Yee Kiat is a Baybeats Budding Writer mentored by Eddino Abdul Hadi, music correspondent for The Straits Times and Hidzir Junaini, editor and writer at Bandwagon.

Ask a casual listener about Chinese music in Singapore, and they can most probably name a few of our biggest Mandopop exports, from JJ Lin to Stefanie Sun. Some might be able to trace Singaporean Chinese popular music back to its widely-accepted xinyao 新谣 [and even shiyue 诗乐 / poetry-music] beginnings. But few realise the existence of homegrown Chinese indie acts.

On the other hand, in spite of the diversity of musical styles and genres within the burgeoning local indie circuit, we seldom see bands that write and perform in Chinese at gigs and festivals. Chinese indie music appears to have been shunned and relegated to the deep recesses of both the Mandopop / Mandorock and English-speaking indie communities, intriguingly occupying doubly marginalised positions at once. Yet our local Chinese indie acts have made waves of their own, from past to present.

A Short, but Sweet Past

2006. That was the year homegrown online music portal Freshmusic was founded. The same year can also be taken as the starting marker for the Chinese indie scene in Singapore, says Chen Yuneng, co-founder of Freshmusic and its eponymous annual music awards.

From then till 2010, he noticed a spring crop of local acts sprouting in the scene—jazz/alternative pop singers Bevlyn Khoo and Joanna Dong, electronic dance music artist Faith Yang, folk musician Huang Biyan, and beatboxer Peter Huang (MICappella), possibly inspired by the then-emerging Taiwanese indie scene and its ‘do-it-yourself’ spirit. “You could locate an artist in each genre,” Yuneng asserts. He recalls wondering in anticipation, “Were we going to have a [Chinese indie] scene after all?” Fast forward to the 2010s and beyond, more local Chinese artists have released works independently of record labels and companies, but Yuneng is unconvinced of a post-2010 Chinese indie scene here.

Too Clean, Lacking Attitude

The issue appears to lie with the music. Gawin Xie, main director of multi-hyphenate music company Wire Entertainment, observes that Chinese indie music made locally tends to be “clean” and “pure”, paling in comparison to the cynicism and complexity of indie music from Taiwan and China. He deems the former too “safe”, and thus unable to “break conventions” and “stand out”. Gawin believes that indie music has “its own set of systems, thoughts, and audience”.

Yuneng shares similar sentiments, lamenting that many local Chinese acts these days “lack the indie attitude”, and are “not ‘alt’ enough”. He cites indie as a “psyche/spirit”, and an “aura”. He adds that indie music should be “risk-taking”, “not so mainstream-facing”, and “not that radio-friendly”. To him, local Mandarin post-rock band Goose 我鸟 is one of the few who “return to that [alternative] spirit”.

Pop, Rock, Indie and More

Goose 我鸟 is part of a larger collection of performers in Singapore’s Chinese music scene. Throughout my face-to-face interviews with Yuneng and Gawin, they drop the names of several Mandopop singer-songwriters including OHMYMEITING, Shelby Wang, and Sherman Zhuo, as well as bands such as Cantorock outfit CiuJyut, all of whom make up the handful of local Chinese pop and rock musicians in Singapore. But Goose 我鸟 stands out especially due to the uniqueness and complexity of their Chinese indie identity.

The four-piece band comprises frontman Angus Sham, guitarist Benjamin Oh, bassist Japheth Ng, and drummer Ridwan Johari. Contrary to the orthodox Chinese music acts, all four have roots in the local indie scene. Angus and Japheth are part of alternative band Cadence, while Ridwan was from electronic post-hardcore band Aquila Vasica—both were Baybeats Budding Bands in 2015. Meanwhile, Ben also plays for indie rock band Fool’s Decade. It is no wonder then that their music-making takes a myriad of influences from post-hardcore, indie rock, math rock and heavy metal genres.

“When I write, it’s always in Mandarin, so it naturally has to be another form of expression,” Angus explains, “I can’t get Cadence to sing Chinese songs, the style is different too.” In his words, their music “puts some splash of [Mandarin] lyrics on top of math rock, post-rock instrumental”, presenting a distinctive band sound unlike any other in Singapore. But as a result, Ridwan elaborates, “it’s very hard to cater to the pop side because we are heavier, and [similarly] to the rock side because we don’t arrange our music that way”. Thus, Goose 我鸟 paradoxically falls into that “weird in-between”.

Where is the Audience?

Interestingly, but unsurprisingly, Goose 我鸟 resonates with Taiwanese indie fans, who are well-versed with similar musical styles. Angus remarks that Taiwan tops their Spotify monthly listeners chart with around 4,000 monthly listeners, way ahead of second-ranked Singapore with about 800 monthly listeners. Japheth reveals that they “focus a lot more on Taiwan”, which explains their three-stop Taiwan tour in June 2024. Nonetheless, he adds that they “do have familiar faces, and there is a small fan base here [in Singapore]” who turn up for their homecoming gigs—two of which were recently held at Esplanade’s Red Dot August and at Wire Entertainment.

Yuneng approximates that “Chinese citizens in Singapore, Taiwanese in Singapore, and a small bunch of ‘hipsters’” make up the local Chinese indie audience. But in all honesty, he admits that sometimes he “doesn't actually know where the audience is”. For him, it proves to be a challenge because “you need to know your target audience in order to build them up”. Yuneng is envious of Taiwan’s apparent “indie-going culture”, which is lacking in the local Chinese indie scene—there is no substantial base to “sustain new entrants”.

