COVER STORY
AND THE BAND PLAYED ON
By AUNG ZAW |
SEPTEMBER, 2002 - VOLUME 10 NO.7
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The promotion of political ideas in a musical context has been a common feature of mass movements Southeast Asia.
Like other political movements in Southeast Asia, music has provided a rallying point for the masses during political upheavals in Burma. It has served as a potent response to the rapid political and social displacements brought on by neo-colonialism, industrialization, and dictatorship.
At the same time, music has also been appropriated to serve the establishment by strengthening national cohesion, promoting entrenched power structures and spreading selected values and information to the multitudes.
In Thailand, the folk group, Caravan, became an icon of the anti-military dictatorship movement. Their blatantly political songs combined elements of Western folk with embellishments played by indigenous instruments, and were performed at public gatherings and helped to bridge the broad gap between rural farmers and students. Their socially conscious music spawned by the political turbulence of the 1970s gave birth to an entire genre known as "Songs for Life" which has remained popular ever since. Today, the "Songs for Life" torch is being carried by Caravan proteges, Carabao [see pg 20].
The Hukbalahap movement, which brought together communist and socialist forces in the Philippines during the 1940s and 1950s, was dubbed the "singing army" for their use of songs in spreading propaganda and inspiring confidence during battle. Years later, during the reign of Ferdinand Marcos, Freddie Aguilar earned the reputation as the Philippines’ answer to Bob Dylan. His popular songs challenged the injustices of the Marcos regime, addressed Muslim-Christian clashes and superpower arrogance, and became a voice for the powerless. Aguilar resurrected the song "Banyan Ko" (My Homeland)—written in 1896 as ammunition for the revolution against Spain—beside the coffin of assassinated opposition leader, Ninoy Aquino, and the tune became the anthem of the anti-Marcos movement.
Folk songs provided a point of convergence for participants in the independence movement in East Timor against Portuguese and Indonesian invaders. The leading Timorese poet-musician, Borja de Costa, was singled out for execution by Indonesian troops in 1975.
In Burma, the anti-British independence movement coalesced around songs such as "Nagani" (Red Dragon), which promoted national pride and education. "Nagani" remains popular with the opposition movement today.
The traditional and modern music that criticized repressive rule and political injustices empowered Southeast Asia’s political movements, so it is no surprise that the melodious sounds were frowned upon by the region’s authoritarian rulers.
Despite this resentment, Southeast Asia’s dictators, from Indonesia’s Suharto to Burma’s Gen Ne Win, understood the power of music and appropriated tunes and musicians to defuse political tensions while serving their own political agendas.
In the early 1970s, a tempestuous Ne Win stormed the Inya Lake Hotel near his lakeside residence. Infuriated by the caterwauling of Burma’s only rock band that was playing a banquet hall at the time, the strongman kicked over the drums and screamed at a bewildered audience for reveling in the earsplitting music.
Although serious political limitations remain, much of Southeast Asia now enjoys greater liberties and freedom of expression in the media and in art. But over the past 40 years, the attitudes of the regime have barely changed in Burma where the military junta maintains close watch on musicians through the draconian Press Scrutiny Board (PSB). The PSB censors all media content, including lyrics and songs.
"We cannot sing words like ‘human rights’ or ‘democracy’ in our songs. We cannot even sing ‘dark’ or ‘tiny room’," says a songwriter in Rangoon.
A few years ago, Burma’s famous pop singer, Htoo Ein Thin, released an album containing the song, "History’s Bride", also known as "Irrawaddy". Once the song gained wide popularity the authorities realized it carried a political message. This discovery came too late to ban the album but Htoo Ein Thin has since been forbidden from performing this song in his concerts.
The PSB learned a valuable lesson from its "History’s Bride" oversight and now exercises greater caution. For lyrics to gain the board’s approval can now take several months.
Mun Awng is all-too familiar with this protracted process. To pass songs such as "Demon’s Rule/Man’s Rule" by the censorship board, Mun Awng’s producer would offer up a few thousand kyat and treat PSB officials to expensive dinners. "They [PSB officials] have always been corrupt," the exiled singer says. "But nowadays, the ‘tea money’ is much higher."
Singers are also impelled to include a minimum of four "constructive songs" on their albums, and Mun Awng says that this weighs heavily on the conscience of the artists and audience alike. "Whether we like it or not, we were forced to write these songs."
All singers are forced to comply with such artistic compromises to some extent, but some go too far and create many enemies in the process.
Zaw Win Htut, one of Burma’s most famous rock singers, has always performed before a packed house of admiring fans, making him one of the country’s wealthiest performers. In a recent interview he said that he could afford to drive a luxury car like a BMW or Mercedes Benz, but is aware that his fans pinch pennies to buy his music. Thus, he has endeared the public by getting around town in his 1963 Chevy Impala.
