A Personal Retrospective on IZ*ONE
Have You Ever Seen These Colors?
Around three years prior to the posting of this write-up, K-pop phenomenon IZ*ONE had posted a little something for WIZ*ONEs (their fandom); something that’d make their hearts shatter in the worst way possible:
With the massive following the 12-member group had garnered since their very cursed conception, it wasn’t surprising how insane and downright depressing a lot of the reactions were, ranging from meandering tangents of sadness (persisting up to now) to impossibly expensive fan projects in hopes of reviving the group. When you’ve built up very close ties with your audience—much more so, given the very measured nature of the K-pop industry—it’s always heartbreaking when a favorite artist or group announces the end of their lifespan, and doing so in the most dramatic ways possible.
Even I don’t have it in me to poke some fun at the now-(ostensibly)-wasted effort WIZ*ONEs have put into the very manufactured and consumerist-driven nature of the group. (I say as I contemplate getting some new Jo Yuri and Yujin photocards, then heading off to find my TikTok’s FYP littered with Le Sserafim memes and fancams from Ive’s Show What I Have tour.) I was very much part of the group of people whose lives were just… halted at this moment, knowing that these 12 charismatic, talented, and exuberant idols who brought IZ*ONE to life were now just… gone (at least in that state). And, even as someone who would be frustrated by the group for one reason or another, news of their disbandment and failed contract extension negotiations came to light didn’t make me feel any better.
As much as the group were very much a living, breathing equivalent of sunshine and rainbows (not hyperbolic), the same couldn’t be said for a lot of the internal shenanigans, as is, unfortunately, status quo for many a K-pop group. Their history with Produce 48 and all ensuing management-side shenanigans reek of all the worst things about the K-pop industry: Aside from being incredibly manufactured, it’s nothing short of predatory and very cursed, and it sucks having to put up with that in the back of your mind while listening to, say, Eunbi belting a high note or something. Granted, they’re not anywhere near as bad as today’s shenanigans (I certainly don’t recall Wonyoung getting caught up in a controversy as bad as NewJeans’ issues with Cookie), but, I think we as a species would be better off with a lot less of that.
Up until this point, even with a handful of quibbles with their body of work (which I will get to later on), IZ*ONE are one of the few K-groups I am continuously and consistently drawn to, despite odds being stacked not against them, but not really in favor of them on paper. This could simply be chalked up to my (frequent enough) admiration for their work in a vacuum coupled with my (not frequent enough) admiration for what their work represents and does/did for the industry, all juxtaposed with the massive respect I have for the group holistically: As an “entity” in the K-pop sphere, and all that descriptor entails, IZ*ONE prove their versatility by excelling at facets that even I, as a “music-focused” cons00mer (let’s keep snobbery to a minimum here!) can’t help but be fascinated by.
As idols, performers, and personalities, they’re nothing short of (mostly) excellent. Every article, video essay, or informal rant about the group floating around the Internet will be sure to overwhelm you with statistics about how IZ*ONE broke X record, sold Y copies of their album, was the fastest group to achieve Z, and so on. The specifics don’t really concern me as much, so, instead, I’ll just redirect you to their Wikipedia page: Most relevant statistical details (as well as other historical tidbits I might gloss over) are there for your sales-driven satisfaction. While numbers are an unfortunate “prerequisite” to making it in this industry, if IZ*ONE were any other group operating in any other industry, I’d like to imagine they’d do just fine even without all the statistical superfluity.
Admittedly, I’m gushing and fan(person)ing over this group more than I’d like—I will continue to do so for a couple hundred (god forbid, thousand) words, and while my critiques and problems with the group’s work will come in time, I really can’t understate how IZ*ONE were truly a once-in-a-lifetime group. Yes, I’m going there. Even as you might see some of their work shamelessly torn to to shreds later on (especially when relating to certain aviary animals…), this is with the foresight that I would adamantly argue that IZ*ONE are the last “great” “K”-pop group to have operated in contemporary times. A lot of quotation marks, but all will be qualified in time—right after I gush about them even more!
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Crazy for You… Crazy Fall In… Eyes on Me!
IZ*ONE and LOONA were some of the first groups I got into when getting into the realm of K-pop in 2019. They also happened to be some of the first 4th-gen groups I looked into, after being introduced to this crazy world via 3rd-gen goliath Twice when shenanigans got me in attendance of their Twicelights tour. I more instantly fell for LOONA, with a Hyeju photocard being the first piece of (official) K-pop merch I’d gotten courtesy of a friend. Though, to my surprise, IZ*ONE would eventually creep their way into becoming a mainstay of my everyday trains of thought… to the extent that I actually now own more IZ*ONE(-adjacent) photocards than LOONA photocards.
I only really fell into IZ*ONE’s spell towards the latter end of their career, with offerings like One-Reeler/Act IV being in heavier rotation than their earlier work or, god forbid, Oneiric Diary, which was a blessing (they were putting out some of the best material of their catalog at this point) and a curse (well, time was running out). Nevertheless, it felt like a good amount of time to really grasp what made these idols tick; what made them so appealing to audiences; what constituted the x-factor I found in them and not in other groups I would shill more frequently for their music alone; what made them the sensational superstars and personalities they are, were, and would continue to be after their disbandment.
Through the same shenanigans that got me into Twicelights, I also ended up watching and thoroughly enjoying their first online concert, Oneiric Theater, in September 2020. Despite not having built up a tolerance for K-pop’s “non-auditory” stuff, this performance was really what drove my interest in IZ*ONE to an all-time high. (It’s quite funny to think about how I’d spent a good deal of time internally questioning my life decisions watching these 12 girls waltz around playing reality games, only for me to end up doing the same in an actual live setting for Ive’s Prom Queens fan-concert thing.) While the screens acted as an inherent barrier to the fan interactions they would’ve otherwise gotten, they were not enough to mask the group’s capabilities as performers.
