No one likes being told what to do. When it comes to taste and personal preference, the age-old adage of Support Local Arts has long run its course as a relevant sentiment to garner interest in local acts — now a beaten horse, a throwaway statement to showcase performative solidarity without actually doing the walk. From the jump, local artists have been subjected to cultural cringe, a phenomenon best described as a sense of inferiority we feel towards our own culture. It often manifests as an abstract feeling of “Oh, I don’t know, they just aren’t my vibe” even before being given a chance for proper consumption. In an era where content are pushed through the echo chambers of our algorithm, what space will Malaysian musicians occupy to strike a chord with their homegrown audiences? Gathered at Rumah Api and all dressed in Onitsuka Tiger, Men’s Folio chats with purveyors in the local music scene on what it takes to make their mark. 

How much does virality play a role in determining commercial success? “If I were to write a song, I would never purposely intend for this sound to go viral. I recognise that this is not the main goal as a musician and a songwriter,” explains Ismail. As a DJ, Joyvnn prefers to channel her energy into creating what she likes. “I think others tend to expect my work to sound commercial since I started off as a DJ making TikTok tunes,” she confesses. Rather than looking at it as pressure to go viral, DOLLA’s Sabronzo considers it as pressure to create music that their listeners would love. “In an industry where music evolves so quickly, we try to balance between jumping on the hype train without losing our identities,” she explains.  

Having worn by the likes of Charli XCX, Chappell Roan and Gracie Abrams in the Western pop scene, the label of being an industry plant or a nepo baby has been used to highlight, discredit or attribute one’s success. Within the Malaysian music scene, how much do these factors come to play in guaranteeing success? Albeit confessing to not knowing that his mother, Suliza Salam was an established musician  while growing up, Ismail talks about how it takes more than just connections to build a sustainable career. “Passion comes first, as this is only going to work out if they truly want this.” “I have received some contracts and offers that would position me as an industry plant,” confesses Jovynn. “I ended up rejecting them knowing that I would sign my life away, in ways that no longer allow me to work on my own ideas.” The equipment and instruments can be bought, but talent cannot. 

If it is not for the clout, could money be a substantial motivating factor to pursue this line of work? “Someone with this impression tells me they make their judgement solely based on A-listers like Sabrina Carpenters” says Sabronzo. Acknowledging that music has played a big part in Ismail’s life since childhood, he expresses gratitude for being able to turn his passion into a source of income.“When you do something you like, it becomes a sustainable way to to make money.” However, if money is the sole factor to pursue this line of work, Jovynn sees it as a quick way to experience burnout. “You will lose yourself,” she chimes in. For Uriah, he sees the satisfaction of creating music something money cannot buy. 

In an industry that thrives on authenticity, how do comparisons that stem from being labelled Malaysia’s version of another performer impact the perception of one’s artistry? “I consider it an honour,” confesses Uriah, having been compared to C-pop sensation Leehom Wang due to their similar origin stories that involve winning talent competitions and playing multiple instruments. Jovynn and Arif share a similar sentiment, seeing them as acknowledgement towards their work. “It was more common when I first started out as a young singer because I drew references from their sound. Maturing comes with finding my own voice and identifying what I really want to do,” shares Ismail. 

When it comes creating something unique, these artists look to personal memories to inject their flair.

Surreal as it is inspiring, seeing the celebrities Jovynn looks up to use her sounds on TikTok is a strong affirmation that she is on the right path. While their work may come across deeply personal, some artists find themselves drawing certain boundaries when it comes to their art out of self-preservation. Rather than a binary decision, Jovynn talks about the balance between capturing certain emotions immediately on a project and having some space to breathe to avoid burnout. Besides keeping certain names out of lyrics and performances, Uriah and Ismail find themselves pouring out their hearts on stage, immediately dissolving feelings of nervousness once spotlight hits.

In pursuit of a holistic sensorial experience, the involvement goes rocking up to the recording booth and the stage to give their audience a good show. “Now that social media has become our biggest promotional platform, we have adapted to become content creators, too,” observes Ismail. With the consideration of a marketing plan, a musician’s job scope now involves a fully realised release strategy that exists beyond the product they put out. To create an immersive soundscape, Jovynn is involved in setting the art direction for stage, outfits and beyond. What about the days when they do not feel 100%? This is when Ismail, Arif and Uriah look at music as more than just a passion project, but a job with responsibilities. As a member of a girl group, Sabronzo recognises that a performance involves a bigger picture beyond herself. “It is not just about you, especially in DOLLA, as showing up for yourself also means showing up for your group mates too, alongside everyone else who has worked hard on a project.”  

So what keeps them going? For Jovynn, she recount la getting to play festivals they grew up attending as a full circle moment. “I never thought I would end up performing at Good Vibes Festival, sharing the same stage I once saw my favourite acts perform on,” says Jovynn. For Uriah, he recounts a fulfilling experience of witnessing every fan singing along to every performance at a recent showcase; while Ismail fondly remembers performing for a crowd of 15,000 attendees in Terengganu for a radio concert at 17. They do it all for the connections made through their music. “I keep going for my mother and my fans. She is the only person who fully understands what I go through and see me through my challenges,” says Ismail. For Jovynn, what matters most is their ability to bring people together over a shared emotion they conjure. 

While drawing inspiration from different sources and creating tracks that may not directly sit cohesively in the same playlist besides one that is called Causeway Trends, there is a shared camaraderie between these artists — a kinship built on common challenges and an innate desire to connect with their homegrown audience. Under capitalism’s boiler room, the road ahead for a beautiful melody is a treacherous one — but let us dance in the meantime.  

Photography Chee Wei  

Editorial Director Izwan Abdullah 

Fashion Direction Manfred Lu 

Styling Liew Hui Ying 

Fashion Coordination Asha Farisha 

Grooming Chu Fan, Annie Chew 

Hair Cody Chua, Philex Chin 

Photography Assistant Dain Lee 

Grooming Assistant Lee Peng 

Hair Assistant Kahwayne 

Styling Assistants Alaisha, Mia 

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