In dealing with K-pop—which, let me clarify, is not mandatory—the Italian press repeatedly reveals a concerning lack of depth and cultural understanding. Oscillating between superficiality, deep-rooted prejudices, and an inexplicable air of superiority, Italian media seem incapable of grasping the essence of this global musical genre. A striking example of this trend is Patrizio Ruviglioni’s article for Vanity Fair, published on January 16th, titled “Why Are We Obsessed with APT. by Rosé and Bruno Mars?”
Perhaps it’s because I just attended ATEEZ’s sold-out show at Milan’s Unipol Arena; perhaps it’s because there will be more than a few sold-out dates on their European tour; perhaps it’s because I’ve been covering K-pop for a few years now, but the aforementioned article—which I won’t link directly out of a somewhat silly commitment to intellectual consistency—feels off. It feels off in many ways.
First and foremost, the article’s title turns out to be mere clickbait, as no answer is provided to the question posed. There isn’t—and cannot be—just one reason why a song like APT. is achieving the success it currently enjoys, and anyone who works with and loves music must inherently know this. The success of a song is made up of myriad elements, but in the end, what truly makes the difference is that repeated click our finger makes on the play button of our playlists. APT. generates many clicks—that much is undeniable.
Ready, set, go: the article opens with a rather peculiar definition of APT.: one of those songs “that you notice too late: the worst ones, or perhaps the best.” Which immediately begs the question… isn’t it you who noticed it too late, given that the song was released in October and you’re writing about it now? Millions of people noticed it well before!
The piece then continues with a sarcastic comment about the number of writers involved in creating the song (“a total of 22 hands”), which demonstrates a certain shortsightedness regarding modern creative processes in the music industry. Collaboration among multiple talents—not to mention musical craftsmanship—is a common and often necessary practice for creating globally successful hits, hardly a sign of artistic weakness. Perhaps we could ask Travis Scott or Drake how many writers they enlisted for some of their hits.
The description of K-pop as “tantalizing and exotic, but still partly unknown” to Westerners is not only condescending but also incorrect. K-pop is an established global phenomenon with a massive international fan base and significant cultural impact. Sources indicate an expanding phenomenon with approximately 13 million fans in Europe and tens of thousands in Italy (let’s not forget that there were 67,000 attendees for Stray Kids at iDays).
The focus on Bruno Mars—who, let’s remember, is featured and not the main artist—is misleading and, let’s say it outright, somewhat misogynistic. It’s hard to ignore that Rosé is barely mentioned in the article. ROSIE, her debut album heralded by APT., isn’t even mentioned. Returning to Mars, the use of the term “Trojan Horse” is particularly problematic. It implies that the artist was used as a tool to subtly infiltrate K-pop into Western markets, ignoring the artistic and creative stature of the genre. But then one wonders: did anyone think something similar about Lady Gaga’s feature on Die With a Smile, released just weeks earlier? Why is it more natural to assume pure utilitarian reasoning behind this feature rather than an honest desire to collaborate on a track that, let’s face it, suits both artists perfectly?
We then move on to criticism of the music video, described as “all pink as if distilled from Barbie”: what’s so bothersome about that? Is pink perhaps reserved for certain genres? Over time, it has been widely used even in Western pop videography, especially that of the 2000s to which this video seems inspired. We can turn to Gwen Stefani or Avril Lavigne for further insights.
The author’s digression about Bruno Mars (note again: still focused on Bruno, not Rosé) needing to find an “effective look” different from that of “a baby doll who seemed straight out of The Jackson 5 in When I Was Your Man, which he can no longer pull off,” is not only completely irrelevant to the piece but also lowkey offensive—in many ways; take your pick. My favorite is the subtle ageism implied by “which he can no longer pull off.”
The musical analysis is limited to superficial observations: “funk-style little guitar,” chord progression described as “pompous and almost new wave.” The use of diminutive terms and qualifiers like “almost” once again suggests that for the author, K-pop is merely a wannabe among music genres—but ultimately, what can we say about this? It’s a matter of taste.
Finally, as has become customary in Italian press coverage, the “K-pop issue” is addressed with a hefty dose of superficiality. The author concludes by suggesting that the genre needs to become “more serious and less brazenly adolescent” to be taken seriously outside South Korea. My evidence points to a genre already taken very seriously outside Korea. K-pop—even though 2024 wasn’t its best year—is still growing in Western markets while experiencing a slight domestic decline (as we’ve discussed here). And prospects for its future remain bright.
I don’t feel it necessary to state how inappropriate it is to elect one song as representative of an entire genre. Because if we play this game, I can think of half a dozen other tracks that could represent k-pop more than adequately—and they aren’t necessarily bright and playful tracks like this one. Nor does it need saying that despite being clearly lighthearted and playful—perfect for social media—the song also offers important cultural insights just one inch beneath its surface, if one chooses to look for them (and we’ve discussed this too).
I’ve referenced some of our own pieces at the risk of seeming self-referential to highlight how much can lie behind a lighthearted song about an alcohol game among friends—if you choose to see it. There’s culture; there’s structure; there’s knowledge; there are people thinking and acting.
One final general thought: music has an inextricable and primary recreational function that cannot be ignored—and indeed must be protected. The success of a song stems from what audiences seek and appreciate—not from partial judgments by listeners or critics. APT. has captivated audiences precisely because of its ability to entertain and amuse—and these are aspects that cannot be underestimated. Pop music has always had the power to unite people by creating communities around shared experiences. Ignoring this means neglecting music’s very essence.
So, to semi-quote Ruviglioni one last time: “In the West we are slow to catch”. Is it? No. At least, not all of us.
