song) would find a natural place in SamulNori’s diversifying portfolio. And the all-male quartet (now with its storied lineup) was able to draw on another rich reservoir—the namsadang—for its ongoing project.
Additionally, the program also marks the SamulNori project’s turn toward embracing (and adapting) aspects of religiosity in its performances. Of the different types of itinerant or semi-itinerant performance troupes that traversed the Korean peninsula, the kŏllipp’ae maintained the strongest association with Buddhism and shamanism. According to Sim Usŏng’s study of the namsadang, the kŏllipp’ae (fund-raising group) would travel and sojourn at Buddhist temples. In exchange for food from the monastic and lay communities, the troupe would perform acts like the pinari and the tangsan kut—a ritual drawn from shamanistic ceremonies that propitiates the village shrine’s god. Because I discuss the pinari in chapter 5, Nathan Hesselink’s English translation of Sim’s analysis of the kŏllipp’ae is particularly instructive here:
A typical group was composed of fifteen or so male members organized hierarchically under a top-ranking hwaju (leader). Their primary function was to perform household rituals for individual families on behalf of a local Buddhist temple. After a dramatic prelude or pre-show in which the troupe would perform percussion music and dance (p’ungmul), mask dance, and (depending on the skills of the members) bowl spinning, they would then engage in a series of propitiatory rituals for the deities of the living quarters, kitchen, and domestic well. Once the majority of the household rituals had been completed, the troupe would then conclude with a sŏngju kut (house god ritual). This performance of percussion and vocal music featured the recitation of a ritual offering (pinari); during and after this concluding ritual, grain and money were collected as payment. Kŏllipp’ae activity was absorbed into the local (rural) p’ungmul scene sometime during the Chosŏn period, and it continues to be an important component of student-based and community-led p’ungmul organizations in modern times. The namsadang would take on many of the kŏllipp’ae’s roles in the early twentieth century.38 (Hesselink 2012, 21–22)
At the September 1980 concert, the quartet performed eight elements stemming from the kŏllipp’ae. They appear in this order on the program: mun kut (ritual performed at a gate); tangsan kut (ritual performed at the village shrine); chowang kut (ritual for the kitchen god); tŏju kut (ritual for the house god); umul kut (ritual played at the village well); pinari; mul soji (ritual burning of paper); and p’an kut (an exuberant showcase of p’ungmul drumming and dance).39 In an effort to evoke some spatial semblance of temple grounds, the quartet made strategic use of the Konggan Building’s unique architectural features—features that were designed by Kim Sugŭn.
With Lee Kwang Soo taking the lead as the kkwaenggwari (small gong) player, the quartet performed the tangsan kut in front of the pagoda (t’ap) in the building’s courtyard. The audience moved with the performers as they processed down the stairs to the Space Theater, located in the basement. As they entered the theater, Lee began the pinari, which then segued into the offering of the mul soji. The latter involves the burning of white hanji (traditional handmade paper), designed to appease the spirits. And despite the cramped quarters, the p’an kut—a danced number—was performed inside Konggan’s experimental stage (i.e., black box theater). In an interview, Lee confessed that although there were minor details that were not perfectly executed, the concert on the whole was an enormous success (Lee Kwang Soo interview, February 20, 2009).40 The concert also yielded an important development of the SamulNori project—the mun kut, pinari, and p’an kut began to be incorporated into the quartet’s later performances. The combination of the mun kut / pinari and p’an kut became the bookends for what eventually became the standard ninety-minute SamulNori program: mun kut / pinari; samdo sŏl changgo karak (rhythms from three regions, played on changgo); samdo nongak karak (rhythms from three regions, played in samul nori formation); and p’an kut. In just a few years’ time, the quartet would then regularly present this program at venues in the United States, Europe, and Japan (figure 1.6).
With a growing buzz over the quartet’s performances, and the celebrated SamulNori cast now in place, the group began to take off both literally and metaphorically. In the midst of travel to various theaters in and around Seoul, the group continued to mine the rhythmic material not only from p’ungmul but also from the neighboring soundscape of Korean shamanism. When they exhausted their own expertise, they studied informally with specialists or elder teachers. The Songnisan (Songni mountain) research trips to rehearse and to study with village elders were fruitful, and were even documented by Japanese photographer Ichiro Shimizu in a strikingly beautiful photographic book.41
The quartet also engaged in an ongoing process of revision. Arrangements of p’ungmul rhythms were subject to editing, expansion, and resequencing. Chapter 2 will provide insight into the fine-tuning of an arrangement that would later become known as “Yŏngnam nongak”—a piece that we will learn more about. In Korean, the terms chagŏp (work) and chŏngni (organization or arrangement) have been used by quartet members to describe their recursive process. In many ways, this process constituted the SamulNori project’s pathbreaking phase of research, experimentation, and (re)creation.
FIGURE 1.6 The SamulNori quartet performing p’an kut inside the Space Theater. Photograph courtesy of Sim Usŏng.
SAMUL NORI’S BIG BANG
What was it about the music or the performances by the quartet that so captivated early audiences? As already mentioned, Kang Chunhyŏk suggested that it was the novelty of SamulNori’s seated position, which focused the spotlight on the diversity of rhythms in p’ungmul’s regional variants. For others, what piqued interest was the exploratory musical journey on which the quartet embarked—with each concert came a new attempt at creating fresh arrangements from vintage materials. Suzanna Samstag, an American expat who became SamulNori’s first managing director, reminisced about the word-of-mouth effect that drew in SamulNori’s crowds: “After word got out about SamulNori, the [Space] theater would be totally crowded, standing room only. People would tell their friends to come, and pretty soon there was this group of true believers who were trying to find something sacred” (Suzanna Samstag interview, November 22, 2005).
While the Space Theater remained an important venue and base for Samul-Nori, demand for the quartet grew exponentially. By 1981, the SamulNori quartet received invitations to perform at other theaters and venues, such as the Cecil Theater (Sesil Kŭkchang), the Sejong Center for the Performing Arts (Sejong munhwa hoegwan), and the UNESCO hall in Seoul. And the group started to receive fees that would mark their move toward professionalization. In 1982, SamulNori made their international debut with a series of events in Japan, beginning in June in Tokyo (SamulNori Hanullim t’ansaeng samsip chunyŏn kinyŏm saŏphoe 2009, 58). This was co-organized by the South Korean government and the Mindan (Korean Residents Union in Japan). Later that year, the quartet traveled to the United States for the first time, performing at music festivals and at theaters in Florida, New York, Boston, Virginia, Washington, DC, and Los Angeles. On November 19, the quartet traveled back to the United States to participate in the Percussive Arts Society International Convention (PASIC), where they made an indelible impression on attendees and fellow percussionists. As SamulNori’s success began to extend beyond national boundaries, the quartet garnered both fame and notoriety within South Korea. But rather than narrating the next decade of SamulNori’s history here, I turn instead to the quartet’s positive reception that fed into SamulNori / samul nori as a global phenomenon.
Journalist Ku Hŭisŏ (or Ku Hee-seo) was an avid fan and supporter of the group. Her writings shaped much of the early reception of SamulNori for the broader Korean public. She was also one of the appointed contributors for Kim Sugŭn’s Konggan magazine. Ku’s essay “Korean Spirit, Korean Rhythm”—written in 1983 for Konggan—provided the context for readers first encountering SamulNori through the printed