#sujin wallpapers

[kpoprhia]

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[thesinglesjukebox]

JO1 - "LOVE SEEKER"

That's pronounced "jay-oh-one," not "joy" as today's editor believed until just a minute ago...

[5.30]

Taylor Alatorre: The question of whether a Japanese band can make K-pop music brings to mind tedious online arguments about whether things like Code Lyoko and RWBY can properly be considered anime. Maybe it's just my paternalistic Yankee mindset that assigns any sort of importance to this question -- let a hundred NCTs bloom if that's what today’s Japanese audiences really want from their idols. It should be possible to make a corporate workaround to cultural import restrictions sound sexier or at least less constipated than this, though. [4]

Isabel Cole: Infectiously effusive, with some great rhythmic touches slinking, clicking, and banging away throughout, keeping things feeling busy but never crowded, like a party with exactly the right amount of guests. The vocals commit so energetically that the bits that could feel corny just feel fun, a big silly game we're all invited to join. [9]

Nortey Dowuona: It feels inert. I've played it three times and am listening to it now, one of the boys is sanging his ass off, and it feels like a fan circling behind me. [4]

Jonathan Bradley: What if "Can't Stop the Feeling" had a "Can't Stop the Feeling"? [4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: It’s not these guys’ fault, really -- boy bands have been putting out lite funk since the dawn of funk. But at this point this style sounds less like music and more like cosmic background radiation, a wallpaper of sound that I associate more with podcast ad bumpers and other forms of strictly functional music than anything worthy of review. [3]

TA Inskeep: A smart, absurdly catchy three minutes that mashes at least four songs together with live-sounding drums, crossing both pure pop and pop-rock, and ends up sounding like a sibling to peak-era One Direction.  [7]

Alfred Soto: The rhythm guitars and percussive instruments signify "funk," but "Love Seeker" is as funky as Mike Pence. Play "Love Seeker" between a couple of, say, Harry Styles' fast ones from his last album and it makes sense. Brief, bright, banal -- solid pop. [7]

Aaron Bergstrom: As much as I try to fight it, I'm still a sucker for a clickbait-y headline, and "Why Do Animals Keep Evolving into Crabs?" really scratched that itch for a science-illiterate lit major. (The answer is something called "carcinization.") As far as the more pressing question, "Why Do Different Genres Keep Evolving Into 'Uptown Funk'?", I'm not sure if science has cracked that one yet. [5]

Katherine St. Asaph: I can't tell whether this is pastiching the same funk and new jack swing Bruno Mars did, or skipping a step and just pastiching Bruno Mars instead. The charms are similar. [6]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: I really want to give this a higher score because the delivery is so suave, but I can’t when the first thing I intuit from the beat is buying cars for my local Toyota-thon.  [4]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[lam4ison]

৴𓈒ׁ 🦢ꜝꜝ˳ׄ ⬞ Pᥲrk Sᥙjιᥒ . . .

[kpop-locks]

꒰ ˀˀ ↷ soosie ; simple+edit ”♡ᵎ ꒱

like/reblog | @keroppiwon

don’t repost our work or claim it as yours

[ranthawp]

Google “New page” wallpaper 

[elitekhh]

☾ like or reblog if you use ☾ do not repost ▌│█║▌║▌║ @elitekhh ║▌║▌║█│▌

[09lumiere]

☆ SOOJIN 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐒 ☆

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆.

⛓ [ 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍 ] CR. riecodes.

[theempirekhh]

◞ 𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙤𝙜𝙞𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙨𝙙 ⭑ ⊹

#::𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝘰𝘳 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 ]]

[yoonmindetailsstuff]

🦋💜🦋

[6fati6ma6]

Me encantan ┭┮﹏┭┮⸜♡

[kpoprhia]

❥ Like or reblog if you save ✧ 🎀

[thesinglesjukebox]

PINKPANTHERESS FT. ICE SPICE - BOY'S A LIAR PT. 2

That's a wrap on Day 1! And we're just getting started...

