BTS GQ Korea March 2026 Interview: English Translation

 

 

 

J-Hope: “When we find music we love, we usually recommend it to each other. That’s why we often end up loving the same songs around the same time.”   V: “All of us value BTS more than our individual selves. We debuted as a team, and that’s what I believe our core identity is.”   Suga: “If we can keep things the way they are, maybe we’ll still be dancing in our sixties. If we have the will—into our fifties, sixties—we’ll always be together as a team.”   Jung Kook: “The whole process felt so free and liberating, and that’s why I enjoyed it so much.”   RM: “Right now, what matters most is that we’re back here together—and that we’ll get to meet fans all around the world.”   Jimin: “We know very well that we’ve come this far because we are a team, and because we started as one. And honestly, being together is just really fun.”   Jin: “I think the reason we’re able to be here today is because we worked incredibly hard back in those days.”

 

 

 

In mid-2025, after the final member of the world’s biggest group, BTS, completed South Korea’s mandatory military service required of all able-bodied men, the seven members reunited under one roof in Los Angeles.

The seven — RM, Jin, Suga, J-Hope, Jimin, V, and Jung Kook — had been together since the early 2010s, when they were still teenagers. But they had not lived in the same place since 2019. After spending several years apart completing military service and pursuing solo careers, the members finally reached the moment to work together again.

“We worked six days a week, like office workers,” RM said.

They followed a strict daily routine. In the mornings, they trained together at the gym. After returning home for lunch, they headed to the studio around 3 p.m., working with various songwriters and producers on new music until about 8 p.m. Afterwards, they would all return home.

Living together again as roommates, BTS found themselves unintentionally recreating the early days of their trainee life at Big Hit Entertainment (now HYBE Corporation) — almost like a simulation of their lives before superstardom. It was a return to the days when they devoted everything to their debut.

This was before they sold more than 500 million records worldwide, before they surpassed 104 billion global streams, before they became the first Korean artists nominated for a Grammy Award, before topping the Billboard 200 album chart and the Billboard Hot 100 singles chart, and before standing at the United Nations podium.

It was before they became a global cultural phenomenon — before they emerged as the best-selling Asian artists of all time and one of the best-selling groups in music history, transcending genre, nationality, and era.

Today, the story of BTS has become well known.

In 2010, Big Hit Entertainment — then a small startup label in Seoul — signed a 16-year-old RM, who had already built a reputation as a prodigy rapper in the local underground hip-hop scene. Soon after, Suga — a rapper and songwriter from the same scene — joined, followed by J-Hope, a dancer and former b-boy who later became a rapper.

Recognizing a more promising opportunity, the company shifted its strategy and transformed the trio’s hip-hop group concept into a K-pop group. Ultimately, this decision created a unique seven-member lineup that blended the sharp sensibilities of underground rappers with the polished commercial appeal of a traditional idol group.

 

Jin, who once dreamed of becoming an actor, ultimately proved himself to be a powerful vocalist — and even earned the nickname “Worldwide Handsome.”

Jung Kook, the youngest member and one of the group’s most versatile vocalists, quickly grew into an all-around performer. Meanwhile, V, with his deep baritone voice and model-like visuals, added a sophisticated, urban edge to the group’s identity.

Completing the lineup was Jimin, a trained dancer who brought exceptional performance skills along with a distinctive high-register voice.

Within just a few years, the rookie group — once seen as underdogs who persevered through relentless struggle — began challenging the dominance of groups from South Korea’s “Big Three” entertainment companies: SM, YG, and JYP. Eventually, they rose to become the No.1 group in Korea and soon after, a global phenomenon that transcended borders.

During the two months they spent living together in Los Angeles, the boys — now in their late twenties and early thirties — devoted themselves day and night to creating what they hoped would be their greatest album yet.

Just like in their earliest days, they worked with the passion of miners digging tirelessly for a single piece of gold.

“But I think we found it,” RM said.

What he was referring to was their fifth full-length studio album — their first in nearly six years — which will, of course, be accompanied by a massive world tour. It is one of the most highly anticipated comebacks in recent music history, stirring the kind of excitement reminiscent of when Elvis Presley returned from military service in 1960.

