THE CICAK.com

Twilight streetside action with Borneo rockers

By NG KHAI LEE

Why not go busking at the Bukit Bintang crossroads at 3 a.m., with migrants from Borneo dancing and making song requests? Yeah, why not let’s do that.

Call the gang.

No, it didn’t happen like that.

Experiences like this aren’t planned. It usually starts off quite ordinarily, like, in my room at 1 a.m.

Wong Yu-Ri, a good friend of mine, rang, “Let’s go busking at Bukit Bintang. Now.”

It sounded slightly crazy. Randomly playing a guitar on the street for money is not encouraged. Not in Malaysia, oh no. Last year, legendary singer-songwriter Meor was detained for busking.  He spent four days in a lockup.

The thought made my room seem even more comfortable.

Yu-Ri said, “You only live once!”

I was hesitant. I considered reincarnation for a moment, then screamed, “OK LET’S DO IT.”

None of us expected what was about to play out.

Twilight busking ended up as strange as it was beautiful, and I’ve loads of pictures and videos of the scene and its misfit characters.

Characters like Adrian Lai.

Adrian was part of the scheme. Toy entrepreneur by day (of Gizmo 1 Utama fame), and abdominal trainer by night, he’s backing Yu-Ri up for a charity performance this Sunday at LaundryBar.

Perhaps sudden busking was their practice set.

Whatever it was, it started off really slow. Our only audience was Andy Lau, and he didn’t seem to react to the music.

Yu-Ri didn’t care. He earned the name ”JukeBox Yu-Ri” for a reason: You name it, he’ll play it. This guy can go on all night (busking, I mean).

He used to be a management consultant with Accenture. He now composes and produces music for a living, and started the local music promotion outfit ProjectBazooka with me.

Twilight busking fuelled by Kickapoo.

 

After three songs for no one, our friend Rachel arrived. She’s got a few more days in KL before she returns to Melbourne to continue her studies.

If any girl is game enough to do something different, it would be her.

She could’ve stayed in her pyjamas. Instead, she drove all the way to downtown Kuala Lumpur, taking the risk of exchanging beauty sleep for a potentially pathetic, boring night with the three of us.

Or was it the 20 of us?

Soon after she arrived, a large group of men, who looked Malay, sat down beside us. They clapped and nodded to our music.

Who were they? What was their story?

I managed to interview the chap on the far right (eyes closed). His name is Manuel. Speaking in very broken spoken Malay, I sought his story.

I don’t think he has ever been under attack by so many incredibly stupid questions in one sitting. And for some reason I was repeating the last word of his every sentence.

I was told this was called either ”active listening,” or “being annoying.”

But Manuel was such a nice guy. He didn’t hit me on the head with a musical instrument, even though I deserved it.

Watch the video here.

Apparently they were all from the same village in Sabah. They came here in search of a better life. Some of them have been here for many years, some of them just arrived. They work odd jobs at cybercafes, and waiting tables at mamaks. Some were unemployed.

Through word of mouth, they would gather, and roam the streets on certain nights. “To de-stress,” they said.

And they meant it.

 

Just us English-speaking urban folks, two acoustic guitars and some tunes, and we were on the same team. We felt connected. We sang, we laughed, we danced. Passersby stared, but we didn’t care. The night was ours.

To think if I were to have bumped into them on some other night, I would have tried to hide. They looked like the “bad people” your parents would warn you about.

I discovered another side of Malaysia that night.

Our lives were worlds apart. Yet we shared a common language - music. And when you sing, dance and lie under the KL city lights together, you do a bit more than speak to each other.

Later, Adrian asked them if they knew of a local rock band called Frequency Cannon, in which Yu-Ri is the lead guitarist.

Manuel was stunned. Judging by the look on his face, he must be thinking, “This is surreal”. I felt the same.

And so he asked if I could take a picture of him and Yu-Ri. This was a different reaction compared to city folk, who don’t admire local bands as much.

This one other guy kept making requests for songs from Sabah. We didn’t know any Sabah tunes, so he decided to make up his own lyrics to our music and overpower us with his sheer volume.

Check out how he twisted “No Woman No Cry” into “Go Back Sabah”… naughty fellow. Here’s a 15 second clip.

It was good fun! But the night had to come to an end.

We parted with our newfound friends with hugs and handshakes, and a final picture.

(Click here to see a few more interesting photos taken during the night.)

Oh what the hell. Here is another picture.

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NG KHAI LEE is the Co-founder of theCICAK. In the day, he grows new internet ventures with a team of inventors, programmers, and entrepreneurs in MindValley. At night, he promotes the local independent music scene with Project Bazooka. Visit his blog.