The Wrapped Spotify Missed: Why Jin, KUN and The Poles ruled my 2025

It’s that time of year again where our social media feeds are flooded with neon-colored infographics, revealing exactly who we were for the last twelve months based on data alone. But let’s be honest: the Spotify algorithm bears a one-track mindset.  It counts every accidental loop and every "sleep playlist" stream as a personality trait.

If I could override the numbers with the actual emotional weight these tracks carried — my 2025 Wrapped would look a little different. These aren't just my most-played; they are the five songs that truly defined the narrative of my year.

But before we dive into the top five, I have to give a massive Honorable Mention to J-Hope’s “Killin’ it girl.” If 2025 had a pulse, it was this track. Just like it completely took over Jimin and Jungkook’s lives in the second season of Disney+’s Are You Sure?!, it ruled mine too. Watching them thrive to that beat in the series was the exact energy I tried to bring into my own year.

Here are the five tracks that actually earned the top spots in my heart (in NO particular order):

Song #1: “Echo! (talk to me baby)” by The Poles (2025)

From the first few seconds, one might confuse “Echo! (talk to me baby)” for a wave to earth track, which is understandable given that The Poles and wave to earth share a frontman: Kim Daniel. What you're listening to is actually just another brilliant track from the man himself, and a few more seconds in will reveal that this sound is entirely new. The 28-year-old singer, songwriter and guitarist penned and produced this indie dream-rock track as the perfect blend of the past, the present and everything in between. It’s a song that sounds like it’s slowly falling apart, and there’s something magnetic about that. “Echo (talk to me baby)” thrives in the delicate space where clarity and confusion collide, and emotion spills out through every distorted edge. Its nostalgic feel blends perfectly with Daniel's yearning lyrics for finding someone real who can keep him grounded in the ever-changing life of a touring artist. 

The track opens with an intentional, melodic 31-second instrumental solo, driven by a bright synth that glimmers when needed most. This precise length may subtly signal the 31 days in a typical month, alluding to how time cycles, with each month echoing the last and fading into the next. Lyrically, the song describes a mind caught in its own mental reverb: “Echoes in my head, they never end / Errors in my mind, it’s all a blur again.” The repeated “echoes” and “errors” describe intrusive thoughts or looping memories, sung with a quiet exhaustion that emphasizes the hazy cycles of anxiety and uncertainty.

Within each verse, the synth disappears and the deeper tones of the bass, drums and guitar act as the anchor of reality or as the heaviness of depression and self-doubt – whichever definition suits the listener. “My life’s a mess, like a stretched-out tape / Timelines bend, and I lose my shape, I tried so hard to stay the same.” The tape metaphor is both romantic and emotionally complex, exactly what I’d hope to find in a Daniel Kim exclusive. A stretched-out cassette tape distorts sound and warps time, echoing Daniel’s warped memories and perceptions. There’s even a sense of twisted humor when he sings “the world moves on, but I’m wrapped in tape,” a comical mental image that denotes the very real fears of a fast-paced world moving on without you as you try to get a grip on who you are. The idea of “losing shape” ties to identity loss, suggesting an individual unraveling under pressure or change. Additionally, it emphasizes the weight of trying to stay the same, but the inevitability of changing with the seasons (also a wave to earth song that you should check out.) 

What keeps the song from sinking into despair is the repeated plea, “Talk to me, baby, I’ll be alright.” This refrain acts as a mantra of reassurance, a desperate attempt to find stability through another person. The yearning is particularly vulnerable when Daniel confesses, “I’m fading fast, and losing light with empty hands and a hollow heart / So I need to find something special like you.” The production immediately echoes this lyrical vulnerability; when he calls upon this “you,” the beautiful synth returns, so alive and bright that it's almost human. It serves as a rich sonic embodiment of the stability, light, and fulfillment the singer seeks. This synth could be heard as the voice of the other person, unreachable but radiant; its real, untouched sound appears as the emotional opposite of the singer’s perplexed, tape-warped inner self.

The repetition of “Talk to me baby, I’ll be alright” works like a chorus but also a coping mechanism. The frequency of this phrase mirrors the looping thoughts earlier in the song. Indeed, there’s comfort in repetition but also entrapment. The echoing “alright, right, right” concludes the track with a fading, glitch-like feeling, but it simultaneously transforms into an urgent, unanswered question. It’s as if he’s asking himself or the listener: If he talks to said person, he’ll be alright, right? This blurring of assurance is central to the track’s emotional authenticity.

The production plays with perception in the same way the lyrics do. In the verses, Daniel’s voice cuts through cleanly and close, but when the chorus swells, it’s swallowed by the mix, becoming more of a shout into the void rather than a vocal hook. What emerges is a soundscape that feels beautifully broken, an echo chamber of longing for a return to what once was and for untapped possibilities. And yet, even as it fades into static, the song leaves behind a shimmer of something “special,” that bright synth still hovering, untouchable but everpresent.