[7.09]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The last time we talked about PinkPantheress I called her music "aural wallpaper" -- and I stand by that! It's just that "Boy's a liar" is exquisite aural wallpaper, the kind of endlessly loopable pop hit that has just enough variation to sound fresh even after most of a year's worth of overplay. Part of that comes from her guests. Ice Spice's verse is the most genuinely affecting she's ever been, and Mura Masa's assist on production varies the UK Garage-nostalgia formula just enough for it to work, bringing in faux-8-bit synth lines to cut through PinkPantheress' still-simple melodies. Yet the PinkPantheress of "Boy's a liar" is herself an artist evolved, one more driven towards actual sing-along hooks rather than just moods to ruminate in. The change works -- that chorus will be embedded in my head for the rest of my life, which I have to assume was the goal. [9]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: PinkPantheress riffs on UK dance music in a way that's antithetical to why I was drawn to it -- her diaristic lyrics and hushed vocalizing subtly position the music as a singer-songwriter's work, steering any breakbeat or 2-step jitter away from maximalist dancefloor pleasures. Her latest album Heaven knows assuaged some of my skepticism: "True romance" is tasteful in its momentary adoption of jungle, "Feel complete" brings her work in conversation with turn-of-the-millennium Shibuya-kei, and "Ophelia" is a hefty conceptual gambit that could only work with a sound so diaphanous. Before all this, though, was "Boy's a liar Pt. 2." It was the first track that made me appreciate the sketch-like nature of her craft. The song hinges on Ice Spice's nimble maneuvering of the beat, whose harpsichord-like melody and chiptune blips place this sorrowful recounting of a shitty ex as a truly timeless phenomenon. Ice Spice arrives mid-confession to act as the supportive friend -- if it's not completely felt in the lyrics, then it's there in her playful yet acerbic tone. She provides necessary relief; PinkPantheress' "good enough" chants feel slightly more hopeful by the time the song ends, like she knows she'll come out the other end soon. [6]

Jonathan Bradley: Ice Spice lays down 16 frothy bars that feel like eight, yet everything about this track feels twice as insubstantial as it really is. PinkPantheress contributes a burble-chirrup that in pixelated patterns of toy piano and ringtone synth and a back-and-forth loop that sounds most like a digital fish blowing bubbles. Suitably, Ice Spice's vocabulary abstracts into a "duh-duh-duh" that she still manages to rhyme with "shouldn't have." [8]

Oliver Maier: Big year for these two. The "good enough/duhduhduh/should'nt've" three-piece is amazingly silly, the axis around which the song (and most of the memes it has produced) spins and a great distillation of what is appealing about Ice Spice as a rapper. Not much else jumps out, though. PinkPantheress has a good ear for feathery beats, but this one feels paper-thin, and the chiptune flourishes get grating quick. [4]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: In which the value propositions of two emerging stars are perfectly merged. Effortlessly flexing and trashtalking, Ice Spice plays the foil to the cutesy but wounded and contemplative PinkPantheress. This is what shit talking a boy with a friend should sound like. [8]

Katherine St Asaph: Mura Masa called this single "borderline misandrist"; if so, that border is the size of a moat. The song isn't about boys as a group but one particular boy, whose crime isn't being a liar necessarily but being hypercritical. And "Boy's a Liar" isn't a breakup song so much as an epiphany: a celebration of the first tentative tendrils of renewed self-confidence. "You only want to hold me when I'm looking good enough" should not feel quietly radical, but after hearing "actually, beauty standards are primarily enforced by other women!" horseshit for seemingly decades, it does. Maybe that's why this diaphanous little single has gravitas beyond its weight. Or maybe it's just because I'm job hunting right now, and "Boy's a Liar" has been a great soundtrack for my (at time of writing) 194 autorejections. (damn) [9]

Michelle Myers: The original "Boy's a Liar" is two minutes of vibey perfection, but calling it a song feels like a reach. The addition of an ill-fitting verse from Ice Spice is a step in the wrong direction. [7]

Jackie Powell: Ice Spice's feature not only helps the song's flow, but it establishes the track as a feminist call to action. The verse that Ice Spice replaced on the original "Boy's a Liar" sounded out of place and it slowed down the tempo that PinkPantheress established in the hook and opening verse. Lyrically that verse was also weaker. Without Ice Spice, PinkPantheress continues to plead with her lover to stay. She asks what she should do without him. Ice Spice's verse in Pt. 2 specifically calls out the liar in question and places accountability. Pt. 2 transforms the song from more of a woe as me track into a song telling a story about someone who should just buzz off after lying. He's clearly not good eno-o-ough, good eno-o-ough. [7]

Alfred Soto: Rounded up a notch for Ice Spice's rap and the insidiousness of the tiny, tinny synth hook. As much as I appreciate a 2:15 pop single, "Boy's a Liar" needs ballast. [6]

Will Adams: The original was carbonated and pleasant, like the first sip of a seltzer whose flavor turns out to be quite nice. With Ice Spice, there's added dimension; she lets slip a hint of vulnerability ("I don't sleep enough without you") and a hell of a lot of charisma. The brief run-time will probably bother me less and less as time goes on. [6]

