술이 문제야

This is a comedy of misery, and Giriboy performs it with the timing of someone who has made peace with his own self-destruction. The production leans into a loping, slightly woozy groove — something about the swing of the drums mimics the unsteady gait of a man who's had three too many — while synth lines drift in and out with the unfocused quality of a hazy evening. His delivery is impeccable here: comic exaggeration timed perfectly, self-pity delivered with such cheerful commitment that it tips into something almost triumphant. The song's central joke — that alcohol keeps being blamed for everything while the protagonist keeps reaching for the bottle — works because Giriboy never fully commits to either self-condemnation or self-defense, hovering in the genuinely funny middle ground where most actual drunken reflection happens. Underneath the humor there's something recognizable: the way substances become a convenient villain for behavior we don't fully understand about ourselves. This is quintessential late-night Seoul bar culture, the kind of song that gets louder every time it comes on the speaker and someone says "this is literally me." Best experienced between the third and fifth drink, preferably surrounded by people who've heard it a hundred times.