It is a long way from the Netherlands to London’s O2 arena, but Megan Jansen wasn’t feeling like a foreigner. “I said to my sister, finally I am home,” the 23-year-old Dutch psychology student declared, as she mingled with the throng who had gathered outside the venue hours in advance of the weekend’s SMTown Live concert.
SMTown Live is a kind of enormous travelling K-pop circus featuring a panoply of acts from South Korea’s major SM Entertainment label. Its 2025 world tour has a line-up that ranges from veteran boyband TVXQ to newly minted girl group Hearts2Hearts. It also marks 30 years since the agency formed, a significant anniversary for the South Korean music industry that, with its famously demanding training system and huge online fan communities, has since 1995 grown into a global powerhouse.
Jansen and her sister had travelled to the UK with three friends to mark this moment, jumping at the chance to attend the first SMTown show on European soil in 14 years. While they were no doubt excited about the music, it was clear that the lure was broader than the promise of catchy tunes and tight dance routines.
“Everyone is so inclusive,” Jansen enthused. “It is really easy to make friends.” Her group of five young Dutch women had plans to meet for noodles after the show with “so far 30” fellow fans from “India, everywhere” – friends they had met online or at concerts through a shared love of all things K-pop. As to the concert, she predicted: “It is going to be life-changing.”
I am not convinced that my 10-year-old daughter’s life was changed by the four hours we spent watching SMTown. Nor that of her cousin, also 10, despite their love of K-pop that began with Blackpink (represented by rival agency YG, thus sadly not on the bill) and has since spilled out to other acts including girl group Aespa, who were on the SMTown London bill after selling out Wembley Arena in March. Yet both daughter and niece were pretty enthralled by the experience.
Aespa’s “Whiplash”, the band’s 2024 fast-paced electro-pop single, was deemed by them to be the song of the night. But new musical affiliations were also made. The foot-tapping “Boom Boom Bass” by Riize has been added straight to the playlist, while solo performances by members of Exo, particularly Chanyeol’s “Hasta La Vista” – a relatively chilled emo-inflected tune by the night’s frenetic standards – were given the thumbs up.
Both the girls, despite being too young to participate in the online fan world around K-pop, were also visibly excited to be around so many fellow believers, wide-eyed staring at the glow of thousands of (hugely expensive) band-specific light sticks waving along to the tunes inside the O2.
Among the youngest there, they clearly revelled in being part of the community that Jansen has described, which was on full display inside the arena, as older concert-goers hi-fived the girls, shared photocards and homemade friendship bracelets, and enquired in friendly terms who their “biases” (favourite performers) were.
“It is such a bonding experience,” said 28-year-old Mady Baloi, who earlier this year turned her hobby into a business by setting up the “K-pop Playground shop” selling music and merchandise in London’s Piccadilly Circus. “I’ve made three new friends. We were dancing, holding hands. I don’t even know their names!”
This palpable community spirit among the diverse crowd was a strange if not unwelcome juxtaposition with the intensely corporate vibe of events onstage. While a group of current trainee musicians with the moniker SMTR25 did not stop to chat, it felt at times like the other 13 acts spent almost as long delivering talking points, often through an interpreter, about the honour of performing on the SM stage as they did singing.
A ritualistic call-and-response rhythm developed, as each individual band member introduced themselves (audience scream); declared that they loved London and had missed the fans here (audience scream); and enquired such things as whether anyone had perchance heard their latest track (audience scream and wave light sticks).
Some band members threw in local references – London Bridge, sausage rolls and Arsenal all got a mention (audience scream). For the devoted masses used only to screen-based relationships with idols who perform rarely in Europe, this in-person interaction, however arm’s length, was evidently mesmerising. From my more detached perspective, it fractured the gig’s momentum and made the whole thing a good 40 minutes longer than it needed to be. Daughter and niece began using the hiatuses as an opportunity for a sit down and some Haribo: this was a marathon not a sprint.
The final section of the show, when most of the main acts reappeared in quick succession to deliver a headline track without any intervening banter, was undeniably delivered at a more energising pace, before the massed performers all took to the stage in SM-branded clothing to wave us off into the night (scream).
