Kimchibilly

Blogging on the weekend is hard. Monday night catch-up is easy. So I'm cheating. Besides, isn't it a testament to my pursuit of happiness that I'm actually out making merriment as opposed to holing myself up in this two room hovel, pounding away my frustration? I think so.

Last weekend my Weekday Mistress, Casey (the human, not the cat), invited me to a Speakeasy party.  What is a Speakeasy party, say you?  In an attempt to make better use of her time here in Seoul (as opposed to pissing it away), Casey has joined an indie mag called Speakeasy.  For the past few months, Casey and crew have been throwing fundraising parties in Hongdae to raise money for printing costs/get the word out about the mag.  Usually the parties are priced right at about 10,000 won, and include a free drink and some local live music. She had me at free drink.  Anyway, last weekend I managed to drag Grandpa J all the way up from Pyeongchon to join me in the debauchery.

Now, I'm not usually too stoked to drag my ass all the way to Hongdae for a drink, but last Saturday the Rock Tigers were on the bill.  The Rock Tigers are Korean's interpretation of rockabilly, and my need to see them was overwhelming -- partly because I was intrigued: Korean Rockabilly?! And partly because I covet any opportunity to make fun of others, as my friend Jon so gleefully and frequently points out.

I'd heard about the Rock Tigers from a friend last spring and had been itching for the chance to see them.   I mean, rockabilly is a woefully under-represented subculture in Asia.  Japan's pretty much got the market cornered, what with their Harajuku Rockabilly:

and:

and:

True to form, the Japanese have taken the whole greaser/rockabilly genre and twisted into an unrecognizable mash-up of leather, your grandma's Aquanet and ramen.  In Korea, being "different" means breaking rank and sporting a polychromatic work wardrobe.  It almost never involves a sky high pompadour, bared chesticles, or public dancing. How could Korea ever expect to compete?

Well, like this:




Slick black pompadours?  Check.  Vintage-inspired bowling shirts and shined black boots?  Check.  Leopard printed stand-up base?  Check.  Pixie-ish front woman in a shock of pink tulle?  Check.  The Tigers had all the makings of classic rockabilly ( I'm using that term loosely here), but none of the the shock and awe of the Harajuku Rockabilly.

But they do call it Kimchibilly, so that's a bit of pioneering, I suppose.  A Google search tells me China's not even on the map.

Check that base, yo!

I'm a sucker for even mildly famous people.

The Weekday Mistress and I.

Not bitching and moaning.

One of our finer moments.