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Since releasing her first solo work [Piano and Voice] in 2017, the opening track of Jeon Jin Hee's albums has always begun with keyboard sounds. [雨後 uuhu] is different. While the core instrument is still the piano, it's the string sound that she has long wanted to keep by her side, as much as the piano and voice, that opens the door. If keyboard instruments strike strings, dropping a momentary truth, string instruments frictionally draw out emotions with a bow, leading them persistently. In this album, Jeon Jin Hee did not arrange different time periods in parallel but sequentially layered a single time. Without separating the dry earth and wet air implied by the album title, which means 'after the rain,' she brought past and coming seasons to meet in one place.
This is a story about a holistic perspective, not partial choices. If likened, the previous ‘Breathing series’ (2021, 2025) were fragmented monthly memoirs, while [雨後 uuhu] is closer to a seasonal panorama or a series of landscape paintings. The enchanting melodies in the composition and performance, and the careful striking of each note, reveal the same unique lyricism as before. Yet, the narrative of this album, where instrumental pieces and songs exist independently while also connecting with more organic emotional lines, makes one feel his universal world expanding and permeating even beyond the reach of eyes and hands. It is the result of Jeon Jin Hee's intimate language, which drew out her sensitivity and warmth to comfort others, taking another step forward with courage.
Listening through the album, I am once again reminded of the power of good arrangements and delicate performances. Immersed in music that focuses on momentary emotions and scenes, and the relative flow of remaining time, instead of fixed tempos, beats, and song forms, I found myself occasionally holding my breath without realizing it. The string parts, arranged by Taro Umebayashi (currently active as a producer for Ichiko Aoba), leisurely yet powerfully push and pull time, while Jeon Jin Hee's keyboard playing, with its fluid touch, rather hesitantly tries to capture the moment, creating a complete harmony. The time it takes to press a note, the silence until the next note rings, even the subtle tremor of the air becomes a rhythm. Jeon Jin Hee and her piano, as always, are sparing with words, but it is neither ambiguous nor empty. Even in the only two vocal tracks that draw close to the ear, and in most moments where only her piano remains, the essence of sound is preserved. Beautiful melodies and harmonies, sounds and spaces are not merely presented but quietly discovered.
Excluding piano solo versions and live recordings, the season of [雨後 uuhu] with its six tracks is so regretfully short, sometimes passing in an instant, sometimes like eternity. As explained, the album's timeline, which covers the flow from spring to winter, is not divided into obvious sections for each track. Instead, it redefines temporality by simply focusing on moments and allowing seasons to pass through the music. For instance, ‘Tender Light’ depicts the moment when the end of summer transitions into autumn, rather than a single season. It naturally follows from the preceding track, whose title is ‘summer to fall.’ Even with recurring themes and structures within a single song, there's no perception of time being duplicated. On quiet, hot nights, sharing light and warmth gradually, my heart and our seasons change. ‘Are You Okay,’ the only track utilizing synth programming, prepares for a continuous cycle, heavily imbued with a dreamy mood and lingering resonance.
When the rain stops, the ground deepens in color and recedes, a damp, earthy smell permeates the air, and objects reveal their contours as if redefining the world's surface. Of course, the landscape will return to its pre-rain state as if nothing happened. Seasons are similar. After listening to all this music, wouldn't someone's heart be a little different? I confess that I couldn't follow the time meticulously constructed by Jeon Jin Hee exactly as it was. This is because after ‘Tender Light’ ended, I had to sit in silence for over five minutes with playback stopped. Beautiful music, in that way, doesn't speak of change or rush it; it becomes change itself.
“The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.” The time of [雨後 uuhu] reminds one of the 'life that counts only moments' as spoken by the poet Rabindranath Tagore. While showing seasons flowing through the whole, it actually attempts to dwell in a fleeting instant. It is an attempt to engrave the sincerity of a moment into musical notes, and a vivid suggestion to slowly examine the emotions and thoughts we overlook. “Are you okay? Even so, spring will come again.” – Popular Music Critic Byungwook Chung.