Photos: Greta Kite-Gilmour
On Board the Magic Music Bus
It was 8pm and I’d just collapsed into a seat at my favourite local haunt after a long day at work, when I felt a familiar buzzing in my bag. The amount of people I’d have picked up my phone for right then was shamefully few. Arn Chorn Pond, however, most definitely made the cut.
The internationally admired Khmer Rouge survivor, US-Cambodian community aid developer, forefather of the Cambodian Living Arts (CLA) and, now, founder of the Khmer Magic Music Bus (KMMB) project, spoke fast and excitedly into the phone. “Myself and some CLA musicians will be travelling with the Magic Music Bus to Siem Reap to pick up some artists we just discovered play very rare traditional instruments. We’ll bring them back to Phnom Penh to play at CLA’s Amatak Festival and may stop in rural areas to play traditional music to the villagers. We’re leaving 6am the day after tomorrow, so stay out our house tomorrow night.” He paused for a millisecond, presumably to breathe. “So are you coming?”
Stay overnight at a house full of people I’d never met, before travelling seven hours on a bus whose name evoked psychedelic ‘60s rockabilly imagery, to collect a group of musicians who played centuries-old instruments that neither I, nor most of the world, had ever even heard of? “I’ll pack my bag.”
I figured I had 14 hours of travel time to learn the finer details of the whos, wheres, whats and whys. What I hadn’t counted on were the several other eye-opening and somewhat sobering topics that would be discussed on that journey – Cambodia’s grimy entertainment industry underbelly, prostitution and the art of protest – all accompanied by a live traditional soundtrack.
The internationally admired Khmer Rouge survivor, US-Cambodian community aid developer, forefather of the Cambodian Living Arts (CLA) and, now, founder of the Khmer Magic Music Bus (KMMB) project, spoke fast and excitedly into the phone. “Myself and some CLA musicians will be travelling with the Magic Music Bus to Siem Reap to pick up some artists we just discovered play very rare traditional instruments. We’ll bring them back to Phnom Penh to play at CLA’s Amatak Festival and may stop in rural areas to play traditional music to the villagers. We’re leaving 6am the day after tomorrow, so stay out our house tomorrow night.” He paused for a millisecond, presumably to breathe. “So are you coming?”
Stay overnight at a house full of people I’d never met, before travelling seven hours on a bus whose name evoked psychedelic ‘60s rockabilly imagery, to collect a group of musicians who played centuries-old instruments that neither I, nor most of the world, had ever even heard of? “I’ll pack my bag.”
I figured I had 14 hours of travel time to learn the finer details of the whos, wheres, whats and whys. What I hadn’t counted on were the several other eye-opening and somewhat sobering topics that would be discussed on that journey – Cambodia’s grimy entertainment industry underbelly, prostitution and the art of protest – all accompanied by a live traditional soundtrack.
PART I: MUSIC IS MAGIC
As we rolled through the outskirts of Phnom Penh, cityscape slowly transforming into open rice plains en route to Siem Reap, I chatted to both Arn and Seyma Than, general manager of the Khmer Magic Music Bus and singer and artistic director at CLA, about the bus’ genesis.
How did you get the idea in the beginning?
S: KMMB started last June or July. We used to rent a bus and take traditional artists on it with us – 20 in total –from CLA and other music schools. We went all around Cambodia. Arn, Yorn [Young] and I played music with them, both in the bus and on the road. After doing this, we thought to start the ‘Khmer Magic Music Bus (KMMB)’ programme with a dedicated bus. We’ve done seven concerts since.
We are so excited about the KMMB as it can bring the old artists with Khmer roots to the young artists. They also perform in rural villages, and the people like the music very much. They’d never heard live traditional music before in their life. When we stop on the road, the artists play and the villagers gather to watch. When they see the instruments they ask, “What is that? Can I touch them? Can I play some?” We say, “Please!” because the Khmer instrument is their instrument.
One time, the artists cried. It was the first time they played on the beach. They put water from the sea into a jar to bring it back to their family who never saw it before. So the people who see the musicians are moved by the music, but the musicians as well are moved by the experience – they never saw these parts of their country before. They never thought that something like this would be possible for them.
How did you find the musicians originally?
S: We heard there were musicians who lived around Surin Province. They could play unheard of traditional Khmer instruments. We went to where the artists lived and learned about who they were and earned their trust. Arn desperately wanted to bring them to Phnom Penh to record with us. This was before we even had the KMMB, so we just brought them straight to our studio [Waterek Productions].
