
U.S. hardcore punk band No Model / Courtesy of Heejin Kim
Punk rock may (or may not) have started as a noisy rebellion in 1970s America and Britain, but for decades the scene in Western countries rarely featured Asian American voices.
In the United States, Asian American punks were often left at the margins, their presence nearly invisible. Now a new wave of bands is stepping forward, reshaping the scene and challenging outdated assumptions of who belongs in punk.
Two of those bands — No Model and Sour — are preparing for a milestone in the form of their first East Asian tour. For Sehun and Changhwan of No Model, and Jeff Stuckel (Kyeongmo Kim) of Sour, the tour has a deeper meaning. All three are Korean adoptees, raised in predominantly white communities in the U.S., who are returning to Korea not as visitors but as performers, carrying with them the sounds and stories they’ve carved out in the U.S. punk and hardcore underground scene. As Jeff put it, “this is more than just another tour or tour date in Asia.”
Sehun, Changhwan and Jeff each discovered punk separately, long before they ever crossed paths.
For Changhwan, who grew up in Cape Cod, Massachusetts, music became a lifeline. He spent years playing in bands, often as the only Asian in the room. While not always overtly negative, the experience often led to tokenization. With No Model, though, it’s different.
“What drew me to punk and hardcore was storytelling as a platform,” he told The Korea Times. “Finally being in a band, like No Model, that reflected who I was, it’s a very unique feeling that represents me.”
Sehun’s journey was driven by survival. Adopted and raised in New Jersey, he felt the absence of strong Asian representation in punk. He knew he didn’t want to join another band unless that was central. When the pandemic hit, most parts of life came to a standstill — but Sehun used the time to start building No Model.
Through friends, he connected with Changhwan, and eventually with Jeff. Despite the distance, Sehun kept the momentum alive, often driving to Ohio and Massachusetts for meetings and rehearsals, organizing sessions on Zoom when travel wasn’t possible. Jeff later credited him as the glue who made sure everyone stayed connected and moved forward. Sehun also makes a guest vocal appearance on Sour’s song "Diaspora Blues" on the EP "Heaven, USA."
“My lyrics are quite personal about adoption, but I also wanted to touch upon decolonization, weaponizing Asian identity, anti-imperialism and broader Asian American identity,” Sehun said. “Hyper-intense feelings, unhinged and letting it come out unfiltered.” This reclamation of space and story is felt in the music of both groups.
Though adoptee identity and political urgency shape their music, neither No Model nor Sour wants to be defined solely by labels. Their songs are raw, unfiltered reflections of grief, anger, resistance and survival — but also connection. They take personal histories and fuse them with broader political themes, creating something that feels both deeply individual and collectively resonant.
“It’s been gratifying that we’ve been able to make some impact in local communities,” Sehun said. “Other adoptees are responding to our posts. This music is for them and other Asian Americans. BIPOC (Black, Indigenous and people of color), Asian and white people who are political.”
Their sound challenges audiences in ways that go beyond representation. By weaving personal themes into hardcore’s uncompromising framework, they make the genre feel new again — not nostalgic, but alive and dangerous. Changhwan describes it as transforming "han," the deep grief embedded in Korean cultural memory, into something loud and defiant.

U.S. hardcore punk band Sour / Courtesy of Kristen Necovski
Despite being spread across states and navigating pandemic-era restrictions, No Model and Sour have built a solid following, releasing music, earning respect and headlining at local festivals. Along the way, they have found solidarity with other Asian American and BIPOC musicians pushing against the boundaries of representation in punk.
Digital spaces also became vital. Through social media and online connections, the members not only kept their bands afloat but also forged ties to the scene in Korea. Jeff recalls a semi-drunken exchange with Big Chang from hardcore promotion label True Color Collective that turned into a deeper conversation about music, ethos and identity. This shared understanding created new bridges across borders, even before they could travel. This moment became the genesis of their tour.
As the members prepare for their journey and to step onto a Korean stage, it feels like both a homecoming and a reckoning. For Changhwan and Sehun, it will be their first time in Korea since their adoption decades ago. None of them, however, are trying to prove themselves as “more Korean” or feel any pressure to call this their homeland.
As Sehun put it, “Korean American identity is being angry. I’ve realized it’s less about being Korean or Korean American but about being stolen from my own country, being sold, being told I should appreciate being 'saved.' It’s about having my own awakening. ... And f--- this, no one is in control of me.”
For these musicians, punk is more than sound. It is reclamation, survival and the insistence on writing their own narratives loudly enough that no one can ignore them.
As Jeff said, “It is also about having the strength and the will to take your own narrative into your own hands.”

Sehun of the U.S. hardcore punk band No Model / Courtesy of Arno Baetz
Their first Seoul show is at Baby Doll in western Seoul's Sinchon area on Saturday. Opening the show will be local bands Things We Say, Find the Spot, No Shelter and Chasm. Tickets cost 30,000 won in advance or 40,000 won at the door. After that, they are traveling to Tokyo for back-to-back performances on Sunday and Monday.
Visit @truecolorcollective on Instagram for more information and to book tickets. Listen to No Model at killyellowfeverrecords.bandcamp.com and Sour at soursoundtrack.bandcamp.com.