There’s a Korean proverb that goes, “Trying to farm without knowing what an irang이랑 is.” It refers to someone attempting something without even the most basic knowledge. In a field, there are irang and gorang고랑—the ridges and furrows. Crops are planted on the raised ridges, while rainwater flows through the furrows which are dug to prevent the crops from being flooded during a rainstorm. Farmers walk along the furrows to tend to the crops. 

However important it is to build solid ridges and deep furrows, they are all upturned and rebuilt every year. This is what gave rise to the proverb that goes, “An irang can become a gorang, and a gorang can become an irang,” implying that a person’s situation can be turned upside down any time. We learn life lessons from even the furrows and ridges. Someone going through a difficult time can have hope, and someone arrogant and prideful learns humility. These are the lessons we learn from hard-working farmers.

Farming is hard work especially in an extreme heat wave. But the rice grows better as the weather gets hotter, so farmers have to bear with the heat if they want to see an abundant harvest. But the hot weather also allows weeds to flourish. It is said that farmers have to weed out the rice fields three times before the crops can be reaped. What makes all this hard work bearable? It’s the songs they sing while toiling away in the fields. One such labor song is “Homuga,” this time sung by Kim Kyung-bae.

This week’s artist is pansori master Cho Sang-hyun. Cho was born in Boseong보성 in southern Korea in 1939. He studied Chinese since young and started learning traditional vocal music at twelve. His mentor was master singer Jeong Eung-min정응민 who taught great many well-known traditional singers. Cho studied under him for seven years before pansori diva Park Nok-ju박녹주 adopted him when he came to Seoul. He then became a member of the National Changgeuk창극 Company of Korea and won numerous grand prizes at prestigious traditional music competitions in the 1970s. Scholar Shin Jae-hyo신재효 of the mid-19th century used to say that good looks was one of the requirements of a traditional singer. In an old newspaper article about Cho Sang-hyun, he is described as “a man of a tall, imposing figure, powerful build,

a naturally booming voice, and a gift for witty banter. When he steps on the stage, his presence alone fills up the entire space.” This description indicates that his appearance was pleasing to the eye. Cho soon became a superstar in the pansori field as the television became a fixture in Koreans homes in the 1970s and 80s. He amazed his students and fellow pansori singers by performing on stage last year when he turned eighty-five years old. Let’s listen to Cho Sang-hyun singing a passage from pansori Simcheongga심청가 which describes how Sim Cheong’s blind father’s vision is restored. 

In Korea, the term ‘music’ generally refers to western music, while traditional music is separately named as ‘gugak국악.’ It’s a little sad to think that Korean music is considered a subset of western music, but these days the boundary between western and Korean music has blurred to allow musicians from both sides to work together and develop music. 

Foreign music was imported even back in the Goryeo고려 period more than a millennium ago. The Song Dynasty sent musical instruments, musicians and music notes to Goryeo, and one of the Chinese exports was “Boheoja보허자” still performed today. The title “Boheoja” means walking on air and it is Taoist ceremonial music which depicts a divine being called ‘sinseon신선’ moves toward heaven. This music was played at important ceremonies held in the royal palace for nearly one thousand years. Over that time, the music piece got rid of its Chinese vibe and completely became Koreanized. Let’s listen to the National Gugak Center’s Court Music Orchestra performing “Boheoja.”