Looking back at the members’ credentials, their stints at IZ*ONE were, in many cases, not their firsts in the field of performance: Think Eunbi’s stint as “Kazoo” with Ye-A; the Japanese members’ (Sakura, Nako, and Hitomi) experience with AKB48 groups; Chaeyeon and Yuri’s previous competition shows; Minju and Yujin’s experience with acting gigs; and the list goes on. The experience really shows, and even for members who might not have had the same kind of “training,” something was really cooking. Even as someone who doesn’t index heavily for this aspect of K-pop, again, I can’t help but respect the level of synchronicity they exuded as a group.
If anything, having this many members in a group ended up becoming a pet peeve of mine just because the abundance of focal points in a single setting makes it so easy to miss out on “hidden” talent. It’s a retroactive frustration of mine, seeing how some of IZ*ONE’s members stand out much more when there’s less to “distract” a viewer or listener, and this was especially the case for pairs like Ssamkura (Sakura and Chaewon) or Annyeongz (Yujin and Wonyoung), who each got to showcase their capabilities more flexibly through Le Sserafim and Ive respectively.
An OT(n+1) setup also leaves room for inherent line distribution woes, and this isn’t really doing any favors for, say, Yena and Yuri who are currently triumphing with their solo careers. Solo setups allow for less of a convoluted line distribution setup, but, on the other hand, group setups like IZ*ONE’s also allow them and their producers to showcase how harmoniously each member’s voices mesh with one another. They knocked it right out of the park on their first try, with their debut single La Vie en Rose showcasing how seamlessly and non-jarringly Yuri’s silky smooth vocal timbre doesn’t overly clash with an immediate follow-up from Eunbi’s very authoritative performance. (She is “mother” for a reason.)
Elsewhere, Eunbi and Chaeyeon have also gotten their own excursions with solo work, though, I don’t think anyone really missed out on their respective vocal and dance talents in IZ*ONE already, given the former’s position as the leader lending an inherent extra dose of scrutiny to her doings and the latter being popularly designated as the group’s flagship dancer—something she shares with her equally talented sister in Itzy. For every member to have had a resurgence in the K-pop industry post-IZ*ONE, there’s a marked improvement in confidence and finesse, though, make no mistake, their performances in IZ*ONE are still nothing to scoff at.
Sakura and Minju were personal “biases” of mine, despite not really wholly excelling (relatively speaking) at what I would usually look out for: Vocal prowess. If anything, on the basis of this quality alone, I would’ve ended up with any one of the Joyuriz* trio (Yena, Chaewon, Yuri) as a de facto “bias” akin to others who’ve stood out to me for similar reasons, such as Wendy or Taeyeon. MinKkura and most of the other members do a damn fine job on that front (within reason), but, this once again speaks to the level they were operating on as personalities that even I, as skeptical as I was of the very manufactured parasocialism of the industry, was drawn to them.
While the visuals were undoubtedly a big factor to play into my endearment towards MinKkura, they’ve each got their respective allures that may have influenced my ownership of at least two (2) photocards of each of them. Sakura, nicknamed “Kkura,” is someone I’d definitely consider to be one of the best overall performers in the group. She’s also really funny. The pseudo-”motherly” vibe she had with her groupmates was really endearing (I use the pseudo descriptor since Eunbi takes care of the unadulterated “motherly” vibe) and sort of foreshadowed the dynamics she’d have with Le Sserafim, especially with their maknae Eunchae. Kkura is also probably who I’d blame for the swathe of Japanese biases I’ve gotten over the years, e.g. Billlie’s Tsuki and Haruna or tripleS’s Kotone and Lynn.
Minju’s got more of a sensual, down-trodden allure to her. Some of her more sultry performances like her unit performance of Sunmi’s Full Moon alongside Sakura and Chaeyeon might trick you into thinking she’d suit more “mature” and/or “girl crush” (whatever that means) concepts, but she never felt out of place even when IZ*ONE reaches sugary-sweet levels beyond human comprehension. Case in point: this fancam. She’s also really cute. And a dork. And a loser (affectionately). Also really versatile, now with her embarking on an acting career, concurrently with members like Hyewon. Her inexplicable x-factor makes you wish the best even for chronic 2Kim (Kim Chaewon + Kim Minju) shippers. Just as she’s somehow been my “de facto bias” for quite some time now, she’ll also always be the de facto Minju to pop up first in search results in my heart. (No shame to any other Minjus, of course.)
As my appreciation for each of the 12 members of the group began to grow, the time they had left began to shrink. Again, not unusual for anyone getting into any K-pop group, but the stakes were extra high for IZ*ONE. As a product of the Produce series, they were destined to live a much shorter-than-average lifespan than many of their contemporaries—something that, to this day, I regret overlooking as a budding K-pop listener. While, in retrospect, we can be thankful that the cursed voting fraud scandal didn’t take IZ*ONE (wholly) as it did their series-mates X1, knowing the extra level of “security” and longevity their contemporaries possessed felt a bit heartbreaking. One could only hope that no other groups suffer a similar fate. Wait…
Alas, the group came to a very heart-wrenching conclusion with their final 2-day performances with One. The Story., which, despite feeling a bit iffy from a logistics standpoint, feels like the least of all evils in terms of ways to “conclude” a group with a legacy like IZ*ONE’s. You heard it here first, folks: these setlists predated the format The Eras Tour would later on use. (I jest.) The promotional material for One. The Story. was in direct reference to teasers for the group’s first single and mini-album; both of which instilled a ceremoniously large level of excitement for what was to come, though only the latter came to instill an unceremonious dread as well.
As One. The Story. (un)ceremoniously did, it’s only fair we also take a deep dive through the depths of IZ*ONE’s quite broad catalog.
