How sweet is freedom

Decoding the latest NewJeans' drop

A mantra of freedom, an incantation for emancipation. This is precisely what “How Sweet”, NewJeans’ latest single, is. Freedom from what? Or freedom to do what? Listen to—no, indulge yourself in—the song first and then follow along as I explore:

a) why “How Sweet” is a narrative celebrating newfound liberty (part I)

b) what the freedom espoused in NewJeans’ musical narrative signifies from a larger industry standpoint (part II—coming soon)

Done savoring the audio? Now watch the visual narrative (MV) here and let’s navigate through yet another planet in the NewJeansverse.

Freedom moves forward

First, the synopsis: the beginning of “How Sweet” has us looking out from the perspective of a dog nosing its way towards a red car with smoke billowing out from the bonnet. NewJeans is inside, surprise surprise, surveying the situation at hand with a playful irreverence that suggests the accident is perhaps not an accident. The girls proceed to drink Coke, march down a deserted highway, dance in front of a CCTV, a set of rail tracks, a neighborhood street, attempt to hitchhike, ogle at a lamp display, and end the day perched on top of a towing truck.

The enumerated list of actions doesn’t yield anything extraordinary. However, we’re not here to stop at surface-level scratching. We’re here to dig deep. As such, this mission should compel us to laser focus our attention on three narrative devices: a) the car metaphor b) water motifs c) multiplicity in perspectives. Each device adds a layer of subtlety onto a visual narrative that welds generic post-breakup sentiment with musical iconoclasm.

a) the car metaphor

The most basic function of a car is to move forward. It’s a mechanical device that transports a person from point A to point B—from the predictable present to a calculated future. However, the car that we see NewJeans stranded in is defunct; it sits to the side of a road, enveloped in chemical fumes.

NewJeans’ defunct hatchback sits to the side of the road

The car’s stagnancy, when juxtaposed against the song’s lyrics—"Ya don't you know how sweet it tastes Now that I'm without you”—symbolizes an end to a toxic relationship. That relationship could be romantic, as the lyrics indicate, or corporate. Ehem, HYBE vs. ADOR. The floor is open for discussion. Regardless of which is the case, the car’s halted state insinuates an abortion of progress. The girls are done. No more agonizing over a relationship that drains one of positivity, energy, life. The car is broken.

This end is, of course, not an actual end. It’s a door to the next chapter in life. Temporal continuity is hinted at in the scenes in which the girls skip lackadaisically down a deserted highway.

The road on which they push forward stretches on endlessly. Viewers aren’t shown where it’s headed or where it stops. Such absence of a definitive end insinuates that NewJeans is on a journey. The vastness of this journey is spatially configured through aerial shots that depict the girls as tiny specks—a pod of souls maneuvering through life. Viewers are suddenly thrown up into the position of a semi-omniscient Other that watches over the girls from above. If you peer closely enough, you’ll notice the shadow of a bird—an eagle?—trailing behind them, a totemistic figure imbued with the spirit of those who wish to protect NewJeans from further plight.

That the girls are owners of their fate, whether good or bad, is conveyed through a failed hitch hike.

failures exist because of hope

A cattle farmer drives by the wandering girls, who each strike a cute comical pose for him, to no avail. Overlooking the impossibility of such an encounter (like who would snub NewJeans), this scene relays to viewers how there is no magical exit to life’s problems. No one is going to bail the girls out from their recent mishap. They’ll have to be resilient if they want to get back on the road. Just like everyone else. As such, NewJeans’ unsuccessful attempt to solicit external aid illustrates how the girls must weather through on their own. Again, parallels can be drawn between the fictional “How Sweet” narrative and NewJeans’ real life drama with Hitman Bang; the girls are in an icky situation that denies easy extrication. However, if we transpose the girls’ blissful response towards the farmer’s rejection—carefree laughter—into reality, we can expect them to overcome the current HYBE-ADOR fiasco with steeling optimism.

b) water motifs

NewJeans’ journey in “How Sweet” is underpinned by a theme of spiritual rebirth. Water motifs, which manifest in the form of a sprinkler and a surreal duck-filled pond, illustrate the need for emotional purge. During the first chorus, the girls dance next to a sprinkler that shoots an arc of water over them and the car. The role of the sprinkler is two-fold. Functionally, it serves to prevent the hatchback from catching on fire and concluding the story on a smoldering note. Symbolically, it signifies how the girls are stepping away from an abusive past and are showering themselves in water’s healing properties. They are practicing the art of letting go. The glimpse of a rainbow caught on camera as it swerves up augurs a happier future for the grooving quintet.

