Engaging with RM’s mono and the Book of Job

“He covers the face of the full moon, and spreads it over it his cloud. He has described a circle on the face of the waters, at the boundary between light and darkness.” – Job 26:9-10

Perhaps my favorite album of all time, mono. by RM was released October 23, 2018. Even as a pre-pandemic piece of art, I find that it accurately portrays and represents the turmoil and sentiment of my generation while also feeling extremely personal and solitary. In many ways, I feel that the Book of Job provides the same juxtaposition, being very descriptive of a uniquely human experience while remaining deeply personal and artful. Here, I want to compare these two works and ultimately conclude that the Book of Job can be as relatable to the music that we listen to and love.

RM starts his mini-album off with a track titled “tokyo.” While the song speaks a message of longing and suffering (RM is a Korean artist and the Korean word for ‘Tokyo’ is 동경, the same word for longing/aspiration), the lyrics remain contested over. The artist himself explained he would not release official lyrics for the songs in order for each person to have a unique listening experience. As such, the first line of the song could be heard as “Wake up in Tokyo, feel like a “torn soul”, “tourist so” or “torso.” Each variation provides a different interpretation of the meaning, a component of translation and auditory processing that we have grown quite used to. From the very first lyric, RM opens this album up to his listeners to be a deeply personal experience. He anticipates that each person will process the music differently depending on what they need it for. This is one of the ways that I think Job can also be read. The poet opens up the poems to “reader insert,” which makes the experience deeply emotional and introspective.

The first verse ends with the words, “I don’t know, I don’t know,” leading into the second verse: “Life is a word that sometimes you cannot say (or alternatively: Life is a wave that sometimes you cannot see). An ash is a thing that someday we all should be. When tomorrow comes, how different it’s going to be? Why do love and hate sound just the same to me?” What strikes me here is a desperate attempt to understand the complexities of life. RM seems to be drawing out the same answer that we get from Job after his discussion with God. Job ends his speech with the words “therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes.” Faith can be not knowing and it can be the understanding that you will never know. I think that in this song, RM draws these ideas forward and admits that his knowledge has ended. We, as listeners, are left to determine whether or not this is faith in the same way that we are left to determine what lyrics we hear.

“seoul (feat. HONNE)” is the second track to this album. A letter to the artist’s current place of residence, RM uses this song as a metaphor to question the genuinity of the concrete walls that surround him. His repetition of the chorus “If love and hate are the same thing, I love you Seoul. If love and hate are the same thing, I hate you Seoul” begins to feel like a crying out to someone in desperate need for an answer. Seoul (and arguably, any other city) can be isolating and cold. RM questions where the beauty can lie in a city full of ugly buildings and concrete parks. We begin to see him grapple with the concept of hating to the point of love that Job experiences as well. This happens to be one of my favorite lines because of its association with the phrase “Odi et amo” that Catullus uses to begin one of his odes. I find that Job’s relationship with God teeters along this line between love and hate, the same line that RM faces when he looks around Seoul and is unable to organize his emotions. I think Job’s story is much more relatable to a modern audience than perhaps we even give it credit for. Struggles with identity, depression, and displacement can all be ways to read Job. I think one of the reasons it has survived and remains canon is due to its familiar and understanding nature as well as it’s ability to be read from so many different perspectives. And for me personally, it is those same characteristics in RM’s album that draws me too it. It does not matter if the lyrics are in Korean or if they are being written by a 27-year-old man the same way that it does not matter if these words are written in Hebrew by an unknown author.

The third track, titled “moonchild” seems to express a Jobian anger, which we can see by looking at the lyrics of the second verse:

“떠나도 절대 한 번도 떠나지지가 않아 (Though you leave, you cannot actually get to leave even once)

죽고 싶다며 그만큼 넌 또 열심히 살아 (Though you say you want to die, you actually live that much harder)

다 내려놓고 싶다며 또 다른 추를 달아 (Though you say you want to put everything down, you actually carry another weight)

생각하지 말잔 생각조차 생각이잖아, you know (Even the thought of not having a thought is a thought, you know)

사실은 우린 이런 운명이란 걸, you know (That this is, in fact, our destiny, you know)

끝없는 고통 속에 웃는 거란 걸, you know (That we smile in endless pain, you know)

자유를 말하는 순간 자윤 없어, you know (That there is no freedom the moment you say freedom out loud, you know)

Do you know?”

As RM raps these lyrics, he takes a breath before the final “Do you know” effectively isolating it. This feels more about a cry for help, a desperate plea of understanding. Similarly, I find that Job is also desperately calling out. RM spends this song paying tribute to the night, a time where people who feel misunderstood and overwhelmed might find comfort and solace. The night is a break from the bright lights of day, as RM explains in the beginning. Much of this song feels like not just a curse of one’s birth (i.e. “born to be sad, sad) but asking the same questions that Job does by admitting that he does not want to live. What does it mean to not want to live, asks Job. What does it mean to decide to live, asks RM.

The poet of Job constantly plays with the concept of light versus dark. Job 12 reads “He uncovers the deeps out of darkness, and brings deep darkness to light.” There is an association with Job residing in a current state of darkness, where God remains to be the light. I think RM suggests in “moonchild” that the darkness can be welcomed and reclaimed. While this is not particularly Jobian, I see Job as a character that ends up accepting the darkness as well as the light. One cannot be without the other. Perhaps Job and RM both recognize that for one to exist, so must the other.

After the interlude song “badbye,” comes RM’s fifth track on mono, “uhgood.” This song provides us with wonderful lyricism that echoes the poetry of the book of Job. The song’s Korean title is 어긋 which has two meanings. The first meaning to fall short of expectations and the second to miss someone (by taking different routes). In this song, RM combines the meanings to suggest that there is a difference between personal expectations or the “real me” and the reality of failing to meet those expectations and find oneself. In the song’s chorus, RM writes “그래도 다리 건너 내게 닿고 싶어, 진짜 내게 (yeah, yeah), 진짜 내게 (yeah).” This translates to “But I still want to cross the bridge and reach me, the real me, the real me.” However, the Korean word “내게” (pronounced naege) means “to me” and could be easily swapped out with the word “네게” (pronounced nege) meaning “to you.” In this case, the lines might read “But I still want to cross the bridge and reach you, the real you, the real you. Yet again, RM opens up his personal story to highlight experiences that are universal. Job himself feels this sense of loneliness saying “I am a brother of jackals and a companion of ostriches. My skin turns black and falls from me, and my bones burn without heat. My lyre is turned to mourning and my pipe to the voices of those who weep.” For him the music has turned off. RM feels similarly, singing “I feel so lonely when I’m with me, I feel so lonely when I’m with me.” To me, both are suggesting that there is an alternative to feeling lonely.

The final two songs of mono, “지나가 (everythingoes)” and “forever rain” allow for a message of hope and positivity. RM acknowledges that life must go on and everything shall pass as he hypnotizingly repeats the phrase “지나가” meaning “it shall pass.” In “forever rain,” he speaks fondly of the melancholy that a rainy day can bring. What I think RM’s album is able to do is reach and appeal to an audience the same way that Job does. If I were perhaps, to create a canon of human ideas about life, I would include mono as an example of the way that one man from South Korea sees things. RM is able to artfully portray not only a message in his music that appeals to his generation, but a message about life and humanity that extends time. His music is deeply personal, his poetry artfully crafted. This is the same way I feel about Job and I wonder if maybe it’s okay to allow music to fulfill a need for understanding the same way that the Bible does for a lot of people. In some ways and for some people, I suppose it already does.