Interviewer: Deena Jasmine (Chikkmagaluru, Karnataka, India)

Editor: Pooja Vishwanathan (Jhansi, Uttar Pradesh, India)

A true artistic bridge-builder, Lang Lee redefines what it means to create across music, words, and cinema.

Some artists sing, but Lang Lee transforms her life into song.

Born in Seoul, she has built a career across music, literature, and film, always carrying a voice that is honest and fearless. Her debut album, Yon Yonson, introduced her unconventional style to the world. Since then, her artistry has been widely recognized- from winning Best Folk Song at the 14th Korean Music Awards in 2017 for The Play of God (신의 놀이), to earning Discovery of the Year at the 31st Seoul Music Awards and both Best Folk Album and Album of the Year at the 19th Korean Music Awards in 2022 for her acclaimed album There Is a Wolf. These honors have firmly established her as one of Korea’s most distinctive indie voices. 

Lang Lee doesn’t shy away from difficult truths. She writes about grief, isolation, and resilience just as easily as she writes about love. In this interview, let’s explore her journey, her creative process, and how her art reflects the world around her.

You’ve built a career as a singer, songwriter, composer, and author. What first inspired you to dive into all these creative fields?

I don’t really know what the exact turning point was, so it still feels fascinating to me. According to my family, even when I was very young, instead of singing songs that already existed, I would make up my own songs and sing them. From an early age, I spent a lot of time creating stories and songs. I think the fact that I kept up that habit consistently is what eventually led me to my current career. I believe many people, like me, have probably created or imagined stories in their heads, or even spoken to them out loud. But at some point, they lose that habit, suppress it, or stop for various reasons. In my case, I never let go of it. Instead, I spent a lot of time practicing and studying to get better at it, and I think that’s why I’m still able to do this work today.

Your debut album, Yon Yonson, was created in a simple, DIY manner, and it possesses a raw and intimate sound. What do you think gave it that sense of honesty and closeness?

At the time, I was a film student at an arts university who made music just as a hobby. Using my laptop, I would do simple recordings of the songs I created for myself and to share with friends. I never imagined those tracks would eventually take the form of an album and spread out into the world. But in 2010, people in the Korean music industry who happened to come across my music recommended that I release the recordings exactly as they were — the same tracks I had only meant to keep as a memory. That’s how the album came to be released in the raw, unpolished sound you hear today. Since I created it without any thought of an official release, I think that’s why it carries such an honest and genuine sound.

In There Is a Wolf, you explore themes like depression, shame, and societal critique. What drew you to explore those emotions and stories through your music?

As I mentioned earlier, I released my first album and made my debut without ever imagining that my music would spread into society. But once the songs began to circulate, I started encountering a wide range of reactions and opinions. Performing, selling my music, and even earning a small amount of income from it marked the moment when it stopped being just play and started becoming real work.

From that point on, I began creating with listeners in mind. When I released my first album, the greatest joy for me was in sharing my own stories. But once the music reached the world, I became curious about the stories of the people responding to it. That is why, starting with my second album, I began writing songs where I was not necessarily the speaker. By the time I turned thirty, I wanted to create music that could represent not just myself but also other people, or even the voices of citizens.

Part of that was a conscious choice, but it also came from a personal experience of my own stories expanding into broader, socially connected narratives. For example, emotions I once thought of as purely personal, such as depression or shame, I came to realize could also be understood as social phenomena or even linked to the history of Korean society.

Over time, I have increasingly felt that an individual’s history is inseparable from the history of their society and their country, and even from the lives of people who lived and died long before us on this land. The more I came to understand this, the stronger my desire grew to keep learning. That is why I often read books on sociology and the social sciences, reflecting deeply not only on myself as an individual but also on the society in which all of us live together.

Your songs often feel like stories set to music. How do you find the balance between the words and the melody when you’re writing?

To be honest, I never really thought I would become a musician. I loved writing and creating stories, and the fact that those stories eventually came to be expressed in the form of music was almost by chance. That is why, rather than feeling a strong desire to write a beautiful melody or to create songs with great melodies, what has always driven me more is the urge to express something I wanted to say through music. What surprises me is that music is something I can work on seriously while also feeling joy at the same time.

When I make films or write, the process can often feel lonely. But with music, perhaps because sound itself is the medium, I feel good when I sing, and I enjoy myself when I perform. Playing together with my band members is especially fascinating, because the more the sounds come together, the more fun I feel.

You’ve worked not only in music, but also in literature and film. Do you feel those different forms of art influence each other in your work?

I do not really separate my work by genre. Even if the mediums are different, my projects are all closely connected. I probably understand best how each of them flows into the next. What I hope is that more people will start to notice that flow as well. In Korea, I seem to be known mainly for my music. But abroad, I often receive different responses.

