"Let's Just Release It": Cultgazer on Friendship, Noise and Finding Their Own Prototype
Written by Ethan Kim (@count.kim)
Pictures by Christian Mata (@chris_isu_m)
It isn't exactly surprising that Korea keeps producing noise-rock bands. Distortion and rawness have become a language capable of conveying a multitude of emotions at once. Cultgazer fit seamlessly into this shift, yet their music doesn't feel like noise for noise's sake. There is something enduring, almost conversational, about it: calm on the surface, intense in its colouring — cult-like in the literal sense, pulling listeners gradually deeper into its own world.
Cultgazer's releases exude a certain gloom, yet in person, the band members are so radiant that their energy fills the room. Drummer Kim Gwonha is absent today, so the conversation is led by singer/guitarist Kang Taeyoung, bassist Yang Seunghui and guitarist Kim Taeyeol — three long-standing friends who chat with easy laughter and the kind of familiarity that comes from knowing each other all too well.
Their origin story is modest but specific. When asked about the name, Taeyoung admits it arrived almost accidentally. They started with a simple impulse - let's try shoegaze - and while throwing names around, Cultgazer "just came out naturally." As for their sound, they place less emphasis on genre purity and more on shared taste. "We love American alternative rock and 90s indie music," says Taeyoung, citing Dinosaur Jr. and Pavement. It's not about imitation; it's about how the ethos of those bands gets filtered through Cultgazer's own texture: DIY rawness, noise as a feeling.
Even the title of their debut EP reflects this quirky logic. Prototye looks like a typo - prototype without the second P - but Seunghui is clear that it's deliberate. Prototype is such a common word that it wouldn't stand out in search queries, she explains, so they removed a letter and made it their own. Taeyoung sums it up in the most Cultgazer way possible: they're bringing their own prototype into the world.
The stories behind individual tracks paint a more chaotic picture, partly because the members don't always remember things the same way. Taeyeol says "Mido" takes its name from the film Oldboy, written with the gravity of its central characters in mind — but Taeyoung immediately disagrees. Seunghui ends the debate with a third version: the track came first, the name came later. They do agree on the mood that made it possible. "We were all a bit depressed when it came out," says Taeyoung. Seunghui adds that it got so bad that the band even argued amongst themselves.
"ED" stems from a period when Taeyoung was deep in Sonic Youth. "The lyrics are an expression of how much I miss something and how much I regret it," he says. When the conversation drifts to nostalgia more broadly, their answers diverge. Seunghui speaks in general terms — the people they've met along the way. Taeyoung is more specific, describing an ex and songwriting as a way of pulling himself together. Taeyeol's nostalgia is gentler: he wants to go back to middle school and simply listen to more music.
For favourite tracks, two of them land on the same answer. Seunghui chooses "Pigeon", partly because she likes how her voice comes across. Taeyeol agrees: "Every time I play guitar on this song, I feel as though I'm flying away." Their reasons differ; the image is the same.
Cultgazer aren't a long-running band, but they have a clear sense of what makes them distinct. Asked what only they can do, Seunghui points to DIY — the ability to build and shape things themselves. Taeyoung complicates it: "Everyone does DIY now. So what else is there?" His answer is almost anti-myth: "Maybe our charm is that we don't really have swagger." Seunghui pushes back immediately — they do have swagger, just not the obvious kind. They also cite something more practical: they're from the same area, the same university year, they see each other nearly every day, and the line-up has never changed.
One of their clearest shared memories is the 'Delay Relay' festival in January at Strange Fruit. The invitation came via the band Navitchum, and they accepted straight away, even though they barely knew the other acts on the bill. The evening surprised them: the sound was better than expected, and there was a genuine warmth between the artists and the audience. Seunghui recalls it as the moment they were closest to the crowd. Taeyeol calls it "cosy", like a jam session. It remains their most unforgettable gig to date.
In the studio, they're still wrestling with a specific shoegaze problem: how to capture that massive live feeling in a recording. Taeyoung speaks openly about the difficulty — the constant rethinking of arrangement, the search for depth, the re-recording that went on until they reached the only conclusion some bands eventually come to: "Let's just release it."
What they want to convey has nothing to do with technique, though. Taeyoung says Cultgazer really hates putting on a front, which is why they try to show themselves as they are — friends who laugh and fool around. "We're old friends," says Seunghui. "We want to convey that natural atmosphere." She admits there can be a bit of posturing in any band, but what she wants to preserve is the ease of people who have simply carried on together.
That ease is what they're bringing to the next album. Taeyoung talks of more joy, more honesty in the mood. Taeyeol wants more playfulness. Taeyoung clarifies: cheeky, a bit ridiculous, with a touch of that Pavement/Dinosaur Jr. attitude. Seunghui says Cultgazer used to be rather serious — they still have that side, but it isn't the whole picture. She mentions slacker rock as a reference point: more air, more breathing room in the sound.
When they talk about their goals, seriousness and humour go hand in hand. Taeyoung says that one day they want to perform on a variety show because they genuinely think they're funny. Musically, the aim is simpler: to keep making music freely, like friends playing together. Cultgazer may seem cool from a distance, but up close their heart is warm. Whatever direction comes next, one thing is already clear — this friendship, and the way they listen to one another within it, is a kind of charm that no other band can replicate.
