Album Review: Sumin & Slom - Miniseries

Whilst R&B and dance music have been staple genres of idol K-pop for years since the beginning, idol K-pop is not a reflection of how these genres are handled across South Korean music as a whole. There are acts and producers who really seek to do the work and offer takes on the genres which not only show they fully understand it, but respect it. It’s not just a cash grab or a trend for them. And Sumin and Slom’s Miniseries is one such instance; being an album of soul, R&B and dance music, which sounds like it was plucked straight out of the late 90s / early 2000s. When I first listened to it, I was shocked to find that it was only released in 2021 because it sounded so of the time. But this is the decade of ‘everything that’s old is new’. And it’s nice to hear that Sumin and Slom did their homework.

Sumin & Slom - Miniseries | © EMA Recordings

Sumin and Slom are a package deal on Miniseries, but they are not a permanent duo. Both have solo careers. This is just a cute collaboration. A random one. But one which makes sense for them both given all they have done in their relatively short careers. Sumin and Slom are no strangers to collaborating. And given the artists they’ve both worked with, and the circles in which they move, you could say that it was inevitable that they’d eventually do something together.

Sumin & Slom - Miniseries | © EMA Recordings

Sumin’s sound is difficult to pin down. One way to describe it could be FKA Twigs’ Caprisongs meets Sophie and PC Music. And even this doesn’t really tell you the full story. Sumin is a bit of a jukebox artist. Her style is that she has no definable style. She just does what ever the fuck she wants. At its core, Sumin’s sound pulls from club music and R&B, which is predominantly what drives Miniseries. But her music is often at the fringes of it.

Listening to Miniseries gives you a really false sense of what Sumin has released prior, which is absolutely fine, because it is not a Sumin solo release anyway. If Miniseries is your introduction to Sumin, and you like what you hear on this album, don’t expect to go into Sumin’s solo discography expecting the same. Slom is a big part of why this album sounds the way it sounds, and why it has a sonic consistency that Sumin’s music doesn’t always have; which can be a good or a bad thing, depending on how much of a fan you are of Sumin’s music. This isn’t to say that Miniseries is a drastic departure for Sumin. It’s certainly in the vein of what she had done prior. It’s just packaged differently. A little more conventionally. But interestingly enough, one of Sumin’s post Miniseries releases (which was also a collaboration) completely carries the sound of this album.

Slom’s music does something great with Sumin, in that it gives her a focus. But it also better highlights her strengths as a songwriter and a singer. Slom’s musical backdrop gives Sumin a lot of room to really flex in ways that some of the more unconventional solo material she’s written to in the past does not. I tend to find that Sumin’s music often centres the quirkiness of the production over her talents as a singer and a songwriter. But this isn’t Sumin’s first rodeo releasing a collaborative album. The 2018 EP Club 33 which she released with Kirin saw a similar thing happen, where a clear musical / genre focus made her shine brighter than her solo endeavours.

But part of me thinks that Sumin is well aware of this. And that she sees these collaborative releases as either a respite from her penchant for being a bit of a musical weirdo. Or just a way to stick two fingers up at folk like me, to say ‘See. I can do standard pop music like everybody else.’

There’s nothing wrong with being a musical weirdo at all. And it’s clear that this is a comfort zone for Sumin, especially in a market which is dominated by idol K-pop, which itself occasionally is known for some weird sounding songs. But it’s also clear that between Club 33 and Miniseries, Sumin’s solo material is selling her a little short. She sings better on both of these albums. Her songwriting is so much tighter on both of these albums. To such a degree that I’m surprised that Sumin’s pen hasn’t racked up more songwriting credits for the usual suspects of K-pop entertainment. Given some of the songs on Miniseries, it’s surprising that SM Entertainment A&R hasn’t picked up the phone to put Sumin in the studio with BoA and Red Velvet.

Sumin & Slom - Miniseries | © EMA Recordings

Slom is one of those ridiculously talented, virtuosic producers, who just has this incredible knack for meticulous and layered production. To call him the Korean Kaytranada would completely underscore the merit of his own talents. But I say it for the sake of giving you a sense for his sound and level of production skill. Slom sits into soul, R&B and club music without it ever feeling contrived or like it’s trying to do much of anything. He understands each genre. But most importantly, he understands how to channel it through his production style. In the wider picture, Slom’s sound is not the most distinct. But within South Korean music, it is. At the end of the day, his music is just really fucking good and brilliantly produced. A&R’s for American and UK acts should be picking up the phone.

