Stray Kids “Hollow” Review

Stray Kids is honestly the reason why I’m a K-pop stan right now… “MANIAC” was one of the first K-pop songs that I truly loved and enjoyed, and I guess the rest is history. But recently, I’ve also been falling out of love with Stray Kids…their most recent releases, “Chk Chk Boom” and “HOP” were too show-offy for my liking. I thought I’d lost Stray Kids for good…but now, Stray Kids has released “Hollow.”

Oh my God. “Hollow” sounds, feels, and looks like the earlier “Stray Kids” works I fell in love with…

Concept/Message: 4

The main message of “Hollow” is that success cannot buy happiness. They “keep on running,” as the lyrics say, but still feel “hollow.” They get awarded a crystal necklace in the M/V, but that crystal is nothing but shiny–it holds nothing but empty hollowness. Despite all their achievements, they yearn for something that can “fill [them] up with love”.

It’s a very, very timely theme–and one that hits close to home for me, as someone who grew up in a competitive school environment. It’s also one that I agree with wholeheartedly…not to sound cheesy, but sometimes, in the pursuit of the lure of awards, we forget that the truly important things in life are love, happiness, and the people around us–not the impressiveness of our resumes.

Visuals: 5

The. Amount. Of. Symbolism. And. Storytelling. In. This. Video—

Before I get into all that, though–can someone please give Stray Kids’ stylists a huge raise? Who knew that flowers on suits could look so, so good…the guys literally look ethereal…

Okay, now back to the actual video. I watched this video like 8 times before I felt confident I understood it (honestly, there’s still some parts in here that I don’t completely get). I think there’s just so much going on in this video that I have to narrate it, scene by scene, to clearly explain it:

So we start with the guys performing on stage. But there’s strings attached to their limbs, stretching high up into the ceiling–like puppet strings. It’s as if the guys are being controlled by something–their every move is being directed by the strings attached to them.

We start finding out what that something is when we switch to the next scene, which is a room full of trophies. If you look closely at the certificates on the walls, you’ll notice they have the members’ names on them–they’re Stray Kids’ awards. The guys are then given an award–a crystal necklace–by a guy dressed in a black jumpsuit.

Those crystals on the necklaces, then, symbolize awards. The fact that they’re shiny, yet utterly hollow relay a message: awards look attractive, but in reality, they’re meaningless. They don’t give you true happiness or love. Success cannot buy happiness.

Pair this with the puppet strings that we saw earlier–and I think Stray Kids is trying to say that a I-just-want-to-win achievement culture controls and constricts you. If all you want is awards, if all that motivates you to do anything is a trophy or a plaque, you start doing things not because you genuinely want to or because you’re passionate about it–but just because you want that praise and recognition. You start being disingenuous and hollow–you let your ego and not your heart to take your feet forward.

Then they switch scenes to a street corner, where every member is given a bucket and sent off to find those crystals. Again, I think this is trying to relay a message: if the street corner symbolizes life (as roads often do), then their obsession with filling up those buckets and finding crystals comments on how for a lot of people, their main goal in life is to achieve. But of course, the main message of this song is that achievements are “hollow”–Stray Kids is trying to point out that this sort of goal is not the best one, that achievements should not be one’s sole goal in life.

Okay. The next part is the the craziest part. Seungmin, who seems to be the most successful of them all in finding those crystals (his bucket is literally overflowing with them), finds this crystal orb thing in a flap on the side of a building. He holds it up and seems fascinated by it. Then, the next thing we know, we switch to Han standing in the light, and then Lee Know grabs into Han’s chest and yanks an orb just like that out, as if it’s his heart.

Okay–I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I’ve interpreted it this way: that this orb thing still represents awards–just as all the other crystals have in this video. But the fact that they equated this award with Han’s heart? I think that shows that they’re trying to say that Han had become so possessed by the achievement culture mindset that his heart started to become just as hollow as those awards too. His genuine passion and creativity had become replaced by the cold, selfish desire for praise and recognition. It had become as worthless as a random object you could find on the side of a building. And the fact that Lee Know literally just yanked his heart out–I think that’s also trying to say that the achievement culture mindset makes people heartless. It makes people willing to go to any measure–humane or not–to get some recognition.

After that scene we have the fall–Han falls to the ground with what looks like a bloody wound on his chest. Then Hyunjin falls from the sky. It seems like I.N falls too–we see him laying down on tiles, with a broken parachute tied to his back.

I think this signals a “fall from success”–a time period where the guys temporarily step away from the unhealthy achievement culture mindset. I became more sure of this when I saw that when Hyunjin falls, the crystal necklace he was wearing on his neck breaks–the very thing that symbolizes awards breaks. They have stopped trying to get awards.

And then–the guys perform on stage again. Except this time, there’s no more puppet strings. This time, they’re all back to life. And this time, they give their most powerful and passionate rendition of the chorus yet.

I think this comes back to their message that achievement culture sucks the life out of you–once the guys leave the achievement mindset, they are full of life and able to perform again.

And then…the very last scene. The guys run on stage to perform. Felix, however, stays back. He scoops up a bunch of crystals from the backstage floor. I think these are the crystal necklaces–the ones they were awarded at the beginning of the music video.

The fact that they’re on the floor, then, signals that the guys have given up the award and the achievement culture that comes along with it. That’s why they can run onto stage, uncontrolled and free–they are truly passionate about performing and making music, without any external reward to motivate them. Felix then looks at the camera–he’s asking the audience to ponder their theme and message.

Guys–this is the longest explanation I’ve ever done for a music video. Whoever directed and made the storyline for this video needs a humongous raise too. This is by far one of the deepest, most complex K-pop M/Vs I’ve come across. “Hollow” strings a ton of storytelling elements and symbolic imagery in order to relay their central theme: success is hollow without genuine love and passion.

Lyrics: no score.

Haha–after writing a humongous explanation for the Visual section, I’m here writing like three sentences for the lyrics–because I can’t say much. Though the chorus was in English, it was basically just “hollow” repeated over and over again–this song was basically all Japanese. I know no Korean and certainly no Japanese, so I really can’t assess the quality of their lyrics 😦

Music: 4.5

Honestly, the biggest reason why I love this song so much is this–the music. We already know that Stray Kids is capable of making really deep M/Vs with really complex messages. But this melodic, hearty kind of song is something that I’ve missed dearly from Stray Kids…while their more “bombastic” stuff is definitely cool, it’s just not for me. “Hollow” brings me back to Stray Kids’ earlier works, which I love.

The extra .5 comes from Hyunjin’s bridge. Yes, I loved it that much. He’s gentle, and his delivery is poignant–it hits you in the feels and it so effectively prepares the listener for the more powerful last chorus.