Have you ever walked down a road where cherry blossoms fall like snow, and suddenly felt a quiet ache in your heart?
For no clear reason, memories of your once radiant youth begin to resurface.
Kim Yoon-ah, the vocalist of Jaurim, once shared that she wrote this song almost magically while walking home after dropping her child off at kindergarten, surrounded by cherry blossoms in full bloom—only to fall moments later.
Since then, this song has become a symbol of “those days” for so many people.
A story about youth that shines so brightly it hurts—and because of that, feels even harder to let go.
Today, I’d like to introduce “Twenty-Five, Twenty-One.”
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| Official album cover art for Jaurim's 9th studio album, 'Goodbye, grief.' |
This song is the title track from Jaurim’s 9th studio album, Goodbye, grief..
At first listen, it may sound like a heartbreaking breakup story between two lovers aged twenty-five and twenty-one. But beneath the surface lies something much deeper—a reflection on youth itself.
Kim Yoon-ah revealed that this song is a remembrance of her past self, almost as if she were looking back at a younger version of herself from a distance.
Interestingly, the song carries the emotional atmosphere of 1994—the year she was twenty-one.
Years later, in 2022, the song found new life when it inspired the drama Twenty-Five Twenty-One. The series’ success brought the song back to the charts, creating a remarkable “reverse hit” moment.
Perhaps it’s because the song touches on something timeless—the universal beauty and pain of youth.
“In the season when flowers fall in the wind,
It still feels like I’m holding your hand…
Back then, I didn’t know how beautiful the flowers were—
Not in the aching way I understand now.”
“Ooh… Twenty-five, twenty-one—
I thought it would last forever.”
The line “I didn’t know how beautiful the flowers were back then” hits especially hard.
Why is it that the things we once took for granted only become something we deeply long for later?
This song captures both the brilliance and the quiet sense of loss hidden within the word youth—in a way that feels almost painfully honest.
The song opens with a calm piano melody, like flipping through an old photo album.
But as it progresses, the sound builds—layered with a full band arrangement and Kim Yoon-ah’s powerful vocals—until it feels like all the emotions of youth come rushing out at once.
It’s like a quiet sea suddenly overtaken by waves.
Sad, but not pitiful.
Grand, yet deeply lyrical.
A perfect example of Jaurim’s signature rock ballad style.
Today, “Twenty-Five, Twenty-One” has become a staple ending song at university festivals and a source of comfort for those who have passed a turning point in life.
With the success of the drama, the song experienced a massive resurgence, becoming a “reverse chart” phenomenon and resonating across generations.
Now, the numbers twenty-five and twenty-one are no longer just ages—they are emotions that people carry in their hearts.
When we think of youth, we often imagine something bright and joyful.
But somehow, when listening to this song, what comes first is a sense of longing.
Maybe that’s because we now understand just how precious those shining moments truly were.
And perhaps… that’s why they hurt a little more.