Byline: PHILIP SEN

Going Underground

For too many of us there’s a kind of inevitability about Saturday nights in Phnom Penh. Tanked up on Street 51, come the wee small hours someone calls ‘Pontoon!’ or ‘Heart!’ or ‘Nova!’ Off you toddle for a bit of drunken grinding before lurching out an hour later. Then you grab some dim sum and get mugged for the pitiful few dollars left in your wallet.

With a fairly restricted choice on the club circuit it’s easy fall into that kind of trap. But there’s change in the air. An altogether better class of DJ is emerging and soon enough, they hope, Phnom Penh will rival anywhere else in the world for its electronic beats.

So says DJ Sequence, who along with other pseudonymmed collaborators (plus The Advisor’s Best DJ of 2013, Simon C Vent, pictured) has set up an online space for Cambodia’s classier DJs and producers to publicise their offerings. On December 20 the Phnom Penh Underground dons physical form, with a launch at Meta House.

Having gone live just weeks ago, the Phnom Penh Underground website is already garnering 5,000 hits a month, proving there are indeed a lot of people out there who are more into the quality of the vibe than the quantity of the beer. The Facebook page just earned its 1,000th like, too.

“The site is something of a public service,” says Sequence, whose other aim is – well-intentioned cliché warning – to “bring people together with the universal language of music”. Harking back wistfully to the glory days of the early ’90s, Sequence remembers how acid house and rave united clubbers from all social strata. The longer-term aim is to recreate that here in the Charming City.

The price of mainstream events (plus drinks) may be one reason for the exclusion, something the electro scene seeks to counter. “Too often,” says Sequence, “the only Khmer people you see at some of these venues are behind the bar and that ought to change.”

Be that as it may, Phnom Penh’s lack of heavy-handed regulation means the dance music explosion of the Madchester years could well ignite here too. “It’s so simple to get a club night together at short notice,” explains Sequence. “A crowd of 250 is big for this town; you can book venues quickly and simply. We once set up a boat party in 24 hours. You couldn’t do that anywhere else.”

Merely ‘the Reggae Bar’ no longer, the Dusk ‘Til Dawn rooftop is taking off as one of the city’s hottest spots with stupendous views making up for the vertiginous setting. The Mecca of Phnom Penh house, techno and dance remains Meta House, of course: joining DJ Sequence at the decks at Saturday’s launch will be danbeck (from Kimchi Collective) and Tonle Dub & Mercy (Tech-Penh).

Phnom Penh Underground continues to grow its base of collaborators, and future ideas include a talent contest and a big night for New Year’s Eve. “I’m sure there’s some kid in Tonle Bassac somewhere listening to dubstep in their bedroom,” DJ Sequence concludes, “and we’d like to connect that kid with something bigger.”

WHO: Clubbers, ravers, technoheads and partaay people
WHAT: Phnom Penh Underground launch party
WHERE: Meta House, #37 Sothearos Boulevard
WHEN: 10pm December 20
WHY: Make some shapes to an eclectic range of the phattest beats in Phnom Penh (bottle of mineral water obligatory)

 

The band factory

The New York scene had CBGB and the Ramones; in London, the Sex Pistols and their guru Malcolm McLaren operated from the trendy King’s Road. Phnom Penh doesn’t boast the same kudos just yet, but if it did, the epicentre might be here at the achingly T&C coffee shop opposite the X2 club.

That’s right. I’m meeting the architects of the Cambodian rock revolution for iced lattes on a Saturday afternoon, served by a waitress with fake reindeer antlers. Self-mutilation, spontaneous swearing and mainlining skank do not ensue. But the polite and respectful – if oddly dressed – lads who shoot the breeze here of a weekend are pioneering an alternative path in Cambodia’s pop scene.

The Cambo Headbangers are a loose collective of rock aficionados, their musical genres spanning from pop rock to punk, metal and deathcore. Since the gang’s formation by the Sliten6ix and Anti-Fate outfits in 2011, they’ve gathered pretty much the entire Cambodian metalhead population under their wings.

There are now 14 bands involved: almost double the community’s following last year. And this weekend hails the Headbangers’ third anniversary event at the Longbeach Plaza Hotel, promising an ear-splitting odyssey through emerging Khmer rock.