A: It was difficult at first. [The artists] were very afraid to come with us. They’d never been to Phnom Penh before and people were telling them that if you go there then you will be sold as a slave! So they didn’t trust us. But now everyone is very happy, like a family.
S: They now have two CDs by Waterek Productions – all original songs.
As we rolled through the outskirts of Phnom Penh, cityscape slowly transforming into open rice plains en route to Siem Reap, I chatted to both Arn and Seyma Than, general manager of the Khmer Magic Music Bus and singer and artistic director at CLA, about the bus’ genesis.
How did you get the idea in the beginning?
S: KMMB started last June or July. We used to rent a bus and take traditional artists on it with us – 20 in total –from CLA and other music schools. We went all around Cambodia. Arn, Yorn [Young] and I played music with them, both in the bus and on the road. After doing this, we thought to start the ‘Khmer Magic Music Bus (KMMB)’ programme with a dedicated bus. We’ve done seven concerts since.
We are so excited about the KMMB as it can bring the old artists with Khmer roots to the young artists. They also perform in rural villages, and the people like the music very much. They’d never heard live traditional music before in their life. When we stop on the road, the artists play and the villagers gather to watch. When they see the instruments they ask, “What is that? Can I touch them? Can I play some?” We say, “Please!” because the Khmer instrument is their instrument.
One time, the artists cried. It was the first time they played on the beach. They put water from the sea into a jar to bring it back to their family who never saw it before. So the people who see the musicians are moved by the music, but the musicians as well are moved by the experience – they never saw these parts of their country before. They never thought that something like this would be possible for them.
How did you find the musicians originally?
S: We heard there were musicians who lived around Surin Province. They could play unheard of traditional Khmer instruments. We went to where the artists lived and learned about who they were and earned their trust. Arn desperately wanted to bring them to Phnom Penh to record with us. This was before we even had the KMMB, so we just brought them straight to our studio [Waterek Productions].
A: It was difficult at first. [The artists] were very afraid to come with us. They’d never been to Phnom Penh before and people were telling them that if you go there then you will be sold as a slave! So they didn’t trust us. But now everyone is very happy, like a family.
S: They now have two CDs by Waterek Productions – all original songs.
PART II: PERFORMANCE, PROSTITUTION AND PROTEST
Throughout the journey, I had several conversations with Seyma, Arn and CLA musician Yorn Young about their own experiences and opinions of the Cambodian performance industry – a business, it seems, which may only prove lucrative for those women willing to expose more than just their artistic talent.
For how long have you been singing and what type of music do you sing?
S: I’ve been singing ten years now. My father was the number one singer in 1969. But he didn’t want me to sing – he’s died now though – and he never told me why. Maybe because nowadays it’s hard for female singers. They must sing in bars from six to twelve at night. It can be very dangerous.
Today, I sing and record with Waterek Production. It’s traditional music, but it’s also pop music. We like to play them together. We don’t want just pop songs, we want to make new songs that are poppy but with traditional style and musical instruments. [Female singers] should sing original songs to have these stories for the later generations – our own songs, not copied songs. Because this is Cambodia and we are Cambodian women. We need to sing original songs and be proud.
We were discussing earlier about prostitution being a pretty big problem in the performance industry here. What’s your opinion on that?
Y: It’s a big problem here because for some film stars performing is not for art. The rich people can pay money for the girls. I cannot say how many do this, but I have heard a lot of examples of this problem. Some even very famous singers get into trouble…some have been injured. They cannot sing anymore.
A: Right now, it’s very subtle. They say, “Oh the girls, they have a choice to sleep with who they want!” But actually, there is a total absence of choices for them. We all know that it’s a market. Everyone accepts it. Everyone will say it’s a girl’s choice, but we all know…
So how do you think young females can become performers without feeling like they are in danger, or pressured to sell themselves?
Y: It’s hard… Sometimes, I think artists cannot solve the problem. There’s no money in it for the professionals. We can try to make money from art, protest and call to make reason, but a lot is based on their economic position. They have very low income.
