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The new BTS book, Beyond The Story: 10-Year Record of BTS, isn’t revelatory. But it was never meant to be.
In an era of sensationalist headlines and questions thrown to catch a celebrity off-guard, the Korean boy band has always patiently pointed to one another and their fanbase known as ARMY as the answer. The biography paints a sure picture of why that hasn’t just been safe, smart PR: it’s what’s allowed them to draw away from the bright, destructive flickers of fame and refine their identities as artists for the long-term.
Related: On BTS, Writing, and What Makes an Artist
So in some respects, this BTS book is simply another art form of the many they’ve crafted and spoken into over the past decade to document who they are and what they do. But it is also the first time that BTS’s entertainment company HYBE has commissioned a piece to document their story in its entirety, made possible through a painstaking process of author Kang Myung-seok interviewing each member eight times — approximately once every three months from 2020.
As such, Beyond The Story provides a framework to reflect more deeply about artistry and growth through the eyes of BTS and its members RM, Jin, Suga, J-Hope, Jimin, V, and Jungkook. Below, explore seven takeaways from BTS’s biography, Beyond the Story.
1. Search for Truth in Fantasy
Kang describes the K-pop idol as someone conceptually required to offer up a safe, and thus alluring, fantasy. He’s therefore laudatory of how BTS was able to successfully reject this model in 2015-16 by presenting a more realistic take on youth through their The Most Beautiful Moment in Life arc. Not only did the music videos portray “dismal, oppressive circumstances,” it didn’t romanticize them. The irony, however, is that the narrative storyline of these music videos became the foundation of the Bangtan Universe, which hinges on fantastical elements of time travel and alternate universes to heal broken relationships.
Perhaps the greater gift, then, is the reassessment for what kind of “fantasy” listeners craved. In the mind of BigHit Entertainment (later, HYBE,) fantasy did not have to be bad, nor did it have to be disingenuous – it could reorient the consumer so the celebrity is not the end goal as much as the herald and co-explorer of a new landscape.
Successive albums played with this in different ways. Wings (2016) was a dramatic expansion of the Bangtan Universe, fusing the members’ real-life experiences with those of their narrative counterparts and intensifying a fandom movement eager to hunt clues and discuss lore. RM ensured that Love Yourself: Her (2017) would push “the limits of fantasy” in order to capture the dizzy, effervescent nature of infatuation — a feeling almost sacred due to its universality. And Map of the Soul: 7 (2020) did both: 花樣年華 The Notes were released, the fullest written compilation of the Bangtan Universe so far; and music like Jimin’s “Filter” presented a relay of fantasies, as he promises to take listeners to a “completely new world” each time. Through such avenues, art encourages fantasy to take a life on its own, connected to but not absorbed wholly by the artist.
2. Schedule in Active and Passive Recovery
BTS’s first two years were an exhausting “sweet, bitter, sweet, bitter” merry-go-round. As a result, they constantly felt as though they were teetering on the edge of failure and spent grueling hours in the studio in a bid to survive. Though their fear and imposter syndrome receded over later years, one aspect stayed the same: the never-ending schedule.
RM reflects how hard-hitting Queen’s biographical film Bohemian Rhapsody was with the line, “That’s what bands do. Album, tour, album, tour.” Its release coincided with BTS’s wrap-up of the Love Yourself album trilogy and a world tour that spanned 62 concerts in 14 countries over 14 months. Suga shares, “Our schedule was so packed that it was a matter of, ‘Is my body going to break first, or my mind?’” So what do you do when the thing that keeps you going is the thing that exhausts you? What do you do when you hate what you love?
In one sense, they simply had to accept the nature of their work. RM spoke about these warring feelings when receiving the “Artist of the Year” grand prize at the end-of-year award shows in 2019, but concluded each time that they’d made peace with doing what they could to give back to their listeners. But such declarations were on the back of the first of BTS’s three official breaks. The band took a break in 2019 and then again in 2021 before announcing a longer break in 2022 to recharge and work on solo projects.
