WHILE I waxed lyrical last week about the economics of live music making in the Klang Valley, I left the one question unanswered that I get asked often: “Where do you usually perform?”

The answer I usually give is “Everywhere. Here and there.” And as I explained about the common paradigm of how Malaysians think about places where musicians earn a living, their puzzled reaction is common.

The independent and underground live music circuit where I ply my trade is probably the most misunderstood: I conflate these two together because unlike the first two domains of pub music and busking, performances and scheduling in this circuit aren’t usually “regular” or repeated weekly performances in a specific venue.

If you think this is peculiar, well, you probably aren’t aware of the wider spectrum of how musicians – both full-time and part-time – ply their trade internationally.

It’s common (even among my musician friends in Australia or elsewhere) for touring musicians to hold menial or short-term work, for it’s the last thing a touring musician needs is to consider the “career opportunities” of climbing up the proverbial ladder of a profession aside from music-making.

They just need a job or jobs between the gigging to pay the bills and maybe for savings. In Malaysia, I find the need to settle with a clearer definition of “full-time” or “part-time” tedious.

Two key questions I find interesting to dislodge this typical oversimplification:

Are you less of a musician or artist if you do it “part-time”?

Does having a job keep your art freer to express or say what you want to say?

My answer is “no” to the first and “yes” to the latter. I compose and sing because I need to say something but am also acutely aware it is a craft in which I am expected to “entertain” – but I will only do so on my own terms.

And also, I realised I have a gift for melody and endearing disposition. For me to maintain that, well, I need to maintain some other means of income to maintain that artistic freedom.   

I play “everywhere” and “here and there” because unlike pub or busking musicians, the standard repertoire of independent or underground musicians are original songs. Yes, we write our own songs and sing them too.

Some of us have opinions (beyond lovey-dovey stuff) and we make our opinions heard in song. Although this is not an anomaly anymore, the idea musicians can make a living singing their own material in public remains a novelty from my own experience.

Of course, there is an opportunity cost to this: you don’t earn a steady income from your music-making because you’re not playing the “hits” and don’t take requests.

Hence, more so in the underground music circuit (less so in the independent circuit), selling your band merchandise is at the heart of the cultural and financial economy of what you do.

You don’t really earn big pay from the gigs you play because you play with and among fellow musicians and audiences who are there purely out of love for the music and performance-making.

That is why the underground music circuit tends to be very genre-specific and based on youth subcultures (punk rock and heavy metal are evergreen ones) but participated by musicians and fans well beyond their youth.

By this definition, I am what you call a “subcultural musician”. Even though I don’t conventionally play punk or metal, I am from and informed by the values of the broader subculture namely the Do-It-Yourself subculture: the economy where you make your own music, make your own albums, and make your own t-shirts.

Yes, I still produce CD albums, make t-shirts, posters, stickers, and sell them.

Maybe a personal experience of my very brief stint about a decade plus ago as a pub musician might give you some insight into the contrasting worlds of live music-making.

I didn’t begin as a pub musician (I started in a college band and found my “voice” as a busker later while studying overseas) and open mic nights were unheard of in the mid-1990s.

A friend knew a company that managed several restaurants and bars and was looking for a performer in one of the newest Irish pub outlets they owned. I took the opportunity and dusted by old busking repertoires (‘90s alternative rock was my busking staple) and some Malaysian pub standards (Man Bai’s Kau Ilhamku and The Eagles’ Hotel California among others).

I needed to put on a different hat for this gig. I would naturally receive some requests on small paper cuttings and if I didn’t know the song I for one must always have a creative way to circumvent it (“I don’t have that song on my setlist tonight but this next one goes to you!”).

But of course, word caught wind that I was performing (I also publicised it on my email mailing list – remember those! – and early social media sites like Myspace) and soon some friends and fans would come and request my originals.

And I got out of my “organic jukebox” act and interacted with the crowd with banter between songs just like I usually did in the independent and underground circuit. As a courtesy, I always asked the manager how was my set at the end of each night and he always said “It’s all good bro!”

After about three months, I received an email from the management company that informed me the bar didn’t want me anymore. Dejected, I called the person in charge at the company and he said “It happens bro.”

I felt I was had by the bar manager who always gave me a glowing thumbs up. As a final request, I recommended a busker/pub musician friend of mine and he got the job, which was great.

I checked him out one night and yes, all they wanted was an “organic jukebox” – my friend performed inconspicuously as the patrons went on with their merriment. I got back to my usual gigging hunting grounds in independent and underground circuits, sticking it up to the Man as I always do (not that I stopped during my Irish pub stint mind you).

So hopefully this tale has helped illuminate to you the contrasting inner workings of these two forms of live music-making in the community.

Now that the movement-control order is stretched another round, the next time you see a busker or pub musician doing an online livestream concert, tip them if you’ve got change to spare. Be the silver lining and ray of light in these uncertain Covid-19 times. – February 5, 2021.

* 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.