Christine Ma’s debut The Band is the first great American K-pop novel.
Booklist wrote of the book:
“Ma-Kellams takes readers on a gripping exploration of the complexities that accompany fame…This darkly humorous novel examines the more sinister aspects of celebrity and the profound impact it can have on the individuals caught up in global stardom. As K-pop has become a worldwide sensation, this timely book provides a different perspective on societal pressures associated with fame and the dangerous toll they can take on a person’s mental health.”
In her own words, here is Christine Ma’s Book Notes music playlist for her debut novel The Band:
By now, it’s no secret that the world’s most famous Kpop group inspired me to start writing The Band after I watched them on James Corden’s Carpool Karaoke—an appearance apparently so irresistible, others in the fandom have referred to it as a “canon event.” (Truly, if you aren’t currently one of their legion of followers, I dare you to find that clip on YouTube and watch it; see if you’re able to resist conversion). So, it’s probably no surprise that multiple songs from their first album made it into this novel playlist, along with a solo from one of their members. Interestingly, the only two songs that make direct, explicit cameos in the book are decidedly not from Kpop. Below, I explain which is which.
“Born Singer”— BTS
It takes a certain type of baller to release a song only three months after their debut about how they were born to sing (with the haters to prove it), but leave it to seven boys from outside Seoul to manifest their truth long before they acquired the kind of fame, glory, and worldwide domination that have since then made them into historical figures. Granted, the chorus line admits that this may have been premature (“just a bit early to confess” goes the English translation) but no matter; the rest of the verses speak the future into existence. It’s marked by detractors, yes, but also a rise the world has never before seen. This song is evidence for what I’ve always suspected: that music can be prophecy. At least, if you do it right—and BTS always does it right. I assume that’s why this album is called “Proof.”
“Abyss”— Jin
This solo by BTS’ eldest member was a direct inspiration for the song in the opening chapter of The Band—not so much in the lyrics, but the sentiment behind the music. The fictional version involves a boy who turns himself into a fish so that he has a shot of seeing his fisherman father; the real song is less fantastical but does refer to an ocean somebody could either find themselves in or get lost in.
“Gangnam Style”— Psy
No literary homage to Kpop would be complete without the OG of Kpop songs, and “Gangnam Style” will forever occupy that seat with swagger, style, and an irrepressible beat. For that reason, this is also one of the real songs that gets explicitly referenced in The Band because it single-handedly introduced Americans to the infectiously catchy world of Korean popdom.
“Hallelujah”— Leonard Cohen
I’ve never understood why people don’t see this song at church. As far as I can tell, this might be the best worship song I’ve ever heard despite being written and sung by an ordained Zen monk who was also Jewish. But regardless of anyone’s own religious proclivities or lack thereof, this is the kind of song that makes you believe. Listening to this after “Gangnam Style” might give you whiplash, but it also makes a direct appearance in The Band.
“Save a Prayer”— Duran Duran
You may or may not have thought it, but I’ll say it: Duran Duran was before my time. I did not live under a rock so I knew who they were—the name rang a bell at least—but before I wrote that scene in The Band where the music producer watches the music video for this song and decides to commit suicide (the career kind, don’t worry) the following morning, I didn’t know anything about them. Luckily, Google is every writer’s best friend, and in this case, Youtube was once again my right hand man, because that’s where I found the clip of the original footage, honey-toned from its vintage birthdate but powerful enough to inspire a fictional scene that leads a man to death before leading him to rebirth.
“No More Dream”—BTS
Anyone who has ever listened to more than one Kpop song will appreciate how radical BTS’ debut song was. In a country—indeed, a region of the world—known for its die-hard collectivism and group harmony, this opening number comes straight out to critique the society from which these boys came, all via the medium of hip-hop, no less. The lyrics and music video skewer the kind of filial piety and quiet respectability that Asians had hitherto been known for and were expected to treat as their birthright. Listen to it for its beats. Listen to it for its relatability. Or listen to it because it debunks stereotypes.
