Byline: Jamaal Weatherspoon

Moi Tiet: Just one more

All boundaries, like those between noise and sound, are conventions waiting to be transcended. One can transcend any convention if only they can first conceive of doing so.

For many, Phnom Penh has become a [musically] conceptual city. People come from the world over as mere passers-by and become fixtures. Be it music, photography or film you can ask any artist how many projects they have on their plates at any given time and you’d be hard pressed to find anyone with less than three. Spanish cajon players come here and become percussionists and vocalists. B-boys come here and become DJs and graffiti writers, because in the Kingdom of Wonder there is always something, somewhere to be discovered and appreciated.
So, how does that translate into our music scene?

Enter Moi Tiet. Quite literally ‘one more’ in Khmer, be it one more transient musician, one more encore or one more beer to sip as you listen to these virtuosos. The band was originally conceived in 2012 by Scott Bywater, a Tasmanian drifter turned Phnom Penh local who describes himself as “sort of a music guy who writes too” (seriously, it’s on his business card). Moi Tiet was the result of years of solo and group performances spread across four continents. Along with the burly bassist Andre Stuart (South Africa), smooth saxist Marian Gommard (France), lead guitarist and pedal addict Chuck Villar (Philippines), percussionist Greg Lavender (Australia) and songstress Jenna Holliday (UK) this sextet boasts musical influences that range from Bob Dylan to Aretha Franklin. Their collective resume of local projects includes but is not limited to: Cambodian Living Arts, WASH, Holliday in Cambodia, Kheltica, Mekong Blues Messengers, Musikero AND The Cambodian Space Project. I wasn’t sure if I was more interested in their music or finding out when these guys slept.

With each member a veteran in their own right, everyone has their own creative process, which isn’t particularly remarkable in and of itself until you realise how easy it is for musical groups to disband over creative differences. According to Scott, who has the trademark lead singer characteristic of being the first to answer: “If you are going to try to fly together, everyone has to believe you’re going to fly in the first place.” A fundamental truth that, simply put, they all seem to just get. Even in light of the differences in gender (Jenna and Marian bring on the girl power), age (ranging from 24 to 42) and the aforementioned blend of nationalities, you wonder why the UN has so much trouble cooperating. Their creative process is quite democratic: everyone gets a say in how the band plays. Currently, Scott writes many of their melodies which range anywhere from the bluesy feel of Flyin’ Into Pochentong, or Sunday Child, to the riffy tunes of Every Colour But One. But that’s changing to accommodate the elements everyone brings to the table. As Marian says, it’s hard to shine on a tenor sax in A key.

WHO: Moi Tiet
WHAT: All-original blues and stuff
WHERE: Sharky Bar, Street 130 (Sept 6) and Equinox, Street 278 (Sept 28)
WHEN: 9pm September 6 (Sharky’s) and 28 (Equinox)
WHY: They could teach the UN a thing or two about international cooperation

Reggae that rocks

The thought of endorsing roots reggae groups founded by Frenchmen can trigger apprehension in reggae snobs, especially when such groups have never set foot on Jamaican soil. But what Vibratone lacks in geographical legitimacy it more than makes up for with enthusiasm, as evidenced by its performance at Doors’ Vibe Music Festival last week. Between them, Ben and Leonard (guitar), Julien (bass), Vibol (keys), Luis (drums) and Maia (vocals) boast an eclectic background, with musical roots from Brazil to France to the Philippines, yet their all-original reggae genuinely rocks.

What are your biggest influences?

Julien: I’ve been writing and making music for years and I got really into reggae culture in France. When I went to London everything sort of took off from there.

Luis: I mostly did Brazilian style jazz back in Sao Paulo. It was not until recently that I had even played this type of music.

Vibol: I was a b-boy back in France. I’m French-Khmer, so my first experience was learning Cambodian music from my father.

That’s a motley assortment. What’s more unique is that you don’t do covers. Who writes your material?

[Everyone looks at Julien]

Vibol: Julien mostly, but Maia writes a lot of her lyrics as well.

Maia: Yeah, Julien is the one with the reggae background. I actually had no experience with it before and I’m also very shy, so it’s been a learning process.