Song #2: “Bonvoyage” by Kim Daniel and 1of1 (2025)

While Kim Daniel’s entire discography, ranging from wave to earth to his solo work, defined my summer listening, there was one track that I just couldn’t put down: “Bonvoyage.” The song’s beautiful choral melody wasn’t just catchy; it was compelling enough to make me turn on my TV. It served as a gateway to the visually stunning animated film it accompanies, “Lost in Starlight” (2025), the first South Korean feature-length animated film released on Netflix. “Bonvoyage” is far more than a simple soundtrack single; it’s the emotional heart of the film. The song packages the film’s complex journey of parting, memory and cosmic distance into a beautifully rendered ballad that resonates deeply with themes of transcendent connection. At its core, “Bonvoyage” reinterprets the classic French phrase, transforming a simple farewell into a “blessing and a promise.” The lyrics navigate a journey into the unknown across distant futures and digital spaces, perfectly mirroring the film’s 2030 setting and its use of holograms and space travel. The track brilliantly addresses the physical separation between the female protagonist (heading to Mars to complete her deceased mother’s mission) and her musician love interest on Earth. 

The song argues that true emotional bonds transcend time and space, as it sings, “In another time, we will meet again / Even if we don’t reach each other, we are walking side by side.” Such lyrics suggest that the red string of fate ties their parallel journeys together, even if they can only walk “side by side” via digital holograms (depicted in the film). The repeated “Passing by the stars, have a good ride, bonvoyage” becomes a promise that, despite the literal stars between them, a reunion for the star-crossed lovers is certain. The verses of “Bonvoyage” chart an emotional and physical passage. They begin with an intoxication of wonder as the speaker ventures into an "unfamiliar city,” which metaphorically represents stepping into a new phase of life, much like the protagonist embracing her astronaut destiny.

This journey is initially unsettling, however, as the lyrics denote, “My uncertain future, sleeping somewhere between.” This phrase captures the narrator's liminal state, suggesting they are resting between the certainty of their stable past and the unknown possibilities of their new, eclectic escape. This transitional phase is marked by self-discovery and anxiety. However, the song is beautifully grounded by contrasting lyrics that describe tangible surfaces and actions, such as “rubbing hands together” and “cleaning a dust-covered face.” These specific, earthly actions mirror the male counterpart’s role in the film: keeping the protagonist connected to the simple realities of Earth and teaching her how to love. This tug-of-war between celestial calling and earthly love fuels the song’s drama. Musically, the track starts soft, unassuming and healing, establishing a grounded intimacy. As the narrative tension builds, Kim Daniel’s vocals and the production swell toward a powerful climax, an arc that perfectly mirrors the emotional height of the film’s central plot point. 

Song #3: “Background” by Jin (2025)

Quick confession: four out of five tracks on my literal “Spotify Wrapped” are from BTS Jin’s sophomore album, “Echo” (2025). For the sake of variety in this article, I’ve set aside the rest of the album to focus on a particular gem: my favorite b-side, “Background.” This heartbreaking ballad is a testament to Jin’s vocal range. Each monumental swell of the chorus delivers a profound sorrow that is genuinely tear-inducing. The lyrics explore the devastating concept of becoming forgotten to a person of true significance, yet bearing such enduring love that he is compelled to wait for their return.

During BTS’s mandatory-military-service-induced pause, no song captured the feeling of unwavering loyalty better than Jin’s contemplative ballad, “Background.” The central power of “Background” lies in its masterful use of metaphor. Jin’s choice to place himself “in the background” is rich with meaning, suggesting both his literal absence from the full group lineup and a metaphorical role of quiet support and humility. The opening verse immediately sets a nostalgic tone: “I still live there / in the season where your whole world was me.” This line speaks to an emotional attachment to the past, the “golden era” before the hiatus, and a longing to reclaim that shared space. 

The feeling deepens as he sings of the waiting itself: “Even waiting, I try to convince myself it’s love.” Here, the passive act of waiting is transformed into an active, dedicated expression of love for his members and for ARMY, BTS’s fandom. The chorus confronts his reality as the first member to enlist and the first to return, “This pitch-black night with no stars / onto the stage with the lights off.” These lines reflect the reality of a stage without the full seven-member team. Jin steps onto this darkened space, not to fill it by himself, but to honor it, comparing himself to a “late afterimage.” Here, he holds space for the members, readying the stage and promising fans that even as time passes and fears arise, “I still choose you.” This quiet strength reflects his earlier work like “Moon” (2020), where he likened himself to the natural satellite orbiting his earth, ARMY, to serve as a “little light” in their hearts. “Background” is Jin acting as the bridge between past glory and future reunion. With the 2026 BTS comeback just around the corner, Jin’s “maybe in another place, another time” is closer than it might have felt when first recording this bittersweet track!

