So, if you don’t at least co-write or co-produce your own music, you’re not considered authentic. Ergo, you’re not an artist—just a poser. Many believe BTS’s global success came from the fact that they controlled their own music and creative direction.
Still, there are plenty of second, third, and even fourth-generation groups who also write their own songs but haven’t yet reached the same global scale. The pattern doesn’t always repeat itself. Which raises the question: is authenticity really the core of BTS’s success? And if not, what is—and what can other groups learn from it?
CREATING THEIR OWN MATERIAL
At the very least, co-creating your own material is a sign of authenticity. Unfortunately, not many K-pop artists are involved in their songs, music videos, or overall creative process. BTS isn’t the only group who participates—BigBang was known for writing their own tracks, and groups like (G)I-DLE, Twice, and Le Sserafim have also taken more control in recent years.
But contribution alone doesn’t make something authentic—it’s the weight of that contribution that matters. Many idols are credited as songwriters, but few shape the direction of the work, and fewer still drive the entire creative process. That smaller list includes BTS, Stray Kids, and (G)I-DLE.
Some idols find more freedom when they go solo. Members of Mamamoo and GOT7, for instance, have shown that once they step outside their group frameworks, they can fully express their own musical identities.
AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL
Another measure of authenticity lies in what artists choose to write about.
Some believe songs must be rooted in the artist’s own story—their experiences, struggles, and emotions—or it feels hollow. Those are strong indicators of authenticity, but they’re not the only ones that count.
STORYTELLERS
Take Michael Jackson. His biggest hit, Thriller, isn’t autobiographical—unless he was secretly a zombie—but it’s one of the most iconic songs in pop history.
Some artists are storytellers. Like screenwriters, they create worlds, characters, and narratives that aren’t necessarily theirs but still resonate.
Paul McCartney’s Blackbird is a perfect example. It’s about Black women and the civil rights movement. McCartney isn’t Black and he isn’t a woman, yet he used his platform to tell a story that mattered.
CONTRIBUTION OR DIRECTION
Writing a song isn’t the only path to authenticity. Michael Jackson again proves the point. He was deeply involved in every layer of his music—from songwriting and production to choreography and visuals.
He wrote many of his greatest hits, including Billie Jean and Beat It. But even when he didn’t, his creative direction defined the outcome. Thriller was written by British songwriter Rod Temperton, originally titled Starlight. Jackson asked for revisions, and what emerged became one of the most recognizable songs in history.
Temperton may hold the songwriting credit, but there’s no question Thriller is Jackson’s song. Without his vision, it wouldn’t be the same.
Authenticity doesn’t rely on technical authorship—it’s about how much of your identity shapes the final product.
HOW TO DETERMINE AUTHENTICITY
Recently, a songwriter went viral on TikTok for calling out big-name artists—from Beyoncé to Zendaya—for claiming songwriting credit on tracks they didn’t write. That’s not a new revelation; it’s a long-standing practice in the industry.
CREATIVE DISCOURSE
One way to tell who’s truly involved is by listening to how they talk about their work. BTS has excelled at this.
From their earliest days, they didn’t just release music—they discussed it, dissected it, and shared the process behind it. From Suga’s thoughtful studio breakdowns to RM’s candid livestreams and their solo documentaries, BTS consistently invited fans into their creative world.
They didn’t just want fans to consume their work—they wanted them to understand it. That’s rare in pop music. They weren’t selling you a product; they were inviting you into a conversation.
This kind of engagement builds authenticity. It bridges the artist-fan gap and shows confidence in one’s craft. Outside of Stray Kids, very few idols maintain that same level of transparency.
Now, I’ll admit—BTS has an unfair advantage. Every member isn’t just creative; they’re articulate. Even with their “mic allergy,” they speak with depth and clarity when they choose to. They carry themselves with the kind of introspection most artists never learn to express.
Their brains should be studied, honestly.
Of course, no artist should be obligated to explain their process. Some prefer to let the work speak for itself, and that’s valid. Still, audiences are evolving.
There was a time when fans were satisfied simply being handed a song. Many still are. But in an age where information and access are endless, fans crave more—they want to see how something was made and understand the creative intent behind it.
That curiosity isn’t superficial; it’s part of a broader cultural shift. People no longer want only the product—they want the story of its making.
From their earliest days, they didn’t just release music—they discussed it, dissected it, and shared the process behind it. From Suga’s thoughtful studio breakdowns to RM’s candid livestreams and their solo documentaries, BTS consistently invited fans into their creative world.
EVOLUTION AND GROWTH
Growth is another measure of authenticity. Artists who evolve with time reflect the reality of human change.
Life humbles everyone, and art should mirror that process. When artists stay frozen, repeating the same themes or sounds, it often means they’re performing what’s expected rather than expressing who they’ve become.
RESONATING WITH THE AUDIENCE
Plenty of artists create from personal truth but never reach mainstream recognition. Authenticity alone doesn’t guarantee impact.
Music connects when it resonates—when something in it mirrors what people feel, need, or hope for. Some tracks sound like everything else on the radio but still find success because they capture a moment.
BTS mastered the art of taking personal pain and transforming it into a universal emotion. They tackled topics that most idols wouldn’t touch, reframing social and mental struggles as shared human experiences.
There are artists I admire for the same kind of control and creative confidence—like (G)I-DLE. I’ve said it before: no other girl group right now matches their independence. But personally, their music doesn’t connect with me. It resonates with many others, clearly, just not with me—and that’s okay. Even when everything is done right, art still depends on connection.
IT STILL HAS TO BE GREAT MUSIC AND PERFORMANCE
Authenticity means little without excellence.
I don’t enjoy seeing BTS exhaust themselves to the point of needing oxygen tanks, but I respect their dedication. When I spend money on a concert, I expect effort, and they deliver. They treat every show as if someone in the crowd is seeing them for the first—and maybe last—time. That awareness matters.
Their music also stands on its own merit. For audiences who don’t speak Korean, the melody and rhythm are the first connection point. You can write the most profound lyrics imaginable, but if the melody falls flat, it doesn’t matter.
IS IT UNREASONABLE TO EXPECT ALL THAT?
Sometimes I wonder if my expectations are even realistic. How many artists want—or are capable of—inviting their fans into creative or intellectual conversations?
How many are willing to push themselves physically and emotionally for their craft?
How many can sustain that level of passion, precision, and purpose year after year?
Maybe only a few. And that’s what makes BTS—and other artists who take their work this seriously—so rare.