The members and I met at a studio located about an hour outside Seoul. It was their first group interview since entering a hiatus in 2022.

I found myself immediately disarmed by their camaraderie. Their bond felt both effortless and deeply cultivated — something carefully built over many years.

Last December, during a live broadcast on Weverse, HYBE’s community platform, RM revealed to fans that he had considered disbanding the group “thousands of times” as they prepared for their comeback.

The livestream sent shockwaves through their fandom, ARMY — short for Adorable Representative M.C for Youth — a fan community that is both massively global, intensely strategic, and fiercely protective in its love for the group.

“Personally, the pressure has been enormous,” RM said during the December 6 livestream.
“I haven’t been sleeping well since last month. I’ve even thought about getting a prescription for sleeping pills… I’ve thought about it thousands of times. Would it be better to disband the team, or should we just take a break?”

The pressure is understandable. There is simply too much at stake.

Nearly six years have passed since their last full-length album. Can BTS — originally known as Bangtan Sonyeondan, or Bulletproof Boy Scouts, later evolving into Beyond the Scene — deliver a project that lives up to such a long wait?

It has been almost four years since they last stood on stage together. Is the magic still there? Or have their individual journeys changed them in ways that make it difficult to return to what they once were?

On top of that, there are the expectations of an entire nation — after all, BTS helped place the Korean music industry at the center of global pop culture. And beyond that lies the passionate devotion and dreams of their worldwide ARMY.

As we sat face-to-face for the interview — speaking mostly through an interpreter — the conversation naturally turned to RM’s Weverse livestream, which had famously caused a massive server crash as fans around the world tried to tune in.

“There are probably some memes about that livestream by now,” RM said with a laugh.

 

How did the other members feel about it?

“Honestly, none of us actually watched that livestream,” V said.

“We just saw it through YouTube Shorts or Reels,” Jin added.

“It would be a little strange for us to sit there watching each other’s livestreams,” Suga explained. “We’re always together anyway — we’re like brothers.”

“In a way, I think it was RM’s way of expressing his love for ARMY,” Jimin said. “It really showed how deeply and emotionally he thinks about both the group and our fans. Showing that kind of vulnerability and saying those things — that’s very RM.”

“RM is basically the identity of this team,” V said. “He’s the core leader, so he probably carries a much bigger burden than the rest of us. I usually don’t feel that level of pressure, but he definitely does.”

Clearly touched by the members’ support, RM looked at the other six and said softly, “That’s very kind.”
“I really love these guys.”

Their closeness was almost tangible. It was obvious how comfortable they were with one another. When Jimin lightly pinched Jin’s neck, Jin playfully tapped Jimin’s leg in response. Jung Kook settled into his chair with two tangerines and several small bags of potato crackers in front of him, enthusiastically munching away between answers. Meanwhile, fully aware of the significance of the moment, V quietly pulled out his phone and began taking photos of the other members.

In true BTS fashion, the members dealt with the complicated emotions sparked by RM’s Weverse livestream the way brothers often do — by teasing each other.

“We’re not really the type to comfort each other seriously,” Jimin said. “Instead, we just laugh about it or tease the person until they laugh and forget about it… We also had a few drinks together. Alcohol always helps.”

“We tease him in front of him,” V admitted, “but sometimes we cry about it when we’re alone.”

“That’s exactly what they’re like,” RM said with a laugh. “That’s how the members handle these situations — turn it into a meme and act like nothing happened.”

For them, being together is clearly their greatest strength. Even the enormous pressure of one of the biggest comebacks in pop music can be dissolved through jokes and brotherly antics.

At one point during the conversation, completely out of nowhere, Jimin dramatically took off his jacket. Underneath was a ribbed tank top clinging tightly to his lean frame.

“Sexy!” Jung Kook shouted.

Jimin clearly enjoyed the reaction, flexing his arms and pinching his bulging biceps in exaggerated fashion — effectively distracting the members from the philosophical conversation they had been having.

I saw the same dynamic during the photoshoot. V danced enthusiastically to Wiz Khalifa and Snoop Dogg’s “Young, Wild & Free,” playfully provoking Suga, who had to remain still while the hair and makeup team worked on him.

