
The notes stay with one Sunday in Busan: a sold-out hall, a glow stick from the official fan café, and three songs that pull school days back into the room.
The notes stay with Lee Sun-hee’s 30th-anniversary concert in Busan, under the heading the writer gives as “노래하는 이선희.” In school they and their friends had taken courage, a flutter, and a kind of happiness from her songs, and had even, they write, been helped out of the stubbornness of adolescence. Living in Busan after leaving home, they have already enjoyed many of the city’s cultural events, but this evening feels like a long-delayed flutter in the chest.
The date they record is Sunday, 29 June; they do not name the year. They try to arrive ten minutes early and in fact arrive much earlier than that. Tickets are already sold out. The crowd is not only their own age: younger women and older people have come as well. The hall is Busan KBS Hall. On the way in, the official fan café is handing out glow sticks. The writer takes one, thinking the point is to wave it well, and slips it into a bag — not yet imagining they will wave it with much passion.
The opening is “J에게,” the song with which she won the grand prize at the Riverside Song Festival. After that comes “추억의 책장을 넘기면,” and then “인연,” which the writer has heard came out five years earlier. They do not list a fuller set. What they record is the volume that fills the hall to overflowing, a more emotional delivery than the recordings they remember from earlier years, and the shock of that sound coming from so small a frame.
Listening, they feel a tightness in the chest. Old days return, and they describe a shiver of recognition. The evening, for them, is less a catalogue of songs than the moment when a voice they had carried from school fills a sold-out hall in the city where they now live.
The same Korean report, at fuller length, is on CampusDown.
Last updated: 15 November 2026
The notes are a student account of Lee Sun-hee’s 30th-anniversary concert, under the heading the writer gives as “노래하는 이선희.” The date they record is Sunday, 29 June; they do not name the calendar year. The writer has left home and is living in Busan, and has already been to many cultural events there, but this evening feels like a long-delayed flutter. They try to arrive ten minutes early and in fact arrive much earlier than that. The hall is Busan KBS Hall. Tickets are already sold out. The crowd is not only the writer’s own age: younger women and older people have come as well, to see the same singer.
On the way in, the official fan café is handing out glow sticks. The writer takes one, thinking, as they put it, that the point is to wave it well, and slips it into a bag — not yet imagining they will wave it with much passion. The hall, they write, is as full as the singer’s name would lead one to expect.
The opening is “J에게,” the song with which she won the grand prize at the Riverside Song Festival. After that comes “추억의 책장을 넘기면,” and then “인연,” which the writer has heard came out five years earlier. They do not list a fuller set. What stays with them is the volume that fills the hall to overflowing, a more emotional delivery than the recordings they remember, and the shock of that sound coming from so small a frame. School days return, and they feel a tightness in the chest and a shiver of recognition.
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