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COLOR*IZ: Running Wild and Glowing in the Dark
“Have you ever seen anything? Have you ever seen these colors?” — The very first impressions given by a group just settling into the scene. COLOR*IZ aptly introduces the base sonic palettes that the group would work with. Its main four tracks function as a mission statement for facets the group would explore (with varying levels of success) throughout their discography: Colors being the shimmery, quirky child of the bunch; O’ My! as the more carefree, and admirably Whimsy™ child; La Vie en Rose the more “matured,” sultry, and sassily poignant sibling who always gets the spotlight (for good reason); and the pseudo-closer Memory being the vulnerable, understated child, usually last in line as is status quo for much of their “type.”
For the group’s first whack at, well, any of these styles, they were done so with a level of finesse you’d expect from more seasoned groups in the industry. Veterans like your Twices or Red Velvets didn’t quite reach these same highs until a bit past their respective debut mini-albums. The shifts in production ethos ushered in by the growing prevalence of 4th-gen styles might have been to blame for the incessant need for IZ*ONE and their producers to up the ante and their (internal) standards a quite a bit, but you could damn well be sure that the Produce 48-spawned hype put an ungodly amount of pressure on all involved stakeholders. A lot was on the line: If you succeeded, you’d have an instant moneymaker. If you didn’t, well, we all know how those stories turn out in this industry.
Yet, the group were able to pull it off; with grace, with passion, and with an unspoken need to conquer 4th-gen (as best as they could with their limitations). COLOR*IZ and its title track La Vie en Rose set numerous new records for sales, views, and whatever relevant statistics, all while bringing in a novel sound and production ethos that many would tie to only IZ*ONE in their prime. As much as I’d hate to be that person, this is one of the few times where you could actually equate (some) level of success to (some) level of quality, and this would remain a mostly steady trend for most of what many would classify to be the group’s “Flower Trilogy,” spanning their first three main Korean releases (COLOR, HEART, and BLOOM*IZ).
At the time of its release, La Vie en Rose felt like a much-needed reprieve from the swathes of sometimes overproduced girl-crush (whatever that means) tunes many of their contemporaries were putting out. It still maintained many of the foundational elements that made their contemporaries not flop to begin with, but IZ*ONE had a bit more restraint in going all-out sultry and moody. Their take on this style through Rose was more outwardly subdued, but more melodically explosive, kicking off with feather-light synths then cascading into a chorus that, while more instrumentally lightweight, passes on an affect as heavy-handed as an XX-era LOONA track.
If this doesn’t sound like your cup of tea, fret not, as COLOR*IZ has much more to offer than simply higher-quality derivatives of a then-oversaturated sound. The exuberant opener Colors is rife with, dare I say, kawaii-tinged (not meant pejoratively) vocal harmonies and chord progressions; all tying together with the wash of stiff, geometric synth passages that reek “artificial” on paper, but still culminate in one of the most euphonic and instantly-catchy hooks the group would perform. O’ My! is a bit more spirited, taking cues from the flightiness of some earlier Red Velvet pieces, especially with the heavy-handed horn passages and Y2K-textured synths driving home the happy-go-lucky ostentation of the track.
The last four tracks are definitely what make COLOR*IZ reek of “first release” syndrome, with the toothless production resulting in an undesirable lack of “oomph” to the overall package. Given the usual structuring of K-pop albums ending with a somber ballad, there’s no way the bleak but ethereal Memory wasn’t the “real” closer, especially when the remaining three tracks are just re-recordings of prior Produce 48 tracks; most of which are just as rigid (and trauma-inducing if you were an viewer or, god forbid, participant) as they were in their original states. That being said, this end of COLOR*IZ is still immensely hooky and, at the very least, well-formulated albeit somewhat uninspired.
Even then, for a debut release for a group in an industry as rigorous as theirs, IZ*ONE succeed with all the “basics.” They’ve formulated a good foundation for themselves to experiment with and reinvent later on, and then some. It’s rife with the free-spirited nature one might come to associate with K-pop, all while slipping little musical tidbits of 4th-gen’s ethos here and there, making for a very familiar (in the best way possible) yet refreshing take on the appeal of this market of music. It’s not completely immune to the oversaturated and welcome-overstaying tropes of the genre, but even in those moments (a la Memory and We Together), they’ve proven that there was something to them… something unique about them and their brand of K-pop. At this point, there was nowhere to go but Up… literally.
FAV TRACKS: Colors, La Vie en Rose, We Together
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HEART*IZ: The Heart’s Multifaceted Nature
In the occasion one might’ve found COLOR*IZ to be somewhat one-dimensional and lacking in versatility, for most of IZ*ONE’s following releases up until their disbandment, they’ve made an (un)conscious effort to fill out the gaps left by their debut project; to stick to their guns, and maybe add another barrel or two. HEART*IZ, the group’s second Korean mini-album, capitalizes more on non-linearity, which is the project’s best and worst feature. It’s not a night-and-day reinvention nor is it a sudden pivot into redefining the genre, it’s more a modest and well-calculated refinement of the blueprints set by COLOR*IZ, capturing that project’s essence with a bit more sugar and spice.
Colors’ fanonical sister song Hey. Bae. Like It. kicks off the project just like its predecessor: Slick, harmonious vocal grooves with that slight kawaii tinge to it, coasting into equally-exuberant but intermittent waves of heavy-handed synths, making its cascade into Chaewon’s ever-graceful “Oh my goodness!” in the chorus. The same hyperactive energy is multiplied tenfold on succeeding tracks like Airplane and Up, which are some of the liveliest IZ*ONE tracks to exist to date. You could almost argue it sounds like a parody of the types of happy-go-lucky stuff you’d commonly find in the industry. If that’s the case, we as a species would be better off with more of these kinds of “parodies.”
On the flip side, we get more doses of sleek, sultry electro-pop in the vein of (derivatives of aspects of) La Vie en Rose: Title track Violeta gracefully collates the silky smooth atmospheres of Rose while giving it an extra dosage of Hey. Bae.’s or Up’s non-stop upfrontness. While Violeta’s insistence on insisting (it’s just very in your face) can be a bit tiresome, this is, perhaps, this project’s flagship move in really establishing an IZ*ONE “house sound,” building off the successes of Rose and transmogrifying those techniques for later title tracks such as Fiesta. Doesn’t help that the arrangement proclivities by these tracks’ producers would carry over to even post-, or, altogether non-IZ*ONE work.
