Show notes
The biggest band you’ve never heard of
If you want to impress your children, tell them you listen to this South Korean boyband
Feb 26th 2026|6 min read
WHO MADE the second-highest-selling album in the world last year? (There are no prizes for correctly guessing who claimed the top spot—it was Taylor Swift.) You may be tempted to name a pop juggernaut such as Lady Gaga or Justin Bieber. Country-music fans might opt for Morgan Wallen. Lovers of Latin music might volunteer Bad Bunny, the star of the Super Bowl half-time show.
All those answers are wrong. The right one is Stray Kids, a South Korean boyband. You might find this perplexing, because Stray Kids sounds like a clothing line or an after-school club. Chances are you cannot name one of their hits, never mind hum one of their punchy dubstep- and electronic-inflected tunes.
But there are millions of people across the world who can. Stray Kids are** fully fledged** superstars. The band has more than 10.5bn views on YouTube and almost 2bn likes on TikTok. Fans have spent some 21m hours—roughly equivalent to 2,400 years—feasting on a track called “God’s Menu” on Spotify. In November “DO IT” became their eighth album or ep (extended play) to reach number one on the Billboard 200 chart. It is a feat not even BTS, another K-pop group with far superior name recognition, have accomplished.
Stray Kids’s recent stadium tour, “dominATE”, lived up to its name, with revenues of almost $200m. A concert film was released in cinemas at the beginning of February. For one weekend, it was the highest-grossing movie in the world.
The band is not an overnight success. The eight members had been working on their skills as singers, rappers and dancers in K-pop’s intensive training system long before they joined the band in 2017. That year a reality-television show chronicled Stray Kids’s transformation from a gaggle of novice, nervous youngsters—during shows members would drop their microphones and mess up the words—into a well-oiled entertainment machine. The show was a canny marketing technique; their debut single, “Hellevator”, was released to coincide with its broadcast.
But the group’s global breakout came later, in 2020, with the release of “God’s Menu”, a cacophony of sirens, thudding beats and aggressive vocals. (Throughout, the members mimic the sound of gunshots: “DU DU DU DU DU DU”.) The music video, displaying sharp dance moves and even sharper editing, went viral.
Stray Kids’s success is not the result of child’s play. They have prospered for two reasons. One is a defiantly original sound. From the start Stray Kids eschewed the effervescent tunes preferred by their K-pop rivals in favour of something much rowdier. (Some call it “noise music”, which does a disservice to the catchy hooks and tuneful bridges.) The frenetic trap-pop style made them outliers, but over time has won them admirers. Stray Kids’s followers—around 75% of whom are female, according to Chartmetric, a music-data firm—find it thrilling. “We made it on our own,” the band declares. “We do what we wanna do.”
This is all by design. In 2017 Bang Chan, the group’s leader, selected each member himself from the trainees at JYP Entertainment, a record label. Normally it is music executives who put bands together and it can result in groups that lack chemistry. But Bang Chan picked performers who suited his boisterous style. For instance, Felix, a rapper, has a deep, gravelly voice that lends a distinctive texture to songs.
And whereas other K-pop groups may be assigned tracks by their label, leading to variations in style across albums, Stray Kids write most of their music themselves. Three members, working as a group called 3RACHA, handle the music production. Their songwriting approach is guided by recurring “melodic symbols” within tracks, Changbin, one member, has said. Fans can repeat these leitmotifs even if there is a language barrier. Watch “dominATE” and you will see hordes of women screaming “LA-LA-LA-LA” or “MANIAC” on beat.
The other reason for their success is Stray Kids’s relationship with those fans. For though their music is gritty, their public image is anything but. The band members wear makeup and paint their nails. They sport designer clothes. (It is a miracle their concert outfits did not precipitate a global shortage of rhinestones and sequins.) Stray Kids demonstrate a more progressive kind of manhood, says Ray Seol of Berklee College of Music. “It’s the Korean way of masculinity…it’s very different from the Western way,” Mr Seol says. “Fans love to see this kind of stuff.”