I think if [female performers] can earn enough money for themselves [as artists] then they won’t need to work in bars or beer restaurants at night. But because they have low income, well…then their income is very reliant on the customer. The customers come and get drunk. I don’t know where they get their money from, but they spend a lot of money on it. And the girl, she is very vulnerable…It can be very dangerous. My friend was invited to sing in the bar and the rich man with the bodyguard tried to offer her the night, and she tried to get away....She doesn’t sing anymore…
I think it’s an economic solution, but also the law enforcement. Some professional, successful singers – the ones who produce albums – they don’t work in the bar. But they’re still vulnerable too. And sometimes they cannot avoid that….
A: Everyone that has money wins. Most female performers who don’t put their bodies on show don’t earn a lot of money. She can know a lot of things – traditional performance, how to read and write new songs –.but they’re not interested if she’s not selling what’s under her skirt.
Would campaigns or protests help, do you think?
Y: Oh, a lot of people protest now. I think everything must be changed because we’re not happy. It cannot stay like this. Music is a strong motivator for protesting too. And there’s only one language with music. It can go everywhere – to every age, every people. There’s no border for music. There are bands like The Messenger Girls who specifically sing at protests.
That must be a particularly risky activity – being a performer and a female protester. Do you think that The Messenger Girls are scared?
Y: I can say that they’re very brave. They’re protected by the NGOs to an extent but it’s not easy for them. It’s still very dangerous. You know, now in Cambodia, I think women are braver than the men. Because every time there is protesting here, women go first. Police are men, so protesting [as a] man, it’s very challenging. Women go everywhere. It’s not so easy for police to hurt women protestors.
Where do you think this system stops then?
A: We [artists] need to keep going, and hopefully then something comes up right. Many ‘artists’ make money because sex and violence sells. It’s not art for life – it’s art for consumerism. And it’s not going to stop, because people are making money out of this.
We have to think really hard – all of us who say art is the route of our lives, art is fun, art is healing, art is jobs for kids, art is alternative, and art lets many people see different things! It’s about sticking to your real values. We need stand up and say, “You can’t make decisions without us. We are in your community too, and we know what you’re doing.” Keep pressuring them.
Meanwhile, we have to work from the bottom up – through the little kids. But you know, how can they do it? In the mainstream [media], they all only see a guy hitting a girl, and the girl sleeping with another guy, and she drinks and he drinks. All the songs are copied from foreigners. We can’t just say it, we have to show and teach them alternatives: read intelligent magazines, see dignified music videos, and say, “Yes! We want to choose the other way.”
Throughout the journey, I had several conversations with Seyma, Arn and CLA musician Yorn Young about their own experiences and opinions of the Cambodian performance industry – a business, it seems, which may only prove lucrative for those women willing to expose more than just their artistic talent.
For how long have you been singing and what type of music do you sing?
S: I’ve been singing ten years now. My father was the number one singer in 1969. But he didn’t want me to sing – he’s died now though – and he never told me why. Maybe because nowadays it’s hard for female singers. They must sing in bars from six to twelve at night. It can be very dangerous.
Today, I sing and record with Waterek Production. It’s traditional music, but it’s also pop music. We like to play them together. We don’t want just pop songs, we want to make new songs that are poppy but with traditional style and musical instruments. [Female singers] should sing original songs to have these stories for the later generations – our own songs, not copied songs. Because this is Cambodia and we are Cambodian women. We need to sing original songs and be proud.
We were discussing earlier about prostitution being a pretty big problem in the performance industry here. What’s your opinion on that?
Y: It’s a big problem here because for some film stars performing is not for art. The rich people can pay money for the girls. I cannot say how many do this, but I have heard a lot of examples of this problem. Some even very famous singers get into trouble…some have been injured. They cannot sing anymore.
A: Right now, it’s very subtle. They say, “Oh the girls, they have a choice to sleep with who they want!” But actually, there is a total absence of choices for them. We all know that it’s a market. Everyone accepts it. Everyone will say it’s a girl’s choice, but we all know…
So how do you think young females can become performers without feeling like they are in danger, or pressured to sell themselves?
Y: It’s hard… Sometimes, I think artists cannot solve the problem. There’s no money in it for the professionals. We can try to make money from art, protest and call to make reason, but a lot is based on their economic position. They have very low income.
