photo: tenasia · cc by 3.0 ↗On July 22, 2022, a label nobody had heard of released a girl group with no teaser trailer and no debut showcase, an anomaly in an industry built on months of promotional rollout. "I wanted to create a label with a brand-new look that did things never seen in the K-pop scene before," ADOR founder Min Hee-jin told Billboard, and the music backed the claim: producer 250 (Lee Ho-hyung), the credited architect of "Attention," "Hype Boy," "Ditto," and "ETA," built a Y2K-leaning catalog of skittering, chopped-vocal grooves that critics traced as much to turn-of-the-millennium British and American club scenes as to K-pop's own history. NewJeans became one of the fastest-charting acts in K-pop by sounding like it wasn't trying to chart at all.
When Nylon asked producer 250 — the credited writer and producer behind "Hype Boy," "Attention," "Ditto," and "ETA" — which producer he measured himself against, he didn't hedge: "My favorite producer is Timbaland, and my favorite musician is Prince." The debt is audible in the choices 250 makes at the mixing board: a stuttering, syncopated pocket built more from vocal ad-libs and drum silence than from a straight backbeat, the same sleight of hand Timbaland worked out in Virginia Beach studios two decades earlier, on records where the singer talks through the groove as much as she sings over it.
listen forCue Timbaland's 1998 production for singer Aaliyah, "Are You That Somebody?", against "Hype Boy": both hang a breathy, half-spoken verse over a beat that stutters and drops out mid-bar instead of locking into a straight four-count, with vocal fragments doing as much rhythmic work as the drums. It's the trick 250 named Timbaland for — a groove interrupting itself just enough that a hook never has to fully belt to land, and the space between phrases carries as much weight as the phrases themselves.
No one at NewJeans or ADOR has named Todd Edwards outright, but the genre he helped invent keeps surfacing in how critics describe the group's records. British GQ called "Ditto" the quintet's "first dip into UKG, something they've now repeated in their latest EP Get Up" — UK garage, the chopped, syncopated dance style Edwards' mid-1990s productions helped define. Teen Vogue heard the same song differently, filing its "spinning staccato drum track" under Baltimore club instead, evidence that the source isn't one artist so much as the whole turn-of-the-millennium chopped-vocal club continuum Edwards helped originate.
listen forPlay Todd Edwards' 1995 anthem "Saved My Life" beside "Ditto": both stitch a vocal into tiny, pitch-bent fragments that function as percussion, never letting a full phrase land before chopping to the next one. Teen Vogue heard "Ditto"'s drum track as "a spinning staccato" — the same micro-edited restlessness Edwards pioneered by slicing gospel and soul samples into rapid-fire rhythmic collage, the technique that gave UK garage its breathless, off-kilter bounce nearly three decades before NewJeans borrowed it.
For the Get Up deep cut "ASAP," ADOR flew in Copenhagen duo Smerz as co-producers and handed them 250's loops with no further direction. Working fast on the session's last day, Smerz's Catharina Stoltenberg found herself reaching back to records she and bandmate Henriette Motzfeldt grew up on: "We just listened to ASAP again now and in a very weird way it reminds me a lot of Speakers R-4 by RP Boo... there's this weird connection." RP Boo, a Chicago DJ credited as one of the originators of the rapid-fire Chicago dance style footwork, never touched the song directly — his sound reached it secondhand, through a collaborator's ear.
listen forSet RP Boo's 2013 footwork staple "Speakers R-4" against "ASAP": both ride a sparse, hollowed-out low end punctuated by chopped vocal stabs, with a rhythm that keeps switching gears, doubling and halving its own tempo rather than settling into one groove. It's the disorienting footwork pocket Stoltenberg heard in her own track after the fact — "in many ways it's not similar," she admitted, "but there's this weird connection" — a kinship felt in the body's footing before it can be named.