Sorry for the late review; the movie came out in 2014. It was new to me. It’s an old film and an older story, so, spoilers follow. Please watch the movie first if you prefer not knowing.
Way back in time when I was married, Sara and I had a copy of a compilation called Cambodian Rocks, put out by a label called Parallel World. Sadly, we didn’t have the vinyl, just a burned copy, but I don’t think the compilation listed the song titles either. Anyway, we listened to it a lot. The lead-off track was the favorite. It started out with a guy saying, in a strong but questioning voice, “Clo?”, then repeating, in a more affirmative voice, “CLO!” (We called this song “Clo”. It wasn’t uncommon for us, or maybe just me, to simply say “clo?” or “clo!” while doing household chores and stuff.) After this weird intro, the song just rocks: great bassline, cowbell banging, organ soloing, fuzzy guitar. Just great. It was silly fun.
That song, “Clo”, was followed by a song with a chunky guitar riff, a cheap-sounding organ, another great bassline, and some solid drumming, like an American or British rock drummer playing on a not-quite-standard-issue drum kit. The tempo is pretty unsteady but always seems to be speeding up. But the main thing about the song is the woman singer. She has a high but tough, brassy voice, and the key hook of this tune when she goes “AH AH HA HA AH AH HA HA, chnam oun dop-pram moy, lalalalalalala!”. It’s very catchy and anyone can sing along with parts of it. (I haven’t transcribed it very well, my apologies.) This song was “Chnam oun Dop-Pram Muy (I’m 16)” by Ros Serey Sothea.
We just didn’t know anything about this music except that it rocked, undeniably. They could have been singing about mink coats or farm equipment.
But I watched the documentary Don’t Think I’ve Forgotten: Cambodia’s Lost Rock and Roll, directed by John Pirozzi, and now I know a lot about those two songs, and they’re not just silly fun anymore.
“Clo” is actually titled “Jeas Cyclo (Ride Cyclo)”, and it’s done by an artist who figures heavily in this documentary named Yol Aularong. He’s got a couple other tunes on this Cambodian Rocks compliation, the titles of which are “Yuvajon Kouge Jet (Broken Heart Man)” and “Sou Slarp Kroam Kombut Srey (Rather Die Under the Woman’s Sword)”. This latter one is full of screaming that is both like the Beatles and like somebody getting hurt. Musically it’s kind of like The Stones’ take on Bo Diddley’s “I’m All Right”. The drums really stand out, there’s a bass drum they only hit occasionally but it sounds like a distant explosion.
We learn from the film that these rock musicians were considered the toast of the town and a cultural treasure during the time Cambodia was ruled by Prince Norodom Sihanouk, who made some recordings himself. (I’m sure the film simplifies Cambodian politics, and I’m surely going to simplify it further; please correct me if I make a big mistake. All I know about Cambodian politics is from this movie, and I should know more. It’s really confusing, especially to try to figure oue the alliances of Norodom Sihanouk, they seem to change with the wind.) From what I understand, Sihanouk abdicated or was exiled, leaving a vacuum at the top. Lon Nol was the leader more acceptable to the U.S. and other western countries, but Pol Pot led the Communist forces, who were backed, I think, by North Vietnam and China. When Lon Nol was briefly on top, the musicians could still be musicians, but instead of songs like “Jol Dondeung Kone Key (Going to Get Engaged)” or “Dance Twist”, they had to write new music about patriotism, with one quoted lyric being “everybody pick up a weapon!” The musicians who are interviewed talk about it like, “well, it was a job”.
Yol Aularong, on the other hand, was considered a free thinker, not one to go along with the program. He faded from the scene. One person interviewed (I think he was a prince of some kind? He had Brooks Brothers clothes and he spoke French I could translate for myself) said: “The Khmer Rouge would have spotted him instantly.”
Ros Serey Sothea was like Cambodia’s Sweetheart, and they used that for propaganda. They made her a paratrooper in the military, seemingly to get pictures of her jumping out of a plane with a parachute, and looking great in soldier’s clothing and headgear.
Lon Nol lost out to Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. Under Pol Pot, all of Cambodia was made to give up education and change to the ways of rural farmers. (This is something the current United States government would love to see happen; notice how much they are trying to destroy any job outside of finance that requires an education, especially STEM things.) They Khmer Rouge emptied out the city of Phnom Penh. People had to hide their education and their talents. (They also outlawed religion and money, essentially making slaves of the entire population.) The musicians who survived and are interviewed in this documentary mostly seem like happy elders, they all dress pretty snappy and smile, mostly, when telling their stories. These are the ones who succeeded in hiding, basically. One exception, a notable one, is Sieng Vanthy. She conducts the whole interview looking directly at the camera, never smiling. She just recounts facts: “I told them I was a banana seller. That saved my life… I left my children with my mother-in-law. I didn’t take them with me. I hadn’t gotten far when I heard my children were dead.”
Yol Aularong and Ros Serey Sothea are not interviewed. They were among the millions killed during the reign of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge.
So, here’s Ros Serey Sothea, “Chnam oun Dop-Pram Muy (I’m 16)”:
And here’s Yol Aularong, “Jeas Cyclo”.
A trailer for the film.