Crystal Leww: I heard every kind of edit of this on the dancefloor, this year and it didn't matter if it was a UK garage version, Jersey Club, or baile funk -- you could hear the girls of New York City rap along to every single bar in the Ice Spice verse. I think my favorite part is the moment of quiet, pleading pause in Ice Spice's "But I don't sleep enough without you." She's seemingly all New York bad bitch, I'm-Tougher-Than-You big balls energy up until this point but yeah, bad bitches need a little love, too. [8]

Aaron Bergstrom: Reads like someone spent a long time trying to explain the concept of self-doubt to Ice Spice and she didn't quite get it, but the ideological odd couple bit actually works pretty well. [6]

Brad Shoup: The remix rap feature is a delightful gamble. Maybe you're just getting the name you paid for: the personality, the ad-lib. If it's a collab, maybe you get a couple bars that nod at your theme. Ice Spice's feature is precisely designed to complement the track: smash-cutting between bravado and insecurity. At the very end -- where those contractual wrap-up bars tend to go -- PinkPantheress and Mura Masa drop the skittering dialtone so she can plead in second-person. It's pretty devastating! [7]

Nortey Dowuona: It's always a delight to hear the taunting song title out of PinkPantheress's honeycomb soprano cuz it comes after a deeply anguished and frustrated first verse in which she feels the wrenching despair of not being good enough for her to be loved, cared for, trusted. It stacks depressed and tired line after depressed and tired line until she throws up her hands, deciding to wash her hands of him, letting go of his stated feelings to tend to her own coalescing into a stone, which Ice Spice hurls at another unnamed him, until she briefly considers her spite, then admitting to herself she does still care, worse, consider his presence important to her life. But "don't like sneaky shit that you do." [10]

Alex Ostroff: I'm still a little lukewarm on the concept of PinkPantheress as a pop star. The idea of the UK Garage revival actually topping the US charts this time around is something I'm 300% in favour of happening, but when niche scenes have their crossover moment I usually want the artists to really make a serious play for taking over the centre of culture and release songs that give us their unique take on Pop Music. (To be fair, this is likely because I am now An Old who missing the TRL era when all charting music seemed to exist in the same universe, whereas the charts in 2023 seem more like a way of ranking the relative popularity of different niche music scenes that remain hermetically sealed off from one another.) Too often for me, PinkPantheress' songs -- even after Boy's a liar" -- don't push beyond the slight UK garage-influenced TikTok bops she started out making. Ironically, this Pt. 2 with Ice Spice (which now feels like an early success from a previous era of her career) is one of the few times when her promise feels entirely fulfilled -- dragging Ice Spice in from the parallel universe of New York drill and putting her in a new context of chiptune bleep-bloops and PinkPantheress' vocals pivoting from wistful to joyous. That said, if the UK Garage revival crossover actually takes over the charts in 2024, I humbly request that we get more songs with gloss and big choruses and big emotions. [8]

Taylor Alatorre: Perfect timing aside, a key reason why "Pt. 2" took off the way it did is that Ice Spice displays an intuitive grasp of what this extended dance mix of a ringtone is really about: not middle-fingers-up misandry, but the torments of an ongoing fixation. PinkPantheress flits between the present and past tenses like she's reading from a jumbled diary entry, but amidst all her self-protective cooing, the line that lands the hardest is "you're not looking at me, boy," which is really more of a suggestion for improvement than a burning of bridges. So it's entirely fitting that Ice Spice end her characteristically efficient verse with an uncharacteristic airing of regret: "I don't sleep enough without you, and I don't eat enough without you." Nothing groundbreaking for the top 40, but it's these seamless transitions between expressions of superiority and vulnerability that have kept "Boy's a liar" from a lifetime sentence in the social media buzz bin. [6]

Tara Hillegeist: It's not that I'm against a song being useful as a TikTok soundbite, much less predisposed to think an artist who has primarily existed in that format cannot be interesting outside it, but... damn. If you set this against the original, to say nothing of "Mosquito" or even Ice Spice's own "Deli"... it's tempting to condescend in all good faith and write off the rehashtagged gestures as some attempt at a victory lap, maybe, but if this is the sound of #winning, it's awful perfunctory against either of their best, if not outright insulting to both. Preemptively remixing a perfectly good piece of Carly Rae-&B like "Boy's a liar" into nothing more than a half-rasped TikTok-ready clip reel, to say nothing of a guest verse that tries for above-it-all styling and lands on slumming-it-all tiresome -- from Ice Spice, an artist with more personality than panache to begin with -- is a gesture beneath the ability of any performer and flattering to none. But yesterday's leftovers will suit tomorrow's fancams just fine, won't they, so it hardly matters if there's hardly any marrow left on these bones, does it? [4]

