By Tommearun Sar, Brooklyn Center
My dad loved to listen to Khmer music. He’d play it nonstop on the record or cassette player. When he’s drawing up blueprints, doing woodworking, fixing up the house, or just eating dinner, he’d play some Khmer oldies from the 60s. I never understood much of the songs but nonetheless, they became the soundtrack of my life. Some of my fondest simple childhood memories of going on a leisurely Sunday drive around Lake Bde Maka Ska and illegally picking crabapples to eat were accompanied by the emotional crooning of Sinn Sissamouth and the tearful warblings of Ros Sereysothea and Pan Ron.
As I grew older and lived with my aunt, I no longer heard those classics. Over time, I never really developed a strong connection to the Khmer culture. In some instances, I outright rejected them for being strange and un-American. I was, and still am, Khmer illiterate and can’t speak enough Khmer to hold a decent conversation. I actually laugh at the irony of the fact that when I was a kid, I encountered another Khmer kid who only spoke English and I said to him and his parents in Khmer, “How can a Khmer kid can’t speak Khmer?” And yet now….
A few years ago, I discovered a music video of a band lead by a Khmer singer. To my surprise, it was actually pretty good! It was not cheesy or amateurish like so many other Khmer karaoke videos. The band was called Dengue Fever and the singer was Chhom Nimol. I discovered they have done covers of old Khmer rock and roll songs from the 60s, the same ones my dad used to listened to. Hearing these songs again brought a wave of nostalgia for my childhood and a longing to understand what these lyrics mean, and to really embrace my Khmer heritage.
By sheer luck, Dengue Fever was going to perform at the Ordway and I volunteered to be part of Ordway’s community engagement event relating to the band’s visit. The event was a film screening of the documentary, “Don’t Think I’ve Forgotten” which covers the golden age of 60s Khmer rock and roll and the near destruction of Khmer music and art after Pol Pot’s regime. I participated in that discussion panel with the band members and spoke about my desire to connect to my cultural heritage through the music my dad played when I was little. It was such a healing experience to be able to openly talk about Khmer culture and my effort to identify as Khmer. And I get to share the stage with Dengue Fever? Wow.
Since then, I have been listening to old Khmer music on YouTube, even the cheesy ones with no shame. I am happy to put my heritage in its rightful place center stage.
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