Highlight is the project’s most sultry track, featuring some of the most minimalist production on the project that, even towards the back end, it can’t help but insert some patches of overbearing brass samples just to ostensibly “fill out” the space. While this does mark one of the most “matured” moments in IZ*ONE’s catalog, its distinctness in this mini-album’s context exacerbates the project’s main issue of thematic and atmospheric inconsistency. You need not explain further than seeing the main sequence of tracks jumping from bright and shimmery (Hey. Bae.) to silky smooth sultriness (Violeta, Highlight) to overbearingly lovey-dovey and emotional (Really Like You) to “fun of astronomical proportions!!!” (Airplane, Up)… and then pseudo-bonus tracks in the form of Korean versions of previously-released Japanese b-sides.
What HEART*IZ does do is prove that IZ*ONE are more than a one-trick pony (which wasn’t even all that bad of a thing to be, given the quality of output they introduced themselves with). Even in its least versatile or comprehensive moments, there’s a clearly-delineated progression in terms of performance and ethos from COLOR*IZ, which would be expected as the group have now been operating for close to half a year (which is equivalent to, say, 3 years in “K-pop time”). The weaknesses of this project couldn’t even really be boiled down to not having enough time to simmer. God forbid we use up any more time in their already short career. It’s more along the lines of trying to do and be too much in as condensed a form as a mini-album.
Following the release of this mini-album, the group would embark on their first world tour, Eyes on Me, whose setlists’ song selections derive predominantly from COLOR*IZ and HEART*IZ. Aside from the concert DVD instilling an inherent sense of FOMO and perhaps inspiring a handful of WIZ*ONEs to be the pioneers of time travel technology, the show’s structuring was, as is usual for their contemporaries, very structured; very controlled; very manufactured, even, but in a way that makes each segment feel purposeful. This is what drove down how cobbled-together HEART*IZ as a project can feel at times. Despite its songs working in tandem with much of their catalog, as a self-contained project, it feels more “compilation” than “cohesive narrative”; more barebones and blueprint-y than their debut.
Still, you’re not gonna catch me not shilling some specific fancams of Highlight or not gawking at the sensory-overload-inducing stage designs of Hey. Bae. Like It. performances throughout this era. Perhaps, with a little bit more musical “space” (a full album, maybe?) and a little bit of a break (not too long to result in a hiatus!), things could be recalibrated — wait a minute…
FAV TRACKS: Hey. Bae. Like It., Up, Nekoni Naritai
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BLOOM*IZ: A Rare Fruitful Harvest (Mostly…)
IZ*ONE’s first two mini-albums were released around half a year apart from each other. This was a pretty standard affair for K-pop releases, even accounting for the numerous non-album releases, and Japanese material they’d put out in that time. Thus, the 10-month gap between HEART*IZ and the first and only (Korean) full-length album BLOOM*IZ would cause some curiosity to newer observers of the group. Just to help recall, IZ*ONE were temporarily inactive after information of Produce 48’s lineup and voting fraud surfaced. People went nuts. Produce’s karma came to swallow up X1, but IZ*ONE were barely able to make it out alive.
With BLOOM*IZ, the final installment in the group’s “Flower Trilogy,” certain narratives might be made that the group would “come back stronger than ever,” though, even then, the teasing of the album even before the Produce charges came to light simply resulted in a much-unneeded delay. Everything was already there, just put on hold. You could make a case for the bonds between the members changing for the better (and perhaps some folks on the management end being extra cautious), but that wouldn’t really affect already-mastered music. Though, it does feel like that extra time in between would retroactively “justify” the formulation of this project as the elusive K-pop “full” album.
The prevalence of the mini-album format as ushered in by 3rd-gen goliaths feels like a circle of confusion: It feeds into the constant content demands of insatiable K-pop fans, yet also imposes that norm on itself with how bloated full length albums can now feel (by virtue of the norm being, well, a handful less tracks). Full-length albums often struggled to justify their lengths, with many of them feeling like mini-albums with extra, unneeded tack-ons for the sake of filling out a track-number or time quota. (Some would take that last sentence too seriously.) Even fewer manage to justify their lengths while keeping a steady state of great tracks, with releases by Red Velvet, f(x), IU, and even the most recent fromis_9 project come to mind as some of the rare successes.
With this in mind, BLOOM*IZ is a bit of a confusing entity to evaluate. In the IZ*ONE canon, it appropriately follows in the footsteps set by COLOR*IZ and HEART*IZ. We get more of the usual IZ*ONE shtick with many improvements and an unsurprising number of semi-questionable production choices turning up every once in a while, just with each aspect being doubled or tripled with the full-length format. The groundwork set by the two preceding mini-albums are given a fresh new life on many of these tracks, with a much healthier (and indulgent) selection of the usual hyperactive (a la Pink Blusher), nuanced-girl-crush-y (a la Fiesta), and affectatious tracks (a la Dreamlike).
There’s a surprising handful of stylistic potpourris thrown into the mix that don’t hesitate to solidify themselves as flagship IZ*ONE tracks. The opener, Eyes, even with its sometimes overdramatic percussion and weightless vocal production, sports what is undeniably one of, if not the group’s best hook and chorus to date. Ayayaya and So Curious, two tracks debuted during their Eyes on Me tour, follow suite, providing hooks for days and satisfying both ends of the extreme “serious” and “unserious” sides of the group. Again, you could rag on about the jarring sequencing, but one thing BLOOM*IZ has over HEART*IZ is that the distance between each extreme isn’t anywhere near as drastic, making for a much more cohesive listen.
