Published online by Cambridge University Press: 07 March 2019
I live in the heart of Seoul, Korea. I am riding across town in a taxi listening to the music that the driver is playing too loudly. I hear a man's voice, it is harsh and certain tones are punctuated, as if his heart is broken and he is crying out in anguish. Perhaps he is merely untrained and has just been smoking too much. But by now I know there is more to it than that; he must have developed that sound over years of intense training. The driver turns the volume down slightly and asks me why I am living in Korea. I explain that I am here to study traditional Korean folk music. The driver immediately begins a rather typical commentary on Korean music and its relation to history. He explains that the Korean people, throughout their long and glorious 5000 year history have had to endure many hardships, some at the hands of others, and as such a great deal of Korean music is filled with han – the music itself acting as a catharsis. Little did this man know that that is exactly what I came to Korea to investigate. Unfortunately, we reach my destination before I could ask him the crucial question — What does han sound like?