The government decided to cash in on his notoriety, convincing him to croon propaganda tunes written by the military officer, Mya Than San. Zaw Win Htut’s release of "Maha", an album chronicling the achievements of Pagan dynasty kings, made him popular with the authorities but earned scorn from his fans as he watched his popularity quickly plummet. Zaw Win Htut’s friends say that he won’t dare do this again.
But his is not an isolated case. By employing "divide and conquer" tactics on the musical battlefield, the regime has shown it has a good ear for co-opting musicians and songwriters.
Tin Than Oo, now a high-ranking army officer, has been writing songs for the regime that implore listeners to maintain national unity and preserve the union spirit, to crush destructive elements, and to promote the honorific role of the Tatmadaw.
Sai Htee Saing, an ethnic Shan, now in his 50’s, became one of Burma’s modern music pioneers during the Ne Win era with his band, "The Wild Ones". He sang in both Burmese and Shan language introducing listeners in lower Burma to Shan culture. Although his songs were carefully scrutinized by the PSB, his lyrics often contained political messages conveyed through hidden meanings which allowed him to successfully elude the censors. Many of his songs were about civil war and the struggles of life in his homeland. He helped pave the way for other ethnic singers that have become established figures in Burma’s music industry.
But Sai Htee Saing later succumbed to the temptations of promoting government ideology. Like other musicians who have made the conscious decision to curry favor with the junta, he soon gained special privileges and photos of the singer standing arm in arm with the generals were run in the state-run press. And by singing songs written by military official Mya Than San and by neglecting the interests of the country’s artists as head of Burma’s musicians union, Sai Htee Saing’s audience quickly abandoned him.
"I bought his latest album out of curiosity," one of his former fans admitted. "But I never listen to it."
Lay Phyu, the famous heavy metal singer from Inle, Shan State, also landed in hot water—not with his fans, but with the authorities.
In 1995, he released the album, "Power 54", a thinly veiled reference to the University Avenue home address of opposition leader Aung San Suu Kyi. The authorities asked him to change the title, and the album was re-released simply as "Power".
The signature song of the 1980s sensation Khine Htoo, "War and Peace", never made it to the record store shelves because of its strong political bent, but became one of his most requested songs in concert until the authorities banned him from performing the song live. "The authorities don’t want the Burmese to be reminded of civil war and political struggle by the ethnic nationalities," says Khine Htoo’s colleague Mun Awng.
Unable to sing these songs on stage or on cassette, Mun Awng, Khine Htoo and other singers found alternative venues to reach audiences. Women’s dormitories at Rangoon University became a popular platform for expressing creative ideas, especially for unknown singers and musicians.
Marathon serenade sessions became customary in Burma. Groups of students would bring their guitars, banjos and violins to show off their abilities and hone their musical skills, sometimes in hopes of impressing the dormitories’ residents. It was common for the women to send complimentary food and snacks to the troupes—via campus security guards—who would often continue singing and playing until the wee hours of the morning.
A Rangoon University student at the time recalls an occasion when the serenaders began singing "Scarecrow", a Mun Awng tune about soldiers in the Burmese army that was banned by the government.
Dead or alive
Sacrificing my life for my country
Gold and silver, silver stars on my shoulder
Oh my friend, what honor and rewards I would get
My heart is crying
While my mouth was muzzled from telling the truth
A pierce through my eyes which have seen the truth
Oh my friend, I am a scarecrow in human form
Though I am alive, I am no longer living.
But with the government curfew in 1988, the closure of universities and the official ban on public gatherings of more than five people, the military effectively killed Burma’s serenade tradition.
Musicians and singers who have chosen career survival over artistic integrity can expect invitations to perform at military fund-raising concerts, on the frontlines to entertain soldiers, or on the state-run Myanmar TV. They can also expect to be forced to wear their hair short and un-colored, restrict their dance movements to the casual and keep their earrings at home. When performing live, however, "we can do and wear whatever they want," says a currently popular Rap musician in Rangoon.
But Mun Awng has preferred not to yield to government pressures and instead went into exile to sing his songs and wear his clothes without restriction and without the fear of censorship, or worse.
As musicians, Mun Awng and others acted simultaneously as participants and observers in Burma’s political upheaval. Like other political movements in Southeast Asia’s history, music in Burma has been used to challenge a corrupt, exploitative, and unresponsive regime. Songs such as "Scarecrow", "War and Peace", and "History’s Bride" helped the voiceless articulate strong resistance to military rule and functioned as an alternative means of communication to the anodyne state-run press and government-sponsored music. With music, political realities are inseparable from feelings and emotions. And though the military junta continues to work tirelessly to silence its critics, it is certain that the music will play on long after the regime is silenced once and for all.
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