Lee Seung-hwan

The title track of the debut album he made with an inheritance received early from his father, after every agency door had closed. It made his name through radio alone, without television.

• Lyrics by Ryu Hwa-ji, music by Cho Dong-ik. Written by a composer with Eotteonnal's delicate folk·jazz sensibility, it sounds slightly different in grain from the formulaic pop ballads of the same period.
• Listen for the clear, light high notes of the newly debuted singer. They hint at where the nickname the Little Prince came from.
• Built around piano and synthesizer strings (strings imitated by electronic instruments), the arrangement shows the typical texture of 1980s Korean pop ballads at the tail end of the cassette era.
• The first track on an album that sold more than 1 million copies without a single television appearance. It is worth hearing as one of the last scenes from an era when radio raised new singers.

On the heavy album made in the year he lost his mother, it was the brightest song that was loved most. It became even more popular than the title track, “To Me.”

• Lyrics by Kim Kwang-jin, music by Kim Hyun-chul. Here the sensibility of polished early-1990s pop writers like The Classic and Kim Hyun-chul meets Lee Seung-hwan's voice.
• At its heart is a playful way of spinning the flutter of a crush out of basketball. Tied to the college basketball craze of the early 1990s, the subject carries the air of its time.
• Over the bouncy rhythm, unlike in his ballads, he sings loose and light, almost skipping along. Heard next to “My Mother” from the same album, it reveals the emotional range held on a single record.
• When the refrain (chorus) arrives, the beat opens wide and the body is made to respond first. It has long remained a song that audiences jump to together in concert.

Overshadowed by the two hits of “My Story,” it was loved more steadily as the years went by and became his signature ballad.

• Oh Tae-ho wrote both the lyrics and the music. The song carries on his bond with Oh Tae-ho, who had been with him since his debut.
• Its way of confessing a plain, honest heart instead of grand vows shapes the attitude of the whole song, just as the title says.
• The vocal stands out for pressing each note down low rather than letting the voice burst open. It is built so that the emotion rises little by little toward the end.
• It drew less attention on release but has been reappraised over time. Kyuhyun later covered it, introducing it to a new generation as well.

The title track of “Human,” his ambitious album recorded in the United States. He set lyrics to a melody by his high-school junior Kim Dong-ryul, and David Campbell dressed it in an orchestra.

• Lyrics by Lee Seung-hwan, music by Kim Dong-ryul, arrangement by David Campbell. The sensibilities of two defining figures of 1990s Korean balladry are joined by a Hollywood arranger's orchestration.
• It begins quietly on piano, then swells as strings and winds pile up layer upon layer. You can hear the rich sound of the analog era, with a real orchestra on the recording.
• The long high note that bursts out as the orchestra reaches its peak late in the song is its signature moment. In concert, too, it is the passage audiences hold their breath for.
• It speaks in the voice of someone struggling to calmly accept a parting that came after a long time. The contrast between the restrained opening and the bursting second half lays that emotion bare.
• Thanks to this song's popularity, “Human” is known to have sold more than 1 million copies. It marks the peak of the big ballad in the CD era.

This song filled the space left when the title track, “Plea,” was halted by the music-video uproar. 549 fans sang in its chorus and left their names in the liner notes.

• Within “Cycle,” a concept album about the stages of life, this song takes up family, the closest relationship of all. At its heart is the feeling of a confession, mixed with gratitude and regret.
• The crowd of voices (the chorus) layered in the second half belongs to 549 real fans. It is a moment that turns the bond between singer and listener into sound.
• As befits an album largely recorded in the United States, the instruments sound clear and the space feels wide. You can hear the texture of a high-budget CD recording from the late 1990s.
• It is the best-loved song on an album that sold more than 600,000 copies without any television promotion. It was later sung often at family-themed events and performances.

It is a song whose idea, he reportedly said, came to him while watching a documentary. It became his signature ballad of the 2000s.

• Love has ended, yet unable to accept it, the speaker asks and asks again. A feeling closer to bewilderment than resentment drives the song.
• Listen for a voice grown thicker and rougher than the clear, delicate tone of his debut years. The changing timbre of a singer past forty lends the ballad weight.
• The restrained arrangement, built on piano and strings, lets the voice stand in front. In the chorus the emotion surges high and then subsides again, a clearly marked arc.
• The song came out as music downloads were pushing CDs aside. It shows that his way of perfecting the sound within a full-length album remained unchanged.

It is the title track of his twelfth studio album, released in the year of his 30th debut anniversary. It was the first song he chose through listener testing.

• This song embodies the twelfth album's aim of dealing with small, everyday happiness rather than desperate love. At its center is a tender way of speaking that hands one's whole self to the other person.
• This was the song that drew the strongest support from test listeners in their 30s and 40s. It shows the present of a singer who has grown older alongside his longtime fans.
• He said he wanted this song to reach people in their 20s as well. In place of the heavy, epic ballads, he pared the sound back so it would feel light and fresh.
• Even in the streaming era, he released this song as one of the album's ten tracks. It carries the stance of a singer who has held on to the full-length album in a singles-driven market.