The members also cultivate an air of authenticity. (K-pop fans are attuned to engagement they feel is “fake” or done at the behest of a record label.) The group regularly chats with fans online via livestreams, with special broadcasts for birthdays and other major events; Stray Kids also take fans behind the scenes, sharing songs-in-progress. This creates a sense of proximity and allows fans to feel that they have a direct relationship with their idols.
Stray Kids chat about their feelings, particularly feelings of anxiousness. In the “dominATE” film every single member talks to the camera about one insecurity or another. Hyunjin says it took him a long time to accept that being vulnerable was acceptable, to realise that “A wounded blade of grass smells sweeter.”
This sensitive side comes out in their music. Their lyrics express the concerns of young listeners starting to make their way in the world. (A large majority of the fanbase is aged 13-24.) “My Pace” talks about the perils of comparing yourself with others. “Grow Up” reassures listeners that they are “doing fine”: “Even adults make mistakes.” Nicole Ohiomah-Paul, a teenage fan from London, says that she “didn’t really like to show [her] emotions” for fear of seeming weak. But Stray Kids have taught her that it “is part of who we are. We’re human.”
**Stray Kids exemplify a generational divide **that has long existed in culture. Since the dawn of popular music, parents have been perplexed by what their offspring bop along to in their bedrooms. This has been heightened with the advent of streaming, as listeners can access tracks written by anyone, anywhere.
The scale of Stray Kids’s success demonstrates just how much the media landscape has changed in the 21st century. In decades past, television shows, radio stations and newspapers were music’s kingmakers: they decided which acts were worth exposure and listeners’ time. They could boost careers or throttle them.
That is no longer the case: “Consumers are the new broadcasters,” says Will Page, a former chief economist at Spotify. Stray Kids have had relatively little attention from traditional outlets, but they have still won fans from Seoul to Sydney and São Paulo. “We make the rules,” the band asserts on “MEGAVERSE”, and “our music echoes through the galaxy.” ■
你從未聽說過的全球最強天團
如果你想讓孩子對你刮目相看，告訴他們你也在聽這支韓國男團。
去年的全球專輯銷量亞軍是誰？（第一名毫無懸念由泰勒絲奪冠）。你可能會直覺想到女神卡卡（Lady Gaga）或小賈斯汀（Justin Bieber）等流行巨頭；鄉村音樂迷可能會選摩根·沃倫（Morgan Wallen）；拉丁音樂愛好者則可能推舉超級盃中場秀巨星 Bad Bunny。
