Samuel Seo is one of Korea’s most respected and genre-defying musicians, known for his soulful fusion of R&B, jazz and hip-hop. Samuel is a creative singer-songwriter, rapper and producer. Raised across continents – including time in Japan, Canada and the United States – Samuel brings a rich global perspective to his work. Since his debut, Samuel has carved out a unique space in the Korean music scene.
In this exclusive interview Samuel opens up about his journey as an artist. As a voice for creative freedom in Korea’s fast paced entertainment world, this conversation offers rare insights into the mind of a musician who dares to evolve.
The following are excerpts with him from an email interview from June 16-30.
1.You’ve lived in several countries growing up—how did your international background shape your perspective on music?
Everyone feels things differently, but in my case, I often feel like I don’t quite belong anywhere. As I get older, I realize more and more how much childhood environments shape a person’s lifelong values. When you're exposed to multiple cultures early on, instead of having a firm foundation, you often grow up constantly questioning what’s “right.” But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Being able to experience a wide range of perspectives helps develop a much broader way of thinking. In that sense, I feel fortunate. One of the biggest advantages is the access to information. You're not boxed into just one country’s perspective, which gives you more freedom to explore and understand the world.
2. What first drew you to R&B, soul, and hip-hop, and how did you discover your sound?
There wasn’t a specific moment. It just happened naturally. Looking back, those were the genres that had the most impact on me among all the music I listened to growing up. But that doesn’t mean I like all R&B, soul, or hip-hop. Actually, I wouldn’t even say I prefer one genre over another. I’m more captivated by the sonic balance in music from the '60s to the '90s. When you listen to those records, everything feels organic. There’s no over-editing or over-processing—it mostly depends on the skill of the performers. That natural quality, and what musicians today often call the “warmth” of analog, that’s what I connect with. It’s not that the sound is literally warm, but there’s something comforting in the imperfect, deteriorated recordings of that era. That sense of rawness has always made me feel at ease.

3. Looking back, what was the turning point that convinced you to pursue music full time?
There wasn’t a clear reason. I’ve always pictured myself making music ever since I was a kid, and I just followed that current. I used to try to come up with a specific moment when people asked this question, but when I really think about it, I just liked sound. As a child, I was always listening closely to the sounds around me, and I felt happy when those sounds came together to form music. Growing up in an Asian family, it was almost taboo to suggest any career outside the expected path. So, it took me a long time to accept that this version of me was okay.
4. Is there a specific song or album that you feel represents your artistic identity the most?
Every project means a lot to me, but none of them quite match the vision I have in mind. If I had to pick one that comes close, it would be the UNITY II EP. It was one of my first projects where I intentionally tried to avoid digital processing during the production. It doesn’t have the sharp, upfront character that a lot of modern music has but the album is full of round, soft sounds, which is its defining quality.
5. In what ways do you feel your music connects to or reflects modern Korean culture?
Unfortunately, I don’t think it really connects to Korean culture in a direct way. I just use the Korean language to express my own perspective. If the music were to truly reflect Korean culture, the tone and emotional framework would have to be very different. I think people who listen to Korean music will understand what I mean.
6. As someone who often bridges global genres with Korean sensibility, how do you see your role in Korea’s evolving music scene?
I see myself as someone who carries on the legacy of analog’s disappearing beauty. My role, in the long run, is to become an analog guru, someone who preserves and evolves that aesthetic.
7. What can fans look forward to in the near future? Any new projects, collaborations, or goals you’d like to share?
There are a few things in progress. But most of them will be spontaneous releases—things I put out when the inspiration hits. The real highlight will be my studio album. That’s the one I consider my main project.
8. What advice would you give to young artists trying to find their voice?
A lot of young musicians reach out to me asking for advice. And except for a few, most of them tend to think along the same lines. They often say things like “I want to be like so-and-so.” I get it—I used to do that too. But I’ve learned that it’s not always helpful. There’s a clear difference between being inspired and becoming a copy. I hope they figure that out sooner rather than later. Also, many young artists are easily swayed by what people around them say things like “You can’t do this,” or “Don’t do it that way.” I’m not saying you should ignore everyone, but you should develop the ability to reflect on yourself critically and trust yourself more than the noise around you. One last thing, I’d say the most important thing is to surround yourself with positive, forward-thinking people. You have to protect your own happiness before anything else.
Samuel Seo continues to be a rare voice in Korea’s music industry. As Korean culture reaches wider global audiences, artists like Samuel help diversify the conversation, proving that creativity and depth can thrive alongside mainstream success.
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