I think if [female performers] can earn enough money for themselves [as artists] then they won’t need to work in bars or beer restaurants at night. But because they have low income, well…then their income is very reliant on the customer. The customers come and get drunk. I don’t know where they get their money from, but they spend a lot of money on it. And the girl, she is very vulnerable…It can be very dangerous. My friend was invited to sing in the bar and the rich man with the bodyguard tried to offer her the night, and she tried to get away....She doesn’t sing anymore…
I think it’s an economic solution, but also the law enforcement. Some professional, successful singers – the ones who produce albums – they don’t work in the bar. But they’re still vulnerable too. And sometimes they cannot avoid that….
A: Everyone that has money wins. Most female performers who don’t put their bodies on show don’t earn a lot of money. She can know a lot of things – traditional performance, how to read and write new songs –.but they’re not interested if she’s not selling what’s under her skirt.
Would campaigns or protests help, do you think?
Y: Oh, a lot of people protest now. I think everything must be changed because we’re not happy. It cannot stay like this. Music is a strong motivator for protesting too. And there’s only one language with music. It can go everywhere – to every age, every people. There’s no border for music. There are bands like The Messenger Girls who specifically sing at protests.
That must be a particularly risky activity – being a performer and a female protester. Do you think that The Messenger Girls are scared?
Y: I can say that they’re very brave. They’re protected by the NGOs to an extent but it’s not easy for them. It’s still very dangerous. You know, now in Cambodia, I think women are braver than the men. Because every time there is protesting here, women go first. Police are men, so protesting [as a] man, it’s very challenging. Women go everywhere. It’s not so easy for police to hurt women protestors.
Where do you think this system stops then?
A: We [artists] need to keep going, and hopefully then something comes up right. Many ‘artists’ make money because sex and violence sells. It’s not art for life – it’s art for consumerism. And it’s not going to stop, because people are making money out of this.
We have to think really hard – all of us who say art is the route of our lives, art is fun, art is healing, art is jobs for kids, art is alternative, and art lets many people see different things! It’s about sticking to your real values. We need stand up and say, “You can’t make decisions without us. We are in your community too, and we know what you’re doing.” Keep pressuring them.
Meanwhile, we have to work from the bottom up – through the little kids. But you know, how can they do it? In the mainstream [media], they all only see a guy hitting a girl, and the girl sleeping with another guy, and she drinks and he drinks. All the songs are copied from foreigners. We can’t just say it, we have to show and teach them alternatives: read intelligent magazines, see dignified music videos, and say, “Yes! We want to choose the other way.”
PART III: AMATAK: A TRADITIONAL FESTIVAL, A NEW GENERATION
Returning to Phnom Penh, we dropped the musicians off at the National Museum, where young members of CLA were abuzz setting up for the Amatak Festival. The event promised a weekend of traditional music workshops, performances and discussions, overseen by Master Artists, but predominantly performed by and aimed at youth. I managed to intercept Artistic Producer Suon Bunrith, who spoke about the value of tradition and the importance of creation.
What do you aim to achieve with the festival amongst younger people?
They will get out of it a sense of coming to a traditional performing art festival. It’s fun, creative, enough to stay a while. And more than that, I really hope they start to reflect on themselves and learn more who they are and where they’re from.
Some young people say, “I am proud to be Cambodian.” They say, “We have a rich culture.” But if you start to ask them to describe what their rich culture is, there are a lot of questions up here [points to head]. I’m not putting the blame on them, because how can you blame them when they do not have a chance to see a regular performing arts show? Once in a year, something like [Amatak Festival] will happen. This year, there was almost no festival, but we keep it happening on whatever small scale we can.
And it’s not just about the performance quality itself. It’s about the process of making it. Learning not to copy, but to think. Because in many ways, Cambodian artists are very rich and have a lot of knowledge inside, but they don’t know how to take and use it. We never stop and think. Maybe we’re used to doing things like 1,2,3,4, but we never think, ‘Wait a minute, why don’t we do the same, but we do 4,3,2,1 and create something totally different and amazing?’ It’s about thinking outside the box. There’s no right or wrong, and we can’t be afraid of mistakes.
The audience is also learning: learning what things are, because many of them – many young people – are like, “Oh, you’re going to traditional art? You’re old-school!” But I want them to really reflect and start to think, ‘No, going to traditional performing arts – to see yourtraditions – is not old-fashioned’. It is a living culture, it is a social life. But sometimes there is no Cambodian art promoted. And yet, if K-Pop stars come to Cambodia, everyone knows six months ahead of time! But why do they know so much about that, but not this? We need to start providing them with more access to information about our own arts, and not just treat art and culture just like a museum exhibit. I want it to be a living culture. But if the art and culture is only exhibited like an antique in the museum, we are separated from it. It should be in our lives.
