CoSign is a monthly accolade we use to put our stamp of approval on a rising artist or group who we believe is poised for the big time. For October 2023, we’re shining a light on alternative South Korean crew Balming Tiger and their debut LP, January Never Dies.
Being on a Zoom call with South Korean artist collective Balming Tiger feels a bit like intruding on a family meeting. A dozen people have joined and each time more boxes pop up, overlapping chatter begins anew. “We have a big family,” explains San Yawn, the group’s creative director and producer.
It doesn’t take long to realize that Balming Tiger is different from most bands. They’re even more unexpected for a group from South Korea, a country that has spent the last decade launching highly polished acts from the infamous K-pop training system. Not such the case for this crew, which began with San Yawn and fellow producer and DJ Abyss.
“We didn’t get any attention or interest from the public,” San Yawn recalls with a laugh. “So we just decided to make things that were fun for us — not for them.” He reveals that he was contacted by Omega Sapien, who became the frontman of the four onstage personalities in Balming Tiger. The other performers of the team include dreamy singer-songwriter sogumm, vocalist and producer bj wnjn, and Mudd the student, who embraced crutches as his favorite prop during Balming Tiger’s set at Norway’s Øya Festival this summer. Mudd assures me that his foot is much better, as long as no one steps on it.
Also on the call, there’s producer and video director Leesuho, writer and content creator Henson Hwang, and visual artist Chanhee Hong, who contributes to the group’s eye-catching videos. “Omega contacted me first, actually, and we just got bigger and bigger,” San Yawn recalls. “A member here, a member there.” It’s a lot of moving parts, but even taking the quickest listen through the group’s debut record, January Never Dies, will confirm that whatever Balming Tiger are doing is working.
Consequence staffers aren’t the only ones offering a stamp of approval. RM of BTS, the leader of the biggest K-pop group in the world, offered a co-sign of his own by jumping on one of the album’s earlier singles. “SEXY NUKIM” was embraced by an enormous, notoriously enthusiastic audience, some of whom may have come to hear the BTS rapper in action but stayed for the off-kilter visuals and inviting, intimate chorus. “I never want to limit our visuals. Playing with a sense of space is important to me,” says Chanhee Hong.
January Never Dies is 14 tracks long, and no two songs on the project sound quite the same. Balming Tiger seem to operate with a genreless mindset, something Omega Sapien credits to the diversity of musical preferences expressed in the group members. There’s the electric, glittery, endlessly danceable “Buriburi,” which cascades into an interlude titled “Pigeons and Plastic” that drags the mood back to earth. Later, “Riot” embraces the nostalgia of Brit-rock, with a healthy heaping of sonic chaos tossed in for good measure, before the desire to escape becomes the focus of “Scumbag.” “Let’s get out of this small town, babe,” sogumm sings over frantic piano.
“Putting together an album was challenging when we have so many personalities,” explains Omega Sapien. “We didn’t want it to sound like a compilation of 14 singles and just call it an album. We all come from different musical backgrounds, so just having some unity was the aim.” January Never Dies is a bit overwhelming, an unpredictable journey that’s most fun when the listener sits back and rides out the mayhem, but there’s enough connective tissue here to make it feel cohesive.
According to San Yawn, the common thread for the members of Balming Tiger is a sense of truth. “We are all honest, and these guys want to be honest through the music and visuals,” he notes.
“The other common thing is that we don’t try to follow what everyone else is doing,” adds Henson Hwang. “We try to have our own vision.”
One example can be heard in the album’s last single, “Kamehameha.” Towards the end of the song, sogumm’s verse begins, and the beat starts to disintegrate; her vocals no longer match the flow of the instruments. It gives the sense that the ground is slipping out from under the listener, or the world is tilting just barely off its axis.