“Anti-Hero”— Taylor Swift
If Taylor Swift wasn’t a musician, I’m convinced she’d be a novelist because that’s what her songs are—mini novels in and of themselves. “Anti-Hero” is my favorite example of this because all my favorite characters are shamelessly upfront about their flaws (not unlike Taylor herself in the music video for this song). After all, in life as in fiction, I don’t trust people who are too nice or too perfect or have their shit too together. It makes me suspicious; it also makes me feel bad. But in my book at least, if I did my job right, you might end up rooting for at least one of these characters despite themselves.
“L’enfer”— Stromae
I have a day job, and it’s being a psychologist. Collectively, I think we’ve gotten better at talking about mental health, but in terms of representation in fiction, I still haven’t seen the same strides. So consider it a PSA—either that, or a fun plot twist—that depression (the cross-cultural variety!) rears its Medusa-like head in The Band. Depression also happens to be the topic behind Belgian-Rwandan rapper Stromae’s song, “L’enfer.” Like Taylor, he has a knack for producing songs that tell an entire story—in this case, in a mere 3 minutes and 14 seconds.
“Pourriture”— Zwangere Guy & Lander Gyselinck
I discovered Belgian drummer Lander Gyselinck after I visited Bruges one brutally cold March. Since then, his varied musical collabs have become one of the primary things that keeps me tethered to Instagram because his experimental, unclassifiable music that he posts about there manages to be both unexpected and unforgettable.
“I Love My Body”— Hwasa
If I could have a personal anthem to wake up to in the morning or to blast from reflective surfaces whenever I squirm at the sight of my own reflection, it’d be this song. Hwasa breaks a bunch of Kpop “rules” but does it so spectacularly you can’t help but bow down.
“Shut Down”—Blackpink
Come for the sampling of classical Italian violin mixed with contemporary rap beats; stay for clapback to all the haters who have nothing better to do than to criticize from the sidelines. Anti-fans also drive much of the story in The Band, but in the book as in this song, there is nothing quite as satisfying as seeing haters fail at their hating.
“Back Door”— Stray Kids
Kpop, like Kdramas, seem to have a penchant for melodrama—indeed, that’s part of their appeal—but this song is pure fun and lighthearted ease. If you ever find your heart shorn into two by something that happens in The Band, you can listen to this song after. I promise it’ll make you feel better.
“Fight Club”—Giant Rooks
I don’t know if this German “indie” rock band (“indie” is in quotes because at this point, they may be too popular for that designation) named this track after Chuck Palahniuk’s debut novel, but regardless of how anybody feels about Tyler Durden, I’d like to meet the person who can’t see themselves in this song. Part lullaby, part anthem, it lures before it devastates. Pain, adrenaline, adoration, and drowning in the internet—this song has it all and is easily the most hauntingly relatable thing I’ve listened to in recent memory.
“3 Tage am Meer”—AnnenMayKantereit
If you’ve been a human for long enough to make it this far into this Book Note, you have probably felt the way front man Henning May felt when he sings about how what he really needs is “3 days by the sea” to figure out who he is again. (When I was younger and dumber, I used to take long dangerous walks late at night in neighborhoods where everyone knew better because I occasionally wanted the earth to swallow me whole, and going on sketchy solitary strolls seemed like the quickest way there). If you’ve never felt this way, congratulations; you probably don’t need fiction or music then to rescue you. If you have, then maybe these songs or this book can be an escape for you too—for however many minutes/hours/days you want to be with them for.
“These Waters”—Anamaria De La Cruz
In the end of The Band, Sang Duri finds himself at the edge of the Pacific Ocean when the woman he has spent nearly the entire novel with comes and tries to change his mind about the future (as women are sometimes wont to do when confronted with a man as beautiful as he is broken). I won’t spoil the ending except to say that what Anamaria De La Cruz sings about in “These Waters” perfectly captures what happens next.
Christine Ma-Kellams is a Harvard-trained cultural psychologist, Pushcart-nominated fiction writer, and first-generation American. Her work and writing have appeared in HuffPost, Chicago Tribune, Catapult, Salon, The Wall Street Journal, The Rumpus, and much more. The Band is her first novel. You can find her in person at one of California’s coastal cities or online at ChristineMa-Kellams.com.