

Straight Outta Tenggara: Southeast Asian Hip-Hop, 1990s-2000s
Another cassette-only mixtape tape curated by cult WFMU show and blog Bodega Pop - aka Gary Sullivan's long-running project rooted in a passion for digging for music in bodegas and cell-phone stores across NYC's boroughs. This edition focuses in on late 1990s and early 00s hip-hop & rnb from across Southeastern Asia.
"While on a work trip to Chicago in the mid-2000s, I was craving a bowl of pho. A bit of sleuthing led me to hop on the red line āLā up to Argyle Street, ground zero of Chicagoās Little Saigon. In the 1960s, Chicago restaurateur Jimmy Wong invested in property on Argyle Street with a vision to build the cityās new Chinatown, a kind of mall with pagodas, trees, and reflecting pools. In 1971, the Hip Sing Association, a labor/criminal organization, established itself in the area, and along with Wong, they bought up 80% of the buildings on a three-block stretch of the street. Wong reportedly broke both hips in an accident, leaving his dream to wither; in 1979, Charlie Soo of the Asian American Small Business Association brought it back to life.
Soo expanded the area into a vibrant mix of Chinese, Vietnamese, and other Southeast Asian businesses, pushing for renovations, including an Argyle station facelift and the Taste of Argyle festival. At the time I exited the station and crossed the street to get a better look at a shop with a poster for A Vertical Ray of the Sun in the window, the area was home to some 37,000 Vietnamese residents.
Opening the door, I was gobsmacked by a cavernous Southeast Asian media store, bigger than any Iād been to in Dallas, Montreal, New York, or Seattle. I spent some time at the bins, pulling out collections by some of my then-favorite singers ā Giao Linh, KhĆ”nh Ly, Phʰʔng Dung ā before approaching the register to ask the young woman behind the counter if the they carried any Vietnamese rap. It was a longshot, I knew, but if such a thing existed on physical media and anyone carried it, it would be this place.
āHave you heard Vietnamese rap?ā she replied, her tone of voice and facial expression betraying a comically exaggerated level of distaste. I admitted my ignorance but assured her that I had long cultivated a high threshold for cheesy pop music of all kinds and genuinely tended to like hip hop from around the world.
She rolled her eyes and pointed to an area I had missed. I walked toward a far corner of the store and knelt over a small box on the floor sparsely populated with CDs, VCDs, and cassettes. I pulled out half a dozen Vietnamese hip hop compilations and a strange-looking CD with a cavalcade of odd typefaces in a queasy multitude of colors: THAILAND RAP HIT, it boasted, with ę³°å āēé¦" åęéę² below it. The information on the back provided an address in Kuala Lumpur and the titles in Thai and English translation. The first track included three simplified Chinese characters after the English-language version of the title, āThe Chinese Associationā: čŖå·±äŗŗ.
WTF was going on here? Walking back to the register, I waved the CD, asking āWhatās up with this one?ā She gave me a look. I placed it on the counter so she could bask in the coverās full glory. She shrugged. āIām guessing itās Thai rap?ā She looked disappointed in me when I said Iād take it.
It turned out to be a Malaysian pressing of half-Chinese Thai hip hop artist Joey Boyās third album, Fun Fun Fun from 1996, and it completely changed my sense what the genre could sound like. The rapperās self-assured, effortless, silly-but-cool rapid-fire delivery weaved in and out of the most bizarre, antic beats Iād ever heard. The six Vietnamese hip hop CDs were a mixed bag, mostly āseriousā sounding mimicry of US rapping over predictable production, but the highs were very high. When I got home and listened to it all, I made a point to find as much hip hop from this part of the world as I could.
The tracks collected here provide a limited but potent reflection of the two-decade ascendency and ultimate world-takeover of hip hop, as it displaced rock and its endless variants for millions of listeners. This not a fair and balanced overview of regional production: Iāve only included tracks from Cambodia, Indonesia, Myanmar, Philippines, Thailand, and Vietnam. Nor is this a biggest or most important artists collection; instead, Iāve tried to recapture the pure visceral thrill of that first time I heard Joey Boy, choosing bangers that sound like nothing else, from nowhere else."
āGary Sullivan
[[Selling Points]]- Available only on cassette
- Curated by cult WFMU show and blog Bodega Pop - aka Gary Sullivan's long-running project rooted in a passion for digging for music in bodegas and cell-phone stores across NYC's boroughs
- Includes hip hop tracks from Cambodia, Indonesia, Myanmar, Philippines, Thailand, and Vietnam
Original: $16.50
-70%$16.50
$4.95Product Information
Product Information
Shipping & Returns
Shipping & Returns
Description
Another cassette-only mixtape tape curated by cult WFMU show and blog Bodega Pop - aka Gary Sullivan's long-running project rooted in a passion for digging for music in bodegas and cell-phone stores across NYC's boroughs. This edition focuses in on late 1990s and early 00s hip-hop & rnb from across Southeastern Asia.
