Rungpetch Laemsing | Fon Duen Hok

Listen to "Chao Na Worn Fon"

At a reader's request I have reupped this totally great collection in 320 kick-ass kbps here.

Are you ready to rock? No, no; seriously, people: Are you RAY DAY to FROW king RAAAWWK?!?

I found this insanely great CD by luk thung artist รุ่งเพชร แหลมสิงห์ (Rungpetch Laemsing) below Canal Street on one of the north-south running streets in Manhattan's Chinatown at a Thai "curio" store several years ago. I visited the store regularly for a couple of years, mostly buying up hundreds of these things for work on this:

... a comics project that has taken me a ridiculously long time to finish, largely due to (a) working a rather stressful full-time job and (b) general sloth. (I'm actually just a couple of pages shy of finishing what will be about 200 pages of collected comics that is [crosses fingers, bites lower lip] supposed to be published late this year.)

But who cares? You're here for the la musica, la musica--the cha-hoo-nays, mang. And oh my fucking god are you going to be happy you stopped into the Bodega today. This album is so awesome I can still remember the weight of my lower jaw dropping moments after hitting "play" when I gave it its maiden, post-un-shrink-wrapped listen.


Laemsing's music appears on only one Thai CD compilation that I know of, Luk Thung! The Roots of Thai Funk. ("Ban Nork Dee Nae," which also appears on the CD above.) Other than that, Peter Doolan posted a luk thung compilation cassette on his massively fabulous Monrakplengthai blog, here, which features another song you'll find on the CD above, "Nam Long Duean Yi.")

I don't know anything about Laemsing other than that dude has been rocking--uh, excuse me--RAWKEN my world ever since I plucked this exceedingly cheeky disc of polycarbonate plastic from that long-vanished store in Chinatown. Perhaps if Peter stops by he can share what he knows about the man?


Until then, you don't really need to know much of anything, other than whatever it is you're gonna need to know in order to nurse your poor tender ass after the monster-kicking this sublimely talented dude's gonna give it.

Somphone Phetnamsanh | Broken Heart

 

Break your heart across the first track 

 
Allow track 8 to smash into smaller pieces what remains of your heart after having heard the first track 

Pound your heart into dust.

It almost never happens with proper names, and it isn't going to happen again soon with Somphone Phetnamsanh's, but prior to my posting of this album, had you typed SP's full name into the search field on the home page belonging to Larry Page and Sergey Brin's multinational corporation providing internet-related products and services, including internet search, cloud computing, software and advertising technologies, you'd have received the following message:

Your search - somphone phetnamsanh - did not match any documents.

It's baffling. Especially considering the Fort Knox-level anti-copyright infringement warnings printed on the verso of Broken Heart's cover sleeve:

Equally perplexing is the complete absence of Sainuphieng Music Productions on the web as well. Baffling, in part, because the CD, CD jewel case and CD cover are all in what appear to be brand-spanking-new condition. 

I just typed Sainuphieng Music Productions' address, 4468 Breckenridge Way, Sacramento, CA, into Google Maps then clicked on Street View:

As you'll see, there is no sign of life in that house, which looks utterly empty through the windows. The lawn--unlike those belonging to the houses on either side--is dead and brown. There is a massive white industrial grade trash bin in the driveway, filled to the brim. The photo, by Google, has a 2011 copyright date. 

So it's a mystery who Somphone Phetnamsanh is, or was, and when this music was recorded. But what is clear is that he recorded Broken Heart at SNP Music Production, in Sacramento, Calif., or, at the very least, he used SNP's workstation keyboards to create the album. "Look!" the inside front cover demands, "All These Digital Keyboards Come With Lao Styles, a Hardrive And Oriental Styles." (Gary want.)

This poses a serious question, though: How many of the CDs that I've plucked from coast to shining coast were not, as outsiders such as ourselves might imagine, produced abroad and shipped in to the United States, but rather, created here and then distributed to the target immigrant population and, perhaps, back to the homeland? 

This is actually the subject of a longish academic article by Kieu Linh Caroline Valverde, "Making Transnational Vietnamese Music," which looks at the production and distribution of Viet Kieu, music performed by the Vietnamese living outside of Vietnam (a lot of which I also picked up while in Portland). It's an article I plan to read the moment I sign off here. 

More, obviously, on this subject soon ...

Waiphot Phetsuphan | The History of Princess Suphankanlaya

Dig the first track 

 
Wrastle with the second track 

Come to papa. 

Um, Peter, could you come in here a moment, please? 

So, I got this CD at Thai-Cam Video (5230 Southeast Foster Road, Portland, Ore.) and it's not quite like anything I've heard before. I think it's Thai and am guessing luk thung. But the guy singing (whom I've taken to calling "Inset Thai Guy" or "Inset" for short) is doing something in some of these songs that I've never quite heard before, lots of long, drawn-out, occasionally flat or otherwise slightly off "uhhhnnn"s, "ahhhhnnnns" and the like, and a generally sort of almost exclamatory kind of half singing. 

Is it a style? Or is it simply The Magic of Inset? [Update: See comments, where Yoshio provides the singer's name and Peter provides context for the style and album.]