Later, as J-Hope finished shooting his solo portraits, Drake’s “Hold On, We’re Going Home” began playing through the speakers. Unable to resist, he suddenly burst into song in falsetto, loudly singing “We’re going home!” and briefly halting the shoot. Watching and hearing world-class pop stars casually break into song just a few steps away was, to say the least, surreal.

“They communicate as a true group with a strong bond between them,” said Megan Thee Stallion, who collaborated with BTS on the remix of “Butter” and worked with RM on her single “Neva Play.” “It’s rare to see a group with that level of humility, love, and teamwork. It’s a very special dynamic.”

Coldplay frontman Chris Martin shared a similar impression. Coldplay collaborated with BTS on the No.1 hit “My Universe.”

“What I feel about the seven members of BTS — from the little I’ve gotten to know them — is that going through such an intense journey together has brought them even closer,” Martin said. “It was beautiful to see how they support each other. They’re incredibly tight as individuals, but they also blend together very well. They don’t step on each other’s territory. Everyone has a clear role… The love between them is real. That was the most impressive thing to me — even in very intense situations, the love never disappears.”

“At some point,” Martin continued, “music becomes something magical that you can’t fully explain. And I think the same is true for a band. That’s probably why we fall in love with bands. We don’t really know the reason. Why is it that when seven people come together, they become something greater than the sum of their parts? Beyond the fact that they work incredibly hard, treat each other kindly, and love what they do, there’s an unexplainable magic there.”

Amid the narrative of their long-awaited comeback, one important fact is often overlooked: over the past few years, BTS experienced something that even most global superstars never do.

They experienced what it was like to become ordinary people again.

Because of South Korea’s ongoing military tensions with North Korea, almost all Korean men between the ages of 18 and 28 are required to serve roughly 18 to 21 months in the military. With the exception of Olympic medalists, exemptions are rare.

Before enlistment, there had been speculation that BTS might receive a special exemption. After all, they were widely regarded as national treasures.

But they surprised the world by choosing to enlist.

The members staggered their service schedules — beginning with Jin and ending with Suga — ensuring that at least one BTS member remained active and connected with the public as a solo artist during that time. It was a carefully planned effort to make sure their beloved fandom, ARMY, would never feel their absence too strongly.

Through their service, the members experienced the ordinary, repetitive routines familiar to many Korean men in their twenties. They took on a variety of roles — from drill instructors (Jin and J-Hope), to a kitchen worker (Jung Kook), to special duty forces (V).

Suga, who served as a public service worker due to a shoulder injury, went from performing in stadiums around the world to spending his days fulfilling regular office duties.

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“I’ve actually never been late to my workplace,” Suga said proudly. “I always arrived ten minutes early and prepared for the day’s tasks. At first it felt strange to go to work and leave exactly on time every day, but once I got used to it, it eventually became part of my life.”

That routine even influenced his music-making. “Before enlistment, I usually worked on music very late at night. After I was discharged, though, I found myself writing songs during the daytime instead.”

“Adapting to a completely unfamiliar world was, of course, difficult,” J-Hope admitted. “But humans are interesting — we learn to adapt pretty quickly. I definitely became healthier, and I came to understand many different aspects of life and society more deeply. Meeting new people was also a big gain. And, after all, serving in the military is something every Korean man experiences.”

“I almost cried — it was really, really hard,” Jimin said with a playful tearful gesture before breaking into laughter. “It was a very challenging experience. But being able to stand in that position and experience it ourselves meant a lot to us.”

One of the team’s most memorable reunions actually happened during their hiatus.

“This was before we were discharged from the military,” V recalled. “Jung Kook cried — he really burst into tears. He cried because he wanted to stand on stage again. He wanted to perform so badly.”

“You could truly feel how much love and passion Jung Kook has for performing and music,” Suga added.

Meanwhile, Jung Kook — the youngest — tried to play it off.
“I don’t really remember that,” he said with a laugh. “But everyone was there for me.”

During the time they were apart, the seven members continued developing their individual artistry. Each of them released projects that were both distinct and highly accomplished.