SMTown’s London pitstop is indicative of the UK’s growing importance as a market for South Korean acts; indeed, we are having something of a “K-Pop summer” right now. Boyband-of-the-moment Stray Kids will play two nights at Tottenham Hotspur’s north London stadium in July while Blackpink take on Wembley the following month. The UK is now one of the top 10 countries following K-pop on Spotify, and HMV has seen a 245 per cent rise in sales of K-pop music and merchandise since 2020.
Felicity Davies, a PhD researcher at London’s School of African and Oriental Studies who studies K-pop culture in the UK, said that the fan base goes far beyond the stereotype of teenage girls. “[During my research] I found myself meeting a very diverse group of individuals – people of different racial backgrounds, different ages from kids under ten through to adults aged 60 plus and also a variety of gender identities too,” she said.
In addition to the spectacle of slickly-produced music and dance routines, she added, fans cited being drawn to “non-musical forms of content K-pop groups regularly release which can be relatively short form content such as casual video clips of members going about daily tasks together, or long form content like reality, variety and travel shows.”
This interest has led to K-pop seeping into other cultural forms. In the UK, a slew of TV programmes on the subject of K-pop, including a CBBC drama Gangnam Project, have clocked up healthy viewing figures in recent years. Indeed, the stars of another recent BBC show, Made in Korea, about five young British men sent to experience the rigours of SM’s training regime before launching as DearALICE, made an appearance at SMTown. “Hiya Nana!” one of them called out on spotting a group of the band’s relatives at this home turf gig.
For DearALICE’s Olly Quinn, the UK’s embrace of K-pop was inevitable given its global rise. “It was only a matter of time before the UK would catch on,” he emailed me before the gig. “We have such a rich music history in the UK, but also are so ready to embrace the new.”
But it has not all been plain sailing and waving to grandparents. SMTown London was, until late May, due to be held at Twickenham rugby stadium in the southwest reaches of the capital, before a late switch to the O2 that promoters said was motivated by a desire to provide “improved accessibility, protection from weather conditions, and immersive viewing from every seat”.
Some fans have speculated online that the switch was more about a failure to sell out such an enormous and relatively hard-to-reach venue, with more UK K-pop concerts usually in or around the capital now competing for fans’ attention and budgets. SMTown’s move across the city from Twickenham to east London’s O2 inevitably meant that some who had booked hotels near to the former were left out of pocket despite their concert tickets being automatically transferred to the new venue, while a petition was started online demanding compensation for fans who had paid “stadium-level prices” only to see plans change.
At the O2, it felt like all had been forgiven amid the excitement of so many fans “multi-stans” (fans of multiple K-pop groups) at this rare opportunity to experience simultaneously all the key elements that give K-pop its unique appeal.
There were the dance routines, watched and learned via online tutorials. The fan community, with SMTown’s multi-act line-up luring attendees from all corners of the K-pop fandom. And of course those catchy, slickly-produced songs.
Megan Jansen was relaxed about paying “a bit more” for new accommodation, having been able to cancel her original booking. Keli Hall, 28, a particular fan of Exo and some of the longer-standing groups on the lineup, said that “a lot of people were upset” about the venue move but that she would “have a good time anyway. I am just happy to see them.” Judging by the screams, thousands more agreed.
Speak like a Stan: A beginner’s guide to K-pop lingo
K-pop fans have a whole glossary of terms that they use to talk about their favourite acts. For the uninitiated, here is some key vocabulary.
Stan
A devoted fan (noun); it is also possible to stan (verb) a band or singer. Thought to derive from the Eminem song of the same name and used with derogatory connotations in other contexts, but many K-pop fans have claimed the word to express their own enthusiasm. Say: “I like BTS but I stan Aespa, though not in an obsessive way.”
Sasaeng
When stanning goes bad. An obsessive fan who invades the privacy of their idols. Say: “They, on the other hand, are a sasaeng”
Visual
The member of a group deemed to be the most traditionally attractive. Say: “I am sure the rest of Stray Kids are in no way peeved that Huynjin is often considered the visual of the band.”
Bias
Your preferred member of a K-pop group. Say: “Lisa is my Blackpink bias”
Bias Wrecker
A fellow band member who makes you question your loyalty to your bias. Try saying: “Lisa is my Blackpink bias, but ever since she released that earworm APT with Bruno Mars, Rosé has become my bias wrecker”
Maknae
The youngest member of a particular group. Say: “Ye-on is the maknae of Hearts2Hearts and is only 15!”
