How Hyuk Oh, the Korean Indie Rock Star, Is Changing the Sound and Style of Seoul

Hyuk Oh in an Aeil T-shirt, Vetements belt, and Martine Rose jeans

Photographed by Benedict Brink

Hyuk Oh lights a cigarette on a rooftop overlooking the Han River and lets out a slight shiver, shaking a bit of ash loose from the sleeve of a powder blue satin shirt. It is a cold spring day in Seoul, he is tired from shooting since dawn, and makes no effort to hide it (why should he?). Instead, he stares into the camera, expression unchanged.

That is the first difference between the indie soft rock musician and the average Korean star—his complete lack of pretense—but Hyuk Oh has always defied expectations. Born Oh Hyuk in South Korea, then raised in cities across China, he moved back to Seoul five years ago to pursue music. At the time, K-pop had hit a new peak (“Gangnam Style” had just gone viral) and seemed unstoppable. Against the odds, the four-member group Hyukoh (also the name he goes by as its frontman) formed underground in 2014, then became the first act to sign with HIGHGRND, an independent label from YG Entertainment, one year later. This year, they hit several new highs: Their first full-length album, 23, debuted this spring (“We’ve messed up, we’re fucked up, we’ve fucked it all up—that kind of mood,” he says). Then, the band embarked on its first overseas tour this fall—playing to manic crowds in Toronto, New York, Los Angeles—and after a brief pit stop at home this week, where Seoul Fashion Week Spring 2018 is about to begin, will head on to London, Amsterdam, and Singapore.

Bless T-shirt, 99%Is- jacket and pants, WTAPS coat, and Vetements bootsPhotographed by Benedict Brink

Hyukoh (the band) has helped pave the way for the emerging indie scene, which is gaining more and more ground in Seoul. Their sound is a refreshing counter to the high-octane pop and hip hop that has dominated the industry until now, and it is defined best by lilting guitar and Hyuk Oh’s singular voice—slightly husky, yet warm and full of feeling. What’s more, Hyuk Oh (the man) refuses to play to the country’s aesthetic conventions. His hair is black and cropped close to the scalp; his brows are short and vanish at the ends. There are ball bearings pierced through his Cupid’s bow and philtrum, as though they might connect in his mouth, and his sculptural face and slim frame wear more fashion-forward clothes—all of his own choosing—so wonderfully well.

Sitting down to tea at a sunlit wood-paneled cafe in the Yeonnam neighborhood, he seems nervous. “I’m shy,” he states quietly in English. He is wearing a fitted cap and a T-shirt designed by a friend, Aeil, that reimagines the Korean Air logo as Korean Wear. Hyuk Oh is famously reticent, but kind, with a tendency to observe you from arm’s length. He smokes, often, drawing a cigarette from the pack with fingertips calloused by his guitar. There is always a sense of distance, but it vanishes onstage. You can sense that it is a place he feels truly free, to express himself through music and clothing in a way few Korean artists can do. It is thanks to the fact that he maintains all creative control over his image, which gives him the freedom to focus on his authentic, individual style.

Photographed by Benedict Brink

His love of fashion began young. “In elementary school, your mom dresses you, right?” he says. “Everything is clean and matches. When I was alone, I always wanted to dress myself differently.” In middle school, Hyuk Oh discovered a Japanese style magazine called 20 and fell in love with the country’s designers. He became an Internet fiend, sifting through sites for new collections and rare finds. “Then with my allowance, I’d go out and buy Undercover, Soloist, Comme des Garçons,” he says. “Some brands that are gone now. There was a brand called Glass . . . it was like that.” At the same time, he fell in love with punk—the Sex Pistols and Sid Vicious, Trash Talk—and skate punk in particular. “But more than the music, it was the visuals—I liked bondage, those kinds of clothes. I wore leather jackets, my hair like that,” he says. “Ever since I was young, the musicians I liked had a cool look. Fashion, music, and performing, it all went together for them.”

By following them, he breaks the mold. Where K-pop stars pride themselves on their chameleonic nature, showing a dramatically new look with each album, Hyuk Oh and his band have always stuck to one. “There isn’t a conceptual style for us,” he says. “We are just people who like clothes, people who know fashion. We just wear what we want to wear.” It sounds simple, but in Korea, it is nothing short of revolutionary. Hyuk Oh ticks off the list: “Our drummer likes hip hop, so he will dress like that. Our guitarist is into quiet, casual, clean clothes like Wales Bonner. Our bassist dresses like a college student.” He laughs.

Photographed by Benedict Brink

Back on set, there is a black Rimowa suitcase containing Hyuk Oh’s clothes, marked by a white sticker that says Fuck You We Do What We Want. Its contents reveal his preference for the working man’s uniform and contemporary tailored menswear, mixed with punk pieces. “My tastes don’t change suddenly,” he says. There’s a plush blue Raf Simons knit tucked over a pinstriped Oxford from the Comme x Vetements collaboration. A crisp blue button-up from local brand Heritage Floss sit next to black overalls from Simons’s Mapplethorpe collection and fleece leopard-print pants from 99%Is- whose designer, Bajowoo, is a good friend.

A white collared shirt and high-waisted jeans from Martine Rose are fairly recent acquisitions, and evidence of his current passion for London design. “She did a collaboration with Hood By Air that I saw, and thought, ‘oh, who’s this?’ ” he says. “I suddenly got a lot of interest in English brands. Gucci, brands like BAPE, what they do well is create a vibe. But English designers have something else . . . that real feeling of fun, creativity.” Hyuk Oh does work with a stylist, the New York–based Ye Young Kim, who will come to his apartment to pick through his closet or suggest new items he might like. When asked if she introduces him to new designers, he answers: “There are none, because I know a lot,” laughing.

Photographed by Benedict Brink

“Just liking music isn’t enough, I think, these days,” he says. “Just the music alone isn’t enough—the mood has to be there.” It’s one reason why he’s having fun exploring design firsthand with a series of collaborations. There was a set of silver earrings done with jeweler Sarah Cho, who he met through friend and designer Xander Zhou, for his personal use. “I always wanted to make jewelry, but I didn’t have a place or way to do it, so thought why don’t we do it together?” he says. “We did two or three pieces, just simple ones. Like [Maison Martin] Margiela from a long time ago—it’s small, you’re not sure whether it’s there or not. Usually you can’t buy things like that.” He recently collaborated with designer Shin Murayama on a cotton face mask, made from recycled Polo Ralph Lauren caps, and is working with Bajowoo on a metal-tinged capsule, messages flying back and forth between them.

Does he aspire to launch his own line, as so many artists do? “I have interest . . . but I’m not going to do it,” he says. “There are people who do it well—let those people do it. I’ll do my music, those people make the clothes. But with people I like, if we can work together and collaborate, I’d like that.” His honest, forthright nature and sincere passion for good clothes is what makes him such a compelling figure in Seoul’s music and fashion scenes. There’s no doubt that he has had a hand in shifting the course of style here. Now, more artists are taking risks and searching for unexpected designers. Now, personal expression is coming to the fore.

Later that night, at a guerilla punk show, Hyuk Oh huddles briefly beneath a heat lamp in a studded leather jacket, not a stitch of makeup on his face. He gives a shy smile, then climbs onto the stage to the raucous cheers of girls, who have fallen head over heels for this nonconformist. It sounds like change—a long time coming, but music to the ears.

Photographed by Benedict Brink Styled by Ye Young Kim Makeup by Yoonjin Kang for Aura