In Japan, especially, people often refer to me not as a musician but as an “expressor.” I found that term very moving. Rather than being divided into roles such as writer, musician, or filmmaker, being called someone who expresses something feels like a truly wonderful description.

Directing 잘 봤다는 말 대신 and 유도리 must have been a very different creative experience compared to making music. What did you learn about storytelling through film while working on these projects?

I studied film at an arts university for about seven years. The process of making a film is far more complex and demanding than creating music. But because of that, it offers the opportunity for deep, long-term reflection that only a lengthy project can provide, and it allows me to meet collaborators from a wide range of fields. Film is truly a multidisciplinary art form, involving text, visual art, sound, computer graphics, outdoor and indoor activities, and more.

As a result, working on a film set requires making quick decisions in an environment with many variables and high levels of skill. I really enjoy working in that kind of setting.

However, compared to music, filmmaking is much more physically demanding and labor-intensive. Because I need to constantly communicate with many specialists, there is very little room to focus on other projects. For this reason, I do not work on films as frequently as I might like. I usually work on several projects at once, so it is difficult to commit to something as time-intensive as a film. Still, it is a work I truly love. With music, I can convey my stories through sound alone.

Film, on the other hand, allows me to expand my world using a wide range of multimedia, which makes it an incredible medium. That is why I always want to make films and feel ambitious about it, but it is always challenging to do so.

You’ve written several books over the years. Looking back, is there one that was especially meaningful or challenging, and how has your journey as an author shaped your creativity?

This year, an essay about family was first published in Japan and will soon be released in Korea and Taiwan. Of all the books I have written, this has been the most difficult and meaningful work. I began writing it four years ago, after my older sister took her own life. In life, you sometimes face the sudden loss of someone you deeply love and treasure. For someone like me, who especially enjoys forming relationships, parting and loss have always felt like overwhelming fear and terror. This book was written as I reflected deeply on life after such a loss.

It contains the process of revisiting and rethinking my long experience with depression, my desire to end my own life, and the way I have tried to organize those feelings and continue living. I do worry that readers might also feel a very heavy heart, but I believe that carrying such heaviness and continuing on is something human beings are remarkably capable of. That is why I wanted to share this heart with others through the book. I feel a greater sense of anticipation and also worry about how this book will resonate with people than with any of my other works.

When I think about the different kinds of work I do, I suspect that writing, and being called a writer, may be the one I can continue the longest. I have been frail since childhood, and even now I live with several illnesses. I have undergone cancer surgery, at one point nearly lost my sight due to a rare eye disease, and I still live with many physical difficulties. In this situation, work that requires me to appear at a fixed time and place, such as performances or filming, is always a burden. But writing allows me to manage my energy and focus when I can, which makes me feel that it is the profession I may be able to sustain the longest among the ones I have.

At the 2022 Seoul Music Awards, your performance included a choir supporting feminism and LGBTQ+ rights. What motivated you to take that stand through your music?

Sometimes, moments arise when I am exposed to many people even without intending to be, and the award ceremony stages are one of those moments. I see these opportunities to speak as very precious. They allow me to share stories about myself and the people around me with audiences I normally could not reach. Along with presenting my music, I think about what identity I want to show and what issues we are currently most deeply concerned with. Then, when the opportunity comes, I plan how to convey that message as effectively as possible.

The stage at the 2022 Seoul Music Awards was created with this line of thinking in mind. At that time, and even now, the issue that my friends and I most hope for is the enactment of an anti-discrimination law. Through that performance, I really wanted to express how much we have been waiting for such a law.

From winning Best Folk Song at the Korean Music Awards in 2017 to receiving Album of the Year and Best Folk Album in 2022, along with the Discovery of the Year honor at the Seoul Music Awards, you’ve been widely recognized across Korea’s music scene. How have these milestones shaped your journey as an artist, and what do they mean to you personally?

I still don’t really know what it means to receive awards. I’m not sure what significance they hold for me personally, but I do think they have a big influence on how society views me. From what I’ve observed, people in human society tend to fear the unfamiliar or avoid what they do not understand. That is why there are moments when a prominent name helps people accept or approach something more easily — like mentioning the most famous university, company, or novelist in Korea. In that sense, some of the major awards I have received seem to give people a little more reassurance about me or make them curious.

I don’t think those awards have a direct impact on my work or what I will do in the future, but I do feel that they influence how people perceive me. So, in that sense, there is nothing bad about them.

Your new song ‘SHAME’ feels very raw and honest, almost like a personal confession. As you prepare to bring it to life on your upcoming tour across Seoul and Japan, what inspired this project, and what emotions do you hope audiences will take away from both the song and the performances?

