Until this week, I’d never been to a K-pop concert. That being said, I do play a lot of video games that partner with K-pop groups for promo and overpriced in-game cosmetics (that I inevitably buy), so I thought it’d be cool to take a peek into a scene I’ve only dabbled in on a very surface level. While that disqualifies me from saying anything definitive about the genre, it also made Baekhyun’s Reverie tour stop at WaMu Theater on Tuesday night hit that much harder. Walking into the venue didn’t feel like showing up to a concert. It felt like being dropped into a world that had been going strong without me for a long time. The lights were intense, the crowd was already moving to the music playing over the house speakers, and, even though I didn’t know the lyrics to a single Baekhyum song, it was obvious that wasn’t going to be a problem.
Let’s start with the crowd. Imagine a Discord server come to life. Friends who’d never met in person were hugging for the first time. There were conversations about favorite League of Legends champions and whether or not Solo Leveling robbed Frieren of Crunchyroll Anime of the Year (which it did). This wasn’t just a show, it was an occasion. The outfits spanned Harajuku-core, streetwear, ethereal fae, and a heavy dose of glitter. No single theme, just a shared understanding: You show up looking good.
And there were a lot of moms. Like, a lot. Some of them were probably just escorting their kids to the show, but most looked like they were there for themselves, seemingly more excited than their much younger neighbors in the crowd. The crowd was overwhelmingly femme and shockingly diverse. People of all ethnicities, all body types, all ages, and they were all screaming when, in the second act, Baekhyun pulled out the fedora.
Yes, he really did that. His performance featured a fedora, some sexy hip choreography, and some smooth ’90s-sounding R&B. It was like being seduced by a man who only speaks in falsetto and finger guns. And as my friend Spencer put it, “Whatever he’s saying right now, I bet it’s sexy.”
Which brings me to a strange truth: the language barrier didn’t exist. Or rather, it existed for me, but it didn’t really matter. A majority of the audience, many of them not even Korean, knew the lyrics bar for bar. Now, obviously, having never listened to Baekhyum until Tuesday, and only attending the show out of pure curiosity, I did not know the words. I don’t speak Korean, so I couldn’t even understand them. But that didn’t stop any of the emotions from landing. And that was enough. Baekhyum’s performance made it clear that meaning doesn’t always need translation. Sometimes the sound alone hits you first, and everything else makes sense after.
Every second of the production was deliberate. The visuals and choreography were intricately woven into the mood of each song. “Underwater” was performed to an aquatic backdrop and lighting, with choreography reminiscent of jellyfish and flowing currents. “Lemonade” introduced bright pops of yellow visuals and bouncy dancing. After every intermission, Baekhyun changed outfits, and each signaled a shift in mood.
The setlist felt like we were being walked through the lifecycle of a relationship. The early songs were playful and jazzy, all flirtation and groove. The middle of the show leaned into something deeper. Slower songs that ached a little, and were full of tension and longing. By the end, everything had shifted. The bass hit harder, the guitars got louder, and Baekhyun looked just as ready to fall apart as he was to charm the crowd. He even joked that we seemed to really like dancing to his sadness.
Between songs, Baekhyun took his time connecting with the crowd, speaking through a translator. At one point, he talked about how he got lost in Seattle but decided to just keep walking until he stumbled across a spot that caught him off guard with how beautiful it was (after he visited Target and bought some chocolate-covered pretzels). The moral was simple: If you keep moving forward, you’ll eventually see wonderful things. That sentiment landed hard in a room full of people who clearly had an emotional bond with him. He wasn’t just an idol. He was a presence. A guide. A comfort. Baekhyun didn’t just perform. He connected. And for a first-timer like me, that was more than enough to keep me wanting more.