The allusion to bathing resurfaces in the scene where the girls dance submerged in a body of water reminiscent of a pond under moonlight. Void of anything except for nine white-feathered ducks, the setting’s dark sterility suggests the girls are in a spiritual realm, engaged in inner dialogue. The way in which the camera pans out onto this vacuous plane after traveling down the brightly lit throat of an iguana lends credence to the introverted nature of this space. Tuned inward, NewJeans is oblivious to the outside world as they reconnect with the voices, the thoughts, the feelings they have been long repressing. Minji professes “더는 안 봐 (no longer looking at) drama it's good karma”, implying that the girls are closing themselves off for some quality me-time. Nothing can penetrate this private space or infiltrate this intimate moment, save the family of ducks loitering in the background.

The ducks represent an ever present and fickle Id that presides over the girls’ unconsciousness. Where they will drift off to next—no one knows. The Id refuses to be understood. However, what is clear is that the ducks denote vitality; their movement sends ripples down the pond, imparting an evanescence to the current reflective state. Impermanence is the norm here, a nod to the mercurial fluidity of the human mind. Likewise, the girls are immersed in temporary retreat. When they stop dancing, as they do at the end of the MV, they will re-emerge stronger and healed—as reflected in the determined faces gazing up at the camera. And the ducks will continue to swim, engendering a new wave of thoughts and wants that pulsates through each of the members.

the white dots in the background are ducks

c) multiplicity of perspectives

The camera work for “How Sweet'“ adopts a variety of angles to unfold the visual narrative. Perspectives shift from curious doggo, sky ruling eagle, random passerby to stoic CCTV.

The effect of having multiple perspectives is that it humanizes the subject under scrutiny. Transparency is born from multiplicity. There is no singular lens through which NewJeans is thrust onto a pedestal that polarizes. Instead, the girls are mediated through a diverse range of angles, all steeped in quotidian casualness, that liberates them from a pre-scripted narrative of idolation. There is nothing awe-inspiring about making eye-contact with an awkwardly waving Hyein or watching the girls run about randomly on an overpass. These are all things regular teens do when hanging out with friends. There is nothing to lionize here. We perceive NewJeans as a group of individuals, not a posse of otherworldly figures who radiate an alien grace.

From another standpoint, the multiplicity of perspectives evokes a Carl Sagan-esque epiphany. NewJeans, their plight, our voyeuristic gaze are all but tiny stitches sewn onto the great blanket of life. The four lens stated above—dog, aerial, passerby, CCTV—all highlight how the girls are very much embedded in a larger world that exists outside of a carefully constructed artistic frame. The dog sniffs out something “sweet”, the random Coke and NewJeans’ newfound freedom; the aerial predator surveils the quintet’s ant-like inch forward; the passersby throw a lazy glance at the girls before resuming their daily chores; the CCTV records the girls blending into the cadence of street life. In short, NewJeans is stripped of fame and glam and reduced to an anonymous Another.

Such reductionism is in contrast to the creativism present in other music videos such as “OMG”, “New Jeans”, “Cool With You” where both the girls and the camera seek to reify a fictional world with a verisimilitude that imparts believability onto fantastical elements. These realms compel audiences to imagine, to imbibe. Nothing lies beyond these self-contained worlds. “How Sweet”, however, deviates from this scheme by pursuing a mundanity that reminds the audience that NewJeans, for all its shapeshifting abilities, is simply a group of girls on the cusp of womanhood trying to make sense of a life that extends outwards into the cosmos.

“How Sweet” scales down NewJeans’ superstar status to reflect how they are but a dot in the universe, much like you, me, Min, Bang. An anonymous Another that resonates with people in odd, nostalgic ways. It is this negligibility—this reversion towards normalcy—that, when paired with the girls’ casual youth, gives rise to a freedom that empowers in its transparency.