The general threads of thematic and musical cohesion and consistency are what make BLOOM*IZ quite remarkable for a full-length K-pop album. The other end of this is that there are inconsistencies within the album’s consistencies, in that some of the tried and tested formulas for certain moods, atmospheres, and facets the group usually work with don’t always hit the mark in terms of evenness. The relative disparities between, say, more “emotional” tracks like Dreamlike, Destiny, You & I, and Someday are filled with massive valleys and peaks, but that isn’t necessarily to say they suddenly don’t fulfill their roles all that well.
Similar sentiments could be had for the more ostentatious mixtures of hyperactivity and sultriness, with the compositions on Ayayayaand Daydream having a slightly more nuanced and tastefully subdued edge to their moods (and dare I say the latter might, again, call back to certain LOONA tracks), versus tracks like Fiesta and Open Your Eyes bordering on being a bit much. The latter two give you no room to breathe as all of its production elements forcefully insist their way into your audio transducer of choice, ultimately masking a lot of the more euphonic elements of these tracks, be it their addictive hooks or synth arpeggios.
At this junction, given that BLOOM*IZ successfully provides a pretty cohesive set of tracks and a commendable consistent atmosphere and vibe, it’s hard to conclude that it doesn’t really “justify” its length. This isn’t even really an “on paper”-type of hesitance, it’s just that a handful too many moments lack a bit of polish, again, akin to HEART*IZ, but there seems to have been more of a conscious effort to reduce how jarring they could make these humorously and affectionately hilarious affective disparities feel. (I, too, love being propelled up in a musical Spaceship then immediately driven into a depression of Destiny.)
However, if you looked at it from an optimistic, future-sighted lens, with how effortlessly some of BLOOM*IZ’s material instantly sets itself apart as some of IZ*ONE’s best work, it’d only be natural to see that the group were certainly headed for the stars at this point. The sales, opportunities, and brand are one thing; the music, art, and performance in and of themselves are another, and, the gulfs between these two aspects of the group continue to converge as did BLOOM*IZ with HEART*IZ ‘s deltas. And, at this point, with a little over a year left for their contract, surely they’d make the most of it? Surely, we’d still be firing on all cylinders, churning out nothing but quality hits?
FAV TRACKS: Eyes, Dreamlike, Ayayaya, Daydream
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Oneiric Diary: OT12’s Take on High Blood Sugar
IZ*ONE’s fourth mini-album Oneiric Diary leaves me with two main curiosities. On one hand, you could give me all the statistics in the world about what records IZ*ONE broke with this era and the heavens-high performance of Secret Story of the Swan. However, I think the more interesting inquiry is how many search queries for “oneiric [definition]” were logged into Google on the day this mini-album was announced. On the other, I wonder if their producers ever got the memo during the succeeding One-Reeler era that, perhaps, there were times when something could be taken too far and become… too much.
If you ever felt like IZ*ONE’s previous title tracks were very bombastic and were insistent on showcasing its spunk and flare, Oneiric Diary doubles down on that, very obviously to a fault. Aside from the tranquil and full-on emotional rampage of With*One, Oneiric is locked into one singular facet of bombast and hyperactivity, though amplifying things such that they never, for a second, don’t impart a sense of over-the-topness. This is something that has worked in smaller doses in the past, such as Violeta and Fiesta, and while those aren’t too far detached from much of what Oneiric offers, this is the closest IZ*ONE’s projects get to imparting the same kind of physical and/or mental fatigue as an overly-compressed modern-day pop-punk album.
Kicked off with the mystical Welcome, which, in itself is a rather interesting composition for the group, we’re catapulted right into the mothership of all IZ*ONE title tracks: Secret Story of the Swan. Recall my earlier comments about IZ*ONE doing the “girl crush” thing with a bit more viscerality and nuance? Doing so in a way that feels more purposeful and gives it new life? Swan is the blueprint those tracks derived from; the base template IZ*ONE sought to improve upon, now being touted (as a title track no less) as “the” improvement… the hot new thing. Perhaps its most standout feature is that it gives pundits a chance to experience, to a very weird extent, what Blackpink sounds like to unironic Blinks.
The structuring and writing on Oneiric are all uphill from here, but the fumes of bombast from Swan had proven to be incredibly contagious, resulting in some of the group’s most heartwarmingly cute tracks (Pretty, Rococo) or their more sleek, luscious, alluringly understated tracks (With*One) feel like they’re in dire need of a sedative or two. Merry-Go-Round is the sole survivor of Oneiric’s musical sugar overdose, feeling the most like an offshoot from the HEART*IZ or BLOOM*IZ eras, but it not being any semblance of a reprieve from incessant musical equivalents of sensory overload aren’t doing it any favors.
I’d struggle to say a lot of the production here feels “rushed,” given the relatively sparse time left for the group at this point. But, compared to the rest of IZ*ONE’s catalog, Oneiric Diary feels the closest to being unable to provide much of a justification for its inclusion in the IZ*ONE canon. That being said, there was certainly still a market (at least, one much stronger than during the time of publishing this piece) for bangers like Swan or over-the-top lovey-dovey anthems like Pretty. Both still have their moments, be it the authoritative and commanding vocal (and dance) performances of the former or the crack-laced hook of the latter.
The best of what Oneiric Diary has to offer is, unfortunately, just masked by layers upon layers of confetti and rainbows, which is befitting of what IZ*ONE have built up for their repertoire up until this point, but, again, harkening back to my preliminary inquiries, perhaps this was a point when that shtick could border on being too much. Unlike the group’s past three Korean projects, Oneiric feels less like an extension of them working on their craft and more like them (un)intentionally foraying into their (sole) cruft; something made all the more bittersweet knowing how little time the group had left.
That being said, I will still shill this era’s fancams. I also still want to know the “oneiric” search statistics.