The purpose of the CHB is simple, says one of the founders, Propey: “It’s about gathering all the rockers, starting up bands and making music.” Like anywhere else in the world, bands break up, bands reform and bands meld together. Through CHB they inspire, encourage and build each other up throughout the process.

In a country where the screech of the electric guitar is still alien, CHB picks up interest through social media. It’s a safe space for anyone brave enough to cast off the shackles of pop convention to connect with their audiences, though Khmer rock is now even beginning to make tentative appearances on television. As another founder member, Veasna, points out, CHB means the nightmare days of trying to introduce metal to happy-clapping teens at the school disco are over.

Without the big bucks commercialism, CHB’s rapid growth remains down to everyone mucking in, acting as crews and groupies for other bands while the scene takes off because, unlike K-pop, the Headbangers are not “about the beauty, the lip-syncing, the appearance, the way we act… we focus on the music and that way we last longer as bands.”

The majority of Cambodia’s youth may still be beholden to K-Pop and KTV classics, but there are those among the CHB collective who think a bygone age may be returning. “Look back to the ’60s,” Propey continues. “Rock ‘n’ roll was big, but in Cambodia these days it’s kind of lost. We want to bring back the ’60s, bring back Cambodia’s musical pride and encourage people to make their own music.”

Challenges remain, of course. The Cambo Headbangers and their spectators remain quite male-oriented, though there are women coming through such as Khmer Reborn’s vocalist Akhia. It’s also hard to find recording venues offering the appropriate facilities for upcoming bands (“It’s a crisis,” laments Veasna). Some groups’ technical ability allows room for improvement, too. Few Khmer rockers are formally trained, many having learned to play from YouTube tutorials. That just adds, however, to the homespun quality of the music.

Though there’s a tendency for newer groups to start off with cover versions, the more experienced and adventurous headbangers are now starting to compose their own material. “Bands keep their new music under cover until they’re ready to reveal it,” Propey explains, “but expect surprises on the day.”

The organisers also foresee “the craziest audience in Phnom Penh, a mosh pit and naked guitarists”, or at least a 50-50 chance of some gratuitous full frontal. Bring your bathing suit, too, because the stage will be treacherously close to the pool (“At the very least, you’ll learn how to swim,” quips Propey).

Several newcomers are slated for Saturday, from alt-rockers Asylum to The Pieces and Volcano. Looking forward to 2014, the Headbangers would like to try an open-air venue for the showpiece December gig. “We want to keep influencing the music scene,” concludes Veasna. “There’s going to be more and more people carrying around guitars and playing in tea stores. Cambo Headbangers is a band factory and we’re going to keep challenging Khmer people to know and understand this kind of music.”

WHO: Headbangers, who else? 6ixStrings, Animation, Anti-Fate, The Asylum, Count Us In, Khmer Reborn, No Forever, The Pieces, Sliten6ix, Tepsyut (‘Shooting Star’), Varaman, Volcano, The Underdogs
WHAT: Cambo Headbangers three-year anniversary pool party (tickets are $8 to see all 14 CHB groups play – that’s just over 2000 riel per band. Bargain)
WHERE: Longbeach Plaza, Street 291 (Corner of Street 528), Tuol Kork
WHEN: 4 – 11pm December 14
WHY: Encounter pretty much the whole spectrum of unconventional Khmer bands, from pop-rock to the hardest guitars in the Kingdom

 

Diamonds in the rough

One problem with poverty is that we don’t have to see it. Caught in the play-Penh bubble of SUVs, cappuccinos and air-conned BKK offices, even the most dedicated of NGO do-gooders can conveniently forget what’s all around us.

Yet Marc Eberle’s short film As Good As Gold doesn’t seek to punch us in the groins, nor does it overtly address the complex yet manifest issues that face this country. Its purpose is rather to remind us of how the other half live and how, even in the most pitiful circumstances, there can still be kinship and kindness.

Filmed over the course of just one day, the documentary is a snapshot of sassy 11-year-old garbage picker Srey Thoy, once cast as (you’ve guessed it) a garbage picker in the bleak German 2009 romance flick Same Same But Different.

