SLCHLD in Seattle: she likes spring, we both prefer winter

It’s my second year living in California, but Seattle is my home. The bulk of my memories are there, the “growing up” stage of my life still contained in Seattle’s crisp, chilly air. I see my homesickness manifest in the little things: the lack of rain in California, the lack of a city I know the ins and outs of, and the lack of my grandma’s homemade kimchi. Although I have been loving the current transition into fall and winter, the effort of romanticizing my college experience is getting harder and harder to accomplish. Time goes by like a lo-fi band with the guitar slightly out of tune and the drum offbeat, unable to settle on a single rhythm. Even my playlists have managed to go stale–– sitting cold like an untouched coffee. I want things ––need things–– to slow down. So, I’ve been turning my playlist back in time, reminiscing on some of the same songs I initially discovered at the end of middle school.

Back then, one YouTube channel I scrolled through on the daily was called We Love Kpop, which posted a wide variety of underground Korean artists spanning across several genres: R&B, indie, soul, rock, and chillstep to name a few. It was an outlet I could rely on for new music, but also a way to find hidden Korean artists. While We Love Kpop has been inactive for nearly three years now and several of the musicians on the channel have grown their followings into stardoms, it still feels like a birthplace of some sort. A little community floating along in the online realm.

In addition to artists like Junny, Summer Soul, G.Nine, and Rosy, an artist I loved from the channel was called SLCHLD (pronounced “Seoul Child” or real name, Jang Doo Hyuk). Although a while had passed since my last SLCHLD listen, I found myself gripping my phone screen when I found out that he was going to be in Seattle over the summer, on a North American tour for his new album APOLOGY (2024). As a vibe-y, alternative R&B musician, SLCHLD is very different from any of the metal or hyperpop concerts I had attended in the past. I had no idea what to expect nor did I have anyone to go with, but without a second thought I had the tickets in hand and the next Friday night marked down on my calendar.

Flash forward to the concert: Seattle, July 26, 2024 at The Crocodile. It was packed with other Asians around my age, all wearing plenty of black and white flowy skirts. Their soft blouses paired with pieces of silver jewelry refracted an amalgamation of purple, red and teal stage lights. The opening act, a Korean indie-rock band by the name of PRYVT, was such a perfect introduction to the night. The main singer’s voice was delicate and featherlight, a warm whisper reverberating through the room that caused the tips of your ears to tingle. The guitars mimicked what I imagine to be a quick snapshot of sunbeams or the sound of a wind chime glistening in moonlight heat. While they only played a couple songs, their track “blue salvia” still flows through my mind. It feels like standing under a misty rain, accepting the growing fog as it covers your brain in a sweet haze–– “caught me daydreaming, feeling so steep / singing songs in my head, what’s up with me?”

Next came SLCHLD himself, walking on to the stage in a comfy zip-up and baggy blue jeans, holding a cup of Throat Coat tea for his cold. Although he was feeling under the weather, his voice still held a higher pitched sound with subtle textures, a vocal grain like granulated sugar slipping through your fingers. Unlike the way a single hum can be disguised by the sound of a passing crowd, the gentle intonations of SLCHLD are what hit my ears the most. An unwavering tone, his strainless vocals enveloped me in a soft yet solid embrace. It was a weird feeling to see him in person when his music had been introduced to me so young. I was expecting him to look much older, aged in the years between now and my first listen. Instead, it was as if I, myself, had taken a moment to age in reverse, coming to terms with a growing sense of nostalgia acquired throughout the performance. I quickly fell into a gentle swaying rhythm with the rest of the crowd as “camelia” resonated across the venue–– “she’s my camellia, your love is so universal / keeping me company, baby your honesty / holding that harmony.”

For SLCHLD, his songs may appear to be about love and relationships, but his lyrics are often a reflection of himself, his own life, and his own sense of awkwardness and a soothing sorrow. Although my memory of this concert has since faded, the one thing I remember clearly was how personal it all felt, the space between the artist and the audience deconstructed and undone. There was no pressure on us to shout the lyrics or bounce around, we were all just here to enjoy the casual authenticity of the night. When SLCHLD talked to us in between songs, he commented on his go-to words “awesome, beautiful, amazing” and how he used them to fill the space when he struggled to find the right thing to say. This was the first concert in which I actually felt allowed to actually see an artist be so nervous. Don’t get me wrong, there was nothing wrong with the set, and I think every song blended naturally into the next, but oftentimes artists will attempt to put on this hyper-energetic and synthetically happy display. It was refreshing to see someone openly be nervous and yet ready to cutely dance, joke around and have a good time. We were allowed to see SLCHLD for who he was, in his own time, as opposed to any projection of a superficially perfect image.

Before the show ended, SLCHLD described his experience growing up in Vancouver, Canada, a mere 2 or 3 hours away from Seattle by car. He portrayed how Seattle was a very special location for him because his family would take trips here, visiting fancy restaurants and walking along the pier. He always associated Seattle with those good memories. It touched me knowing that we both shared a feeling of affection towards my home, even though at one point in my life he was an artist I only knew through my phone screen–– and furthermore, one that I had always held in association with Korea. In SLCHLD’s music, there is the constant depiction of flowers: marigolds, lilies of the valleys, and camellias. Like in the song “she likes spring, I prefer winter,” these flowers are usually used in moments of disjuncture as a way to describe the things unreachable – “but you be that flower for me, I prefer marigold, but it’s the lily from the valley that you want.” However, on this cooling night these flowers slowly blossomed into and revealed a different fragrance, a channeling of our familiarity. In rediscovering someone so different from me but someone who understood my home all the same, his sound no longer existed just as a middle-school medley. Instead, it became a reminder of connection, that home is never too far away from where you are. Now when I find myself falling homesick and out of touch, SLCHLD’s voice melts like a mix of floral tea leaves on my tongue, where even the most bittersweet notes find their balance.