#31 (Hyesoo Timezone | HST): Happy Stupid Time

Editor: Hye Soo Seol @hyssl.kr

(HST) Un: dead

It was early June, and a trip to Barcelona loomed ahead. Together with two friends from university—friends with whom I had once stayed up all night crafting zines and making merchandise—we had purchased full access tickets to Primavera Sound, a three-day music festival. It should’ve been a time of anticipation, but instead, I found myself adrift in a peculiar state of inertia.

Instead of packing or planning, I lay in bed, scrolling endlessly through short-form videos. I wasn’t even analyzing them for storytelling techniques or effective hooks. I was simply consuming—passively, thoughtlessly, with every light in my brain flicked off. I began to worry: could I really go on this trip without doing any real preparation? The moment I turned off my phone, I couldn’t even recall what I had just watched. I felt disgusted by the unbearable lightness of overstimulation.

So I made a quiet decision. For this trip, at least, I would live outside the confines of Greenwich Mean Time and instead operate on Hye Soo Timezone (HST). Whether the sun or the moon was up, I would seek out meaningful stimuli—pausing, savoring, and gently resetting the rhythm of my daily life.

(HST) Oh: Sh*t!

Primavera’s official schedule began a day after the festival’s opening night—an evening of small-scale performances at Parc del Fòrum, the main venue. We had our eyes set on Caribou, the Canadian electronic producer known for his experimental sounds.

But alas—we only realized at the gate that the opening night was not included in our full access passes. The show had already begun, and the day tickets were long sold out. We were devastated. For the next 30 minutes, we rode an emotional rollercoaster—scouring Facebook groups for ticket resellers, experiencing a brief moment of joy, only to be scammed out of 40 euros.

With just fifteen minutes left in the set, we made one last desperate plea. Miraculously, we were allowed in. We sprinted to the front, just in time to hear the final song: “Can’t Do Without You” The lyrics echoed something truer than I expected—had it not been for these friends, I might not have made it to this moment, to Barcelona at all. We ended the night in a group hug, overwhelmed, and grateful. It was the first note in what would become a carefully layered soundtrack of memories.

(HST) Live : as f***

The real festival began. Primavera’s scale was almost absurd: the earliest acts started around 4 PM, the final ones wrapped at 6 in the morning. Our routine became predictable—leave the Airbnb at 6 PM, return at dawn. Despite fatigue and the occasional ache, we refused to miss a set. Unlike the passive way I consumed music on Spotify, I found myself attuned to live instruments—flutes, saxophones, deep basslines vibrating through towering speakers. Under the dry Barcelona air tinged with beer and smoke, the intention behind each setlist, the stage visuals, and the performer’s presence added layers of meaning.

• Kelly Lee Owens defied my expectations. I had imagined ambient techno, subdued and dreamy—but her live show was a sensory immersion, with light and video making the space feel like a lucid dream. Her energy, even in the quietest tracks, was electric. (Performance video)

• French DJ Simo Cell expanded my understanding of what a DJ could be. He brought strange, unidentified instruments onstage—blowing into them, tapping them, crafting live sounds on the spot. The entire crowd moved—no one stood still. It felt like a modern evolution of free jazz; if Coltrane and his contemporaries ruled the improvisational 60s, maybe this era belongs to DJs like Simo Cell, who build beats in dialogue with the audience. (Unfortunately, I couldn't find the performance video. Instead, I've attached a recent in New York live performance video from Lot Radio )

• Floating Points performed alongside visual artist Akiko Nakayama. As vivid, fluid colors spilled across the screen, their swirling patterns matched the rise and fall of each soundwave—blurring the lines between sight and sound. (Performance video)

And then there was HAIM, a band run by three sisters, with a sunset in the background around 8 PM. As they performed, I found myself choking up. Maybe it was the contrast: just days before, I had felt like a drifting jellyfish. But here I was—every sense engaged, profoundly alive. I felt thankful for the safety and stillness that had allowed this moment to happen. I wanted to keep listening. I wanted to keep feeling. The experience cracked something open in me.

"I’m alive."

(HST) Jet lagged : Happy

Throughout the festival, I danced through all different genres—electronic, dream pop, indie pop, space rock. Since it wasn’t a concert with a single headliner, I discovered countless new artists and tracks. Even after Primavera ended, my personal version continued. On the flight home, I rewatched performance videos and quietly vowed to build the mental and emotional muscles needed to show up for the people I care about.

“All I want in life’s a little bit of love to take the pain away.”
—Spiritualized, “Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space”

I was also gently scolded into reflection. What do I really want to achieve in the next decade?

“If you built yourself a myth, you’d know just what to give,
Materialize, or let the ashes fly.”
—Beach House, “Myth”

These weren’t groundbreaking epiphanies. They’d been floating in my subconscious for a while. But hearing them through someone else’s language and sound made them resonate anew. On the one hand, I listened slowly to Charli XCX's Brat album, track by track, which is still talked about even after a year since its release, and tried to understand why people of this era are so enthusiastic about it and the emotional knots behind it. Then I’d flip the switch—headbang to Simo Cell’s chaotic, percussive “farts,” shaking loose the last bits of thought clutter. Of course, there were stages I missed. I’ll never get to witness FKA twigs pole-dancing live, and that still stings. But I plan to spend the rest of the year digging deeper into the Primavera moments I did experience. Rather than rushing from one hit of stimulation to the next, I want to stay with each feeling just a little longer. To savor it in HST.

Barcelona and Primavera sent me home with a message. Not just to listen to music, but to live more often in that sensorial aliveness. To think more. To debate more. To love harder—even if it feels foolish.