Until I reached my thirties, I had not deeply reflected on gender or sexuality. Before I even had the chance to think about gender, sexuality, the body I inhabit, and how to live in it, I was constantly exposed to the way society looked at and judged my body and face. This was especially true during my twenties. In that period of time, while people were freely interpreting my body, I neglected and failed to take care of it. Within that flow, I could not affirm or love myself, and it was also very difficult for me to love others.

But as I mentioned earlier, after experiencing the loss of several people who were very dear to me, I began to ask myself, “How should I live?” In that process, I started to think deeply about how to take care of and cherish myself, how to care for and love others, and how to live while acknowledging and respecting each person’s body. This was the context in which I wrote this song.

For a long time, because simply living felt so painful, I wrote songs about wanting to die, or about loneliness and isolation.

Now, I feel that there is no other way but to live fully in this body, with the heart, mind, and spirit it contains, until the very end. Beyond that, I hope there can also be someone with whom I can share this state of being. In any case, I wrote this song because I wanted to speak with many people about what it means to live in this body.

You’ve often worked with other musicians, writers, and even visual artists. Is there a particular collaboration that felt especially meaningful, or someone you’d still love to work with in the future?

I have always been someone who absolutely loves collaboration. I enjoy film work as well, because it brings together many experts who can exchange ideas. I only know what I know, but I have an enormous curiosity about the things I do not know. Since my strength and time are limited and I cannot directly know everything myself, meeting other people who know so much more than I do is incredibly exciting. The moment when someone who has lived a different life shares what they have gained through their chosen time and effort with me through collaboration is a truly special experience.

When I was a teenager, I did not attend high school and spent most of my time in libraries. Because I was a minor, it was difficult to interact freely with many people, so I read a lot of books instead. After becoming an adult, however, I found that meeting different people in different places, hearing their life stories, and creating or spending time together offered a far more diverse and vivid experience than reading a single book.

I realized there is nothing as enjoyable as getting to know people. Even now, whenever possible, I want to meet people directly and exchange as much as I can. But when someone has already passed away, or lives too far away, or there is no point of contact to meet them in person, books are still how I connect with them.

Of course, there are still many people I want to work with in the future, but more than anything, I want to continue working with myself for a long time, in good health.

Looking back, what were some of the most difficult moments in your career so far, and how did you overcome them or find strength through them?

I cannot single out the most difficult moment, because every year, every month, every week, and every day is hard. Many different reasons and circumstances make things difficult for me. Just yesterday, after a very tough performance, I experienced heavy bleeding, and today I am sitting in a hospital receiving IV fluids, injections, and taking medicine. Yet even in those moments, I am still alive, and there are countless people connected to me. Because I think of them and they think of me, there is this “state of connection,” and within that, I draw strength again.

Until a few years ago, I was someone who could not be physically alone. I always had to be with a partner, a friend, or an animal. When I was left alone, suicidal thoughts would rush in, and I had to endure very difficult times. But now, even when I am alone in one place for a long time, I do not fall into that state. I feel that I am connected to all the people I love.

Even when it is invisible, I feel 24 hours a day that we are connected to countless living beings who are living with us or have lived alongside us and exist at the same time. Within that sense of connection, I can live on again and prepare myself to find strength again.

Looking ahead, are there any new artistic directions or projects you’re curious to explore that might surprise your audience?

Yes, of course there is. But it is such an important topic that sharing it now would feel like revealing the secret too soon, so I will not say.

The Korean wave is growing rapidly in India, and an increasing number of listeners here are discovering diverse Korean artists. Is there a message you’d like to share with our Indian readers who may be getting to know your work for the first time?

In my life, I never imagined having the experience of being interviewed by Indian media, so I feel both surprised and very happy. I may be a completely unfamiliar presence to Indian readers, but Indian readers are also unfamiliar to me. Still, I believe that even in this situation of mutual unfamiliarity, there are many ways for us to connect. This interview could be one of those ways. I am truly grateful to the people who made this opportunity possible.

Because of the Hallyu wave, even as an independent musician rather than a major artist, my story can reach others. In that sense, I find the country of Korea fascinating these days. Compared to the power and size of many countries around the world, Korea is a very small country. From my perspective, I always hope that the diverse and unusual stories within this small country can overflow and be shared with more people.

Even if I create works in the language I know best, the reach is very limited compared to a larger country. Yet if my story can cross borders and connect with someone in another country, that would be truly wonderful.

Thank you.

Once again, we would like to express our heartfelt gratitude for your precious time and for sharing insights about your journey. Thank you so much. On behalf of the entire team at  Hallyuism, we wish you all the best for your future and lots of love from India! 

We hope you all loved reading this interview as much as we loved conducting it. Let us know your thoughts in the comments below!