K-pop boy group BTS / Courtesy of Bighit Music

This week I sat down with a group of BTS fans from around the world and spent two hours listening to their stories. As a lot of the media hype and attention around them has either focused on their solo efforts or been replaced by the next generation of idols, I thought it would provide some nice distance from the unprecedented levels of success they were achieving as a group a few years back.

And so we explored different things together: When did they first discover BTS? What was the performance or the album that made them fall in love? How has their fandom affected their lives? What's their favorite song? How many of the dances can they do? Who's their favorite member? What makes them stand out from other groups?

What I discovered was nothing new but it reaffirmed a hunch I had had for a rather long time. The great appeal of a K-pop group is not really the music. Nor the outrageous YouTube numbers the local media likes to report on. The power of K-pop and a group like BTS is how it makes people feel. And, there's a huge psychological aspect to it in terms of mental health, identity, and personal development. The young women told me that when they discovered BTS they were sitting their university entrance exams, going through a global pandemic, or just having a rough time with life in general. And during that darkness, a light shone on them. Seven men from Korea with their music, their words, and their message. Their constant availability on SNS, in webtoons, live streams, and performances. They were there to provide support. I was told that the success of an idol is not measured by how many awards they receive but by how many of a fan's lonely nights they have healed.

Fans wait for K-pop boy band BTS member J-Hope's discharge from his 18 months of mandatory military service outside a military base in Wonju, Korea, Oct. 17. Reuters-Yonhap

Love Yourself (and others)

The support came in terms of positive affirmation. BTS helps people find community. Feel loved. For the fans I spoke to, BTS made them realize that they weren't alone. That the world contained good people and success could be achieved. BTS themselves were an example of that, coming from very different and sometimes troubled family backgrounds, being part of a relatively small entertainment company, and yet despite the odds seemingly being stacked against them, achieving a level of fame and success that redefined the entire K-pop industry. I must confess it felt strange in 2024 to consider BTS an underdog story, but that's more testament to the eventual success they found. It's easy to forget where they came from.

But it wasn't just that the pop group provided help to those who needed an excuse to dance, the various members had also shared their own mental health journey, their struggles with identity, and their concerns over the industry and everything else happening around them. When I asked the young women to tell me about the members, I was half-expecting them to tell me about J-Hope's dancing or Suga's solo albums. But they didn't. They told me about what each member had gone through. They told me about what V experienced when he lost in grandmother. They recalled sentences they had said. Ideas that had an impact on their lives. It was heartwarming. As if they were talking about their friends.

I never got the sense that the relationship was inappropriate either. The women were cognizant of those who cross the line. Those who stalk and indulge in fantasy. The delulu among us. They were critical of such behavior and people. They had a far healthier understanding of what was taking place and were under no illusion that this was anything more than fandom.

They had also grown up and their love, while still warm, was not the infatuation of youth. Most of the women I spoke to said they had really started liking the group around 2016. They were in their mid-to-late teens. Traversing the pitfalls of puberty, education, and everything else that existentially crushes us at that age. Eight years later, they are different. They are now thinking about graduation and a career, looking to the future. Talking about BTS for them was almost like recalling a love. But one that still has a place in their heart.

David Tizzard and the international BTS fans at a studio in Seoul. Courtesy of David Tizzard

Music and identity

The big takeaway from listening to them was that the music was important but it wasn't what made them love the group. This was a hard thing for me to come to terms with initially because I play music. I love it. I listen with my ears. I spend time losing myself in Van Morrison, Chappell Roan, and drum and bass mixes. I work out the trending tracks on my guitar and put them online, hoping to show the notes and the ideas behind the latest pop songs. I'm like a discount Rick Beato.

But music isn't always about music. It's about identity. How it makes us feel. So I thought back to when I was in my mid-teens. I discovered Metallica and trawled through their lyrics looking for a way to describe myself and my place in the world. I had No Doubt's Tragic Kingdom and Alice in Chains unplugged album on repeat. The Beatles told me the world was a magical mystery. And then there was Hendrix. I watched every interview and documentary I could. I bought all the CDs. I observed the way he laughed in a self-deprecating way. How his eyes shuffled when he was nervous. And how he dressed: the rings, the scarves, the flares, and the shirts. I wasn't a guitar god with an afro, but I felt like there was a bit of Jimi in me somewhere. I felt connected to him.

The music of BTS and Jimi Hendrix is different. And "Wake Up" isn't "Master of Puppets". But then, by the same token, there are many punks who found their identity in the Ramones and the Stooges rather than Faith No More or Tool. Some discovered Kurt Rosenwinkel and Dave Bainbridge. Others developed through the lines of Tori Amos, Patti Smith, and Joni Mitchell.

We all tend to think the music we listen to is the best. And it is. For us. Because it resonates inside us at a level that is almost spiritual. It completes us. It is formative. And, importantly, it helps us get to where we are today. We survived.

Life is hard sometimes. And when you're a teenager, there's a whole lot going on. I can't imagine what it must be like to experience that with a smartphone connected to every possible piece of catastrophic news, every type of fetish porn, and every beautiful person. In the past we just had the pub, a phonebook, and the park. And so if BTS helped these young women like Metallica and Jimi helped me, there's the connection between us. The music is completely different. But the feeling is the same. It's more than music. It's almost religious. Something sacred amidst a world that is profane.

David A. Tizzard has a doctorate in Korean Studies and lectures at Seoul Women's University and Hanyang University. He is a social-cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the "Korea Deconstructed" podcast, which can be found online. He can be reached at datizzard@swu.ac.kr.