Kim Hyun-sik

The title track of his second album, his fresh start at Dongah Records, which he wrote himself. It was his first hit of the radio era, the song that earned him the nickname “the faceless singer.”

• A recording from before his voice turned rough. Compare its clear high notes, almost free of rasp, with the songs from the third album on, and you can hear how much his voice changed in a short time.
• The lyrics look back calmly, in the past tense, on a love that has passed. So rather than letting emotion burst out, he sings in the tone of someone stepping back to remember.
• Dolgaebaram's accompaniment is simply arranged around guitar, keyboards and drums. You can feel the texture of mid-1980s analog recording, which put the voice up front without lavish ornament.

The title track of the third album, made with Spring Summer Fall Winter. Written by Park Sung-sik, it became Kim Hyun-sik's signature song.

• The composer, Park Sung-sik, is a keyboardist who later worked in Bitgwa Sogeum. Its sophisticated, jazz-inflected harmony (chord progression) gives it an urban mood quite unlike the pop ballads of the day.
• A voice just beginning to turn husky rests on top of the sleek accompaniment. Many critics say this contrast heightens the song's lonely feeling.
• In the chorus there is a passage where he draws a note out long and then lets it go, as if trailing off. It is a moment that shows his style well: rather than forcing the high notes with power, he lets them flow out carrying the emotion.
• Even today it is a frequent radio request on rainy days. Many younger singers have sung it again on competition shows and remake albums.

A song written by Yoo Jae-ha, briefly his bandmate. It appeared on Kim Hyun-sik's third album before Yoo's own record.

• Yoo Jae-ha's characteristic classical-style harmony runs underneath. Rather than following the set melody exactly, Kim Hyun-sik sings over it as if speaking, holding back the beat little by little.
• It is worth comparing with the same song on Yoo Jae-ha's first album, released the following year. You can hear how differently the composer's delicate, clear voice and Kim Hyun-sik's rough one shape the same song.
• A song about a heart that hesitates before a road it cannot see ahead. Because both men died young, it is now often spoken of as a song that recalls their friendship.

A song from the comeback fourth album, written by Yoon Sang, then a newcomer. It shows the open ear with which he embraced a new generation of composers.

• A dreamy resonance from the keyboards envelops the whole song. You can glimpse the early sensibility of Yoon Sang, who later made his name in electronic music.
• On this song he presses his voice low and sings almost in a whisper. Sung with less force than the other tracks on the album, it lets you hear another grain of his voice.
• The arrangement was by the bassist Song Hong-seop. You can feel the meticulous recording of the Dongah circle of players in the late 1980s.

The title track of the fourth album, composed by Song Byung-joon, with lyrics written by Kim together with Song. It holds the feelings of a time when he had lost a friend and returned to the stage.

• It is a song addressed directly to the other person, asking them to stay close. And so the whole song sounds like a confession.
• As the song goes on, the voice breaks out ever more roughly. It begins low and builds its feeling higher and higher toward the end.
• The fourth album also includes Yoo Jae-ha's “You in My Arms,” sung anew in the same period. Heard back to back, the two songs bring the album's mood of longing into sharp focus.

The title track of his fifth album, the last released in his lifetime. He recorded it in a body worn down by advanced cirrhosis.

• The ticking second hand in the track is famous. The reading of it as a device counting down the time he had left is widely shared.
• The voice sounds rougher still, the breath short. Stripped of technique and leaving the tremor as it is, the recording strikes some listeners as painful and others as utterly honest.
• As the title suggests, it pours out his lot as if talking to himself. It is less an attempt to persuade anyone than a murmur to himself.

He took a song Oh Tae-ho had written earlier and put it on his sixth album. Released after his death, it brought him the greatest success of his career.

• Recorded when his illness was at its worst, the voice keeps every rasp and crack. Some parts are said to use unfinished takes (guide vocals).
• Over a simple accompaniment, it pleads earnestly not to be left alone. Heard alongside the situation he was in, it reached listeners with a particular weight.
• It reached number one on the music chart shows in 1991, and the image of his young son accepting the grand prize in his place at the Golden Disc Awards stayed long in memory.
• To this day it remains one of his most-covered songs. Set the cleaner versions by younger singers beside the original, and the power of the original's rough texture comes through all the more.