But As Good As Gold is no Slumdog Millionaire melodrama. As much as anything, it’s about the technicalities of Srey Thoy’s plight on the infamous Stung Meanchey dump. Through Eberle’s dispassionate lens, we learn the details of how a typical day’s earnings tot up to a princely 2,000 riel. We contrast Thoy’s girlish daydreams of finding silver and gold to the cans, shit and condoms she and other children actually turn up, and her desperate and depressed mother’s resignation to the grind of extreme poverty.

In perhaps the movie’s most harrowing moment, Thoy calmly recalls a 17-year-old aunt’s death by dumpster truck, telling it just as bluntly as Eberle approaches the wider story. “It took a lot of trust for the subjects to speak as candidly as they do,” he notes.

The film had lain on the proverbial cutting-room floor since 2008, but the success of this year’s celebrity-narrated Girl Rising inspired the maker of Aung San Suu Kyi: The Choice to pick up where he had left off. “I didn’t feel that Girl Rising really wins on an emotional level and I wanted to approach a similar story but in a different way,” Eberle explains. “I wanted to show how the family’s realities are governed and to explain the structures that direct their lives.”

Despite the film’s undercurrent of righteous anger and the relentless personal tragedies of its subjects, Eberle is meticulous to avoid the extremes of ‘poverty porn’. “I want to show people respectfully and avoid the traps of poverty tourism or the ‘human zoo’, while looking at the things other people don’t want to see.” We are therefore spared potentially voyeuristic scenes of utter destitution, but there are also no Angelina Jolies swooping in with Louis Vuitton handbags full of admirable intentions, until a surprising deus ex machina moment in the final credits.

It’s striking too how, freed from the burden of voiceovers and editorial subjectivity, we are permitted to observe Thoy and her fellow garbage pickers shift from petty turf wars at one moment to a real sense of community in adversity the next. They fight, they argue and yet they trade their findings, even share food, all before a sweltering, smoking, stinking backdrop that puts Dante to shame.

“In the midst of this horror and dirt there are these kids, almost from Oliver Twist, playing and laughing and staying human,” Eberle concludes. “This is the gold I found.”

WHO: All but those who most need to see it
WHAT: Everyday hopes and heartbreak in Phnom Penh’s own abyss in As Good As Gold
WHERE: Meta House, #37 Sothearos Blvd.
WHEN: 7pm November 20
WHY: There but for the grace of God go we

 

Ancient spirits of rock

Photo: Bophana Center
Photo: Anders Jiras

Those of us who’ve ever boarded a long-distance Cambodian bus probably think we know more about modern Khmer music than we deserve. But we’d be wrong. Because, although we tend to associate ‘heritage’ with dusty old scholars and hooky Angkor Wat souvenirs, there’s more to it than that. This month there’s a chance to discover Cambodia’s fragile cultural legacies, both ancient and modern – and the people saving them for the future.

Bringing the vinyl vibe of ’60s Cambodia back to life, for example, are The Underdogs, six young Khmers who met at the Music Arts School in 2012. Inspired by “the unforgettable sound of the golden age and also Dengue Fever and the Cambodian Space Project”, they’ve performed their mop-top tunes all over town. “It’s going to be an awesome event,” says frontman Samean ‘Sammie’ Ouk. “The Underdogs will rock you with the best Khmer old school songs and make you feel like you are dancing in the past!”

Contrast The Underdogs to warm-up act Master Hong Sun’s Ensemble. The elderly musicians from Kampong Speu beat accelerating rhythms, scratching out melodies on traditional stringed instruments. They are entreating the Areak, spirits who in days of yore helped the shaman (mehmut) when villagers fell sick. As part of the ritual-heavy performance the Areak are offered food and liquor too, not unlike a typical night out in Phnom Penh.

It’s quite a privilege to hear Areak music, notes Marion Gommard from Cambodian Living Arts. Barely influenced by the outside world, art forms like this are unique to Cambodia and there’s only a handful of practitioners still living.

It’s no secret that Cambodia’s heritage is particularly delicate. A generation of artists was decimated during the Khmer Rouge era. Vinyl recordings and acetate film rapidly deteriorate in these tropical climes, and in the Internet age are readily forgotten too. “Younger people ought to appreciate all these art forms and ensure they are not lost – and in turn become creators inspired by the past,” says Jamie Lee, who helps digitise priceless Khmer heritage at Unesco.