FAV TRACKS: Pretty, Merry-Go-Round
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One-Reeler/Act IV: The Panoramic Descent into (Im)permanence
To coast off the discussion of Oneiric Diary, it and the group’s final mini-album, One-Reeler/Act IV, are projects I would both liken to a monumental, career-defining project: Twice’s Feel Special. Barring the surface-level similarities in production ethos, what Feel Special brought to Twice’s table was a collection of tracks that were, like Oneiric, incredibly incessant and over-the-top in its production. You could give or take some points for how each of those two projects level out their very solipsistic and hedonistic (more so for Twice) narrative priorities, but Oneiric feels more like a project in the shadows of Feel Special. The latter, in itself, being in the shadow of many more subdued but ultimately more tasteful renditions of Twice’s own brand of sprightly yet emotional pop bangers.
The worst things I could say about Oneiric and Feel Special is that their production feels lathered with the musical equivalent of airbrushing (I thank Fantano for that excellent metaphor). An even more apt and, perhaps too harsh, analogy more befitting of contemporary times is that these two projects sound, in comparison to their previous bodies of work, like the sonic, wiggly air equivalent of AI art in how unnatural, synthetic, and undesirably forced so many key musical elements sound, especially timbre. (I’m sorry.) Again, they both have their moments, or, at the very least, said moments have been provided a teeny little but pretty bothersome veil. Where’s the equivalent of those moments without the veil? Enter One-Reeler/Act IV.
IZ*ONE’s 2020 was, more than ever, a non-stop affair. One-Reeler is the group’s third Korean project this year, following all the usual non-album releases and Japanese promotions, as well as their expansive Oneiric Theater performance. I guess the excessive grindset could be seen as offsetting the temporal (and monetary) losses incurred by their hiatus, though one would likely be prompted to wonder how this was something the group’s management were able to magically sort out the logistics of, especially in the wake of COVID-19 topping all the Health Risk Charts—one of the fastest do so! (Do not read into my usage of K-pop discourse terminology for COVID-19 as a diss on K-pop.)
Logistics aside, One-Reeler spins IZ*ONE’s shtick and sound in the freshest, most novel ways they have throughout their career. One-Reeler’s skillful utilization of the tropes established on Oneiric Diaryare exactly why I inquire/d about if there was a memo emphasizing the importance of not bordering on being too much. The signature bombast and over-the-topness of IZ*ONE are still very much alive and well, especially with key tracks like the title track Panorama and the wondrously expansive opener Mise-en-Scène: Two tracks that, while are on the more divergent end of the IZ*ONE “hyperactive” spectrum, still feel like such natural progressions of the group’s sound while being expert appeasements to the industry’s demands.
These two tracks inhabit a lot of the more overt, surface-level similarities to Feel Special, with the use of cloying, unnatural-sounding brass segments to artificially beef up their choruses, or very rigid, tactile percussion giving a pseudo-satisfying sense of physicality and impact. However, they’re more focused and atmosphere-driven, opting for providing a healthier balance of a solipsistic sentiment and an equally-hedonistic level of bombast in the production. Mise-en-Scène contrasts starkly with IZ*ONE openers in the past, but it feels the most like a determined mission statement: One filled with authority and all the needed backing behind it. Panorama is a whole as big as the sum of its parts, featuring some of the best verses (I’m still not over Chaeyeon’s bits), pre-choruses, choruses, and bridges to come of the group.
Things don’t ease up at all for the remaining b-sides, with each being a very haptic culmination of many of the facets (and permutations of said facets) of the group. Island is the typical happy-go-lucky vibe-setter of the record. As it plays off the whole “IZ*LAND” motif, it also plays off IZ*ONE’s own sensibilities so cleverly by bringing together clashes of synths and electronics in a way that complements One-Reeler’s preceding two tracks. Sporting a hook very reminiscent of the group’s first two mini-albums, at this junction in IZ*ONE’s career, it might lend to a bit of jaggedness once again in thematic and vibe-based consistency, but with how well Island executes these elements, it feels more nitpicky than anything.
Sequence and O Sole Mio scratch more of an affectatious itch. The former is a buttery smooth, bass-groove-driven track that I previously compared to a Le Sserafim track. I still stand by that comparison, and will maintain that Sequence is the godmother of all of the succeeding bass-driven nu-disco-tinged K-pop tracks (think: Vroom Vroom, Generation, Giddy), being the best of the bunch alongside its siblings (Bop Bop! comes to mind). O Sole Mio opts for the more sultry end of IZ*ONE’s affectatious side, with razor-sharp melodies and vocal performances piercing through the chorus and wholly exemplifying the members’ (especially Yena’s) vocal prowesses.
An IZ*ONE release isn’t complete without a somber ballad to end things off, and what better—and, retroactively, heartbreaking—way to end off IZ*ONE’s main catalog than with the cutesy acoustic number of Slow Journey? It’s easy to dismiss this as another one of the group’s emotional ballads and/or slow numbers, and while that is true, the documented process of writing this piece leaves a lot to chew on, whether you’re looking into the idea of it being written amidst an impending disbandment or you’re dissecting, say, who Chaewon was thinking of when writing one of its verses.
There’s something quite touching to glean when contrasting One-Reeler directly with COLOR*IZ; the two bookends of IZ*ONE’s main discography. Everything set up by the latter had been transmogrified and recontextualized in one way or another, given new life or simply being pushed beyond its limits for the better, and all of that culminates in the expertly-produced and quaintly-crafted tracks of the former. Even with some roadblocks or potholes along the way, they pull off a feat that many groups nowadays (even those that have existed for equal or less time than they have) don’t pull off nearly as well, if at all.
Intentional or not, One-Reeler/Act IV is the perfect conclusory capstone project for a group that, even with some more technical imperfections, was one of the closest to, simply put, being “perfect” in an inherently flawed industry, and it’s a nice roundabout to COLOR*IZ being the perfect thesis statement.
FAV TRACKS: Mise-en-Scène, Panorama, O Sole Mio
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So Curious…
Aside from the group’s main five Korean releases, they’ve had a deluge of Japanese releases and other non-album releases—most of which don’t really offer much else that isn’t already available, if not even perfected, on said Korean releases. If anything, some of them, if they had more of a “canonical stake” in the group’s lore, would skew a lot of my perceptions and insights towards the negative, so we can leave my comments on those here, so we can maintain the W. However, I wouldn’t even really think that’s all that necessary to keep said W; recall my earlier statement about the group being the last “great” “K”-pop group to have operated in contemporary times.