這些答案都錯了。正確答案是 Stray Kids，一支韓國男團。你可能會感到困惑，因為「Stray Kids」聽起來像個服裝品牌或課後社團。你很可能連他們的一首熱門歌曲都叫不出來，更別提哼出那些富有打擊感、融合了迴響貝斯（dubstep）與電子樂元素的旋律。
然而，全球有數百萬人對他們瞭如指掌。Stray Kids 是名副其實的超級巨星：他們在 YouTube 上的觀看次數超過 105 億次，TikTok 上的按讚數近 20 億。粉絲們在 Spotify 上聆聽《神選菜單》（God’s Menu）這首歌的時間總計約 2,100 萬小時——相當於 2,400 年。去年 11 月，《DO IT》成為他們第八張登上 Billboard 200 榜首的專輯或迷你專輯（EP），這是一項連知名度更高的 K-pop 團體 BTS 都未曾達成的壯舉。
Stray Kids 最近的體育場巡迴演唱會「dominATE」人如其名，創造了近 2 億美元的營收。2 月初上映的演唱會電影，更曾蟬聯週末全球票房冠軍。
他們的成功並非一蹴而就。在 2017 年成軍前，八位成員就在 K-pop 嚴苛的練習生體系中磨練唱跳與饒舌技能。當年的實境節目記錄了他們從一群青澀緊張的青少年——當時他們還會在表演中掉麥克風或忘詞——蛻變為精準運作的娛樂機器的過程。該節目是一場精明的行銷，首支單曲《Hellevator》便配合節目播出同步發行。
但他們真正的全球突破是在 2020 年，憑藉《神選菜單》一曲成名。這首歌融合了警報聲、沉重的鼓點與侵略性的唱腔，成員們在副歌中模仿槍聲（DU DU DU DU DU DU）。其舞蹈動作俐落、剪輯銳利的音樂錄影帶隨即在網路瘋傳。
Stray Kids 的成功並非兒戲，主要歸功於兩大原因。首先是標新立異的音樂風格。他們從一開始就捨棄了 K-pop 對手偏好的輕快旋律，轉而追求更為狂放、喧鬧的曲風。雖然有人稱之為「噪音音樂」，但這顯然忽略了其中朗朗上口的記憶點與動聽的過渡段落。這種狂躁的 Trap-pop 風格讓他們成為異類，卻也隨著時間贏得大批擁護者。據數據公司 Chartmetric 統計，其粉絲約 75% 為女性，她們對此深感震撼。正如樂團所宣言：「我們靠自己成功，我們只做想做的事。」
這一切都在計畫之中。2017 年，隊長方燦從 JYP 娛樂的練習生中親自挑選成員。通常團體是由高層湊合而成，往往缺乏化學反應，但方燦挑選的是能契合他豪放風格的表演者。例如，饒舌擔當 Felix 那深沉渾厚的嗓音，為歌曲增添了獨特的質感。
此外，其他 K-pop 團體通常由經紀公司分配曲目，導致風格參差不齊；但 Stray Kids 大部分音樂皆為自創。由三位成員組成的「3RACHA」負責音樂製作。成員彰彬曾表示，他們的創作受歌曲中反覆出現的「旋律符號」引導。即便有語言隔閡，粉絲仍能跟著這些主導動機（leitmotifs）唱和。在「dominATE」現場，你會看到成千上萬的女性隨著節奏尖叫「LA-LA-LA-LA」或「MANIAC」。
第二個成功關鍵是他們與粉絲的關係。雖然音樂風格硬核，但他們的公眾形象卻極其細膩。成員們化妝、塗指甲油，身著設計師服飾（他們的表演服幾乎快造成全球水鑽與亮片的短缺）。伯克利音樂學院的 Ray Seol 指出，Stray Kids 展現了一種更進步的「男子氣概」——這是一種不同於西方、帶有韓國特色的陽剛之美，深受粉絲喜愛。
成員們也努力營造真實感。K-pop 粉絲對於「虛假」或應公司要求的互動非常敏銳。該團體定期透過直播與粉絲聊天，舉辦生日特輯，並分享創作過程的幕後花絮。這創造了一種親近感，讓粉絲覺得自己與偶像之間有著直接聯繫。
Stray Kids 也常談論心理感受，尤其是焦慮感。在「dominATE」紀錄片中，每位成員都對著鏡頭傾訴自己的不安全感。鉉辰提到，他花了很長時間才接受「展現脆弱」是沒問題的，並體悟到「受傷的青草聞起來更香」。這種感性也體現在音樂中。他們的歌詞觸及了年輕聽眾（13-24 歲的主力粉絲群）初入社會的煩憂。《My Pace》探討了與他人比較的危險，《Grow Up》則安撫聽眾：「即便大人也會犯錯，你已經做得很好了。」一位倫敦的青少年粉絲說，她以前因害怕顯得軟弱而不敢表達情感，但 Stray Kids 教會她：情感是人類的一部分。
Stray Kids 體現了文化中長期存在的世代鴻溝。自流行音樂誕生以來，父母總是對孩子在房間裡聽的音樂感到困惑。隨著串流媒體的興起，聽眾可以隨時隨地獲取任何人的作品，這種現象更加顯著。
Stray Kids 的巨大成功反映了 21 世紀媒體的巨變。在過去幾十年，電視、廣播和報紙是音樂界的「造王者」：他們決定誰值得曝光，進而左右歌手的興衰。
但現在情況已大不相同。Spotify 前首席經濟學家 Will Page 表示：「消費者就是新的廣播員。」Stray Kids 雖然相對較少受到傳統媒體關注，卻依然從首爾、雪梨一路紅到聖保羅。正如他們在《MEGAVERSE》中所言：「規矩由我們制定，我們的音樂迴盪在銀河之中。」
小分享:奧茲維新集中營的叛亂
The Great Sonderkommando Revolt of 1944
Article written by:Sky HISTORY
WW2
On 7 October 1944, the inhuman tyranny of Auschwitz was suddenly challenged in the most astounding way. A group of prisoners, known as the Sonderkommando, fought back against the SS, in an act of rebellion that shocked their complacent captors. So just what was the Sonderkommando, and how did they orchestrate their uprising?
