IN my academic field of expertise – the study of popular culture – nothing is left for granted. All forms of cultural artifacts, practices, and activities that fall within the sphere of the popular are worthy of study and scrutiny.

However, the mistake that most average citizens who consume popular culture makes – and everybody does, whether one notices it or not – the word popular is often taken for granted and defined based on individual opinions, which are oftentimes misconstrued and pedestrian at best, mired in our own individual biases and judgements.

Unlike most academics whose field of expertise is the study of popular culture, I am also an insider, a multi-disciplinary practitioner who produces artifacts and practices that fall into the broader field of popular culture. I am privy to the inner workings and politics (yes, politics) involved in the production and consumption of popular culture artifacts.

Before I burden you, dear reader, with such heavy and burdensome academic words that only excite other fellow scholars, I’ll attempt to unpack the meaning of the word popular before tackling the bigger elephant in the room: the non-mathematical definition of the derogatory noun lowest common denominator – an overlooked fancy-sounding term that actually helps explain populist politics, which is the crutch of any democracy.

In the field of communication and cultural studies, the concept of the popular refers to the basic idea of something or someone that is of the people, for the people, and well-liked by the people in general.

This triad suggests that the source of something popular ought to come from the public itself (produced by) which is of intended use (consumed by) by fellow members of the public, and is in eventuality accepted en mass by the public.

For example, the nasi lemak (I had some for buka puasa last night and I’m longing for more now) is a popular Malay dish which was created by Malaysians, for Malaysians, and loved by all Malaysians. In fact, if you don’t like the humble nasi lemak, there is an unspoken aggression against your membership of this imagined community. However, this is a broad assumption.

If one is studying the popularity of the nasi lemak, one must also problematise the concept of Malaysia itself. The nasi lemak is primarily a Peninsular Malaysia dish that most probably (I haven’t done the research, I confess) only became popularised in Bornean Malaysia after Malaysia was formed as an entity on September 16, 1963.

Technically speaking, Singapore, too, can lay claim some ownership to the nasi lemak (they beat us to the nasi lemak burger) since Singapore was an original band member of the entity known as Malaysia.

Of course, the nasi lemak can be enjoyed by all human beings and it now exists in many incarnations with luxuries and condiments far removed from its original working class, agrarian breakfast of champions form.

To take another example, the late Sudirman – where’s his road name? – was an unparalleled popular singer whose songs still resonate now with Malaysians from all walks of life.

Although his anthem Balik Kampung (yes, he composed the song himself, a rarity among popular singers in Malaysia) may invite melancholy this Hari Raya, the lyrics are broadly inclusive to encompass all Malaysian festivities even though it is associated with Aidilfitri and Malay kampung nostalgia.

Sudirman the Malaysian icon most definitely came from the people (he was born to Malaysian parents, born in Malaysia, and is constitutionally a Malaysian), he was a singer in the Malaysian music industry whose main audience, target market, and source of income are fellow Malaysians at large, and he was immensely popular both quantitatively (he sold a lot records) and qualitatively (his image and persona still informs our collective Malaysian identity even though he may not be as grandly valorised as that other great Malaysian artist P. Ramlee).

Herein lies the conundrum – while someone of Sudirman’s stature is a glowing, rare example of greatness, which many aspire to but oftentimes fall short of, the folly of human greed, ego, and compromises are the undoing of many who only excel at mimicry.

Let’s face it, if more people like your something, you can make a lot of money. This is the great minefield of popular culture as an “industry” in which to appeal to broad and oftentimes non-discerning public, one has to make compromises and pander to what is “popular” in the marketplace.

This act of pandering to broad appeal is what is known as appealing to the lowest common denominator – compromising to the level of the least discriminating audience or consumer group.

Sounds simple on paper but oftentimes mixed results will most certainly abound (some fail spectacularly) but the cultural and, most importantly, political repercussions of the process of creating something with the intention of appealing to the lowest common denominator results in the product (be it a dish, singer, song, or film etc.) being de-historicised and sucked out of its original context and use, at the mercy of a non-discerning, ignorant consumer whose only access to the product is due to the fact that he or she has money.

Now, how did we get from nasi lemak and Sudirman to politics? Well, like a national dish or a wannabe pop star (Sudirman was an artiste first and foremost, not a mere pop star), a politician who wishes to appeal to the masses (as opposed to forwarding unpopular but important ideas) comes with its own sets of compromises and chief among them are individual principles, since to be in politics one has to be in the structure and system of party politics.

Maybe playing Balik Kampung may actually win you brownie points with the electorate even, although that is a very exploitative move. No public office bearer has ever come to power as a lone individual – a similar trend with pop stars and national dishes. The price is a compromise.

To be popular means to abandon individual principles in order to gain the advantage of being a part of the mob and the financial support and publicity boost it enables.

It’s a trap that many desire, but aren’t prepared to deal with when the desire fades. – May 7, 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.