WHAT touring does, aside from offering adventure and spiritual journey, is that it gives a broader regional perspective to a national situation. This helps because musicians from a particular country tend to be absorbed in their local tribulations to the extent that they assume that such conditions are only peculiar to their own national setting.

In spite of us living in a globalised world, the tendency among us is – as the political development around the world shows – to beat a retreat to the national, prompting a rise in nationalist and myopic rhetoric.

This despite the fact that most citizens consume imported cultural products (music, films, TV series, novels, comics etc.) and have very little contact with contemporary local arts. 

Nonetheless, our interactions with Indonesian neighbours, who are proud of their cultural heritage and history, provide some indicators about ourselves.

From my travels to Indonesia throughout the decade, I gather that we are known for only two things to the Indonesian public – singer Siti Nurhaliza Tarudin and animated TV series Upin & Ipin. Or, perhaps this limited artistic Malaysian attraction could be widened a bit to include rock musician Amy Search and actor-singer-songwriter P. Ramlee.

To be clear, we are not under the Indonesian radar when it comes to things cultural – except for the usual skirmishes over artifacts like Rasa Sayang and such. 

Prior to crossing over the Straits of Malacca, I had heard first-hand the cold reception Indonesian audiences gave to Malaysian indie bands performing for the first time there. Sometimes even hostile, as a friend from the punk scene told me once, although this is rare.  

But thankfully, my fellow folky troubadours and I never experienced any of such lukewarm reception. I deduce this is probably due to the fact that when one is a solo singer-songwriter, perceptions change about who you are, not just as a musical artist but also as an individual.

The audience is likely to be different and the venues also tend to be smaller and more intimate, perhaps eliciting greater personal connection and empathy compared to a larger stage and higher expectations an indie band would have to deal with.

Or maybe we’re just friendly, chill out and genuinely exude positive vibes.

Be that as it may, image, perception and representation of what bands are (they are culturally seen as an idealised form of a “gang”) and where they come from, affect the audience’s reception and expectations. And it doesn’t help that on an official and political level, Malaysia and Indonesia oftentimes have had frosty relations and contestations about cultural history and artifacts.

The irony for me is that the tension is rooted in our colonial past and that the border that separates us from the Indonesians is arbitrary, drawn at a proverbial toss of a coin by the British and the Dutch. Nusantara was a porous place historically where identities and allegiances were fluid and frequently blurred.

That is why the arts can serve as a convenient platform for building bridges. Musicians (and artists) as a whole are, therefore, unofficial ambassadors of their respective countries. But it is unfortunate that this informal form of delegacy ceases when it is accorded an official status by the government of the day. The artists concerned stop being free agents as they are then dictated by the requisites of official diplomacy rather than some form of authentic humanist expression that evoke empathy across national borders.

Indeed, artists have an important role to play not only in the domain of the arts, but also the larger society. It is disturbing, however, that many of them, particularly Malaysian artists, are often lauded for their contributions only after their demise.

In their lifetime, some had to struggle to eke out a living and keep their heads above water because of structural failure of the system to tend to their needs, especially during a crisis such as the current pandemic.

The plight of artists abroad is not much different from that of ours, although some Malaysians tend to think that the grass is greener on the other side. What differs is the larger society’s level of appreciation, understanding and most importantly, cultural literacy about the purpose of the arts in a functioning modern democracy.

My observation of societies abroad is that the more depraved and dysfunctional the state gets, the stronger the desire among the ordinary people, particularly artists, to express and be heard.

The situation in Malaysia is, however, different, possibly because it is a middle-income nation with a large middle class who are generally entrenched in their material comfort. Rocking the boat may not be an urgent matter. – September 4, 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.