Goodbye Now (이젠 안녕)

"이젠 안녕" is the song that closes Korean rooms — graduations, year-ends, the last night of military service. 015B, the studio project of Jung Seok-won and Jang Ho-il built around a rotating cast of guest vocalists, frames farewell not as grief but as the warm ache of moving forward. The arrangement is bright early-90s synth-pop with a live band's swing: chiming keys, a buoyant bassline, hand-played drums that never sulk. The genius is the chorus — a crowd of voices piling onto "안녕, 안녕, 안녕," turning a private goodbye into a collective ritual where everyone in the room becomes a chorus member. Verses are sung tenderly, almost conversational, recalling shared days and admitting that parting is part of growing up; the lyric refuses bitterness and chooses gratitude. Vocally it favors clean, unaffected tone over melisma, which is why generations can sing along without strain. Culturally it became Korea's default farewell anthem, outliving its era to soundtrack countless real endings. The listening scenario is communal and slightly tearful: arms around shoulders, a school auditorium, a New Year's countdown, the moment before people scatter. It works because it holds two feelings at once — the sweetness of what was, and a clear-eyed, hopeful wave toward whatever comes next.