Wrong Song in Jincheon

After reading the nice piece on embarrassment written by Susan Quinn, this incident sprang to mind.

When I quit my radio job and first moved to Korea, I worked in a small electronics company as, of course, an English teacher. This company had a small office near Seoul and a factory in a rural town called Jincheon. In total, there were about 150 employees. I only knew 15-20 from the suburban office.

As the end of the year approached, I was informed there would be a New Year’s party in Jincheon and that all new employees would have to sing a song for their coworkers. At this point, I don’t think I had sung for anyone besides myself. I could carry a reasonable tune, good enough for folk music anyway, but I sure didn’t know about being the only foreigner and singing for a crowd of 150 — let’s face it, it’s Korea — drunk people.

I chose an old Korean classic, a patriotic tune that translates to “Beautiful Mountains and Rivers,” written by Shin Joong Hyun (I think he’s retired now). He is a tiny bald guy who is kind of the Dylan, Hendrix AND Spector of Korean rock music. It's a niche genre. I learned the song phonetically, as I knew little Korean then. Good enough for karaoke.

Shin often produced other acts and they covered his ditties often. The version I learned was by Kim Jung Mi, whose 1973 album “Now” is a great psychedelic folk-rock album I had picked up in the States. (I had no idea this album was super obscure in Korea, and had been an American hipster cult rediscovery.) I practiced every day to be ready for the hootenanny.

The party was mostly an awkward blur, thanks to language issues. I have a high tolerance for alcohol, but I don’t drink usually. I was given a couple of drinks on this occasion, being the novelty act I was. There was a big buffet with a lot of…fragrant food.

I was placed near the end of the list of “performers.” Wow, did the other guys make an effort. They had choreographed dance moves, props, and guest stars. I just had the sounds of syllables in my memory, etched and scratched.

My turn. A nod to the karaoke machine guy. Show time. Suddenly, I wasn’t nervous at all. (Isn’t that how these things usually go?) But then, oh ____, it’s a totally different version of the song! I hadn’t even considered that. It’s been recorded by a lot of different people. I was a taxidermic deer in the headlights. I couldn’t explain my problem either. The best solution was to stand tall and look stupid.

The crowd rescued me and my red face. They started singing on my behalf. In a country with a fairly high mistrust of foreigners, they bailed me out.

Welcome to the company.

The version I practiced with:

(I’m not sure what was on the karaoke machine, but it had a disco beat and threw me for a loop.)

Funny in retrospect, but I wouldn’t want to do it again.