‘Ssukdaemeori’ Earns the Singer Great Fame

‘Ssukdaemeori’ is a tune from ‘Chunhyangga,’ one of the traditional one-person operas known as pansori. Those who knew the song were considered out of the ordinary and those capable of singing it deserved respect. Few people knew the song and even fewer people were able to sing it. It is a tearful tune sung by Chunhyang, the legendary heroine of the Tale of Chunhyang, after she is beaten and locked up in prison for refusing to stay overnight with a newly appointed governor.

Following the appearance of the great pansori singer, however, traditional singers chose to chant this particular song whenever singing ‘Chunhyangga.’ During the Japanese colonial rule of Korea, countless Korean people bought his album to ease their grief for their lost country.

He never held a governmental post with the purpose of singing in front of the king. He was hardly ever treated with respect, although he earned the honorable title of Intangible Cultural Property, which has been designated by the state since the 1960s. He is dubbed ‘Gukchang,’ meaning ‘the national pansori singer.’ His name is Im Bang-ul.


Innate Singer Walks the Path of Pansori

Im Bang-ul was born in Gwangsan, South Jeolla Province on April 20, 1905. His real name is Im Seung-geun. There are two explanations why the boy received the name ‘Bang-ul,’ meaning a ‘small bell’ in Korean. First, he seldom cried but liked to frolic around freely when he was a child. Secondly, with his pansori performance, Im greatly impressed a well-known singer who later praised him, saying his voice was like a silver bell.

Im’s family background was no less extraordinary than his name. He was a nephew of Kim Chang-hwan, one of the top five master pansori singers during the Daehan Empire that lasted from 1897 to 1910. Im entered a traditional opera troupe at age 12. In the following three years, he learned Seopyeonje, a genre of the Korean folk opera, and was instructed in Korean classical operas.

Unfortunately, his voice changed when he turned 17 and he could no longer sing as powerfully. So he started a special training, called dokgong.


Dokgong, a Lonely Battle with Sound

Pansori singers usually employed two training methods. One was to do vocal exercises in front of a waterfall so the singers’ voices attempted to outdo the sound of the cascading water. The other method was to correct their way of singing through reflected sound in a cave, where other sounds were not heard. Im concentrated on this dokgong training in a cave at Jiri Mountain, and repeatedly sang the tunes he had learned in order to create his own sound.

In that process, his chest was swollen and his throat bled. But thanks to his strenuous and painful efforts, he was able to create his own unique vocal style. This style was characterized by a hoarse voice, a sad and wailing sound, vulgar banter and unsophisticated dialect. This comprised a new distinctive tune of pansori singing (known as gyemyeonjo.)


Unparalleled Singer who Shared his Music with Commoners

Im made his debut in a national pansori competition in Seoul in 1929 at the age of 25. When the short, shabby-looking man, with his face slightly pockmarked, poured out the amazingly grievous yet powerful tune of ‘Ssukdaemeori’ from deep inside his belly, the entire audience shed tears of sorrow, being reminded of the depressing reality their nation faced.

Im later signed exclusive contracts with such major music labels as Columbia and Victor to sell 1.2 million copies of his album—a great feat that is hard to achieve even today. His reputation spread to Japan and Manchuria, with numerous home-lost Koreans enjoying his songs to ease their nostalgia. The army for national independence used his music as war songs, too.

Im engaged in various activities as the nation’s most beloved pansori star before he died in 1961. He gave his money freely to neighbors in need and did not leave any of his fortune to his family. He had no disciples, either, to succeed in his hard-earned pansori skill.

Seen from a worldly point of view, his life may be deemed futile. But the singer enjoyed sharing his music with the public rather than training the younger generation who would inherit his name. Korean people dedicated the highly-esteemed moniker ‘the national pansori singer’ to this legendary musician who was eager to express the people’s grief and distress through his songs, regardless of where he was—marketplaces in rural regions or sandy plains along the river.