Squid Game Composer Jung Jae-il on AI Threat and Human Music
Jung Jae-il, the South Korean composer behind the chilling soundtrack for Netflix's global phenomenon Squid Game, has emerged as one of contemporary music's most distinctive voices. In a revealing interview, the 43-year-old musician discusses his unconventional career path, his philosophy of "calculated imperfection," and his growing concern about artificial intelligence's encroachment into creative fields.
The Sound of Desperation
For the 265 million viewers who made Squid Game Netflix's most-watched series to date, the show's auditory landscape proved as haunting as its visual horrors. The discordant whistle of a child's recorder in the opening theme became an unforgettable herald of human carnage, transforming innocent childhood sounds into instruments of psychological terror.
"I'm not a professional or an expert recorder player," Jung admits through an interpreter. "We actually tried to correct it with auto-tune later on. But the director [Hwang Dong-hyuk] decided that the correct sound did not sound right."
The resulting composition stands as a masterclass in intentional imperfection. Thin, piercing notes frequently break into shrill, unintended squeaks, creating an auditory metaphor for the desperation of the show's doomed contestants. While most contemporary scores strive for digital perfection, Jung deliberately leaned into human fallibility, subverting his own considerable technical prowess.
An Unconventional Path to Global Recognition
Jung's musical journey defies conventional expectations. A graduate of the Seoul Jazz Academy and formidable multi-instrumentalist who has mastered piano, guitar, bass, drums, traditional Korean percussion, and even the musical saw, he nevertheless never formally studied composition. At age 15, he joined a rock band, and his creative practice remains rooted in improvisation rather than traditional methodologies.
This approach proved crucial during his work on Parasite, the most Oscar-decorated non-English language film in history. "I was very much in despair," Jung recalls of his struggle with conventional composition processes. "Then one day I sat down in front of my computer and improvised as much as I could, and that actually got the OK from [director] Bong Joon Ho ... I thought, maybe this is what I am destined to do."
The collaboration proved historic. Parasite became the first South Korean film to win the Palme d'Or at Cannes and the first non-English speaking film to win Best Picture at the Academy Awards. Jung's distinctive score, which utilized cool baroque formality to illustrate class divides in modern Korean society, played no small part in this achievement.
From Studio Hermit to Global Stage Presence
The success of Squid Game and Parasite transformed Jung from studio composer to international performer. In April, following sold-out solo performances at London's Barbican and New York's Carnegie Hall, he will make his Australian debut at the Sydney Opera House, conducting a 41-piece orchestra in Parasite: Live in Concert.
"After my work in Squid Game and Parasite, my music gained global recognition – not necessarily my name, but definitely my music," Jung observes.
His subsequent projects have continued to showcase his versatility. For his third collaboration with Bong Joon Ho – the 2025 sci-fi comedy Mickey 17 – Jung shifted toward grand orchestration with the London Symphony Orchestra, using swirling waltzes to add disturbing elegance to scenes depicting a human printing factory. In December, his new orchestral piece Inferno received its world premiere with the Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra.
Embracing Identity Through Lack of Identity
Jung attributes his unique creative voice precisely to his lack of formal compositional training. "I believe that had I gone to any kind of formal musical institute or conservatory to learn composition, I would not have been able to write a piece like this," he asserts. "The fact that I start with a clean slate or a blank page means that I can tap into all kinds of music that I've been listening to since my childhood – rap, heavy metal, rock and very modern, avant garde music."
This eclectic approach has become his defining characteristic. "At the end of the day, having no identity very much defines my identity," Jung concludes with characteristic paradox.
Live Performance as Bulwark Against AI
As Jung prepares for his next chapter – including a project with Burning director Lee Chang-dong and a new album with Decca Records – he is increasingly focused on live performance as a defense against artificial intelligence's growing presence in music creation.
"I think we are all very much in the dark," Jung says of AI's impact on creative fields. "AI can be seen as a threat when it comes to music composition or music creation. With that in mind, I think it's all the more important that we look for something fundamentally human, something only humans can do."
For Jung, that fundamentally human element resides in the very discordance that defined his rise to prominence: the improvised, the unpolished, the squeaky mistakes that no machine would think to make and no auto-tune could ever improve. His transition to the concert stage represents more than a victory lap; it is a strategic act of preservation, positioning the live performance as one of the last bastions of authentically human musical expression.
By stepping out from behind the screen and onto the stage, Jung offers audiences a final, defiant assurance: that the man at the piano is not an algorithm but a human being, still at work in the dark, creating music that machines cannot replicate because they cannot understand the beauty of imperfection.