Kang emphasizes rest as a healing and revitalizing act. It allowed them breathing space, with Jin searching for small happinesses in gaming and fishing, and V relaxing into his instinctive nature. It also renewed a hunger for music on their own terms, with J-Hope filming “Chicken Noodle Soup” with Becky G, and Suga bemusedly accepting that music was his hobby after all.
3. Don’t Make Social Media the Main Event
Much has been said about BTS’ savvy use of social media, but the book peels back a layer regarding the extent of power that it holds. Kang notes how the relaxed style and regularity of BTS’s social media platforms from pre-debut was a careful strategy by the company, as well as how they needed to reassess such strategies over time, such as whether to allow a greater spontaneity on newer platforms such as TikTok. But the echo through all of his examples is how social media is only ever a signpost to the main event.
Take BTS’s performance at MAMA in 2015. A fellow idol had dissed RM along with other idol rappers in a track just the night before. Would he be able to rise to the challenge, or would he stick to script? Would it be better to play it safe or make waves? RM was in indecisive agony, the members were desperate to prove themselves, and staff were flicking hurried messages between Hong Kong and Seoul to prepare a range of response measures. They were all “barely holding themselves together.”
RM ultimately decided to jump in the fray: he posted a screenshot of Verbal Jint’s “Do What I Do” on Twitter to drum up anticipation, with the lyrics making a mockery of the other’s skill. But such provocation would only be an empty threat unless he could clapback with finesse.
Thankfully, it did in fact pay off and we’re left with a legend stage: RM performed the last-minute diss on TV, posted his rap on Twitter, climbed to first place in Korea’s real-time search rankings, and was hired for the TV show “Problematic Men” that prized wit and smarts. So this wasn’t the triumph of social media. It was the triumph of BTS, celebrated on and dispersed through social media.
4. Tune Into Your Emotional Frequency
Negative discourse buzzes disturbingly in the background of the entire book, with particular time given to discern the cruel and often nonsensical nature of cyberbullying and its long-term effects. It’s most insidious in Kang’s description of how such issues were “the reason RM, for a time, loved cloudy–and especially rainy–days” between 2015 and early 2017 when he wrote “Reflection” (2016) and his second mixtape mono. (2018).
RM expressed his feelings at that time through gray hazes and ambient soundscapes, writing lyrics which found comfort in anonymity and darker landscapes. Kang’s synthesis of the context and interviews suggests that this was a coping mechanism for RM, and that he was able to push past these growing pains by facing his own nature, unpacking his inner turmoil, and leaning into a sense of belonging and support. He concludes this excerpt by stating that “at some point, RM began to dislike rainy days and stopped visiting Ttukseom.”
So whilst mono. continues to be beloved by listeners, this serves as a reminder to be gracious in a person’s changing personal tastes and musical styles. Indeed, RM’s verse in “Life Goes On” describes his desire to “race faster than those dark [rain]clouds,” recognizing the era of “Forever Rain” has passed.
Suga traveled a similar path, using music to parse his emotions. Some are those felt by all humans: existential dread and the fear of failure. But others are more specific to the burdens carried by celebrities who suffer from relentless public cruelty. It’s why he tells Kang he has two dreams: one to still be performing on stage at an old age, and the other, to become a licensed psychological therapist to support those who come after him.
5. Reframe Yourself and Your Work
K-pop celebrates the producer-idol for being able to tell their own story and composing a hit tune, and this is certainly why BTS’s rap-line in RM, Suga, and J-Hope has been highly regarded. But we’re not to fall into the trap of assuming something is superior or more legitimate because the artist took full control of the proceedings.
Suga himself was challenged on this notion when he had to work with in-house producer El Capitxn to complete “Ddaeng” (2018) in the necessary time frame. Though he’d been afraid of “slight imperfections,” he realized that the level of work didn’t suffer because of it. This change of philosophy freed him to pair with El Capitxn to produce for other artists like Epik High, Heize, IU, and Psy.