In 2005, the UN launched a World Day for Audiovisual Heritage and guardians of culture at the Bophana Centre, Cambodian Living Arts and Unesco have joined forces to organise this year’s event in Phnom Penh. Themed Musical and Performing Arts in Cambodia: Reviving Artistic Heritage, the aim is to breathe ‘a second life’ into everything from classical dance to jukebox favourites.

The event celebrates the visual as well as the audio. Since 2008, Suppya Nut and the Khmer Dance Project have been painstakingly recording reams of interviews with the dwindling population of surviving ‘masters’, from Khmer Royal Ballet directors to costume designers.

Revealed during New York’s Season Of Cambodia festival earlier this year, it’ll be the first time Nut’s work has been seen in this country and will be accompanied by a live dance performance. Guests at the free-entry event will get a CD of Khmer rock tracks remastered from the original vinyl. Look out too for the ’60s rock-styled couples trained to twist, mash and pony by former cinema starlet Dy Saveth (Miss Cambodia 1963). “It doesn’t need to be old to be heritage,” remarks Bophana Centre administrator Stanislas Touzet. Eat that, coach tour snobs.

WHO: Culture vultures to retro rockers
WHAT: Cambodian music and dance spanning the centuries
WHERE: Bophana Centre, #64 Street 200
WHEN: 4pm October 25
WHY:  It doesn’t need to be old to be heritage

(PHOTO: Cambodian Living Arts / Kampuchea Party Republic)

Gender Bending and alternative realities

Six crazy hours in the chaotic, loud and gloriously tacky world of Cambodian cosplay

The big guns are coming up front for the finale. Flown in from Bangkok are three of Thailand’s top cosplayers and, from the crowd’s reaction, you know these guys are rock stars. Did I say guys? Because I ain’t so sure. Determining gender isn’t straightforward here. There’s a liquid sort of androgyny, but it’s females dressed as males, full circle from Shakespeare’s boys dressed as girls.

First up is ‘Irvy’. She twirls, jabs and punches through a curiously sexy-unsexy dance routine. S/he’s a fighter, Lara Croft in the flesh, her whole body girdled in leather straps on top of sober white jodhpurs and a chemise. Every inch of flesh is covered up. Singing and dancing to electro-metal, the other Thais ‘Seiz’ and ‘Heyleydia’ are all in black. It’s a look somewhere between Michael Jackson in his Bad phase and the Gestapo in platform jackboots.I have no idea what’s going on.

This is the Phnom Penh Cosplay Convention. For the uninitiated, ‘cosplayers’ imitate heroes and villains from anime films or manga comics: quintessentially Japanese cartoon dramas set in virtual fantasy worlds of sword, sorcery and science fiction. The word ‘cosplay’ is a portmanteau of ‘costume’ and ‘play.’ Simply put, it’s dressing up. Yet these kids are not affirming some cyber-punk-gothic concept of individuality. They’re in character, someone else, someone other, someone fantastic.

There’s clearly been a raid on the central market wig store, for example. Bobbing among the gaggle of heads in the university hall, there’s orange wigs, purple wigs and a nasty shade of fluorescent pink. They are feathered, fringed and otherwise customised: one badass has turquoise ponytails down to her waist, a pair of waterfalls gushing from her ears. A few more have a gastric shade of yellow, flared like sunrays.

And it’s not just the nylon hairpieces. It’s gym slips, stockings and garters; kimonos, leather straps and stiletto heels; swords, battleaxes and cardboard laser guns galore. A lot of thigh is on show. Inexplicably, there’s a boy in a shell suit and a tennis racket, looking for all the world like a Khmer Noel Gallagher. I spot a girl with an eye patch, too. But by the way people are poking at it I think she’s actually down with that conjunctivitis that’s been going around.

I’m at the Cambodia-Japan Cooperation Centre at the Royal University of Phnom Penh. Since 1992 the Land of the Rising Sun has lavished over $2 billion on the Kingdom of Wonder, but I’m not sure cosplay is exactly the result the Japanese had in mind. Call it, if you will, ‘cultural exchange’.