Their work ranged widely — from boom-bap hip-hop (J-Hope’s Jack in the Box), to Peter Gabriel–style power ballads (Jin’s “The Astronaut”), to chart-topping Top 40 hits (Jung Kook’s “Seven” and Jimin’s “Like Crazy”). RM explored existential ennui in his album Right Place, Wrong Person. Suga released a third installment of his artistic trilogy under his alter ego Agust D. V delivered a brief but elegant EP, Layover.

Over the past few years, the members of BTS have pushed the boundaries of their artistry. They have collaborated with legendary figures such as Erykah Badu (RM), the late Ryuichi Sakamoto (Suga), J. Cole (J-Hope), and renowned cinematographer Christopher Doyle — best known for his work with director Wong Kar-wai (again with RM).

Through these experiences, the seven members have evolved into independent auteurs — artists with their own distinctive obsessions and increasingly defined creative processes.

Pop star Halsey, who collaborated with BTS on the 2019 hit “Boy With Luv” and worked separately with Suga on her projects Manic and the remake of “Lilith,” said she was struck by how each member’s artistry had blossomed.

“They’ve each gone on their own unique solo journeys that really reflect their individual personalities and strengths,” she wrote in an email. “I wasn’t surprised, but I was truly impressed by how refined their solo work was. The most exciting part was watching them grow as songwriters and seeing their individual identities come to the forefront.”

“My solo activities were like a kind of wake-up alarm for me,” Jimin said. “Before we could reunite as a group, I realized I needed to practice more, grow as an artist, and expand my spectrum. Watching the other members perform and do their solo projects made me think, ‘Oh, I think I could try something like that too. They’re doing such an incredible job.’”

“One of the best things about working solo is discovering your own taste more deeply,” J-Hope said. “Especially when collaborating with legends in the music industry. You come to understand yourself better — what your colors are, what kind of tastes you have.”

“There was definitely a steep learning curve for me,” he continued. “That’s why coming back together as a team feels even more meaningful. I learned so much, and those experiences are priceless. You can’t buy that kind of growth.”

Despite their explosive success as solo artists, there was never any doubt in their minds that they would eventually reunite.

“We know very well that we came this far because we are a team — and because we started as a team,” Jimin said. “And honestly, it’s just really fun when we’re together.”

“We all value BTS more than our individual selves,” V said. “We debuted as a team, and that’s our core identity.”

“I love you, man,” Jimin told V.

“But if we spend too much time together, I don’t want to see that kind of thing!” V replied with mock irritation.

Of course, things don’t always work out that way — perhaps they rarely do.

Remember when *NSYNC went on hiatus after Justin Timberlake decided to pursue a solo career? The temporary break eventually turned into a permanent split. Perhaps his solo success gave him an industry credibility he hadn’t achieved within the group.

Or consider the Spice Girls. After Geri Halliwell left, the remaining members released new music together — but when their third album arrived amid huge anticipation, Scary, Sporty, and Posh quickly shifted focus to their own solo projects. (Baby Spice was the only one who remained somewhat loyal to the group’s message.) The album Forever became a disappointment, and the planned world tour never materialized.

Going even further back, there was the Jackson family’s Victory Tour in 1984. What initially looked like a triumphant moment for a legendary family group eventually faded like a mournful trombone at the end of a performance. Tensions among the brothers escalated during the tour, and at the final headlining show at Dodger Stadium in Los Angeles, Michael Jackson — riding the massive success of Thriller — abruptly declared it would be the last time they would perform together.

In the history of pop music, there are far more examples of great groups dissolving due to internal conflict and the lure of solo careers than there are of groups successfully reuniting after a hiatus.

That BTS continues to keep its promise to return as a team — even after all seven members have achieved remarkable success as individual artists — is already a victory in itself.

The members are developing increasingly personal artistic visions, each with their own passions and busy lives.

“They’re just good people. That’s it,” Halsey said. “They respect one another and embrace everyone’s ideas. BTS has a very clear vision, and everyone understands that goal. Each member’s strengths support that core vision in a really strong way. There’s nothing self-centered about their environment. When you think about how focused they are on being BTS and giving back to their fans, it makes perfect sense.”

Everything happening now feels almost like a sacred vow — proof of their friendship and their devotion to ARMY. People often say they will do something and then fail to follow through. But in this case, it actually happened.

In some ways, the turning point for RM came at the 2022 Grammy Awards.

BTS had been nominated for their infectious hit “Butter,” marking their second consecutive Grammy nomination. Their dazzling performance early in the broadcast electrified the audience, injecting the otherwise rigid ceremony with the group’s signature efficiency and contagious camaraderie.

But when they ultimately lost the award for Best Pop Duo/Group Performance to Doja Cat and SZA for “Kiss Me More,” fans were devastated. On Twitter, the hashtag #scammys quickly began trending, with fans accusing the Grammys of using the group to boost ratings.

Yet RM had a different experience that night.

Watching Lady Gaga deliver an emotional tribute performance dedicated to her friend and mentor Tony Bennett, and seeing H.E.R. perform an electrifying medley with Lenny Kravitz and Travis Barker, he found himself reflecting deeply on what it means to devote one’s life to music.

“I think our ‘Butter’ performance at the Grammys really surprised people,” he said in a Weverse interview two months later. “But now, beyond surprising people, I think it’s time for us to ask what kind of message we can deliver to the world.”

“In the past, I clearly understood what this group was,” he continued. “But now I feel like we’ve reached a stage where I’m not even sure what the group looks like anymore — or even who I am.”

“What message should BTS deliver to the world going forward? At this moment in time, what should BTS be remembered for? What stance should we take? And how should we move forward?”

Four years after that night, I sat with the members and asked the group’s leader the same question again. After spending time apart — growing both as individual artists and as people — what will BTS look like going forward?

RM straightened his posture and thought carefully about the question.

“The 13-year journey of BTS — for me personally — started with the thought, ‘I know this team,’” he said, recalling his time as a bright-eyed sixteen-year-old trainee, the founding member around whom Big Hit Entertainment first built the group.

“This team started with me — with who I was back then. And then things just… well, I don’t know.”

“The company and the label have grown much bigger,” he continued. “The world has become more complicated and chaotic. Platforms have changed, and technology moves incredibly fast. Everything is accelerating.”

Ten years ago, success for the group simply meant reaching No.1 on the charts.

“Our only goal back then was to win first place on TV music shows,” Jin said, referring to Korea’s popular weekly music programs. “Just winning No.1 once felt like it would make us incredibly happy. After that, we grew as artists. I think we’re able to be here now because we worked incredibly hard back then.”

“I still feel confused,” RM said with his characteristic honesty. “But even in that confusion, I’m trying to find small pieces of gold.”

To find that clarity, the group knew they had to return to the very foundation of BTS — each other. For the first time, they entered a songwriting camp and began working in Los Angeles with some of the best songwriters and producers in the music industry.

At a songwriting camp, top-tier songwriters and producers gather in one place, split across multiple studios, and take on a clear mission: to craft chart-topping tracks for the biggest artists in pop — the kind of hits that fans will obsess over. It’s a tradition that stretches back to the very origins of modern pop, rooted in the competitive “song factory” model of the Brill Building era and the assembly-line hitmaking perfected at Berry Gordy’s Hitsville U.S.A., Motown’s first studio where classics were produced at industrial speed.

Early in BTS’s career, the rap line — RM, Suga, and J-Hope — led much of the writing and production, creating a large share of the group’s hits themselves. Over time, however, the other members grew into distinct songwriters and producers in their own right, accumulating extensive writing, composition, and production credits.

That artistic maturity — sharpened further through years of solo work — shaped the new album in fascinating ways.

“We all still have a huge passion for writing and creating,” Suga said. “It depends on the song, but sometimes one member will take the lead and drive the track forward.” Jimin, for instance, expanded his toolkit by learning new techniques through the music software QBS.

Jung Kook especially enjoyed the camp’s routine. “There were three studio rooms, and it was really fun,” he said. “Sometimes two of us would pair up and go in together. Other times we’d go in alone — and then we’d switch partners, trying different ideas and different ways of collaborating. It was our way of breaking out of our usual patterns. Sometimes it went in a really bad direction, and sometimes it turned out great. But the whole process felt so free and liberating that I genuinely loved it.”

Jin said he was moved by the younger members’ intensity. “They were so persistent,” he said. “Their passion was overflowing.”

With the new album slated for release on March 20, speculation reached a fever pitch. Among ARMY, rumors swirled that major hitmakers like Max Martin — the Swedish songwriting and production legend behind everything from “…Baby One More Time” to “Blinding Lights” — and Jon Bellion, known for writing tracks such as Miley Cyrus’s “Midnight Sky” and Justin Bieber’s “Ghost,” might be involved.

The members were careful not to reveal too many details, but even what they could share sounded electric.

Suga said the album contains “a wide range of genres,” adding: “I can tell you it’s going to sound quite different from what you’ve heard from BTS in the past. This time, you’ll see a more mature BTS.”

“It really has everything,” RM said. “I’m confident this album will resolve at least some of the things we’ve been confused about.”

Two weeks after our interview, I received a message from them about the album title. They had chosen “Arirang,” the traditional Korean folk song known nationwide — a piece that often reflects the nation’s history and carries deep cultural weight.

They wanted a name that symbolized who they are as a group and what they want to say.

“Arirang is a Korean folk song that transcends time and generations,” they wrote. “For centuries it has symbolized feelings of connection, separation, and reunion.”

It felt like the perfect title for BTS’s current chapter — a name that holds the moment when ARMY and the members themselves come together again. It was also striking that, at the most anticipated moment of their career, the seven chose to turn the world’s attention back to their roots — to the country that raised them.

BTS has always possessed an innate ability to leap over language itself, creating music that fans around the world can emotionally understand in full. In their solo work, the members have also addressed the darker edges of modern life without flinching — from Suga’s explorations of mental health and social pressure through his raw alter ego Agust D, to RM’s Right Place, Wrong Person, an album that reads like a meditation on self-acceptance.

In the group’s next chapter, it will be fascinating to see how they balance that maturity with the sound the world expects from BTS.

“I understand that when you’re active in the K-pop industry as an idol group, a boy band, a girl group, there can be constraints on expressing the negative sides of life,” Suga said. “But as artists — and as individuals — I believe you have to be able to express both the positive and negative aspects of life. This album contains a lot of reflection and thought, and I feel we’re gradually moving in that direction… A lot has already changed, and we’re still changing.”

Trying to understand their current musical compass, I asked what they were most obsessed with right now.

V said that someone they’d worked with had introduced him to the experimental rapper Jean Dawson. “It hit me in a completely unexpected way,” V said. “It gave me so many ideas about how music can flow — and where it can go.”

When BTS was just beginning, RM, Suga, and J-Hope used to run an improvised hip-hop “school” inside the group dorm. They handed the other members a list of around fifty essential artists — built around canonical albums by legends like Tupac and Nas — and made them study. This happened after official trainee practice ended. Some nights, the “Bangtan” members would finish rehearsal at 11 p.m. and then stay up until 6 a.m. taking “hip-hop school” lessons, sacrificing sleep to build their musical literacy.

That shared love of musical discovery became a foundation of the group’s dynamic — and it remains a defining trait today. You can still see it when multiple members post the same artist around the same time on social media. Last summer, for instance, J-Hope, RM, V, and Jung Kook all posted songs by the buzzy alternative R&B artist Dijon within the span of a few weeks.

“If we find music we like, we tend to recommend it to each other,” J-Hope said. “So we end up getting into the same music around the same time. Our tastes are different, but there’s definitely overlap.” (As for his current obsession, J-Hope is deep into Rosalía’s avant-garde album Lux.)

Before long, the men grew animated — reaching for their phones, trading playlists back and forth. It was their version of Spotify Wrapped.

“I’m twenty-four,” Jung Kook said.

“Twenty,” J-Hope said.

“I’m seventy-seven,” Suga said.

“I’m eighty-eight,” V said.

“Eighty-nine,” Jimin said. “Grandpa!”

BTS’s success was built on the progress made by earlier generations of K-pop — the smart fusion of innovative Western pop, dense visual storytelling that reveals new layers the more you revisit it, and strategic use of technology. But BTS added something distinctly their own: authenticity and emotional connection.

