Ten years ago, Bang Yedam captured the hearts of a nation when he covered Justin Bieber's "Baby" on K-pop Star 2, the popular South Korean singing competition series in which he placed second. With his swoopy bangs and melismatic charm, the pint-sized vocal prodigy surprised the judges — including the queen of K-pop herself, BoA — with a cheeky, self-penned rap verse in which he delivered the bar "날 보아누나 언제보아도 예쁜 누나" ("BoA, you're always pretty") with a level of confidence only an 11-year-old in a sideways baseball cap could muster.
At that moment, he forever endeared himself to the public as a young talent who had the charisma and ability to hold down the stage on his own. A decade later, on the cusp of a new chapter of his career, those clips make Yedam feel conflicting emotions. "I still feel somewhat embarrassed to look at it," he tells Teen Vogue from Seoul, where he's sitting in a very beige conference room wearing a blue pullover that reads, appropriately, "Create a moment." His hair, still slightly swoopy, is a freshly dyed honey blond. "But I feel like the kid who was on that show is a different person from who I am right now. He had no fear."
This Yedam is older, more experienced, and acutely perceptive of the industry in ways that would have made his younger self gape in awe. Fear is relative, and at 21, he's still capable of taking risks and surprising himself. He's doing it right now. A few hours after this interview, his first solo single in three years, from his debut solo EP, will be released on streaming platforms, and Yedam's excitement is effusive. "Everything feels very new," he says with a toothy smile, the kind that spreads across his entire face. "The fact that I'm able to present my own music to the public, it's a very amazing experience."
To grasp the significance of this project, just look at its title: Only One. It holds several meanings for him. The EP consists of six songs — including the title track "하나만 해 (Only One)" and two versions of the pre-release ballad "Miss You" — and what Yedam describes as "100 percent of my ideas, my thoughts, and my opinion." His name is all over the tracklist; he's the sole lyricist on every song, with composition and arrangement credits on each track. He had the final say on everything from the album sequencing to its overall concept (it's love, by the way). The phrase is both a romantic affirmation ("You're the only one for me," he croons on "Come To Me") and a testament to his creative autonomy. "It's something that I've never done before," he adds, "but I'm adapting to doing it alone."
And there lies the title's even deeper importance: "I think that the phrase 'only one' reflects the situation that I'm in now." The context goes unsaid, but here it is.
Last November, Yedam left TREASURE, YG Entertainment's promising boy group that debuted in 2020, and terminated his exclusive contract with the prominent company. According to the statement released at the time, after a "long and careful discussion" between all parties, Yedam decided to "pursue his career as a producer." The news left more questions than answers. He had trained at YG for seven years, becoming somewhat of the agency's honey-voiced golden boy — a shoo-in for the group's final line-up and fan-favorite in the lead-up to its formation, as documented on the survival show YG Treasure Box. At the time of his premature departure from the group, TREASURE had just scored one of their biggest hits with TikTok-favorite "DARARI," a chill love song co-written and produced by Yedam.
Yet, in addition to focusing on production, Yedam wanted to showcase the true spectrum of his talent on his own timeline. There was so much he wanted to do that the limitations of being in a group wouldn't allow for. So nearly a year later, he signed with GF Entertainment. It's a choice that Yedam didn't make lightly, but it's one that felt right for him. The final decision, he says, was made by his heart.
"I was pretty scared to change the course of my career," he says matter-of-factly. "But I feel like if you have the passion and the belief that this is the right path, it'll all be fine. You just need to make the decision that you think is right." This is why, when asked to share his advice to young people who might be at the same creative and personal crossroads, he doesn't offer some blanket statement or Instagram-worthy platitude. Everyone's situation is different, he says, joking, "I don't want that problem to be my responsibility!"
Yedam's desire to make music is well-documented. He started dabbling in music production at 17. Despite his laid-back demeanor, Yedam has always been a bit of an overachiever (he works out six days a week), someone who allows his ambition to lead. He can't help it. Once he sets his mind on something, he can't stop. Inspired by his multihyphenate labelmates — notably, WINNER's Kang Seung-yoon and AKMU's Lee Chan-hyuk, respected artists he now calls his friends — he approached songwriting as a way to "challenge" himself. "It looked fun," he says, and when something looks fun to Yedam, "I need to do it." He performed one of his earliest compositions, titled "Blackswan," during a crucial pre-debut evaluation at YG. The label said it wasn't trendy enough, but the tough feedback didn't quell his curiosity. He started writing more, accumulating a prolific catalog of yearning pop-R&B and subdued beats. You can hear traces of Bieber, whom Yedam calls his "biggest role model," in his expressive delivery and the way he crafts each sinuous melody.
He has a knack for conveying tender feelings. Some ache like a bruise and others float like soft petals. "I'm a very emotional person," he says. As he talks, he translates those emotions thoughtfully and clearly. He speaks with conviction. "When I feel something, I try to express it through my music."