You learned reggae from scratch?!

Maia: I was completely lost at first. In the Philippines I didn’t have much exposure to it.

Luis: We had it in Sao Paulo, but most of my experience was with other genres. Reggae seemed really simple compared to jazz styles, but it still took a lot of getting used to.

What does music mean to you?

Ben: Music is a way to communicate with many different people in many different places. For me it can cross culture and class in a way other things can’t. You can express ideas, feelings and beliefs with it.

A universal language?

Julien: Exactly.

Maia: Music is a way to express who I really am. I’m a lawyer by trade and after being in really rigid environments all day I can put everything out on stage. It really is all about the music.
Some of your songs have strong undertones, like Dreams, for example. What’s the inspiration behind it?

Maia: Dreams talks about just that: dreams. The wants, needs and desires that we all have. When I wrote it, it began on a really materialistic note – be it money, a house, a car – then Julien and I spoke and I realised it needed more substance, so there is this transition between the first and second verses.  It talks about being at peace with oneself and gaining happiness through fulfillment. We have another song called Who Are You Fooling? and it’s very political; it criticises the status quo and speaks about injustices.

What do you hope listeners will take away from Vibratone?

Ben: I want them to have fun

Maia: Truth. There is a joy in truth.

Indeed there is.

WHO: Vibratone
WHAT: All-original reggae
WHERE: Slur, Street 172
WHEN: 9:30pm August 23
WHY: See ‘what’

Oh, Tokyo

When you hear the word ‘Tokyo’, what are the first things that come to mind?  For the sake of amusement, we’ll eliminate ‘sumo’, ‘anime’ and ‘sushi’. OK, GO!

…..

Made-in-JapanI’m willing to bet that ‘super-conservative bureaucracy’, ‘exorbitant costs of living’ and ‘mind-numbing levels of societal pressure’ were not the first things you associated with the Empire of the Rising Sun. In fact, I’m positive this microcosm of a city has more to teach us about the past, present and future of an entire country than we ever could have imagined. Luckily for us mere mortals, these brilliant minds are about to give us an inside view of one of the most multifaceted-yet-still-homogenous societies this world has to offer.

Meet Morteza Ariana, an Iranian-born and revolution-raised visual artist who, by chance of fate, found himself sneaking under the Berlin Wall into West Germany after his tenure as a soldier during the Iran/Iraq war. Unbeknown to Ariana, his adventure was only just beginning. It was in Germany he fell in love with a Japanese woman who would set him on a course of lifelong discovery. Morteza – ‘Mori’, for short – delved into language and history. He learned that essentially all aspects of Japanese society were fundamentally art forms, be it sado (‘the way of tea’) or kendo (‘the way of the sword’). He was enamoured with the ubiquitous concept of harmony with nature; so much so that that the word for ‘art’ doubled as the word for ‘flower’ (kado, in case you were wondering).

One of his fondest discoveries was that ancient Buddhist temples doubled as art schools; one was expected to have an understanding of natural beauty before they could hope to attain Zazen: ‘emptiness of the mind’. Ariana was seduced by the sophistication of Japanese culture; understandably so, considering the fact he was developing his own artistic identity and belief system at the time. “I had given up God and Islam” says Mori, who, by chance of art, inadvertently discovered Buddhism and Confucianism. “Art is the ultimate manifestation of being” and Mori will attest much of this enlightenment to his time spent in the spiritual capital of Kyoto.

Unfortunately, every utopia has an underbelly and Japan is no different. Among the vocabulary he acquired was the word karoshi: the act of working oneself to death, literally. As it stands, Japan on average loses 30,000 people a year to suicide due to an overwhelming drive to succeed in virtually all aspects of life. An additional 30,000+ die from over-exhaustion. Governmentally speaking, Japan has been a functional oligarchy for the last few centuries. One could argue that the imperial family has controlled politics and economy since the end of the feudal Meiji era.

Take a gander at the state of public schooling and it’s pretty easy to believe. Students are well versed in little else than learning by rote, deference to authority and a general submission to groupthink – a far cry from the free-minded artistry of antiquity. The relationship front is not much better, either. For a country so technologically advanced, family hierarchies and gender roles are strikingly antiquated; many relationships are still expected to result in marriage and most marriages are contingent upon social status. Contraceptives are a bit taboo and thus not always used, so many metropolises boast dangerously high abortion rates.