Song #4: “Jasmine” by KUN (2025)

I never expected KUN (Cai Xukun) to sneak into my regular rotation, but after interviewing him at the Head in The Clouds Festival last month, his jazzy R&B single “Jasmine” became my most-streamed track. 

What I value about this track is its unique and refreshing concept. As KUN revealed in our interview, Jasmine is a creation of his imagination. “She” is a romanticized character designed to provide comfort against the backdrop of superstardom’s loneliness. Even the name is brilliant: considering his affinity for all things jazz, the name Jasmine may subconsciously combine some of his other songs, showing that this character is uniquely and intimately his. In this sense, KUN’s connection to “Jasmine” is very real because she’s a manifestation of music itself. 

KUN is meticulous in his songwriting and lends that same eye to the creative vision for his music videos, where the “Jasmine” clip depicts him spending time with a girl who was never there at all. The track perfectly captures that sense of clueless euphoria, with the artist choosing fantasy over reality as a coping mechanism. In an age where parasocialism with musicians is a fan norm, it’s pretty damn cool to see an artist take a profound spin on the matter by flirting with someone who doesn’t even exist. 

Song #5: “PASSOUT” (JONG WOO Solo Version) (feat. TAG) by One Pact (2025)

Another song I did not expect would end up on my list, but I am delighted that it did. To prepare for my interview with One Pact, I revisited their discography and felt like my frontal lobe developed after relistening to “PASSOUT,” the bass house rap duet between members Jongwoo and TAG. Jongwoo sets the stage with lyrics detailing a party with all the “big names,” claiming that he’s straightforward and approachable if you simply come to his table, “let’s pop champagne.” He then raps, “Again and again like deja vu, I’m still going when the sun comes out.” Such lyrics create the illusion that Jongwoo is a total party animal who lives this life day in and day out. Jongwoo subverts this assumption in the next line by revealing that the previous lyrics were metaphors for how pumped up he feels when doing his creative work: making choreography, writing lyrics and recording in the studio: “been sharpening the basics, now I’m movin’ to the next, to the left, to the right” Here his rap flow becomes a little dance itself. He roleplays another partygoer asking for his name, to which he says “J-Y-J-S-T-O-P already built different,” which I interpret as his name, Yoon Jongwoo, paired with him halting the other individual in his tracks to remind him that they will never be on the same level because while they’re out partying and engaging in small talk, he’s working towards his dream. 

“You lost before the game even started,” Jongwoo coyly remarks, followed by “Five albums deep, that’s veteran level / You’re outta breath just trying to match me (my man).” This verse builds perfectly into the chorus lyric “Pass out,” this time relating to how the other person will pass out from exhaustion just watching Jongwoo run circles around him professionally. It serves a double meaning, because while the other person drops like a fly from vicarious fatigue, Jongwoo is passing out from working to the bone in the practice room or until the end of One Pact’s concert when the lights fade. He humorously jabs, “even Medusa freezes when I lock eyes, pass out.” He recognizes that anyone who challenges him will tap out within a matter of seconds, as not everyone is built for the demands of being a K-pop idol who also writes and choreographs his stages.

The beat temporarily lessens to make way for Producer TAG’s grand entrance into the track with perhaps even bolder, more pointed disses. Instead of referencing faceless partygoers like Jongwoo, TAG opens with “Stupid ass friends, my twins, they need me 24/7 never leave me alone.” I laughed out loud when I first heard this line because I could understand exactly where he was coming from. “Stupid” can be used amongst friends, depending on your level of closeness, when you can be real with them and let them know that you’re too busy to engage in niceties. The following lyric was something I relate to all too well (Taylor mention!): “Even when I chill, my phone’s dying nonstop, no breaks, they are hitting me up all day.” These lines attest to the difficulty of maintaining relationships when pursuing a career that demands all of your time and effort. Even picking up the phone can feel like a battle against the clock.

I giggle each time he says, “I make way more than your CEO, but still, I’m not full, yo, I need it more.” This lyric shows that he craves creation, and no price “TAG” (nice wordplay!) will hinder that. “I eat this beat up like I’ve been starved,” he raps. Following TAG’s energetic flow switch-up, Jongwoo returns with his deeper rap register to bring the track home. The post-chorus kicks up the energy a bit to lead us into the cool-down of the outro. It’s a delightful track that’s only limitation is its short length. I hope to hear more sounds like this on future One Pact releases, but until then, I’ll “go crazy” to PASSOUT.

And with that, "The Wrapped Spotify Missed" comes to a close. For those who might be curious (like SHINee) about my Spotify-certified Wrapped, check out this playlist.