At the same time, what are the responsibilities of young people and the art? How can they help promote their own art? Young people are very smart, especially with technology. Why not help themselves and other artists in the same way they do with posting and promoting every single thing they eat on Facebook? Why don’t they do that with art and culture?
Do you think there is room to combine the two: create something unique through a combination of traditional and modern forms of art?
Of course! We must support new creativity. If young artists do something a bit different, don’t correct them – encourage them to make it their own. For example, [traditional Cambodian music] does not have a violin or guitar but we have many other string instruments: a tro and a long-neck guitar. Many younger Cambodian musicians are learning how they could adapt to play traditional instruments to a Western score. Or vice versa. So yes, there’s plenty of room for creating. Those young people, they are the art makers. They are the ones to keep the art surviving. Art and culture belongs to them.
Do you think you could even go so far as to mix traditional music into EDM? Make some to dance to in clubs?
Sure! Some young people think, ‘Oh, Cambodian music is too slow’. I can assure you, it is not. Come, I will show you a beat so fast, so strong, that you can dance and dance until you break your legs!
Returning to Phnom Penh, we dropped the musicians off at the National Museum, where young members of CLA were abuzz setting up for the Amatak Festival. The event promised a weekend of traditional music workshops, performances and discussions, overseen by Master Artists, but predominantly performed by and aimed at youth. I managed to intercept Artistic Producer Suon Bunrith, who spoke about the value of tradition and the importance of creation.
What do you aim to achieve with the festival amongst younger people?
They will get out of it a sense of coming to a traditional performing art festival. It’s fun, creative, enough to stay a while. And more than that, I really hope they start to reflect on themselves and learn more who they are and where they’re from.
Some young people say, “I am proud to be Cambodian.” They say, “We have a rich culture.” But if you start to ask them to describe what their rich culture is, there are a lot of questions up here [points to head]. I’m not putting the blame on them, because how can you blame them when they do not have a chance to see a regular performing arts show? Once in a year, something like [Amatak Festival] will happen. This year, there was almost no festival, but we keep it happening on whatever small scale we can.
And it’s not just about the performance quality itself. It’s about the process of making it. Learning not to copy, but to think. Because in many ways, Cambodian artists are very rich and have a lot of knowledge inside, but they don’t know how to take and use it. We never stop and think. Maybe we’re used to doing things like 1,2,3,4, but we never think, ‘Wait a minute, why don’t we do the same, but we do 4,3,2,1 and create something totally different and amazing?’ It’s about thinking outside the box. There’s no right or wrong, and we can’t be afraid of mistakes.
The audience is also learning: learning what things are, because many of them – many young people – are like, “Oh, you’re going to traditional art? You’re old-school!” But I want them to really reflect and start to think, ‘No, going to traditional performing arts – to see yourtraditions – is not old-fashioned’. It is a living culture, it is a social life. But sometimes there is no Cambodian art promoted. And yet, if K-Pop stars come to Cambodia, everyone knows six months ahead of time! But why do they know so much about that, but not this? We need to start providing them with more access to information about our own arts, and not just treat art and culture just like a museum exhibit. I want it to be a living culture. But if the art and culture is only exhibited like an antique in the museum, we are separated from it. It should be in our lives.
At the same time, what are the responsibilities of young people and the art? How can they help promote their own art? Young people are very smart, especially with technology. Why not help themselves and other artists in the same way they do with posting and promoting every single thing they eat on Facebook? Why don’t they do that with art and culture?
Do you think there is room to combine the two: create something unique through a combination of traditional and modern forms of art?
Of course! We must support new creativity. If young artists do something a bit different, don’t correct them – encourage them to make it their own. For example, [traditional Cambodian music] does not have a violin or guitar but we have many other string instruments: a tro and a long-neck guitar. Many younger Cambodian musicians are learning how they could adapt to play traditional instruments to a Western score. Or vice versa. So yes, there’s plenty of room for creating. Those young people, they are the art makers. They are the ones to keep the art surviving. Art and culture belongs to them.
Do you think you could even go so far as to mix traditional music into EDM? Make some to dance to in clubs?
Sure! Some young people think, ‘Oh, Cambodian music is too slow’. I can assure you, it is not. Come, I will show you a beat so fast, so strong, that you can dance and dance until you break your legs!