For years K-pop has cottoned onto club music, particularly UK club music, courtesy of producers such as LDN Music who are London based producers who pull from the early 90s, early 2000s UK club sound for many of their songs for SM Entertainment (i.e f(x)’s “4 Walls” and “Rude Love”). But because of K-pop’s penchant for messing with song structures and not being precious about songs being melting pots, sometimes these songs end up being a hybrid of genres. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But it is nice to have a South Korean artist who isn’t trying to create this Frankenstein of a song just for the sake of it - which is one of the things which has made a song like NewJean’s “Ditto” catch on the way that it is. Sometimes less is more. Sometimes you need to just do the genre good and do it well first, before trying to make it something else. And Slom gets this. He manages to keep the production and arrangements of the music engaging; throwing in switches and drops here and there, but without a song feeling like it’s just changing and for the sake of it. For instance, the song “Trap” completely switches mid-way through, with not even so much as a build up or a segue. I thought I was listening to a different song until I looked at my iPod and realised it was the same damn song. And it works. Especially because the switch matches the tone of the lyrics; going from that cute phase of having butterflies and realising that you’re having a great time with someone, to then being overwrought with the feeling of ‘If this fucks up and we’re over, I need you to be deleted from existence, because I can’t bear the thought of ever seeing you again’. On some SZA type shit.

Miniseries is an album about vibes and consistency, which is difficult to do if a song is zigging and zagging you through Yoshi Valley.

Sumin & Slom - Miniseries | © EMA Recordings

Miniseries sound is so grounded and cosy, because of the warmth of its sound. And as somebody who grew up listening to all of the genres this album is centred on, there’s an instant familiarity that the music has to me and a comfort that they provide.

The album opens with “Mirage”, which sounds like something from Who Is Jill Scott?: Words and Sounds Vol. 1. Then the middle of the album dips into UK garage with “Yogijogi”. Then it goes all light dance pop with “What Do You Think”. “Oo” sounds like a sexy Janet Jackson moment, which carries through into the freak nasty-lite slow jam “Broken”. And then the whole thing closes out with “Cheers”, which folds every single aforementioned style into one song. A song Swiss Army knife of a song that you can dad dance to. Fuck to. Slow whine to. Buss an 8-count to. Be home alone and high to. Pussy pop to. Sit alone on the couch and drink to. Miniseries is cosy. *Does a spin whilst wrapped in a blanket* Cosy.

The entire album is just a mood and a vibe from top to bottom. And because the entire thing is so well produced, written and also incredibly tight at just 10 tracks clocking in at around 30 minutes, it’s an easy album to digest. Whenever I dip into a song on Miniseries, I say ‘Fuck it’ mid way through, and just run it from the top. And it’s an album for a range of moods. Whether you’re feeling melancholic, sexy, like utter shit, like you’re that girl, isolated, like you wanna just dance in your living room surrounded by fairy lights and candles, or you wanna get down in the club, or none of the above - Miniseries has got’chu.

Sumin & Slom - Miniseries | © EMA Recordings

Every time I listen to Miniseries I’m pikachu-shocked.jpg of how it managed to just come and go with so little fanfare and make so little impact. I don’t get why though, given how often I see this happen, and that the bane of my existence is falling for artists and albums which don’t receive the mainstream recognition they rightfully deserve. And when you’re a South Korean artist trying to make it in an industry which is so K-pop focused and dominated by a handful of record labels and entertainment companies, it can make it even harder for your music to reach an audience - even in this age of the internet and the hallyu having finally hit all of the shores. But music popularity and politics aside, it all starts with the music. And Sumin & Slom deliver some great music on Miniseries.

Verdict: Gimme season 2

Highlights:
▪ Mirage 🔥
▪ In Touch
▪ The Gonlan Song
▪ Yogijogi 🏆
▪ What Do You Think 🔥
▪ Broken
▪ For Now
▪ Trap 🔥
▪ Cheers 🔥

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🔊 Listen to Miniseries on streaming: 🟢 Spotify | 🟣 Apple Music | 🔴 YouTube Music