Gagok: A shelter in a cluttered society

It may seem like one of Aesop's fables, but Jo Soon-ja said she experienced herself becoming younger as she took slower steps in life.

She sings gagok, the world's slowest music, which has been named Intangible Cultural Property No. 30 by the government.

The 67-year-old master of the genre said that singing these songs is the "anti-aging" factor for. "Gagok is a song of 43 syllables per 11 minutes. As you take things slow, like the gagok beats, your body slows down its ageing."

Jo was overjoyed when gagok was registered as an Intangible Cultural Heritage by UNESCO last month, considering that she is one of just three remaining skilled singers of gagok in the world today. The other two are Kim Yeong-gi and Kim Gyeong-bae.

"Having gagok registered as Intangible Cultural Heritage by UNESCO means that people in the world have approved its validity. When I first heard the news, I cried tears of joy," said Jo who is executive director at the nation's only existing Gagok Inheritance Center in Korea.

Gagok is a genre of Korean lyric song cycles of sijo, which is a traditional Korean three-stanza poem, accompanied by interludes played by a small ensemble of traditional Korean musical instruments.

"It's a matter of congratulations to the country that gagok has been listed in UNESCO's intangible cultural heritage," says Jo Soon-ja, second-generation skill holder for gagok. (Lee Sang-sub/The Korea Herald)

Combining poems and music, gagok is said to bring inner peace and stability, making it favored by the Joseon dynasty's intellectuals such as aristocrats and scholars.

"Especially in this hard-hearted world, what we need is a shelter, somewhere you can shut off the outer world and come to a state of complete relaxation," she said.

Actually, when she started gagok as a teenage girl, she felt the 1-beat-in 3-second gagok "too slow." Furthermore, no one explained why she was learning gagok. "But as time passed, I came to realize why. It is the most fundamental of all music genres, because it taught me how to breathe well. Suddenly gagok seemed beautiful to me."

Her pupils describe it as addictive, and she likens the genre to food. "If you just look at it and don't try it, you don't know what it tastes like," she said, "Other forms of music could look more colorful and showy, but gagok cannot be understood unless it is sung."

The gagok master praised its slow beats as a way to solve one of the bad habits of today: "Putting action before thinking is one of the major drawbacks of today's busy life. By practicing slow gagok beats, you can change that."

She raised the issue of schools eliminating traditional music courses from their curricula. "It is important that more people acknowledge the value of this precious heritage, which is why I am pushing schools to add gagok to the regular curriculum."

"Only western music is taught in schools today, and the small amount of traditional Korean music in textbooks is hiding its background. Through connections with schools, I am going to do my best to nurture more pupils in a more formalized way."

The issue of adopting gagok in elementary and middle schools is not comparable to the lack of courses in universities. According to her, one of the biggest problems is that Korea has just one university that teaches gagok as a major. "If universities do not generate future gagok teachers, who is going to hand down our traditional music to our next generation?"

She also said that an American student of hers has progressed rapidly in his Korean language skills through gagok. "As gagok emphasizes the 'be' verb, one of the toughest parts of learning Korean, they can learn Korean grammar easily by singing gagok."

As gagok requires separate pronunciation of each syllable, foreigners learn the "proper" pronunciation instead of slurring the sounds they are not acquainted with, she added.

For all their good qualities, Jo said, the nation's valuable assets were not taken good care of by the government. With 1.3 million won as a monthly salary, and having to travel around the country to perform, she could barely cover her transportation costs. According to Jo, what's even more ridiculous is "that the government does not cover our medical insurance."

When Namdaemun, national treasure No. 1, in Seoul was completely destroyed by fire in 2008, the related insurance company, Seoul City and the Cultural Heritage Administration, reported that its insurance reimbursement could only cover 95 million won. That eventually amounted to only 1/200th of the restoration cost.

"My only wish is for the government to understand that intangible assets have created tangible assets."

By Hwang Jurie (jurie777@heraldm.com)