Kang also unpacks how “Black Swan” (2020) was able to “erase the boundary” that divided art and industry. Indeed, the title of the track was inspired by Darren Aronofsky’s 2010 psychological horror film of the same name, and the music videos quote Martha Graham, thus linking a Korean boy band to an American dancer through the agony of art and burnout. A Slovenian-based modern dance troupe MN Dance Company filmed an interpretive performance overlaid by a classical strings remix, and BTS’s own choreography combined elements of hip-hop and contemporary dance.
Jimin shares that “doing this song made me think, ‘Why had we never thought of the songs we make, the music videos and performances we do for them as works of art?’ ‘Black Swan’ made me feel like we had truly created a piece of art.” On one level, such a statement is mystifying: they had already been producing intricate, globally-acclaimed work for years. But it also makes a strange kind of sense, for the project brought together a dizzying array of artists and art forms to create a multi-layered piece of work. Perhaps we don’t know we’re in a rut until external sources push us to perceive our work in a fresh way and help us fall in love with it again.
6. Do Relax Into Golden Hour
Suga decided that if The Most Beautiful Moment in Life Pt. 1 (2015) wasn’t a success, he’d do more than quit the industry — he’d quit music entirely. He grit his teeth and “hardly ever came out of the five-meter-square studio attached to the underground training room;” constantly creating, recreating, and killing tracks based on live feedback from fellow members and company staff, as if they were all trapped in a hellish 24/7 music camp. (RM calls it a “cottage industry production,” which sounds more idyllic.) Of course, the mini-album’s lead single “I Need U” won them their first weekly music show, and each successive album rocketed them to even greater heights.
But a traumatic history of “sweet, bitter” remained in their consciousness, clouding their successes. Desperation morphed into fear. Surely the higher they climbed, the more painful their fall? Tracks like “Interlude: Shadow” (2019) clearly document Suga’s terror, though he’s used this metaphor regularly outside of music too, in poetry form as well as prose for shows and interviews.
Suga’s change in mentality has been a result of comradeship with his members, as well as a newfound distance from music so it doesn’t consume him. “There aren’t really that many artists who have a very long golden era,” he shares. “But that doesn’t mean the artists stop making music overnight or groups just disappear. We’re thinking long and hard about how to be onstage for as long and as happily as we can.”
In 2017, Big Hit Entertainment unveiled a new brand identity for BTS. With it came an additional name for BTS, “Beyond The Scene.” It didn’t catch on. But the name does officially indicate “the group’s mission to always aim for the horizon.” That language of the horizon is something Kang draws out twice in Chapter 6, “The World Of BTS”, which sits between Chapter 5, “A Flight That Never Lands,” and Chapter 7, “We Are.” The image of BTS cruising on a plane, following the horizon as the sky gently blends the golden tones of sunset, serves well as a metaphor for where they are now.
7. There’s Hope In Storytelling
Kang has a deep respect for the storytelling focus of BTS’s music. It allows their “signature encouragement” to not lean on “baseless optimism” while not being “mired in negativity and despair.” “Tomorrow” (2014) is given as an early example, which mixes frustration with courage. Kang also notes that their market grew through their choice to not stand in the way of public imagination. “Spring Day” (2017) may have been created by RM and Suga as a message to friends, but it was adopted by the wider public after the Sewol ferry tragedy to mean something more. BTS were reluctant to comment about the validity of such interpretations at a press conference, simply saying they’d leave it up to the listeners.
A natural progression to their lives has also expanded their world to invite the other. They began “Chapter 1” as seven boys focused on their own hopes and dreams, but close it 10 years later as men who desire to lend their voices for others to do the same. RM quotes a critique of Song Sangki to express his future aspirations: “I think that the greatest artists are the ones who can take their most personal experiences and distill them into the most universal of truths. Isn’t this person art itself?” Perhaps, in echo of the very first point in this piece, we can agree that BTS is proof that the best kind of fantasy – the best kind of art – is one that reflects truth and purpose.