The Sonderkommando
In a place that was as close to Hell as anything that has ever existed on Earth, the men of the Sonderkommando inhabited their own special circle of anguish. They weren't just prisoners – they were forced to assist in the mass killings of other prisoners. Largely made up of Jews, the Sonderkommando were men deemed fit and able enough to help the Nazis process new arrivals – shepherding them from the trains, giving them false reassurance, leading them to the gas chambers and disposing of the mountains of corpses in the crematoria. Some of these corpses were of their own friends and relatives.
They had no say in the matter – their choice was either to do as they were told, or face a swift execution themselves. It was a queasy, morally sickening position to be forced into – particularly as the men of the Sonderkommando were granted special privileges like better (or at least, less disgusting) living quarters, more food and "perks" like cigarettes and medicines. They were also less likely to be arbitrarily gunned down just because a Nazi officer felt like it.
The sense of being forced into being "collaborators" was too much for the men to bear. One Sonderkommando prisoner who would survive the genocide, Filip Muller, later recounted how he his crushing feeling of guilt led him to follow one group of prisoners right into the gas chamber. As he put it, one of the girls in the doomed group stopped him, saying "We must die, but you still have a chance to save your life. You have to return to the camp and tell everybody about our last hours… They ought to fight, that's better than dying here helplessly."
Of course, death for the Sonderkommando was still inevitable – it was simply postponed. Their slave labour meant they knew the truth of the camp and the industrialised slaughter taking place there. That in turn meant they had to be regularly slaughtered themselves, to make way for a new "generation" of Sonderkommando. It was the 12th generation who would rise up against their cruel masters.
The October revolt
The Sonderkommando uprising wasn't some spontaneous outburst of anger against the SS. It was a carefully thought-out plan that overcame incredible logistical odds. And some of the key players were female Jewish prisoners working in a munitions factory within the sprawling Auschwitz complex.
In the months leading up to October, these women had painstakingly smuggled gunpowder from the factory to the secret resistance movement within the Sonderkommando. They used ingenious techniques, like hiding the tiny packages of powder in the false bottoms of food trays, and even in the nooks of corpses being sent to the crematoria. All the while enduring the nerve-jangling possibility of being found out.
The gunpowder was used by the Sonderkommando to create makeshift bombs and grenades. This careful preparation came to a head on 7 October, when – during a roll call – one of the prisoners calmly walked up to a Nazi officer and with a triumphant "Hurrah!" struck him with a hammer.
What followed was chaos, as the SS found themselves attacked on all sides by prisoners brandishing hammers, knives and explosives. According to accounts, one SS guard noted for his extreme sadism was nonchalantly thrown into a crematorium oven alive. Some of the prisoners also cut their way through the barbed wire to flee into the woods, while the SS opened fire with machine guns.
It was a brief, delicious taste of vengeance for the Sonderkommando, killing three SS men and injuring around a dozen. But, inevitably, the Nazis crushed the revolt. The escaped prisoners were recaptured and executed. Hundreds of Sonderkommando prisoners were massacred, as were the brave women who helped them.
But, despite all of this, some knew that the tide would turn again some day, and this time for good. A month after the revolt, and weeks before his own death, a Sonderkommando prisoner called Chaim Herman wrote a message for his family, and closed it with these words:
"I am sending you my last farewell forever, these are my last greetings, I embrace you most heartily for the last time and I beg you once more, do believe me that I am going away calmly, knowing you are alive and our enemy is broken."
