s they increase their connections with the international community of musicians, local underground hip-hop artists remain sensitive to the need to stay true to their own culture

J-Me performs live in Yangon. Photo: Staff

Yangon-based hip-hop artist J-Me has been a mainstay in Myanmar’s music scene for nearly a decade now, long enough to provide inspiration for a whole new generation of rappers.
Among the up-and-comers influenced by J-Me is Jock, a flourishing MC himself. Jock was an athlete in high school, hence his artist name.
Now he is preparing to take his SATs and go to college, but not before making serious moves in the Yangon hip-hop scene.
“I want lyrics to be real. Talk about the problems today. I want them to send a message,” Jock says.
At just 19 years old, one of his songs has recently been chosen as the anthem for Myanmar athletes at the upcoming SEA Games, scheduled to be held in Myanmar in December.
Titled “Born to Win”, the track features singer Zara Hnin Thwin on vocals and Jock rapping about “persistence” in a dedication to the young athletes and their fans, an honour sure to skyrocket Jock to fame.
However, he sticks close to the underground, which in Myanmar refers to independent producers, DJs and MCs creating a refuge of melodious beats and serious lyrics without all the limitations of pop music.
“Hip-hop as pop” acts have risen to fame in recent years thanks to Myanmar’s youth. Teens aged 13 to 18 frequent group shows held in parks like Myaw Sin Kyun in Kandawgyi Park.
The spectacle is jarring. With not a longyi in sight, young boys and girls flash their brand new hats, jewellery, skirts and heels, and “jump around” with stars like Sai Sai, Bunny Phyoe and Snare – the latter being a hip-hop duo who don gold chains and matching shirts, their “dirty lyrics” most closely resembling American gangsta rap, characterised by a repetitive choruses and booming bass lines.
Because these pop artists cater to an age group born long after the birth of hip-hop, the requirements of old-school fans no longer apply. Pop is not about a subculture of messages or originality. For the most part, it covers love, sex, money and fame. Pop artists often usurp a beat and melody from a previously recorded track.
While sampling another artist’s beats is considered a neutral homage to its original producer, more local musicians are realising that cover songs must become a thing of past. Like J-Me says, “You gotta plant your own seed and watch it grow, yo.”
Asked about the changing scene, underground artists have expressed disappointment not only in their fellow rappers but also in the young men and women following the recent “swag” trend, which focuses on personal appearance over substance.
Jock wants things to remain respectful, saying, “It has to be about the beats, your skills and the people … not [forgetting] your culture by dressing too sexy.”
Not just in Myanmar but the world over, underground hip-hop artists agree that some musicians have lost their soul, forgetting why the marriage of DJ and MC was created in the first place.

 Cover art for J-Me’s 2011 album Bawa Ye Nate Ban.
In the past 15 years, artists like Zeyar Thaw and other members of Myanmar’s first hip-hop group, Acid, have been considered inspirational because of their social activism – marrying traditionally Western hip-hop beats with issues close to the hearts of people in Myanmar.
Zeyar Thaw eventually became a politician, and a few other members of the group started campaigns in the country’s border regions, promoting social movements and music.
Slightly younger than the first generation, J-Me has been rapping and beat-boxing for almost 10 years; even his older sister used to breakdance back in the 1990s.
He is now one of the leaders of the growing underground subculture of Myanmar, including graffiti artists and political activists.
Now that censorship laws have relaxed and an open-door policy has been adopted, there is more exposure to other hip-hop scenes. So what do the young MCs of Myanmar listen to?
“Oh you know, Eminem, Afrika Bambaataa, Rakim, Bone Thugs … all the old school stuff when lyrics meant something,” J-Me says.
One of J-Me’s English-language songs, titled “Burn ’em up”, gives a shout-out not only to US artists Fabolous, Ryan Leslie and Nas but also to the city of Bangkok, a growing centre in Southeast Asia that promotes international hip-hop far better than Yangon or Mandalay.
Bringing an international community to the doorstep of Myanmar’s hip-hop scene, he raps: “I feel so blessed/I feel like Loso and R-Les/I went to see Nas in Bangkok at a hip-hop fest.”
Language and understanding make a big difference in terms of influence. Lyrics create a feeling of solidarity with rappers from the United States and the United Kingdom. More importantly, hip-hop lovers identify with artists who rap about people, hardship and change, something Myanmar artists know all too well.
The underground also focuses more on grassroots methods of producing, mixing, sampling and open sharing via social media tools like Media Fire, Facebook and the Myanmar Hip-Hop Channel.
Today J-Me and his Mandalay-based counterparts Bigg-Y, Don Wareru and many others produce, rap, write, direct and inspire an entire generation of up-and-coming artists who want to stay true to their culture and their love of hip-hop.
“Some Thai hip-hop is good lyrically, but the DJs aren’t doing their jobs,” J-Me says. “We don’t want hip-hop to be about playing Grandmaster Flash mixed with Lady Gaga. We want the pure thing, especially at a time when Myanmar is opening up to the world.”
Hip-hop is a chameleonic medium – practiced the world over with different interpretations. Being connected to the outside worlds of hip-hop might just make Myanmar’s underground scene stronger, as long as they can use their own filter to determine what is worth reinventing.
In other words, spread the love, ya’ll.
Nathalie Johnston is an independent art researcher based in Yangon with a Masters in contemporary Southeast Asian art history. She can be reached at nathalie.johnston@gmail.com.