There’s a sign outside that says ‘stay quiet please’, but the hallowed groves of academe be damned. Today this joint is rocking to a J-pop soundtrack and the yelps of 500 cosplay fans. I approach ‘Krisna’ and ‘Nita’, two second-year economics students decked out as saucy French maids: they assure me they’re playing “café shop assistants”.

It seems a pricey hobby. ‘Krisna’ corrects me: “Actually I got the costume for two dollars and made the hat by hand.” She continues, after posing for photos with an eager series of young chaps. “We do it to be creative. My family thinks it’s kind of foreign, but I don’t care.” Good for you! Go, girl! “Though we’ve had some strange looks from boys,” she adds conspiratorially, before I get too comfortable with this.

In a conservative culture, the nicknames and the costumes are a way to momentarily shed your identity. But there is undoubtedly a sexuality about cosplay, too. At best it’s baby-doll innocence. At worst, it’s a Riverside sexpat fantasy come true. There’s significantly more people here in civvies watching the show than taking part and wearing the gear. Inevitably a lot of the voyeurs are sporting zits and bum fluff: harmless nerds having a day off from masturbation and World of Warcraft. But I’m very glad to see almost no one over the age of 22. The sexpats are thankfully notable for their absence.

Chanrithy is an IT student, of all things. Why are there far more girls in costume? “There’s not many boys in cosplay,” he confirms. “Maybe because the boys are embarrassed; maybe because many anime characters look like boys, but if you’re brave enough to wear the costume, the characters you play can show off your true personality.”

The live show gets started and the performances on stage are varied, to say the least. A couple of girls waggle about halfheartedly in a representation of what I take to be marionettes. Another group enters stage right, shambolically. “That is what I call ART!” shouts one of the performers. A play fight breaks out and shirts are ripped off (hysterical whoops from the audience) to reveal enviously perfect sets of abs.

Alex Meister, a web and graphic designer from Switzerland, couldn’t come in costume (“The tailor said it would ready in three days, it’s now eight…”) but at least he’s honest about his motivations. “Mainly I’m here because there’s a lot of cute girls, but on the other hand it’s nice to have superheroes – and to dress up as one you like.”

Now there’s a boy in a pink kimono on stage, who whips out what I’m horrified to observe is a real samurai sword. He proceeds to chop up a cucumber in some profound kind of innuendo. Or so I reckon. It looks bloody dangerous, but there’s not a St John’s Ambulance van to be seen anywhere. The crowd is having a ball.

Alex doesn’t believe that cosplay is about sexuality, though in the darker recesses of the Internet, of course, there’s enough anime porn to melt your manga. But check out any of the Facebook pages and groups that bring the cosplayers together and the chat is as innocent as can be.

The three Thai stars come on. Not only are ‘Irvy’, ‘Seiz’ and ‘Heyleydia’ dressed in character, but for each of them there’s four or five Cambodian lookalikes in cheaper variations of the exact same outfits. You have to wonder if they’re based on the original anime cartoons or the real-life cosplay idols.So there’s even a kind of fandom within the fandom. Talk about subculture.

After they’re done, the local cosplayers are called onto the stage for their 15 seconds of fame and a quick jaunt down the mini-catwalk. Catwalk is the word: kitten ears and kitten heels are prevalent.

Some cosplayers on the red carpet can’t conceal their natural shyness, but most seize their moment, striking anime poses and strutting their stuff to an increasingly lively crowd. Hemmed in tight between the stage and the audience, I’m hoping there’s no mosh pit malarkey. I don’t want one of those high heels through my eye. Especially from that girl with a polystyrene axe. I’m also concerned about the plus-size ninjas and their baking-foil swords.

The highlights of the day are over, but everyone still wants their photo taken with the Thai trio. There’s a bit of lighthearted shoving going on and promoter Negibose Kondo is stressing. Part manager, part presenter, part bodyguard, he and his interpreter are doing a sterling job keeping some electrified kids in check, but everyone still gets 30 seconds for an Instagram snap with the best-dressed chicks in town today. Negibose has taken the cosplay convention around Southeast Asia and this is his third time in Cambodia. “We’re hoping the number of fans will increase in Cambodia,” he says. “In Thailand, there’s maybe 10,000 cosplayers now.”