1944年10月7日：奧斯威辛特遣隊起義
1944 年 10 月 7 日，奧斯威辛那泯滅人性的暴政突然遭到了極其驚人的挑戰。一群被稱為「特遣隊」的囚犯向黨衛軍（SS）展開反擊，這場叛亂震驚了那些心滿意足的捕獵者。那麼，「特遣隊」究竟是什麼樣的組織？他們又是如何策劃這場起義的呢？
特遣隊（The Sonderkommando）
在一個與人間煉獄無異的地方，特遣隊的成員們處於一種特殊的痛苦深淵中。他們不僅僅是囚犯，更被迫協助對其他囚犯進行大規模屠殺。特遣隊主要由猶太人組成，納粹認為這些人體格健壯，足以協助處理新抵達的人員——包括將他們從火車上引導下來、給予虛假的安慰、帶領他們進入毒氣室，並在火葬場處置堆積如山的屍體。而這些屍體中，有些甚至是他們自己的親友。
他們對此毫無選擇——唯一的生路就是聽命行事，否則將面臨立即處決。這是一種令人作嘔、在道德上極其痛苦的處境。尤其諷刺的是，特遣隊成員被賦予了某些「特權」，例如較好（或至少沒那麼噁心）的居住環境、更多的食物，以及香菸和藥品等「福利」。此外，他們也比較不會僅僅因為納粹軍官的一時興起就遭到隨意槍殺。
這種被迫成為「共犯」的感覺讓這些人難以承受。其中一位大屠殺倖存者菲利普·穆勒（Filip Muller）後來回憶說，那種壓倒性的罪惡感曾讓他一度跟著一群囚犯直接走進毒氣室。然而，那群走向死亡的人中，有一位少女阻止了他，她說：「我們必須死，但你仍有機會保住性命。你必須回到營區，告訴所有人關於我們最後時刻的事……他們應該戰鬥，這總比在這裡無助地死去要好。」
當然，對特遣隊來說，死亡終究是不可避免的，只是被推遲了而已。由於他們的奴隸勞動意味著他們掌握了集中營與工業化屠殺的真相，這反過來意味著他們必須被定期處決，好讓位給新一梯次的「特遣隊」。而最終對殘酷主子發起反抗的，正是第 12 梯次的特遣隊。
十月反抗
特遣隊的起義並非針對黨衛軍的自發性怒火爆發，而是一個克服了重重物流困境、精心策劃的計畫。其中一些關鍵角色是在龐大的奧斯威辛建築群內，於軍火工廠工作的猶太女囚。
在 10 月之前的幾個月裡，這些婦女含辛茹苦地將火藥從工廠偷運到特遣隊內部的秘密抵抗組織中。她們使用了精巧的技術，例如將微小包裝的火藥藏在餐盤的假底層，甚至藏在送往火葬場的屍體縫隙中，同時還要承受隨時可能被發現的極度恐懼。
特遣隊利用這些火藥製作了簡易的炸彈和手榴彈。這份精心的準備在 10 月 7 日達到了頂點。當時在點名期間，一名囚犯平靜地走向一名納粹軍官，高喊著勝利的「萬歲！」（Hurrah!），並用鐵錘擊中了他。
隨之而來的是一片混亂，黨衛軍發現自己陷入了囚犯們用鐵錘、刀具和炸藥展開的四面圍攻。根據記述，一名以極度虐待狂著稱的黨衛軍守衛，被若無其事地活生生扔進了火葬場的焚化爐。部分囚犯還剪斷了刺鐵絲網逃往森林，而黨衛軍則以機關槍開火掃射。
對於特遣隊而言，這是一場短暫而甘甜的復仇，他們擊殺了三名黨衛軍並傷及十餘人。然而，納粹最終不可避免地鎮壓了這場叛亂。逃跑的囚犯被抓回並處決，數百名特遣隊成員遭到屠殺，那些提供幫助的英勇女性也未能倖免。
儘管如此，有些人知道局勢總有一天會扭轉，而且會是徹底的扭轉。起義一個月後，就在自己去世前幾週，一位名叫海姆·赫爾曼（Chaim Herman）的特遣隊囚犯給家人寫下了一段話，並以這段文字作結：
「我向你們送上永別。這是最後的問候，我最後一次由衷地擁抱你們。我再次請求你們，務必相信我是平靜地離去的，因為我知道你們還活著，而我們的敵人已經支離破碎。」
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