As a child: Well-behaved and sincere.
First job: Playing music at my college festivals.
Rule for life: Music makes the world go round.
Best gig you’ve ever been to: At the Commonwealth Games’ closing ceremony in Delhi where I played in front of 65,000 people alongside 21 of India’s finest singers and musicians.
Most inspirational person: My dad and my wife.
Last lie: Told a music company I was too busy to take up their work. The truth is I didn’t like the song they wanted me to remix.
Hum this tune in a shower: “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd.
Favorite website: www.youtube.com.
One word to describe your sound: Always new, fresh and interesting.
Can’t leave home without: My iPhone/iPad.
In 20 years: Probably doing background scores for Hollywood and Bollywood films. And will be the most expensive in the field too!
Following up Dj Suketu at Q Bar
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“I would like to see Mr. Shake because I like to drink tea.”
“KFC, or any other fast food place so that when we’re hungry from traveling, we can buy and eat it right away.”
“I want bookstores on the station so that I can read while waiting for the train.”
“Salapao (Chinese bun) would be nice because it’s so easy to eat.”
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My childhood was filled with love, and with love came a lot of pain. I didn’t come from a broken home but I did have an abusive father. I learnt how to be protective by being a brother to my sister. When we were getting punished, I would stand in front of the hanger or belt and take the blow.
My grandfather went to study law with Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew and Tunku Abdul Rahman. They were the first three in Asia to study law. My grandfather and uncle both became very famous lawyers in Singapore. When I got into trouble, the authorities would contact them. Naturally, I too wanted to be a lawyer.
I’ve loved rap since I was nine. My mom bought me a Run DMC tape by accident. A week before that, Gladys Knight and The Pips broke up. My mom thought The Pips had gone solo. She was at Parkway Parade, saw this tape with three black men on it and bought it for me. When she came home, she popped it into the cassette player. She heard the music and said, “This is not The Pips.” “I know, mummy but what is this? I like it,” I replied.
I met Lincoln (Cheng), the owner of Zouk, when I was 14. Because of my history with Zouk, the club was given to me as a venue for my album launches in very easy fashion. I’ve seen all the changes the club has gone through. I remember during those days, everyone was in polka-dotted shirts and dancing to Madonna’s “Vogue.”
I first visited the Asia Bagus set as a member of the audience. Najip Ali, the host and my good friend, had suggested we become a part of the audience since we had to wait for him to finish anyway. They used to pay you $10 for being a member of the audience for one episode. And in one day, they would record three episodes. That’s $30. When you’re fifteen years old, that’s a lot.
I was spotted by this guy from Pony Canyon (one of Japan’s leading record companies) at the lobby of the Singapore Broadcasting Corporation (now MediaCorp). A friend and I were waiting for Najip to change out of his wardrobe and this guy saw me and asked his translator who I was. He asked me if I could rap and sing and asked me to freestyle for him right there and then. I did, and he invited us to join the Asia Bagus contest. That’s how we ended up winning the Grand Championship.
Everything that I know now about the respect for the stage and your fellow artistes is from Najip, Kumar and Chris Ho. These are my three “mothers and fathers.”
Can I do anything else? I don’t think so. I only know how to do this. I don’t know what it’s like to work for anyone else and I don’t know what it’s like to get constant pay.
I think love is a forgotten value in Singapore. It’s so stressful in this country; everyone keeps to themselves. I don’t mean to sound cliché, but I believe in love. It is through love that my new album was launched.
If you’re a man and you’ve got one person to love you, you’re a made man. I have 10 solid people who love me to death. I’m made.
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I dropped out of high school because I wanted to study at the military nursing school which had just opened that year. But I didn’t get in because I was too young, so I went back to high school.
My mom was the one who supported me to enter beauty pageants and the entertainment industry even though I wasn’t quite interested. She really loved watching the national pageant, which back then was called Miss Siam.
I didn’t study singing from any master. I just knew Kru Ue Sunthornsanan, legendary musician, who saw my singing talent and we attended ceremonies together.
The turning point happened when one of my sister’s friends asked permission from my family to send me to the Miss Thailand pageant. They wanted to advertise their business on my shoulder-strap.
Back then, there weren’t that many advertising opportunities like there are today so businesses loved to have their names at a big event like that one. The pageant had just restarted after being suspended for ten years.
I thought I would be eliminated in the first round and everything would be finished and I could go back to studying. But I ended up with the second runner-up title. The winner was Apasara Hongsakul, who later became Miss Universe in 1965.
My father, a military colonel, didn’t like that I had gotten into this. He wanted me to study, which I wanted too, and have a more stable job. But singing and acting jobs kept coming my way.
Another twist in my life happened through my uncle-in-law who was an aspiring filmmaker. He kept asking my mom to convince me to play the leading role with Mitre Chaibancha, the most famous actor at that time. I ducked my uncle’s request for a while because I didn’t want to do something that I felt I wasn’t good at.
My mom finally convinced me to do my first film, Saen Payod. And while I was working on it, His Royal Highness Prince Anusornmongkolkarn, the father of M.C. Chatrichalerm Yukhol, asked me to act in his film, E-Tan. I thought it would be a good opportunity for me because it was one of Thailand’s first 35mm films and the prince had also honored me by asking me to act in it.
Both movies were tremendously successful and I suddenly became a leading actress and remained so for decades.