Where earlier K-pop stars often inspired awe through carefully engineered distance, BTS chose disclosure. That choice — letting people in — is precisely what enabled them to transcend genre altogether.

In a 2024 interview with The New Yorker, HYBE chairman Bang Si-hyuk described his strategy as “finding the most intimate way to connect with the fandom — and pushing it to the extreme.” Rather than relying on television appearances, he launched a dedicated YouTube channel even before debut, allowed the members to run their own Twitter account, and encouraged them to speak candidly through video blogs. They documented their hardest moments. They posted in real time about nights spent drinking and staying out late.

“I didn’t want them to be fake idols,” Bang said. “I wanted to create BTS that could feel like close friends.”

That constant communication helped create ARMY.

In modern pop, massive fandoms are practically a given: fiercely devoted supporters who act as street teams, spend thousands to attend multiple tour dates, and mobilize online at the speed of light. But ARMY took that phenomenon further — deeper, stronger, and at times almost altruistic. (They regularly organize charity fundraising efforts, including in support of artists who have collaborated with BTS, like Halsey.)

Last year, as a way of sending the members a message, ARMY pushed a BTS song from seven years earlier back to the top of the charts. The 2018 single “Anpanman” hit No.1 on Billboard’s World Digital Song Sales chart and reached No.1 in more than 75 countries. When I mentioned this to the members, they were visibly moved.

“It’s truly touching,” Jimin said. “We’ve received so much love — love that feels completely unconditional — and I don’t even know how to repay it. I’m always thinking about how to give back with better performances and better songs.”

“It’s honestly hard to even grasp how big that love is,” he continued. “It feels enormous. I think it’s a deeply reciprocal relationship. We influence ARMY, but ARMY also influences us — it goes both ways. When I feel that, it makes me think very seriously about what message we should deliver as a team. What we say carries impact, and it means a lot to ARMY. So I always want to create something positive.”

In the early days of their U.S. breakthrough, some Western media seemed to dismiss ARMY with patronizing language — as if the only way to explain the cross-cultural phenomenon of seven Korean boys was teenage frivolity and raging hormones.

But ARMY is an astonishingly diverse community — spanning countries, generations, and gender expressions. I know this first-hand from the ARMY I’ve met in my own life: a Manila-based visual artist and sound designer whose film work has been celebrated at Sundance and Venice and exhibited everywhere from Singapore to New York; a Seattle-based tech executive who brokers massive deals at one of the world’s largest corporations, then takes time off to follow BTS concerts around the globe.

And then there is my mother. I thought she only loved singer-songwriters like James Taylor and Carole King — until, out of nowhere and with no prior connection, she told me she was a proud ARMY.

Like many people, she fell in love with BTS during the pandemic. After my grandmother suffered multiple strokes and moved into our home, my mother became her full-time caregiver, pouring every ounce of energy into caring for her around the clock. During that dark period, on nights when she forced herself to stay awake watching my grandmother breathe through an oxygen machine, she would watch BTS videos on her phone. (She made sure to watch only on the official BTS channel so the views would count.) Their playfulness brought comfort. Their sincerity brought hope.

“He kept me company late at night,” she still says. “Even when life was full of hardship, their videos made me laugh for a moment.”

As they prepared to release what may be their most mature and sonically ambitious album yet, I asked whether a Grammy still represented a pinnacle — and whether winning the trophy was still the goal.

“I don’t know,” RM said. “Time has passed. Across the board, you see more K-pop nominations now, and I really want to applaud that.”

“I mean — we’ll try,” he continued. “We might submit the album to the Grammys again. But I don’t know. I don’t want to look like we’re desperate for it anymore… I don’t want to keep saying, ‘Oh, I want a Grammy.’ Of course, I’m not saying we don’t want it. We’ll try. But if it doesn’t happen, that’s okay too.”

For them now, the Grammys matters less as an object — the trophy itself — and more as a kind of North Star, a marker of direction.