Andrew Karpan: One wonders what the future holds for the seminal record of 2023, a charismatic bounce of emotional longing that was seemingly heard everywhere but that I can't imagine ever wanting to hear again. [7]

Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: Pillowy, lightweight, more notable for Ice Spice's continued ascendance than PinkPantheress. One of these artists gets their lines coloured in and it's not the British gal. [7]

Ian Mathers: This is great, but I'm still holding out for us to review Pt. 3 where it's just the "Weird Fishes/Arpeggi" mashup, which has pretty much replaced this one in my earworms' songbook. [8]

Leah Isobel: A fax machine beeps incessantly in the American Embassy in London. A horde of 22-year old secretaries, outfitted in earth-toned Juicy Couture, jewel-bright nails click-clacking on the cracked screens of their iPhones, wait with bated breath as the message comes through. Urgent meeting with the Ambassador requested, it reads. Serious matter: the boy's a liar. Before the fax is even finished, Ice Spice is in the car, her driver careening through the city on the wrong side of the road. She mutters a few tentative thoughts into her voice memos: "He never drops his location, like..." Ambassador Spice arrives at Prime Minister Pantheress' office to find that news crews are already present, ready to capture a meeting of historic import, with implications international. The duo's regal bearing -- shaped by a lifetime of political service -- never falters, and their smiles never seem false. They are each truly beloved of their people. But they can never undo what has already been done: they cannot make the boy tell the truth. The flow of information has sped up over time, hastened by shimmering tentacles of fiber optics snaking under the Atlantic, heralded by jingly ringtones and text alert sounds, but it's never fast enough. Regret and grief attend every belated realization, every decision made, every path not taken. In the US and UK, millions of citizens watch their representatives come to an unprecedented agreement, one that future generations will look back on and think, "That could have been worse." The relieved masses, content to know that the truth has finally been revealed, hum and sway in agreement: "Good enough-ough-ough." [8]

Rachel Saywitz: sorry can't properly blurb this one, too busy shaking ass [7]

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[kayoas]

G-IDLE Soft Lockscreens

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do not reupload

flowers by @miss-k611 on deviantart

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[letmein]

idle×1stlook group lookscreens

[prodmina]

this is seojun’s favourite photo of sujin and his wallpaper

probably taken when seojun came and picked her up when she was still sleepy and in her pyjamas and they left to enjoy seoul’s skyline (and eat a lot of goodies)

[rkwon]

ghost town.

rkship — birth family.  late august 2012.

( tw !! homophobia, child abuse, child neglect )

dinner around the jeon family table is never pleasant. truthfully, it’s rare he’s allowed to sit there at all; the invite usually means something dreadful is in the midst. last time it was the news that he’d be banned from the house on his (and seungwoo’s) birthday in order to ensure he wouldn’t interfere with his brother’s party. from the smile on said brother’s thin lips, he can only imagine this’ll be worse. this is something of his creation and anything forged in the mind of an eighteen year old boy for his thirteen year old brother whom he hates must surely be best described by the word ‘torturous’. at least, that’s what won thinks, and as far as his past experiences with his brothers go, he’s probably right. 

the gentle scratching of cutlery against their plates (and then the even gentler scolding from his mother attempting to salvage what’s left of her crockery) is all that fills the heavy silence, and won’s few unwanted scraps lay untouched as he waits to be told he may eat. his eyes alternate between his fingers, carefully linked together on his lap, and the clock on the wall between his brothers. the second hand ticks just loud enough for won to match his breathing with every other tick or tock, but his ‘misplaced’ focus doesn’t go unmissed. 

“somewhere else to be?” 

he startles at the sound of his mother’s voice. he probably answers a little too quickly, too pitched, but he can’t reverse time. “no.” 

“good. seungwoo and jiwoo say they have something important to tell us all.” the grimace on her face doesn’t go unmissed either, but won’s far used to the way her lips curl in distaste. her expressions are ugly to him at the best of times, but when her eyes narrow and the corner of her mouth quirks, he can barely look at her. “it must be incredibly important for them to insist your presence at the dinner table before you’re usually allowed.” 

“it must.” he agrees, because he doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do. 

seungwoo snorts quietly, but from the lack of reaction, won supposes that, as always, he’s the only one who heard it. 

“we noticed wonwoo has made a friend recently.” jiwoo’s voice has always been a little higher than the rest of the jeon men, but even so, won still shudders. a friend? the only friend won has is mingyu, and it’s been a little over three years since he met mingyu— have they only just noticed? still, he can’t imagine what would benefit them in telling their parents about the older boy. maybe they’ll ground him, maybe they’ll persuade him that mingyu deserves better (it won’t take much), but that’s not good enough for seungwoo or jiwoo. won knows that. 

“a friend?” his father questions, but jiwoo only giggles. rolling his eyes, seungwoo draws in a deep breath. 

“wonwoo’s gay.” 

won’s not sure what’s worse; the smirk on jeongwoo’s face or the nothing on each of his parents’. he doesn’t really get time to think it over, however, because it soon morphs into something far different. 

it’s a sinister look; lips pushed to form a perfectly straight line, her forehead wrinkled between her brows and her eyelashes touching from the narrowing of her eyes. where his mother can’t look at anything but him, his father hasn’t glanced in his direction once, instead focusing on the pattern of the wallpaper to his left, refusing to acknowledge the situation until someone else has spoken. 

won wants to deny it; he wants to tell them he’s not, he’s still figuring it out, and sure, it’d be a lie, but it’d buy him time to think of something better to excuse the fact that he wasn’t ready to tell anyone yet because he’s barely ready to tell himself. yet, he can’t. the words get stuck in his throat, and in their place, he coughs, splutters, eyes wide and unprepared. 

“he’s what?” 

“he likes men.” jiwoo elaborates, and again, seungwoo rolls his eyes, but does nothing to stop him. “dirty—”

their father silences him with a strong hand against the dining table. their cutlery clangs against their plates and won flinches. finally, he’s looking at him, but won wishes he wouldn’t. there’s a fire in his eyes he’s never seen before. truthfully, won is lucky if his parents acknowledge his existence at all, let alone lay eyes upon him with as much emotion as they hold now. suddenly, he regrets ever wishing as a child that his parents would give him the attention he craved. 

“even you should know how wrong that is.” the man’s voice is unarguable, but not steady. it’s not a matter of uncertainty, but instead, he trembles with rage, and won realises that he’s never seen his father like this before, and thus, he has no idea what to expect. “a real man does not lay with another man; that’s foul and revolting. we will have to teach you what it means to be a real man.” he rises to his feet as won sinks down into his seat. his mother follows, gesturing for him to stand, and when he doesn’t, his father moves around to his chair and tugs him up by his collar, large hands grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt. “by tonight, you’ll understand what’s right — you’ll understand what it means to be a real man.” 

won is freed an hour and a half later, sent to his room to reflect on what he’s been taught. he stumbles through the doorway, legs weak, and stuffs spare clothes into his school backpack and his arms into the sleeves of his coat before he quietly escapes through the front door, though he supposes it wouldn’t matter if they heard him leave or not; they made it extremely clear that they don’t want to see his face until he understands what he did wrong. 

and he does understand. I won’t do it again. I won’t let it happen. I can change. I can be a good boy. I’m not a filthy, disgusting— he falls, scrapes his arm against the brick wall as he walks. no one helps him, or stops to ask if he’s okay. a young boy, bloodied and bruised stumbling down the street in the fading darkness of the evening? why would anyone willingly get wrapped up in that mess? 

his feet carry him slowly to the place he feels safest, but he leans against the door for a moment before he knocks, wiping away the tears and formulating an excuse in his tired mind. eventually, he taps his knuckles pathetically against the door. 

“I got into a fight with my brothers,” falls from his lips before he even registers who had answered the door. “I’m sorry to burden you, can I...” he runs out of breath, gasping as he sucks in a new one. “...stay here for tonight, please?” I promise I’ll behave. I’m a good boy. I understand now. 

sujin doesn’t say a word, instead gently tugging him in, catching him in her arms when he falls. “thank you,” he whispers. I’m sorry. I’ll be better. I’ll be a better man soon. 

“won?” 

he finally cries himself to sleep hours later, wrapped up in mingyu’s pyjamas in mingyu’s arms in mingyu’s bed, completely surrounded by the boy he feels safest with, yet also the one he’ll spend the next two years lying to, and the rest of his life after doing everything he can to make it up to him. 

everything happens for a reason, he had reminded himself before he drifted off. even this. 

one day, I’ll be a real man.