Given a lot of my criticisms and relative lack of satisfaction with a lot of the group’s material, what gives? Why wouldn’t I give this title to other groups I’ve actively (or more hiddenly) praised for their music? (See also: STAYC, aespa, tripleS, Billlie.) There’s obviously the whole debacle about their performance as an “entity” in the K-pop industry; again, they’re widely successful and have broken numerous records, yada yada. I don’t mean to invalidate this aspect of the group, since I do think their success is a non-insignificant factor in my conclusion, but this aspect in and of itself is not a sufficient metric to judge what the group really did and/or could have done for the industry as a whole.
Simply put, even with a litany of minor nitpicks and issues, IZ*ONE holistically encapsulate the very best and most “organic” embodiment as well as development of a more conventional, “traditional” K-pop sound. If you think of some of the genre’s or industry’s frontrunners prior to today’s 4th- and 5th-gen goliaths, you glean a very particular vibe and atmosphere to it—maybe it’s a happy-go-lucky, carefree, exuberant, and kinda silly mood, but it’s one that, at its best, feels unique. Unique enough that it gives you a reason to actively seek out groups or artists working with this style and ethos compared to, say, more mainstream and conventional pop music.
IZ*ONE were the last of their kind to really capture that same ethos and integrate it into their sound, in a way that doesn’t really stagnate the genre. Again, there are several segments throughout their discography that recontextualize this pre-4th-gen production ethos (La Vie en Rose, Panorama). The group have also made it clear that they aren’t afraid of having to take influence from their contemporaries, but still make it a point to keep their K-ethos in check (Up, Ayayaya, Merry-Go-Round) — at least, for the most part. (*cough* swan, swan swan…)
Them being popular was just a bonus, but this is something that could have—or, arguably, should have—kept the ethos they followed more prevalent, though marred due to a combination of several industry-level factors (which may or may not be easily condensed to some variation of “they disbanded too soon”). Post-IZ*ONE, there has been a deluge of K-pop that has greatly deviated from the soundscapes and moods that really defined a lot of prior generations and groups, even coming from offshoots of IZ*ONE themselves. (The most notable example would really just be Le Sserafim.)
There are some things to unpack about the “ethos” I’m discussing, relating to quality and quantity. In the case of the former, as I have noted earlier and in past reviews, I am no stranger to enjoying K-pop that “deviates” from the production ethos I (mostly) praise IZ*ONE for. Groups like the tripleSes and Billlies of the world, I would be handedly more comfortable publicly displaying my affection for, in terms of their musical output, and given a lot of my own tendencies and tastes, I would also be much more comfortable recommending them to people who might be curious to, maybe not get a “comprehensive” or “representative” taste of K-pop, but are looking to see what groups in this realm are capable of.
Deviating from that preliminary ethos does not inherently make for a bad project, but it does take away from the incentive to look into and dissect/digest these projects. A handful too many groups opt for showcasing their flourishes in pop music that may be more “nuanced” way (a la Western, Top 40 fodder-adjacent material) while attempting to balance it with some semblance of pre-4th-gen K-production ethoses, but it rarely works in such a way that it favors the latter. Some groups have just opted to completely neglect or underutilize the latter. (*cough* ILLIT).
IZ*ONE’s brand of musicality worked so well to (re)vitalize pre-4th-gen production ethos because they didn’t try to be something they weren’t; they took this foundation and added onto it, rather than opting for finding weird, off-kilter middle grounds or utilizing altogether different, not-too-K-poppy templates. There’s an argument to be made that the shift to these “nuanced” and more internationally-relevant styles was, well, obviously, a marketing tactic—of course you’d expect the shady consumer-driven industry to do anything in their power to market and sell to the largest number of people possible! But, again, what about IZ*ONE? What about the earlier Twice and Red Velvet eras? What about… god forbid… even Blackpink? They all made it without succumbing to the same kind of tactics.
Elsewhere, on the topic of quantity, it’s very, very important to stress that the production ethos IZ*ONE embody isn’t gone entirely from the industry. I would go as far as to say that, even groups whose output I don’t consistently enjoy, like your LIGHTSUMS, Weeeklys, CSRs, greatly embody what IZ*ONE did in their prime—their prime being just the entire period of time they were active, which is an amazing feat but also quite sad to think about. It’s important to stress that IZ*ONE-influenced/derived methodologies for producing music are still out there, and several threads on Twitter have been compiled to showcase this.
A thing to keep in mind, though, is that these groups aren’t operating on the same level of industry influence as IZ*ONE. If you take even a quaint little glance at groups who are operating on IZ*ONE’s level, they’re exactly the types of groups that don’t really follow suit with their ethos completely (if at all). This becomes an especially important consideration, since what these groups (think the Ives, NMIXXes, Itzys, (G)I-DLEs, or aespas of the world) represent, musically anyway, “becomes” K-pop—it’s what people tend to associate or ascribe to the sound; and, since it sells, well, obviously, there’s now an incentive for other groups to follow suit with what works and what now “constitutes” K-pop.
Whether you chalk it up to luck or sheer talent or whatever magical factor/s could help in such a situation, IZ*ONE being able to catapult themselves to success while also being able to musically embody and appropriately (re)contextualize their influences and industry-level seniors is a feat I wished more groups strove for. Then again, I can’t be too greedy, knowing that so much of what went into IZ*ONE was probably just as once-in-a-lifetime as they were, whether it be the incredibly scuffed, cursed lineup establishment; said lineup having so much prior prowess that it might induce suspicions of an OT12-nepo-baby scandal; the group having had the kind of incentives, success, or freedom to play around with their sounds and production ethoses as freely as they did; or, simply, the stars aligning and an unprecedented level of luck amounting to a little/lot more than 10%… (And still 100% reason to remember their name.)
