The Powerful, Limitless Kai
jongin #jongin
“I wanted to show that Kai is limitless,” 26-year-old Kim Jongin, better known by his stage name Kai, tells Teen Vogue of his newly-released debut self-titled album. The word is multifaceted, conjuring up an unfettered existence or an endless void, as terrifying as it is appealing.
Kai leans toward the latter. His voice — soft, restrained, thoughtful, and at times giddy during our interview — is an anchor in that wide open space. He’s quite excited about the idea of limitlessness, of existing on more than one plane, of proving you’re more than one thing.
Kai, out November 30, is just the first step.
“Over the years I’ve been in the industry, many people have seen me as a member of EXO. I have performed in front of our EXO fans and SuperM fans. This is the first time I’m actually releasing something under my own name,” he says. “I want to show people who Kai is through this album. The name Kai means ‘to open’. So, I want it to be open and show a new side of me.”
The year was 2012 when EXO debuted with an intensely mythological, high-concept origin story. Shortly after the heart of the Tree of Life dried up due to the red forces’ incessant attacks, Kai descended to Earth — along with the rest of the members of EXO — as part of the legends that “see the same sky but shall stand on different grounds, shall stand on the same ground but shall see different skies.” (A parallel to EXO’s original split into two groups, one focused on China’s pop market, the other on Korea’s.) Each member has his own superpower, and Kai’s is teleportation, although he doesn’t always know what to do with it. During the music video for “Lucky One,” the rest of EXO use their powers to fend off villains, but Kai breaks out into dance. (Though if you’ve seen Kai dance, you’ll know that’s as much a superpower as anything.)
That may be Kai’s beginning, but he was brought to life by Kim Jongin, the youngest of three siblings, who grew up in Suncheon, South Korea, with an early interest in ballet and jazz dance. Taking on the persona of Kai at 17 years old, he began to set the framework for what he’d soon become known for: a fluid, captivating dance style infused with seemingly endless confidence, smirking through concept changes with ease. As EXO’s popularity hit the stratosphere shortly after their single “Growl” — with performances on world stages like the Pyeongchang Winter Olympics, the multi-million selling 9-member group remains one of the most revered acts in modern-day K-pop — so did Kai’s reputation as one of the most enigmatic performers in Korean idol music.
Duality is one of K-pop’s favorite concepts, and the endearing dichotomy between Kai and Jongin is a perfect example of where the person and the artist diverge. On stage, Kai paints a mysterious picture, flitting from lithe self-possession to seductive swagger, to borderline arrogance. Off stage, however, Jongin is uncharacteristically shy: he blushes when complimented by his group members, often forgets his own passwords (and asks friends to help out), and is obsessed with his niece and nephew.
While every gaze, every spin, every step with Kai is intentional, Kim Jongin is as free of the bounds of pretense as it gets. It could be as easy as turning a switch on or off, but that would be doing Kai’s ethos a disservice. It’s subliminal. “Kai is me in my dream state,” he says. “When I’m sleeping, it’s like my dream character comes alive, and that would be Kai. I’m more of a normal, down-to-earth person. That’s just me, but Kai is this persona that’s on stage… I do notice that when I’m dancing and pulling off all these different concepts, [I’m] like a totally different person outside of myself doing that.”
And if EXO member Kai is one type of persona, solo performer Kai is another. He previewed Kai with a short film song-sampler, in which he “teleports” through a cinematic thoroughfare of concepts, each one diving deeper. In “Hello Stranger,” his voice is the lighthouse in the storm of the bustling city, asking to talk about the things that overwhelm you. “Reason” is a modern-day fairytale, with Kai as the quirky, attention-grabbing prince in a sea of droning conversations and pretentious debutantes. Hold his hand, turn the corner, and you meet Bad Boy Kai in “Amnesia,” sheathed in leather and a mullet (a hairstyle that continues to be one of the greatest things ever to happen to K-pop) and leaning into noble sacrifice: “Forget me before I know you,” he says. How can you?
We pass through scores of mirrors, each with a different version of Kai as he croons, “Don’t think about anything else.” He holds this attention until the mirrors open into a vast landscape. Now, he is the one looking at a mirror of his own — clad in lace and soft whites and vocalizing his desires openly, “Nothing On Me” is his version of suave vulnerability. The story ends on “Ride Or Die,” a throwback to yesteryears with its heavy, sensual synths and noir setup. It’s a full circle moment; this Kai is the same one we get a glimpse of within the first few seconds of the film, as a hologram. All this while, the mirrors that pull us through the songs have been windows, a journey through the hallways of Kai’s mind, ending in the confident reassurance that he will “ride or die” with us, till the end.
“[I wanted to show] that I can do anything and that anything is possible,” he says. “It’s the connection between teleportation and the limitless possibilities that I have as an artist, as Kai. I wanted to showcase that all of these different sides are Kai, are myself.” And he learned a lot about himself in the process of making the album. “To be honest, I was pretty stressed preparing for all of this on my own, but I think I learned a lot about myself throughout this process. Not just myself as an artist, but [also] a lot about myself as a person: my personality, how I deal with stress, and just… what I’m like as a human being.”
Teleportation is an apt comparison for Kai’s continued interest in embracing other art forms and expanding his artistic lexicon. If that comes with playing with the constraints of conventional style, fashion, and masculinity, then so be it. Like his artistry, his sartorial expression is boundless: whether it’s the slew of crop tops worn to highlight the chorus in “Don’t Mess Up My Tempo”, which gave us one of the most memorable fan-cams of 2018; to the shirtless red suit for “Love Shot” that, frankly, deserves its own museum; to the soft yet dangerous combination of flaming red and lace he’s sporting in the highlight medley for Kai. Every outfit is the period at the end of his words, mapping out his own zeitgeist.
“As my career progressed, fashion itself became a way to express myself on stage and the being that I am,” he says. “It’s not just about expressing the song or the concept itself. I think it’s really important for me to try new things and have people notice what I’ve been trying. I actually want people to look back on the styles that I’ve tried as an example for them to reference later on. Fashion has become a really important thing for me to develop myself.”
At the heart of these many concepts, of both his Kai persona and his life as Jongin, is movement. Kim Jongin and Kai share a fundamental receptiveness to the world, and of course, a singular, synchronous rhythm that has become the bedrock of his artistry, whether as part of EXO or out on his own.
“When I was younger and I first started dancing, I think I just simply loved dancing itself. I was immersed in the art of dancing,” he says. “I loved doing it, but I think as I’ve progressed as a performer, as my career has grown, dancing has not only become something I love to do, but it’s also become a tool [to] express myself on stage and to audiences. Dancing has been part of more than half of my life now. It’s like a friend that I can’t live without.”
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