Made-in-Japan_7_AdvThe bulk of these issues are faced by those considered Gaijin, or ‘outsiders’. As it turns out, for a culture so big on universal harmony and artistic inclusiveness, our neighbours to the East are well versed in the art of xenophobia. Says Mori: “Japanese conformity and homogeneity can be seen as the products of conscious and unconscious control of the economic and political system.”

If this is the case, it’s easy to see why so many 20-somethings are kicking the bucket in the woods, especially if you’re not particularly talented, ambitious or attractive. In fact, there is a term for many of these poor, wretched souls: hikikomori (‘one who avoids social contact and confines themself to isolation’). In the triptych TOKYO!, writers Joon Ho, Michael Gondry and Leos Carax attack many of these very issues in a way that only disgruntled Surrealists can, although admittedly these interpretations take a bit more sifting than does Ariana’s photography. Take a look at the brutish, grenade-tossing madman in Leos Carax’s Merde and you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. For an up-close and personal view of such gems, check Meta House for Ariana’s exhibit Made In Japan, and the screening of TOKYO! Bring an open mind or at the very least, a mind-altering substance: the banality of this weirdness just may shock you – and that’s sans cosplay.

WHO: Artist Morteza Ariana
WHAT: Made In Japan exhibition opening (6pm) plus TOKYO! screening (8pm)
WHERE: Meta House, #37 Sothearos Blvd.
WHEN: From 6pm August 20
WHY: Everyone’s turning Japanese

The new Jedi?

Every great civilisation has its lore and legend and if history has anything to say about it, Japan is no different. Legend has it that the archipelago was created by a cold steel blade (seriously). So it’s no surprise that swords became a trademark of nobility – or at the very least badassery – in Japanese culture.

These elite sword-carrying feudal lords eventually became the highest ranking social class; so steeped in spirituality, discipline and the aforementioned badassery that they remained so for 700 years. Nevertheless, time passed and things changed. Warring states have been replaced by mainstream media and feudal lords by auto-tuned pop stars. We need a new type of samurai these days. Plus, being able to lop heads off at will isn’t a skill most folks need anyway.

Enter DJ Samurai.

The enemy of anything conventional, ordinary or remotely mainstream, this young Japanese-born and Vietnamese-bred musical Jedi packs an arsenal not of two katanas but a laundry list of artistic talents. A self-proclaimed DJ/rapper/poet/novelista/dramatist, DJ Samurai is an enigma at best. To get a better idea of the man behind the beats, I set out to find him.

Musically, DJS is a mash-up of influences. Sifting through his list of recent compilations, you can hear traces of the modal styles of Nujabes; the roughneck in-your-face attitude of smiff-n-wessun; dashes of drum ‘n’ bass and even the chant-down-Babylon undertones of Marley and Tosh. Run his lyrics through a translator and you will notice the presence of haiku-like floweriness lumped together with statements about modern day socialism and global togetherness. Watch his videos and you’ll see a fun-loving guy who enjoys the company of b-boys and pretty Vietnamese women. Type his name into YouTube and you’re liable to see a Wu-Tang style of delivery from a short Asian fellow in a full-sized Pikachu suit… in Vietnamese (I cannot make this stuff up).

Nevertheless, Samurai is more than just a talker: he uses his music as a vehicle for youngsters in Saigon, namely the young up-and-coming hip-hoppers who don’t quite fit in with the social mould of the post-war Vietnamese economy, and this social consciousness is both reflected in his music and reinforced by a deep connection to the country itself.

Will this new brand of Japanese headband-wearing Samurai DJism be accepted or understood? Your guess is as good as mine. This is not your meiji era swordsmanship, but this cat definitely has something to say. Just don’t expect to immediately understand what it is on the first try. Bring on the Pikachu suit.

WHO: DJ Samurai
WHAT: DJ/rapper/poet/novelista/dramatist
WHERE: Meta House, #37 Sothearos Blvd.
WHEN: 9pm July 13
WHY: Japanese badassery at its best