As I've been hinting (read: bragging) for several posts now, I totally scored while in Portland last December, much of the take coming from two visits to Thai Cam Video, a media and grocery store run by a woman named Nang who told me she moved to Portland in 1980 from Cambodia by way of Thailand. Nang is half Cambodian, half Burmese and, although I did not ask her, I assume she left Cambodia for Thailand in the 70s for what would be rather obvious reasons. 

Nang opened Thai Cam Video in 2003, which means she's been in business nearly a decade, a comforting fact, considering that I didn't expect the place would still be there on this trip. (I'd first discovered it on a trip to the west coast in 2009 and when I called in advance of this recent trip, there was no answer.) I wanted to ask Nang more about her life, but didn't want to pry too much, so I asked her if it was possible to get good Cambodian food in the area. It was: Mekong Bistro, 8200 NE Siskiyou Street, where I wound up having my first-ever taste of amok trey, which I implore each and every one of you reading this right now to seek out and try at least once before you exit your earthly form. 

Nang also told me where to find Cambodian and Lao temples in the area. (There is, I hadn't realized before, a sizable southeast Asian population in the area. For instance, block after block of Vietnamese businesses on the way to the airport that I only noticed, alas, on the way to the airport.) Nang asked for my contact info in case she ever made it out to New York; I was surprised to hear that she'd never been to the east coast. I bought an obscene number of Cambodian, Lao and Thai CDs from her, creating two sizable towers near the register before my friend Rodney returned to rescue me from taking another dive back into the stacks.

Yui Yatyoe | Cha Rot Mai Nia

Listen to "สองแสนแหวนวง"

Get it all here.

In his 1995 book Ocean of Sound, David Toop quotes Jimi Hendrix talking to Melody Maker during the last year of his life on the possibilities of expanded musical textures:

"I don't mean three harps and fourteen violins ... I mean a big band full of competent musicians I can conduct and write for. And with the music we will paint pictures of earth and space, so that the listener can be taken somewhere." 

Toop then describes how two of Hendrix's posthumous records, Crash Landing and Midnight Lightning, were assembled after his death, basically using a cut-and-paste sort of method to pull together unfinished tracks, speeding up or slowing down things to match keys and adding new parts where, say, a guitar track abruptly ended with no clue as to where it might have gone.

Reading this passage, one comes away with a sense of the real power of the studio, one that almost seems to contradict how the studio is so often used today, especially by the southeast Asian music industry. 

What we have here tonight is an example of what music blogger and Thai pop music cataloger Peter Doolan calls "guitar & keyboard workstation-driven luk thung." Listening to the sample above, it's difficult to tell what's "live" and what's "canned": the drums, for instance, clearly falling into the latter category; the guitar, voice and possibly the horns falling into the former. "Workstation-driven" seems like the perfect descriptor: these albums are cranked out, one after the other--this is, in fact, CD number 16 (Peter posted number 3 from what I believe is this same series on his great Monrakplengthai blog, here). God only knows how many total CDs there are.

But does this factory-output approach to pop music make it any less fabulous than something more "authentic"? Does it, in fact, make this music any less "authentic"? 

I would say no. The studio is a factory, no matter who's in it or how it's being used; I was blown away watching David Byrne and St. Vincent perform live on the Colbert Report the other night, so much so that I immediately went and downloaded the album, Love This Giant, that they were promoting. And it just didn't have the same oomph as their live performance. It sounded canned. And, in that case, it wasn't because they were substituting a drum machine for drums, or a synthesizer for horns. It just felt "cold" in comparison to the live performance.

I've always argued that there is nothing "authentic" about popular music. That authenticity is not a quality or attribute in any way relevant to the art form. But there is one way in which popular music can be said to be authentic, for, in order to become truly popular, it must offer an "authentic" reflection, simultaneously, of the dreams and real lives of those who consume it--the soundscape version of its listeners' life- and dreamscape. 

Thanks to the aforementioned Peter Doolan for transliterating this album and identifying the singer. The title, by the way, translates as "I Will Survive," at least according to Google's translation feature ...

Jintara Poonlarb | Krob Krueng Vol.3

Listen to "Sao toong kula tum ai"

Get it all here.

Found yesterday at Thailand's Center Point in Woodside, Queens. Jintara "Jin" Poonlarb is to contemporary mor lam and luk thung what Hakim is to shaabi: it's most prolific and yet distinctive practitioner. While I've yet to develop enough of an ear to immediately distinguish Jin's voice from any number of other Isan-born female vocalists, I can usually tell when it's Hakim being blasted from the morning bagel and coffee or halal lunch cart. But, then, I've been listening to Hakim for more than a dozen years and to Jin for a mere two or three.

In addition to picking up every one of her CDs that I can find, my other Jin-related mission is to someday, somehow find--online or on VCD--her music video "Arlai World Trade" ("Mourning the World Trade Center"), which, in an article titled "The Morlam, the Merrier," ThaiSunday.com described thusly: "The reigning Morlam superstar of Thailand laments the attacks of Sept. 11 while young, bare-midriffed Thai girls gyrate in front of a surging American flag."

Update: Peter Doolan found it; and it looks like someone literally just uploaded it 3 weeks ago: