[fn Plaza] Trot Packs a Punch

These days I rarely find myself going to a noraebang, a Korean-style karaoke room. As recently as a little over ten years ago, however, the second round after an evening gathering almost automatically meant a trip to a noraebang. It was common to belt out a few songs before finally heading home. When their turn came, people would proudly show off their own signature number. The older they were, the more likely they were to choose trot, and even classical music lovers or those deeply into pop music would often sing trot at the noraebang.
Trot (music) has gone by many names, such as traditional Korean popular songs, adult contemporary pop, or simply songs everyone in the country knows. Among these labels was "ppongjjak," a somewhat crude nickname for trot. The term comes from the relatively simple, bouncy rhythm that goes thump-thump in the background. The word "trot" itself derives from the English verb "to trot," meaning to move quickly. In the early 1900s, the rhythm of the American social dance tune known as the Foxtrot traveled through Japan and was transformed into a Korean-style trot.
Considering how widely it has been loved and sung, trot has long been undervalued in Korea. The main reason is its "original sin" of having been imported via Japan during the Japanese colonial period. The trot we know today traces its roots to enka, a Japanese popular ballad style that blends traditional Japanese folk music with Western trot rhythms. Enka, which uses a minor-mode pentatonic scale, often focuses on themes such as alcohol, women, tears, and parting, telling stories of sorrowful love between men and women. In the 1920s and 1930s, songs like "Withered Wildflowers," adapted from enka, became popular, and original Korean compositions began to appear. Nam In-soo’s "Traces of Castle Ruins," Go Bok-su’s "Living Away From Home," and Lee Nan-young’s "Tears of Mokpo" were all written during this period.
Trot also suffered under the military authoritarian regime of the 1960s and 1970s. Authorities claimed that its Japanese-style rhythms and melancholy lyrics undermined Korea’s traditional morals and customs. One newspaper at the time even mocked trot as "a tune that sounds like someone waddling along in wooden clogs with a swaying gait." Songs such as Lee Mi-ja’s "Camellia Lady," "Farewell, Port of Busan," "A Man’s Pure Heart," and "Gireogi Appa"—a term for a father who stays in Korea while his wife and children live abroad for the children’s education—were all banned then. It was not until the late 1980s that these songs were finally freed from the stigma of being prohibited music.
The trot that had almost disappeared from television only began to sing its song of revival quite recently. In 2019, a general programming cable channel aired the trot audition show "Miss Trot," and the flood of similar programs that followed enjoyed huge popularity. Many still look down on trot, criticizing its crude lyrics and clichés, but it is hard to deny that trot has a peculiar power to stir Korean emotions. It is telling that, alongside dance music and Korean ballad, trot still effectively divides up the domestic music market into three major segments.
Recently, the BBC ran an article with the rather long headline, "The Korean music genre once mocked as tacky is making a comeback." In the piece, the BBC wrote that "before Korean popular music (K-pop), there was trot" and described trot as "almost the only genre of modern Korean music to have survived the upheavals of the 20th century." It went on to report that at the forefront of this trot revival is Lim Young-woong, a young trot singer who is 34 this year. The article also cautiously suggested that, while it is too early to be optimistic, new trot music being created with the help of artificial intelligence (AI) could potentially expand the market.
It may be more accurate to see the revival of trot not simply as a retro craze, but as something closely tied to demographic change as Korea enters a super-aged society. In a rapidly aging society, middle-aged and older people are emerging as the most loyal viewers and consumers. For them, trot and trot-centered TV shows serve as familiar background music that fills their day, as well as an emotional channel through which they can laugh and cry together. While younger generations consume music through short-form videos and streaming services, another segment of the population still gathers in front of the television, determined not to miss live broadcasts. That is why this viewing culture persists.
What is particularly interesting is that trot is slowly breaking down the walls between generations. Young singers like Lim Young-woong have modernized the sound by embracing elements of Korean ballad and pop music, and younger listeners have started to see anew the songs their parents love and proudly call their signature numbers. Rhythms and vocal styles once dismissed as tacky are now being reexamined as the roots of Korean popular music. Perhaps the real strength of trot lies not in its flashiness but in its staying power. Even as trends change, voices that sing of life’s joys and sorrows do not easily fade away. In that way, trot remains in its own place for a long time, crossing the years together with us.
jsm64@fnnews.com Reporter