Scene, or Not

Notwithstanding the existence of a couple of local Chinese indie acts and fans, Yuneng supposes that such a niche market in Singapore is insufficient to constitute a sustainable “mini ecosystem”. Angus agrees that “there is no Chinese indie culture [in Singapore].” He thinks that the issue could lie both ways—there are the Chinese music listeners who only attend gigs that feature specific artists whom they are familiar with, and there are the predominantly English-speaking indie-goers who may presume the aesthetics of Chinese gigs to be “old-fashioned” as compared to the “cool, hipster, edgy” English gigs. Chinese indie acts seem to have always fallen through the cracks.

Building Culture and Community

It is difficult to foster culture and community solely with people, sans gigs and venues. As a singer-songwriter himself, Gawin once craved “a community where everyone could play [music] together”. Bearing this in mind, he co-founded Wire Entertainment in 2023 with Hong Ziwei, Ryan Liu and Liu Yankun, and has since been organising jamming sessions and gigs for the local Chinese indie music community. “I want to build a venue where people in the scene can congregate regardless of their genre, be it heavy metal, rap, folk… we welcome all forms of music,” Gawin envisions, pride in his voice. Beyond their livehouse operations, Wire Entertainment has been supporting student clubs in NUS with equipment and venue rental, alongside providing music and video production services, and will soon be organising competitions in conjunction with music labels, all in a bid to nurture a robust communal culture for the local Chinese indie scene.

Besides Wire Entertainment, Yuneng gives a nod to venues such as the now-defunct CrazyWorld Cafe, Livehouse, and Lion Studios for holding cherished spaces past and present for Chinese indie music in Singapore. In addition, his Esplanade Offstage article on Singapore Mandarin Pop Music also acknowledges local platforms, such as the in::music series as part of Esplanade’s annual Huayi – Chinese Festival of Arts, for showcasing local Chinese indie musicians.

Problems, Old and New

Some of the issues facing Chinese indie music in Singapore are not new—an English-speaking and English-educated generation, as well as general attitudes towards music and culture in Singapore. Yuneng comments that “the environment is unable to provide a suitable space for everyone to grow”. He adds that “young people these days speak English”, which adversely affects both the production and consumption of Chinese indie music locally. In the same vein, Gawin believes that “the market needs to provide artists with a fertile ground”.

Besides the usual suspects, Japheth acutely observes “a gap in the Singapore music scene”. There are “underground gigs for different genres”, while “for the Mandopop side of things, there is [Mandarin pop songwriting competition] SG:SW.” Local Chinese indie acts like Goose 我鸟 thus fall within the gaps, missing out on the “unspoken criterion that [programmers] have when they are looking for bands”. They can very well organise their own gigs and tours, but have yet to be invited for bigger festivals such as Baybeats.

Traversing Boundaries

For the stakeholders in the local Chinese indie music community, the overarching solution appears to be in traversing boundaries. Yuneng aptly reminds me, “the special thing about Singapore is that it lies at the crossroads of various cultures… if you want to create Chinese works, you cannot solely take [as a] source from Mandarin music”. He raises Tanya Chua as a “golden example” of a local singer-songwriter with beginnings in English-language indie music who “found a huge market in the Chinese world”. Yuneng also gives special mention to Sydney-based Singaporean singer-songwriter Low Wen Pei, who is obviously English-educated but experiments with sounds to come up with original Hokkien tunes. He bears hope that artists from the English indie scene could crossover and write in Chinese occasionally.

As for Gawin’s Wire Entertainment, their operations do not solely revolve around the local Chinese indie community. In fact, he notices that a substantial bulk of their clientele is made up of local indie bands, including 2024 Baybeats Budding Bands Heaven Brought Me Hell and The Storms Upon Us. There is really no need to draw a fine line between languages and cultures within the local indie scene. Ridwan, who is of Malay ethnicity, quips that he is “Chinese speaking” which essentially renders communication a non-issue—not that language would hinder him from playing any form of music. “Music is universal,” Japheth recalls the age-old adage. Well, music can bridge the gaps.

Of Futures

Gawin once envisioned Wire Entertainment to become Singapore’s Modern Sky [China’s biggest indie music firm]. He says, “Since there are people listening to, and creating music, then there is a need to exist. So long as there are people using Chinese to express their emotions, and jamming music, I have the responsibility to promote this culture.”

Similarly, Angus is confident of Goose 我鸟’s disposition as “the gateway to open up [local indies] to the Taiwanese indie side”. Japheth feels that their music is “part of [their] identity” and their “avenue of expressing [themselves]”. Building upon the two, Ridwan believes that they are of importance, “filling in the void of the niche music genre that people want to hear”. Their listeners “are also like [the band], they are in-between”. Ben ends off by saying, “The only thing I want to say is, I want to play Baybeats.” Ridwan adds, “So that we can expose our music to more Singaporeans in a way.”

Indeed, Yuneng recognises the cultural potential of local Chinese indie music as soft power to “put Singapore on the map within the Chinese world”. His vision for the community—“If Singapore can produce an indie artist today, who is minimally the second headliner of a music festival in Taiwan or China… or the headliner of a mid-tier festival… you are telling the Chinese audience… [that] we can although we are jiak kentang (literally ‘eat potato’, used to describe Westernised people).”

Head down to Baybeats 2024 from 11–13 October for three electrifying days of indie rock and alternative music by the bay, featuring top acts from Singapore and beyond.