Hip-Hop Artist Busts a Rhyme in Two Languages

“When things may be hard to deal with in life / That’s just a part of the plan that makes you deal better with life.... Of faith, the only thing you can hold on to in times of trials / Because whenever there’s a storm there’s always the sun that follows.”

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Shin-B, a Los Angeles hip-hop artist, sits before a studio microphone at Radio Korea’s sleek, bustling headquarters in a high-rise building on Wilshire Boulevard in Koreatown. A gaggle of Korean teenagers in baggy jeans and jangling jewelry edge the studio, fidgeting as the on-air disc jockeys introduce Shin-B to listeners across Southern California.

Shin-B is about to bust a flow.

At 22, Shin-B is barely taller than most of the teens standing behind her. Her voice flows low and silky. She is calm, patient, a little guarded.

Shin-B takes the mike and shoots out intricate Korean rhymes. She bobs in her seat, pumps her arms and closes her eyes to let the music take over. The teens, just seconds ago giggly and uninterested, begin to listen in awe and admiration.

“Ugh ... ugh, ugh ... yeah, yeah,” Shin-B ad-libs near the end of the original track, “Lost Love.”

When she’s done, the teens whoop and applaud. Shin-B composes herself, smiles shyly and returns to her seat.

As hip-hop stars go, Shin-B is not a household name. In the diverse and sometimes divided subculture of hip-hop, Shin-B barely blips the radar. Her audience consists mostly of Korean American youths, people who attend Korean or Asian cultural events, and the thriving but still small community of Asian American hip-hop impresarios.

Shin-B says she has had chances at international stardom. Producers in Korea and the U.S. have approached her about becoming a “K-Pop” singer. Shin-B has declined offers to -- as she puts it -- “sell out” to the up-tempo, electronic subgenre of Korean pop music.

It’s just not where she’s from, she says. The L.A.-bred rapper, born Andrea Kim to immigrant parents, has been a hip-hop girl for as long as she can remember.

She grew up around hip-hop in “K-town.” She stayed with it when the family moved to Tarzana. She says she never doubted she wanted to be an “MC” (master of ceremonies).

“Since the day I was born, it began as atypical cuz I wasn’t your typical, / nor was I emotional / not your sissy pink wearin’ girly girl into girly things.... I’d reach for that boombox and tune into what was hot / I found it odd that other girls had a thing for what was pop / I stocked up my decks with cassettes of what was set.”

But Shin-B had to start off small: a talent show at Taft High School when she was a senior.

“I was doing cover songs,” Shin-B recalled. “I did a lot of Queen Latifah, and then -- I don’t like mentioning it ‘cause it’s kind of embarrassing -- but like, Coolio, ‘Gangsta’s Paradise.’ ”

She added: “That song was big!”

Soon she began writing her own lyrics in both Korean and English, producing her own beats with friends and deejays and teaching herself complex hip-hop moves.

Since the beginning, she said, people reacted with quiet disbelief that a tiny Asian female could “spit” rhymes like the pros. That’s how she came up with her name: Shin-B is based on shinbi, the Korean word for mystery.

“Normally, when you see me I’m conservative and reserved. You wouldn’t expect rap to come out of me,” she said. “But then once I get onstage, it’s like an alter ego.”

At UC Irvine, where she majored in Asian American studies, Shin-B dedicated herself in earnest to hip-hop. Her efforts met with resistance from her parents, who wanted their eldest daughter to pursue a more stable career, such as law or medicine.

But rhymes have been winning out over convention.

While still in college, Shin-B began winning over crowds with her bilingual lyrics at Asian American-themed events across Southern California. She worked her way up the ladder of competitive performing, eventually winning several regional talent shows that are big draws for Asian American youths who dance, sing or rap in their spare time.

Her success culminated with a first place at Kollaboration, a multi-genre, nationwide Asian American talent competition held in Los Angeles last year.

Shin-B has also performed in Austin, Texas; Oakland; San Diego; and at the Flushing Mall in Flushing, N.Y. Recently, she rhymed at the Lotus Festival in Echo Park and at the House of Blues in West Hollywood. Her “mix tape” CD has attracted interest from labels and producers both here and in Seoul. She expects to launch a website this winter.

These days, Shin-B’s parents and younger sister support her work. She says they admire her dedication to the hip-hop art form -- not just as rapping, but as a creative, community-building force.

On Tuesdays, she teaches Christian hip-hop rhyming to teens at the Korean Church of North Los Angeles in North Hills, where she and her family have worshiped for a decade.

Sometimes, on weekends, she teaches hip-hop dance to children and teens at the Song and Dance Academy at the Wilshire Galleria in Koreatown.

Like many young urbanites across the country, Shin-B says hip-hop is more than a pastime or a hobby -- it’s a way of life, a way of looking at the world.

She’s hip-hop in her dress and look. When stuck in traffic, Shin-B pops in an instrumental tape and “freestyles,” making up hip-hop rhymes on the spot. Sometimes she does it in English, sometimes in Korean.

“My style? I guess it’s neo-Asian American conscious political, with occasional party tracks and love tracks -- to show I have some dimensions.”

Esther Yoo, a junior at Fairfax High School and a Shin-B fan, attended the rapper’s in-studio performance at Radio Korea, KYPA-AM (1230), which was part of a promotional hour for a youth talent competition sponsored by the station.

“It’s Korean rap, and that’s cool,” said Yoo, 15. “I don’t really listen to rap, but her rap is amazing.”

Yoo, born in New York to immigrant parents, said she is not as conversant -- much less rhythmic -- in Korean as Shin-B is. “Even though I don’t understand all the lyrics, I still love her music.”

Yoo was one of several teens who had their picture taken with Shin-B at the station. Through the ruckus, Shin-B flashed a few nervous smiles.