Haunting the K-pop arena to periodically rear its head and divide opinion, the recurring dilemma over artists lip syncing during live events re-emerges once more.
In a livestream on February 13, Stray Kids leader Bang Chan discussed the possible necessities of lip syncing in an artist’s busy lifestyle, detailing the extensive working hours that could potentially impact a singer’s health and vocals if they were to perform live each time. The debate extends to backing tracks that help artists reach the effects and that could only be replicated in the studio, particularly while performing intensive routines onstage, or simply creating stage-similar tracks before hitting the show.
In theory, it seems nonsensical to accept that a singer cannot always simply sing, that their live performance is hindered by numerous facets of their life both on- and off-stage that impede the nucleus of the career they chose to pursue. In practice, however, lip syncing is one of the many tools artists have at their disposal to ensure their performance is always at its best. Quite simply, the option of lip syncing would not be available if it were not a necessary precaution to some. Exhausting dance routines and staging that we come to expect from K-pop in its entirety often obstruct the performance to the point where artists feel more comfortable supported by their studio-perfected versions, not to mention the sheer volume of such appearances and rehearsals that diminish performance quality beyond their debut.
However, the argument itself puts into question what we as an audience expect from artists. If a singer is too burned out to perform live, particularly at their own concerts and organised events, the proverbial mirror should be held squarely up at their fanbase and the industry surrounding them. The endless hunger for content, presence and visibility demanded from Asian artists in comparison to their Western counterparts is a reflection on greedy consumption of their material. Take for instance the phenomenon of “coming home,” an audience-created concept where an artist returns to social media or group presence after a period of inactivity. Asian artists are unfairly measured on their consistent presence before their fans, opening themselves to speculation for any extended period of silence. But by that same standard, audiences should also challenge Western artists for their dependence on lip syncing to create the ideal musical experience. Ashlee Simpson, Milli Vanilli and even Mariah Carey’s careers suffered when fans inevitably picked up on their lip syncing at live events, some of which have never quite recovered.
If this debate indeed exposes a fundamental failure of the K-pop system forcing singers to reluctantly take steps away from the reason they ventured into the industry in the first place, change is necessary. When artists who steadfastly continue live singing remain criticised for the diminished quality of their vocals while dancing, morale will inevitably decrease and dependence on lip syncing will bubble to the surface again, perpetuating the electric argument that has kept fans on edge since the year dot.
For the artist’s sake, backing tracks are often essential in their own right by creating an immersive experience much like the original song played directly into your headphones. Imagine your favourite K-pop performances without the high notes and low booms that may not be achievable in a live setting, or even BTS’ “On” without Suga’s signature vocal-shredding growls — the live experience as a whole derives its appeal from being as close to the studio product as possible while witnessing your favourites recreate them in new ways each night. See Ateez’s performance of “The Real” as an example of backing tracks used as sparingly as possible to accommodate staging and vocal abilities, where the original studio version makes the odd appearance but is far from a crutch for the entire show.
The lip syncing to which Bang Chan refers in his Vlive is a much more appealing option for fans looking for a truly live experience — known as prerecording, artists record their vocals on a stage mic before the show, either onstage or at their studio base, and that resulting track plays while they perform. This approach takes the process a large leap away from simply playing the album-ready versions but comes the closest to a live vocal performance without plugging into breathy microphones and expecting artists to damage their vocals day in day out.
Understandably, fans want the best for their artists and their health comes at a priority, regardless of cost to their live performance. On the other hand, lip syncing in any degree decreases the value of live events in both fans’ costs for tickets and the production surrounding a performance that could otherwise be heard on a streaming service. When fans begin to challenge the price of their concert tickets as the live experience diminishes, the industry has already failed its captive audience. It’s one thing to expect an artist to produce inhuman sound effects heard on record, but another to justify a live experience entirely devoid of the “live” element. If you prefer to hear the studio version of your favourite tracks anyway, perhaps the live music setting is not for you.
It takes courage to address such core controversies in a scene that hinges on a “shoot the messenger” approach that will criticise any spokesperson merely laying out the pros and cons of a hot topic. Bang Chan’s willingness to take to his platform to discuss the matter should not be taken as a guilty personal admission of the most extreme lip syncing in the scene, but instead exactly as it is intended — an informed, experienced explanation of the pitfalls of the idol lifestyle that consumers often overlook when demanding studio-perfect performances at every appearance. But it’s important to avoid naïvety on a subject that clearly affects the majority of the genre — you may think your favourite groups refuse to partake in the odd backing track or a prerecording here and there, but rest assured that they most likely do, they’re just good at concealing it.
Whether audiences like it or not, the necessary quasi-evil of lip syncing in its many shapes and forms is likely here to stay. The debate will rage as long as K-pop remains a pivotal cultural barometer, but the responsibility to move forward from it lies in the capable hands of the paying audience — either accept that artists have a performance condition limit and must work around it in ways that still deliver as “live” a performance as possible, or expect less from your favourites and permit them a lifestyle that affords more live singing.
