I BEGAN my journey in the creative arts not as an intended career path, neither was it sparked by industrious or entrepreneurial desires.

It was purely driven by a post-pubescent sense of excitement and curiosity about playing music and trying out what my musical heroes had done with a fair amount of imitation, since imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. We try to become the people we admire. This may include standing in front of the mirror, posing or playing guitar, or trying to dress and behave like your heroes.

But these weren’t the forms of mimicry I attempted because, well, I didn’t physically resemble most of my heroes, who, for better or worse, were rock ‘n’ roll musicians from the West. Also, I had a terrible fashion sense.

The local hero I looked up to as a teenager was M. Nasir, and I longed for the day when I could grow out my hair and moustache to imitate his pensive and distant artistic image. While P. Ramlee was a constant inspiration, he seemed way too talented for a humble teen from Bangi (my adopted hometown after my family moved from the heart of Kuala Lumpur).

As the 1990s dawned, the works of bands like R.E.M. and Nirvana became the template for my musical mimicry. Later, I delved into the DIY punk culture, becoming informed by its values and principles well into the present. The 90s was the age of the self-deprecating hero who saw irony as a tool of symbolic resistance, and not the self-congratulatory ones like most “stars” today who wield their heroship to further their commercial appeal.

While mimicry has been panned or at least trivialised (e.g. professional cover or tribute bands that look like the real deal), an aspect that’s worth examining is the copying of our heroes’ habits and the values they espouse, which are readily available to us in interviews, YouTube videos, biographies and such.

We live in an age of CEO worship, and if one looks closer, it mimics how we used to worship cultural or artistic heroes. I’ve always felt that the CEO-worship culture is problematic because it normalises capitalist values and the system that perpetuates them. Of course, part and parcel of this enabling is the well-oiled public relations machinery that has taken over the mass communication programmes at universities (along with advertising), while more critical and questioning “noble” courses like journalism have fallen in popularity (although I see this trend reversing).

The mess we’re left with now and the prevalent narrative of “the economy” are part of the strain that can be traced to the culture of CEO worship, which has permeated the world. This “norm” is actually an abnormality, and the Covid-19 crisis has inherently forced us to collectively press the reset button.

Now that I’m a middle-aged man who still plays music and has found a way to navigate the economics of maintaining a music “career” with my principles and ethics intact (unlike most “artis”), I’m in danger of being seen as the “establishment” (which I suspect is already the case). I find it comforting that I still get a lot of grief from my wife and mother for my generous but greying locks – I shudder at the thought of being accepted wholly for who I am, for there has to be some part of yourself that maintains a symbolic resistance to “norms”. I’m blessed to have taken this road less travelled as it has allowed me to see the world through a different lens from most, and I think it’s rather amusing that many find harbouring the incessant to be “normal”.

Awkward (former) kids of the world, unite! This “new normal” looks pretty normal to us, doesn’t it?

We’ll adapt. Just imitate our heroes (dead or alive), for mimicry in habit is more advantageous than just surface-level and stylised impersonation. Old habits die hard, and one needs a steely resolve in these times. – April 24, 2020.

* Azmyl Yunor is a touring underground recording artiste, and an academic in media and cultural studies. He has published articles on pop culture, subcultures and Malaysian cultural politics. He adheres to the three-chords-and-the-truth school of songwriting, and Woody Guthrie’s maxim “All you can write is what you see”. He is @azmyl on Twitter.

* This is the opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insight. Article may be edited for brevity and clarity.