“Usually a group has four members, right? We have seven,” RM said. “A team like this sometimes needs some kind of goal to keep moving forward. The Grammys was one of the goals we didn’t fully accomplish in the past. But what matters most right now is that we’re together again — and that we’re going to meet fans all around the world.”

Nearly six years after their last full-length album, can their upward curve continue? The problem is that an “imperial phase” — the period when a group seems unstoppable — often comes only once in a career.

Pet Shop Boys’ Neil Tennant coined the phrase in a 2001 interview with Chris Heath ahead of the remaster of their classic 1987 album Actually, looking back on what was likely the band’s peak in the late 1980s — when they were perfectly aligned with the moment and nothing seemed capable of failing.

A landmark essay by music critic Tom Ewing in Pitchfork later cemented the concept. (Think Fleetwood Mac at Rumours, George Michael at Faith, or Michael Jackson from Off the Wall through the early Bad era.) Ewing wrote that the idea is double-edged: it contains both the arrogance of conquering the world and the inevitability of decline — because, in the end, the emperor always ends up naked. The era always ends.

Of course, there are always exceptions to the rule. And BTS has repeatedly proven itself to be the exception that breaks pop’s rules.

They were the underdog K-pop group that was never supposed to compete with Big Three artists, dismissed as a fleeting trend — and yet they created a global upheaval. If any modern group is capable of defying impossible odds, it is them.

Their influence is the kind that can meaningfully be compared to the Beatles or the Supremes. Just as the Beatles helped place one nation’s music industry at the center of global pop, BTS did the same for Korea. And like Motown’s flagship girl group, the Supremes, BTS’s glamorous visual language and addictive hooks have served as a kind of Trojan horse — breaking down barriers, elevating Asian visibility in mainstream culture, and steadily changing the world.

The flood of Beatles comparisons that followed BTS’s U.S. breakthrough wasn’t only about numbers. It was about genuine generational impact — and the sense that, in a fractured era, they might be one of the closest things we have to cultural unity.

From the beginning, the members understood the fragility of fame. In the hyper-competitive K-pop industry — where every new release, no matter how long after debut, is still called a “comeback,” and trends shift at breakneck speed — nothing is ever taken for granted. Even surviving past the first 100 days can be difficult. Every single, every comeback has to hit big enough to keep the company afloat and prevent the group from dissolving. (In that sense, their reality resembles the U.K. pop industry in the 2000s, where even major groups like Sugababes and Girls Aloud, despite defining a generation, had to keep landing successful singles simply to survive.)

“I think BTS are innovators,” Halsey said. “They don’t have to worry about what’s happening right now — because they’re always going to be pioneering what comes next. For musicians who define a generation, everything else becomes background noise. They know how to make the truly important sound loud.”

In September 2013, when BTS celebrated their 100th day since debut, they marked the occasion with a special radio broadcast, prepared a cake, and joyfully sang “Congratulations” to each other. Watching that video nearly thirteen years later feels strange — because none of what followed was visible back then: their huge success in Korea, the devoted fandom that would help propel them globally, their status now as pioneers and superstars.

“Bangtan Sonyeondan” were still just boys — dreaming of possibility, hoping for the best.

On the broadcast, Suga said in Korean: “It’s been exactly 100 days since we debuted, and I think we exist because ARMY has always been right beside us.” Looking at the members, he continued: “Let’s be together for the next 100 days, 1,000 days, 10,000 days!”

Without hesitation, all the members answered in unison: “Let’s be together!”

Now, sitting across from the members as they prepare for their dazzling comeback, I asked Suga whether he still feels the same — whether the next 100 days, 1,000 days, 10,000 days still feel like a promise.

“I said that because, early in your entertainment career, there’s so much work — and the time you’re able to stay active can be pretty short,” Suga said, remembering those days. “Back then I worried, ‘How long can we keep doing this?’”

“But now I ask the same question in a more positive way,” he continued. “We’re still very good friends. Fans still love us — they want us, they support us. If we can keep this going, maybe we’ll still be dancing in our sixties… If we have the will — into our fifties, sixties — we can always stay together as a team.”

He smiled as he looked at the six members who have already become part of his life.

“My knees might not cooperate,” he said, grinning. “But we can do it.”

 

 

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