Fear not. Cosplay won’t be taking over just yet. There’s only a few hundred members of the handful of Cambodian anime Facebook groups and this is only the second such convention in the country. “But they’ll need to find a bigger place next time,” notes Meister. “This one’s full and it’s basically just like my high-school gym.”

Cosplay superstar Heleydia takes a break from the groupies to talk to me. Like most of the cosplay fans here, she – she really is a she; I’ve figured it out – is a student too, but by night she’s an anime God. Goddess?

Having been to Myanmar, Laos and the cradle of cosplay in Japan, what does she think of the crowd here in Phnom Penh? “It’s amazing! This event has been really fun and there’s not a big difference between the Thai scene and Cambodia: it’s same same.” The Nazi-cum-prince-of-pop outfit (complete with the white gloves) is from “Akira, a character in a game” which solves that mystery once and for all. Sort of.

And what’s it like to be a Southeast Asian cosplay star? “It’s just my hobby, but I love it!” she bubbles. “Do whatever you want to do! When I get old, I’ll still be doing this.”

Heyleydia giggles, runs her fingers through her silver wig, and teeters back on platform boots to the waiting fans.

Weekend eco warriors

Local champions such as Nao Sok are planting the seeds of change. Based at the leafy Wat Botum compound, he and a growing band of students and monks are nurturing the shoots of an eco revolution.

Disturbed by Cambodia’s rampant deforestation, Nao began gathering seedlings back in 2004. Since then, he estimates, he’s helped plant 100,000 trees at communities across the nation. On September 26, he’ll encourage more Phnom Penhers to do their bit by bringing a batch to Meta House’s ‘Green Night’ eco-fair.

The Green Night has been running bi-monthly since 2009. This September’s is the biggest yet, with both floors stacked with green-themed goodness from organic wine tasting to an ‘audio-visual jungle installation’.

“Green Night is a space for Cambodian and international NGOs and social enterprises to network,” explain Meta House bosses Nico Mesterharm and Johannes Kast. “We’ve also hosted talks, premiered environmental films and in 2010 we added the eco-fair.”

A highlight this month is a large-scale model of an enviro-nerd’s dream home. Each room in Smart Home Khmer’s concept pad networks into a central system, running everything from aircon and water heaters to mood lights and multimedia. It shuts down the electrical equipment when sensors detect you’ve left the room; a smartphone app virtually slaps your wrist if you’re spilling energy from open doors and windows. Overall, estimates Smart Home Khmer operations manager Yann Vary, the Smart Home could save up to 30 percent of your annual energy usage.

It comes at a price, of course: fitting a two-bedroom house tots up at several thousand dollars. But with Cambodia’s first smart home already being kitted out in Siem Reap, Yann thinks the four-month-old company is in for a busy 2014. “The Smart Home is not about laziness,” he notes. “It’s about lifestyle. And we’ll show you how you can enjoy your lifestyle and help save the environment.”

At the other end of the eco spectrum comes Senglim Suy’s elegy to Cambodia’s birdlife. Suy is working on a book documenting all 600 known bird species. He’s photographed 400 so far and is likely the first Cambodian to have snapped certain species in the wild. He’ll be showing off his favourites at Green Night. All the more remarkable considering that as a boy he hunted birds for kicks. “If everyone acted like I did, soon we’ll have nothing left,” he concedes. So he’s made it his mission to inform Cambodia about its own fragile ecosystem.

For example, farmers often don’t realise that killing barn owls (believed to signify evil spirits), means rats race in to eat their crops. Local communities have the most to lose, says Suy, whose passion is preservation through education. Teach people about birds in simple ways, he believes, and they learn to love their feathered friends.

“When I leave this world, I’ll be leaving something behind for the next generation,” says arboreal activist Nao Sok. “We can’t change the whole world, but we can start with the small things.”

Whether you’re a white-shouldered ibis, a white-winged duck or a white-rumped vulture (white bits shoot you up the endangered list, apparently); a mighty forest or a tender twig, you’ve got mates at Meta House.

WHO: Self-confessed tree-huggers, NGO crusties, eco-warriors and their ilk
WHAT: Everything and everyone you need to save the world (with drinks too)
WHERE: Meta House, 37 Sothearos Blvd.
WHEN: 6pm September 26
WHY: Shake off your Birkenstocks to meet the real-life jungle heroes