Words: Jerome Evans

It’s three a.m. and the dance floor at JokerRed is a mass of flailing limbs and runny mascara. The DJ performs his time-honoured trick of killing the bass for four beats and bringing it back in again: works every time. The crowd goes wild. This dance floor could be in Madrid, Tokyo, Toronto or any number of other places. But it just so happens to be in a city that’s only just starting to make its mark on the clubbing map: Seoul, South Korea.

Klublife is visiting Club Day in Hongdae, Seoul’s University district. Once a month, 10 techno and hip-hop clubs, er, club together for a debauched celebration of, well, clubs. About 15,000 Won (about $17) will get you into all 10 nightspots and your first drink is on the house. The clubs range in size and scope from the meat-market NB to the hipster-joint M.I., and are all within staggering distance of each other. It’s a display of Confucian clubbing collectivism that would be unlikely in the West. But that’s the attraction of Seoul: they do things a bit differently around here. From the 360-degree neon panorama to the drunken salarymen taking swings at each other, this city is an assault on the senses. The fashionable Seoulites pull off suicidally daring colour combinations with aplomb (lime green and mandarin pinstripes, anyone?), and the air is filled with the perfume of slowly roasting pork and animated conversation. If you’re not keen on the long taxi ride home at the end of the night, don’t sweat it— or rather, do sweat it at a “Jjinjaebang,” one of Seoul’s ubiquitous 24-hour saunas. Many clubbers choose to end the night with a soak in a mineral pool, nap for a few hours on a straw mat in a heated room, then wake up the next morning rejuvenated and ready to face the subway.

Although Seoul isn’t your typical holiday destination, it retains a lively expatriate community due to two forces: The Korean obsession with learning English, and the United States Army. The GIs—you can spot them by their bad haircuts and muscular shoulders—are stationed in downtown Seoul at Itaewon, America’s largest overseas army base. They’re here in case Dear Leader Kim Jong Il gets any ideas. The English Teacher crew—you can spot them by their way-out-of-your-league Korean girlfriend, and hunted expression—are a diverse lot with one thing in common: they all, at one stage, made the decision to abandon everything they knew and come halfway across the world to a country they’d barely heard of to do a job they’re barely qualified for. Predictably enough, about half of them are Canadian. Given the current graduate job market, it’s not hard to see why people make the leap: a typical one-year contract will pay around $2,000 US per month, provide free furnished housing and round-trip airfare, and a “severance bonus” of one month’s salary if you stick it out for a year. Personal taxation and the cost of living are low in Korea, and most teachers find they can save around half their salary without much difficulty. All you need to get on this gravy train is a degree in any discipline. To a new graduate who majored in gta: Vice City while running up a five-figure debt, it’s a tempting prospect. “It’s a lot like being back in college,” says, Chris, a 27-year-old Nova Scotian. “You’re in this brand-new, unfamiliar situation with a bunch of other people in the same boat. Everyone spends their free time getting drunk or playing on the internet. The only difference is, this time ’round, you have a roll of bills in your back pocket.” In the last few years, savvy club promoters have began to take notice of the big-spending North Americans in their midst and an underground electronic music scene has sprung up. Tiesto, atb and other superstar djs often stop by at the airportloungesque Walker Hill Casino. A more authentic experience can be found at m2 and Garden, who pull in djs such as Nick Warren and Derrick Carter as well as Canadian stalwarts Myagi and Big League Chu.

Better yet, outdoor festivals are beginning to spring up; Pentaport and Flow are planned for the summer. But don’t tell Second Cup where they can stick their beans and jump on the next plane out just yet. Teaching English in Korea is not always a bed of roses. Indeed, a quick browse of www.eslcafe.com, the best-known online teaching community, reveals a litany of complaints about corrupt language schools, intolerant and prejudiced locals and even kimchi, Korea’s ubiquitous spiced cabbage condiment. Many teachers find themselves alienated by Korean culture, isolated as the only foreigner in their village, run down from overwork and unfulfilled by a job that can feel, at times, like being a glorified babysitter. But almost as many end up staying for years, getting married and making a life for themselves. “Ultimately, what you get out depends on what you put in” says Paul, an Irishman who came to Seoul in 1998 and now teaches at Seoul University. “It’s kind of like the Wild West. Some days it gets a bit much. But I’ve had opportunities here that I would never have had at home. If you come with an open mind and don’t get worked up over little things, you’ll be fine.”

Boxout: Interview With Don Urban, Garden Promoter

Don Urban, promotions manager at Club Garden in fashionable Apkujeong, has seen the club scene spring up around him. He arrived to teach English 10 years ago and hasn’t looked back. Klublife picked his brains about what’s hot in Seoul.

kl: Can you tell us a little bit about yourself, your background and how you came to be involved with Garden?  

du: “He had everything and wanted nothing. He learned that he had nothing and wanted everything. He saved the world and then it shattered. The path to enlightenment is as sharp and narrow as a razor's edge.” If you read The Razor’s Edge it might answer the question…

kl: Describe a typical Garden crowd.

du: We never have a typical crowd. Since our music policy is quite open, the crowd seems to vary from event to event. When we bring in an international act all those segments seem to merge into one. Having two sound systems allows us to cater to anyone who enjoys electronica. It is nice to have that versatility!

kl: What excites you the most about the Korean club scene right now?

du: Essentially, it has been and always will be the potential that exists in Seoul. Living in one of the largest metropolises in the world—it is just a question of time when the scene mushrooms to its full potential. We have yet to witness this reality, but most certainly it is on the horizon.  

kl: And what do you find most frustrating about the Korean club scene?  

du: I think the only thing that I find frustrating is that aside from Seoul and Busan, there are a limited amount of venues where you can find djs playing out on wax. even though there are countless djs with fully equipped studios in those areas. I certainly consider myself a “purist” and believe to be called a club, you need decks!

kl: How do you think Seoul compares to other, more established clubbing destinations such as Tokyo and Bangkok?

du: I think that this question would be more appropriate for a dj. The feedback that we have been given by international artists is that we have one of the most healthy and energetic dance floors in the world. If a crowd in Seoul is digging the set or the night then rest assured we will witness a sunrise—and the staff and management will be begging for the last track! “Last song” is always said with a wink and a smile……

kl: What kind of music are Seoulites digging right now?  

du: Regarding electronica, house definitely rules the tables. However, for larger events, trance seems to be the most successful. In the clubs, breakbeat has been very well received. The largest show Garden has had to date was the Crystal Method, which was absolute mayhem.