(It Goes Like) "Nanana" by Peggy Gou, Friday, August 30, 2024

Waking up and doom-scrolling rarely starts the day off right; however, sometimes an article so shocking will shake you to your core. “Oh my god,” my spine tingled at the color in my partner’s voice. As a member of the elder gay community (35+), I  had gone to bed early on Saturday, October 29, and my partner was playing phone games in bed. At about two on Sunday morning, I woke up and lazily checked Instagram. There were cute Halloween costumes, recipes, and seasonal lures online, and the world was set to enjoy a post-pandemic holiday of gathering together. For South Koreans, that celebration was happening as we were in bed in Itaewon, Seoul’s international district where young people in their teens and 20s gathered to listen to music and party. However, by 2 a.m., the party ground to a halt.
 

I CAN’T EXPLAIN IT. The Seoul Halloween crowd crush of 2022 killed 159 people and injured 196. About 100,000 people inundated Itaewon’s alleyways that evening. The hilly terrain and the packed, slippery sidewalks and streets made the neighborhood a deathtrap. Many systems failed for a disaster of such a magnitude, and the failure of Seoul’s police force was possibly what guaranteed that failure. Only 137 police officers were on duty in Itaewon. Instead, Seoul sent 6,500 officers to monitor a protest in another district. Starting at around 6:30 p.m., concerned attendants began calling 112, Korea’s police phone number, complaining of overcrowding and potential danger; however, at around 10:30, the chaos ensued. Many blame the administration of the city of Seoul as well as the current ROK president for ignoring and failing to protect youth culture. The disaster caused many in Korea to forego the remaining Halloween season. Halloween had only begun to gain popularity as a celebration in the 2010s due to English education and globalization. The neighborhood of Itaewon had a somber mood for a long time after the stampede that could be felt in the absence of people normally crowding the Hooker or Homo Hill--hills named for the neighborhood’s Red Light District and the LGBTQ+ nightlife the neighborhood had come to be known for. People were leery of crowds elsewhere in the country.

IT’S SOMETHING ON MY MIND. Last month, the City of Seoul narrowly missed another crowd crush. Korea-born, London-educated, and Berlin-based DJ Peggy Gou was about to play her 1 a.m. DJ set only to have Seoul’s fire department shut down the event. Gou has been a rising star in Europe and her return to Seoul with her Boiler Room World Tour was a highly anticipated event. With currently 11 million monthly Spotify listeners and a major hit on European and American Dance tracks from her debut album, I Hear You, the lead single (It Goes Like) “Nanana,” the rising star has been amassing an avid fanbase. In Seoul, though, the local promoter had sold nearly 5,000 tickets for the venue with a maximum capacity of 2,000 attendees. Gou posted on social media an explanation and said, “It breaks my heart and I’m so sad. I cannot believe this happened. I flew in from Japan without sleeping because I was really looking forward to this.” Unfortunately, it often takes a breach of safety in South Korea for authorities to take the next event seriously. However, globally, crowded venues face terrorist attacks as the Eras Tour was a target in Vienna, and threats of mass shootings in America. Yet, something about music and the human experience makes us crave connection. Hopefully, if 5,000 people want to experience Peggy Gou’s music in Seoul, they find a venue suited for her. Until next time, Seoul.

Read “(It Goes Like) Nanana (Edit)” by Peggy Gou on Genius.