"While on a work trip to Chicago in the mid-2000s, I was craving a bowl of pho. A bit of sleuthing led me to hop on the red line āLā up to Argyle Street, ground zero of Chicagoās Little Saigon. In the 1960s, Chicago restaurateur Jimmy Wong invested in property on Argyle Street with a vision to build the cityās new Chinatown, a kind of mall with pagodas, trees, and reflecting pools. In 1971, the Hip Sing Association, a labor/criminal organization, established itself in the area, and along with Wong, they bought up 80% of the buildings on a three-block stretch of the street. Wong reportedly broke both hips in an accident, leaving his dream to wither; in 1979, Charlie Soo of the Asian American Small Business Association brought it back to life.
Soo expanded the area into a vibrant mix of Chinese, Vietnamese, and other Southeast Asian businesses, pushing for renovations, including an Argyle station facelift and the Taste of Argyle festival. At the time I exited the station and crossed the street to get a better look at a shop with a poster for A Vertical Ray of the Sun in the window, the area was home to some 37,000 Vietnamese residents.
Opening the door, I was gobsmacked by a cavernous Southeast Asian media store, bigger than any Iād been to in Dallas, Montreal, New York, or Seattle. I spent some time at the bins, pulling out collections by some of my then-favorite singers ā Giao Linh, KhĆ”nh Ly, Phʰʔng Dung ā before approaching the register to ask the young woman behind the counter if the they carried any Vietnamese rap. It was a longshot, I knew, but if such a thing existed on physical media and anyone carried it, it would be this place.
āHave you heard Vietnamese rap?ā she replied, her tone of voice and facial expression betraying a comically exaggerated level of distaste. I admitted my ignorance but assured her that I had long cultivated a high threshold for cheesy pop music of all kinds and genuinely tended to like hip hop from around the world.
She rolled her eyes and pointed to an area I had missed. I walked toward a far corner of the store and knelt over a small box on the floor sparsely populated with CDs, VCDs, and cassettes. I pulled out half a dozen Vietnamese hip hop compilations and a strange-looking CD with a cavalcade of odd typefaces in a queasy multitude of colors: THAILAND RAP HIT, it boasted, with ę³°å āēé¦" åęéę² below it. The information on the back provided an address in Kuala Lumpur and the titles in Thai and English translation. The first track included three simplified Chinese characters after the English-language version of the title, āThe Chinese Associationā: čŖå·±äŗŗ.
WTF was going on here? Walking back to the register, I waved the CD, asking āWhatās up with this one?ā She gave me a look. I placed it on the counter so she could bask in the coverās full glory. She shrugged. āIām guessing itās Thai rap?ā She looked disappointed in me when I said Iād take it.
It turned out to be a Malaysian pressing of half-Chinese Thai hip hop artist Joey Boyās third album, Fun Fun Fun from 1996, and it completely changed my sense what the genre could sound like. The rapperās self-assured, effortless, silly-but-cool rapid-fire delivery weaved in and out of the most bizarre, antic beats Iād ever heard. The six Vietnamese hip hop CDs were a mixed bag, mostly āseriousā sounding mimicry of US rapping over predictable production, but the highs were very high. When I got home and listened to it all, I made a point to find as much hip hop from this part of the world as I could.
The tracks collected here provide a limited but potent reflection of the two-decade ascendency and ultimate world-takeover of hip hop, as it displaced rock and its endless variants for millions of listeners. This not a fair and balanced overview of regional production: Iāve only included tracks from Cambodia, Indonesia, Myanmar, Philippines, Thailand, and Vietnam. Nor is this a biggest or most important artists collection; instead, Iāve tried to recapture the pure visceral thrill of that first time I heard Joey Boy, choosing bangers that sound like nothing else, from nowhere else."
āGary Sullivan
[[Selling Points]]- Available only on cassette
- Curated by cult WFMU show and blog Bodega Pop - aka Gary Sullivan's long-running project rooted in a passion for digging for music in bodegas and cell-phone stores across NYC's boroughs
- Includes hip hop tracks from Cambodia, Indonesia, Myanmar, Philippines, Thailand, and Vietnam

