In doing so, he wrote over 30 songs for Only One. "I loved all the songs that I wrote," he explains. "But as this is my first album that I am showing to the public I wanted it to be very impactful." So he looked at "songs that might appeal to the general public" and narrowed it down to five, which in retrospect, wasn't that difficult. He had a vision. The EP goes through the motions of love, from the first fluttering feelings of attraction to the inevitable heartbreak and eventual acceptance. "The first few tracks are about that period before you get into a relationship," he describes. "They're like, 'Do I like you or do I like you not?' — and I'm the one saying, 'I love you!'"
On "하나만 해 (Only One)," a bright and soulful number, he urges the object of his affection to "just believe in yourself" and follow their heart (if you look closely at its lyrics, you'll also notice a few Bieber references); "헤벨레" opens with the lovestruck declaration, "I love you, girl!" (the lyrical equivalent of standing outside her window with a boombox) before sliding into an easygoing groove accentuated by catchy finger-snaps and a rhythmic vocal performance. "Miss You" paints a vivid picture of heartache and longing with soul-stirring guitar melodies. As he worked on the topline, he hummed lyrics in English to set the right mood. An English version of the single is included on the EP. "The track gets very sorrowful," he says. It's followed by the whiplash of "하나두," the album's bouncy closer in which he shakes off the low vibrations and confidently sings, "I am not sad in any way.,"
There's something warm and analog about Yedam's musical expression, best demonstrated on the funky track "Come To Me." Sequenced in the middle of the EP, it begins with the sound of flipping a cassette and pressing play — a tactile appreciation for a bygone era when love was best expressed over two plastic spools and a roll of tape — and a simple keyboard melody reminiscent of powerful 80s ballads like Whitney Houston's "All At Once."
Recently, he's been listening to "Nothing's Gonna Change My Love for You," a song initially released in 1985 by jazz guitarist and singer George Benson and made famous a few years later by teen pop star Glenn Medeiros. "I love that old pop vibe," Yedam says. He has his parents to thank for that.
Born and raised in the artsy Mapo District of Seoul, Yedam grew up surrounded by music. His parents were musicians "with really great taste in music," he laughs, and they exposed him to a multitude of genres from pop to soul to funk. They would sing together as a family, just for fun. The first time he ever stepped into a recording studio, he was five years old. He remembers singing Houston's "Greatest Love of All" and Michael Jackson's "Ben." He picked up piano as a child. Like his dad, he knows how to play guitar. "My hands hurt when I play, so I haven't been able to play my guitar as much. But I have that passion to learn again and do it properly!"
At 11, Yedam's parents encouraged him to try out for the second season of K-pop Star. "My parents asked me if I wanted to go to the audition, and I said, 'Yes, of course I want to do that,'" he recalls. Yedam smiles as he talks about that time in his life. He has a lot of fondness for his childhood self who jumped into everything head-first. "Throughout my music career, I've received a lot of help and a lot of advice from my parents. I depend on them for that." (Yedam's parents sent a coffee truck to the set of his music video shoot for "Miss You." The message on the side of the vehicle read, "Now, it's the beginning, the journey for your dream.")
He auditioned for the program in 2012 with his dad by his side to accompany him on acoustic guitar. Yedam sang Nat King Cole's "L-O-V-E" and played the harmonica. Watching it now, you can see how Yedam feels the music from his head to his toes; it pours out of him so naturally. Oftentimes, singers are told that the key to a good performance is creating an emotional connection with your audition. For Yedam, the most important connection an artist can create is with the music. "My parents told me that emotions are the most important thing," he says. "So when I sing or when I make music, they told me that the emotion that I get is very important, and I need to cherish it."
It's why he's been so captivated by love from the very beginning. He feels it every day when he listens to music, makes music, or chats with friends and industry peers — like Chan-hyuk, rapper Big Naughty, and Stray Kids' Han — about making music. Music is his love language, his greatest love of all. When he likes a song, he pores over its lyrics, deciphering how feelings are put into words. "I'm a bit sentimental about it," he says. It's in his nature. It starts with understanding the mood of the song, and then his producer-brain turns on. "I try to dissect it — take it apart to see what I can learn, what I can take away from the song." It's a skill he honed as a trainee, learning how to strip things down to their foundations and piece them back together.
"If I didn't spend my adolescence in training, I think I would have a harder time now," he says earnestly. Asked whether he has any regrets over sacrificing a normal childhood for one spent in and out of practice rooms, he ponders in thought. But his mind is made up almost instantly. "When I look back at that time, I think that I've actually gained a lot as a trainee. Not only did it improve my musical skills overall, but I was also able to meet people my age who had the same dreams as me," he says. "I learned a lot from them, and they helped me grow into a better artist."
That sense of fellowship can't be replicated. It endowed him with confidence and gave him the motivation to do what he needed, to let go of the past and move forward, even if that meant doing it alone. "Those times allowed me to be here as who I am at this moment."
And at this moment, he's never been more sure that he's right where he's supposed to be. "I want to tell you that it's going to be an enjoyable process," he says. "Being responsible for my own album and making it on my own, it's very exciting — and in overcoming all that fear [and] all the pressure, I think I'm going to enjoy the ride."
It's a surprisingly flexible mindset for someone who's had it all figured out from the beginning. Would Bang Yedam now call himself someone who goes with the flow? "Yes," he smiles. There's a hint of mischief in those eyes, the ghost of his younger self. "If it flows my way."