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Slowly, Slowly
I really don’t think I can overstate just how much of a anomalous—for better or worse—entity IZ*ONE was. While they did fall victim to many of the usual shenanigans and tropes entailed by the K-pop industry, they were breaking new ground so many times, while also being the last juggernaut force to carry the torch of a hopefully-not-dying breed of K-pop music and production. In a slightly less non-ideal world, more groups would have followed suit; in fact, it’s pretty clear that some groups still choose to follow in their footsteps, even if tangentially and with a hint of caution. Perhaps their influence on that front hasn’t really stood the test of time, owing to the changing demands (for the worse) of the industry.
However, make no mistake, IZ*ONE still make their mark elsewhere. The remnants of a group who were out to prove that each and every single one of their members was nothing sort of a superstar still persist and, hell, even insist on maintaining some kind of presence nowadays. The usual fodder for this kind of “longevity discussion” is, well, the fact that a lot of their records and achievements have held up and still become a point of comparison for later 4th-gen and even 5th-gen groups nowadays. Sure, the industry has gotten a lot more oversaturated since then, but IZ*ONE still having a place in some of these discussions—and even being introduced to them through these sometimes nuance-lacking discussions—surely gives them some cred.
The real kicker is that most of the members still operate in the industry or its tangentials nowadays. Think of the many solo careers and group redebuts to come: Eunbi, Yena, Chaeyeon, and Yuri have had quite successful outings as solo performers, each giving their own twists on sounds previously unexplored by IZ*ONE, with Eunbi taking on a more kitschy, glitch y approach to electro- and synth-pop; or Yena channeling her inner Hot Topic-loving, Warped Tour-attending punk-inspired persona; or Chaeyeon opting to double down on IZ*ONE’s sultriness and swagger; or Yuri having a more “matured,” comprehensive blend of pop that exemplifies her charisma and vocal prowess.
Of course, no discussion about post-IZ*ONE projects is complete without a mention of Ive and Le Sserafim: The biggest fish of the bunch, not even within a post-IZ*ONE context; they’re literally some of the biggest 4th-gen groups operating nowadays, and they’ve arguably already surpassed the peaks of popularity achieved by IZ*ONE themselves. (I can’t exemplify that last statement more appropriately than providing anecdotal examples of encountering online parlance filled with shock learning about IZ*ONE’s involvement with 4th-gen figureheads like Wonyoung or Chaewon. But, it’s also nice to see that some of their IZ*ONE-related lore persists nowadays, see: implicit/theorized Annyeongz shipping; Chaewon’s fanservice.)
And, as much as I’d compliment the broadened, sprawling musical landscapes that each of these major projects has delved into—I’d be someone to take an Antifragile or an Off the Record over a Secret Story of the Swan any day—they don’t really scratch the same musical itch IZ*ONE did. That’s not really something you can blame them for or get up in arms about; the fun of a solo career is being able to expand your horizons past what your prior experience has dictated, though, given the longstanding expertise of the members, as well as a handful of awe-inspiring musical standouts (think: Glitch, Taxi), there’d be no performers more qualified to acknowledge, commemorate, and recontextualize IZ*ONE’s roots than those who were in the group to begin with. (We can cope and seethe and pretend that Hyewon, Minju, Nako, and Hitomi suddenly surprise us.)
As much as it’s a very sad, reprehensible moment of tooting one’s horn, my own inclination to write such a lengthy (albeit very scattered) piece about a god-forsaken K-pop group, yes, speaks levels about me, but also, arguably, about the group. If you asked me to compile a hypothetical list of personal experience-driven retrospectives and discography dissections of artists I’ve come to love who also happened to be very important players and entities in their niches, it’d probably be one of the few lists to have a conglomeration of selections that would very passionately shoehorn IZ*ONE amidst freakin’ Weezer or Sweet Trip or The Cure. (Though, you’re not gonna catch me writing about those groups any time soon. Granted, it’d probably be infinitely easier to write about a 2-ish-year-old group with 5 not-too-long pieces in their discography.)
I don’t doubt that the list of K-pop groups whose music I will enjoy (to the extent of frequently relistening to their work or even attending their concerts) will continue to grow at a steady rate. I do doubt that I’d have similar proclivities to aspects outside of that, like lore, personality, and whatnot like I did with IZ*ONE. I don’t doubt that many K-pop artists and groups I discover from here on out would make my own year-end lists more frequently than IZ*ONE could do. (Though, this is a logistics-adjacent thing.) I do doubt that I could experience with other groups a similar rush of adrenaline from a very minute, minuscule, almost inconsequential bit of fanservice like Yena’s cutesy little mentions of IZ*ONE during Eunchae’s Star Diary or a completely out-of-left-field Chaeyeon/Yuri reunion or whatever the hell Eunbi, Yena, and Minju were doing here (LOL).
I don’t doubt that IZ*ONE’s influence would continue to decline or fall to the sidelines; as the market continues to grow more saturated by the day, it’s only inevitable they fall prey to the violence of time. I do doubt that the spirit and vigor they brought to the table would ever really disappear; what IZ*ONE provided, even if some of it might be very easy to nitpick, shows what K-pop could (or even should) stand for—they provided the best of what it could be. And they did so with top-notch marks on all fronts, capturing mine and many hundreds of thousands of WIZ*ONE’s hearts through class-leading idol-driven and musical (to an extent) expertise. 지금까지 아이즈원이었습니다. 감사합니다.
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Epilogue
Why did I just spend over a month doing rigorous research and writing for a now-defunct group? I guess that when brainrot hits, it hits hard. I also did want to do something for the anniversary of the group’s final form of “existence.” If Ive are coming back today, I think my IZ*ONE proclivities also could. I guess this is my way of memorializing them and imprinting them into a small but weird little part of me (this blog); this is my way of writing them on the clouds of my small little corner of the Internet, making sure that they never disappear—not from me, and not from anyone else.
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Originally published at https://www.tumblr.com on April 28, 2024.
