BOYNEXTDOOR Won K-Pop’s Award Season
In a season full of painstakingly choreographed stages, BOYNEXTDOOR stood apart simply by being themselves.
Award show season in K-Pop, which stretches from late November through the first week of January, often feels like a time for companies to flex who has the most talented idols. Watch as many as I do and you’ll begin to see a resemblance to the competition shows that trainees slug through as groups compete for the best stages. As a result, you’ll witness a dizzying amount of showmanship and spectacle: From LE SSERAFIM’s Chaewon cutting her hair off on live TV, Stray Kids creating a sci-fi film in real time, or Enhypen performing one of the sickest dance breaks I’ve ever seen. So in an industry where every group that debuts is insanely gifted, it takes a lot to stand out.
But this year one group in particular caught my eye again and again: BOYNEXTDOOR, the six member boy group under ZICO’s label KOZ. Unlike their peers who broke out a dizzying amount of pyrotechnics, dance breaks and extravagant sets, BOYNEXTDOOR’s approach has been to focus on a reliably human secret weapon: their charm.
Each member of BOYNEXTDOOR (Jaehyun, Sungho, Riwoo, Taesan, LEEHAN, and Woonhak) earn their place in the group. It’s almost impossible for me to even pick a bias or a bias wrecker because each makes the group a joy to watch.
At the Asia Artist Awards in December, the group began their performance unconventionally, seated at a table with the rest of the award show’s guests. “We go by the name BOYNEXTOODR,” Taesan said by way of introduction as he stood up to begin “But Sometimes”. Their set, though tightly choreographed, was unusually loose and improvised, particularly as they kicked into their debut single “One and Only”. Taesan and Jaehyun’s skills as rappers are best exemplified here: They sound conversational, flippant even, as they fall into a verse, almost as if they just rolled out of bed and decided to start speaking their minds.
On “One and Only”, BOYNEXTDOOR’s set is a cleverly deployed door, first to introduce the boys, then after the bridge, for Jaehyun to empty the boys out like action figures stuck in a cereal box. The boys performed this song at nearly every end of year show they were invited to, but what I liked most about each performance is how much fun they have on stage. At the Asia Artist Awards this is thanks in large part to Taesan, who hyped the crowd up with the enthusiasm of a performer far more skilled than his debut year would suggest.
Throughout each end of year set, BOYNEXTDOOR reminded me that they are doing something unique through this focus on authenticity. As my friend Sam Lui of bunni pop newsletter reminds me frequently, “K-Pop is not simply a genre; it is an industry.” BOYNEXTDOOR is the best example I can point to of what happens when an industry CEO decides to lean into a vision that sometimes goes against what is trending. There is no lore attached to BOYNEXTDOOR; no lyrics that make absolutely no sense; no multiverse to situate the boys inside of. They were created, as their name claims, to remind you of the boy next door. Their charm is that they act like the boys you probably knew from college or high school. They struggle with all the same things we all do: They fall in love, they get heartbroken, they talk their shit and ultimately sound remarkably relatable.
At BOYNEXTDOOR’s best, their music is bratty and boisterous. They shout and snarl on tracks like “Serenade” or dig deep for emo vulnerability on “Crying:”. Their use of guitars and drums (“real instruments,” some critics might say) gives their music a heartbeat. Their sets are less focused on the choreography, which there is plenty of, and instead lean heavily on their energy and swagger. On stage they kick around and shout, eager to pull you into a controlled frenzy and I’m largely, always, captivated by them. After a year of noise music and gimmicks that began to fall apart, I was most heartened by BOYNEXTDOOR. They won me over in the most endearing way possible: By simply being themselves.