The process of making movies was more or less the same back then, but the atmosphere was different. It was hard to shoot on location in the city because people always gathered around so we had to shoot in studios or in remote places, which was so inconvenient.
Fans from 20-30 years ago didn’t behave like fans do today. They always went crazy when they saw us and we couldn’t go outside. If we went to rural areas, they would treat us like dignitaries. They would run to us and kiss our hands.
The media in those days were harsh, like today. I think it depends on the morals of individuals in the press. I always had scandalous rumors written about me involving breaking up marriages or having rich boyfriends who paid for me to live with them.
I used a tit for tat philosophy to deal with bad journalists who made their living on other people’s misery. I had to protect my dignity. My parents didn’t raise me to accept this mistreatment, so I sued every newspaper that wrote bad things about me.
In one case, I sued a journalist until he had to go to jail even though he tried to mollify me by paying me a settlement. I wanted to teach him a lesson that you can’t escape your guilt by throwing money at it. After that, the media didn’t want to mess with me anymore.
We can’t blame anyone about today’s entertainment situation. We have lots of newcomers because people accept them easily, no matter how they get in or how scandalous they are.
Society gets used to it and lets bad things happen. So, who can we blame?
My philosophy for staying in this industry is to have fun and be sincere with whomever I work with.
The secret to having a good family is all about understanding which will make your relationships long-lasting.
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How did the idea for the RSC’s concept of abridged plays come about?
The company originated a long time ago in 1981. The original gang members were pass-the-hat street performers at renaissance fairs in California. They had 20-minute slots to perform in and started off doing short versions of Hamlet. They thought that if they could do two of Shakespeare’s plays under an hour, then surely there was the potential to expand a lot more.
What are some of the challenges of putting on such a large-scale show with only three people? We hear costume changes can be quite tricky.
That’s so true! We play more than a dozen roles in each of the shows we do. The biggest challenge of all is having a group you like working with. In this case we’ve got a nice bunch of people. RSC is very careful about who they hire. They only hire people who are easy to travel with. Sometimes that takes priority over acting ability.
Can everyone relate to your shows?
We try to make sure our shows acceptable to all audiences and we try to write them in such a way that if you don’t know anything about the subject matter, you will still find it funny. You will still be able to enjoy it. The thing we’re most fond of hearing about our shows is that if you know something about it, you’ll love it. If you don’t, you’ll love it too. You don’t have to be a history or movie buff. There is plenty of good stuff for everybody.
Have you gotten into trouble for any of your works?
Well, we use water guns in our show occasionally. Every once in awhile, someone might say, “Hey why are you squirting my wife with a water gun?" It’s all in good fun. Anyone who’s going to get upset about this stuff is taking life too seriously. We’re all just out there to have a good time and make people laugh.
What are some highlights we can look forward to from the Hollywood bit of your show?
There is a climatic, powerful ending to the show. Look out for our staging of upcoming movies that can be quite funny. We also do a combination of movies. Some of them are Snow White and the Seven Samurai and Singing in the Rain.
Get ready to laugh out loud with The Reduced Shakespeare Company through Nov 7, 9-14, 3pm, 8pm. Jubilee Hall, Raffles Hotel, 1 Beach Rd., 6412-1335. $58-118 from Sistic.
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BK: How long have you been selling orange juice?
Pongsak: It’s been about 10 years now since I first started.
BK: How did you start doing this job?
Pongsak: Before orange juice, I used to sell coconuts. The supply wasn’t so easy to find so I decided to change to oranges, which are much easier to get hold of.
BK: How was it after you switched?
Pongsak: Wonderful! Back then the oranges were as cheap as B7-8 per kilo. Now it costs over B20 to get a kilo. But I can still survive. I make an average profit of B700-B800 a day. The ice costs B100 a day, and I have to pay tax.
BK: Do you squeeze the oranges yourself?
Pongsak: Yes, I have to squeeze 40 kilograms of oranges at home every morning. That makes 80 bottles of orange juice.
BK: Where do you get them from?
Pongsak: I have my regular supplier at the market. They pick only the good ones and then have a delivery boy bring them to me daily, late in the evening.
BK: Do you add anything to your juice?
Pongsak: I have to admit that if the oranges happen to be too sour, I need to add in a little bit of sugar to balance the taste. But that’s only during a short part of the year. Most of the time, I don’t add anything. Oranges are very sweet, especially around January, and with good quality oranges, the taste comes out great. A customer once said it’s so sweet he could add in a bit of lime.
BK: What’s the best thing about your job?
Pongsak: Freedom. I am my own boss and I can make my own decisions. I can just wake up one day, grant myself a holiday and stay home with my family.
BK: What’s the worst thing about your job?
Pongsak: The oranges ripen too quickly. The taste can change overnight, and I don’t like to have rotten oranges in my product.
BK: If you could do something else what would you do?
Pongsak: I don’t want to do other things. I’m already old and I only think that one day I will go back to my hometown, tend my farm and stay with my family. I might retire soon because I’m getting old and I won’t have as much energy to pull the trolley around.
BK: Do you see your family taking over from you?
Pongsak: I’ll have my 30-year-old son in law take over the business. He knows what to do because during the night, he already comes here and helps me. Narisa Pokunchanan
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The latest addition to Zouk’s stable of quality residents, Tirso Garcia aka JNR, has stepped up the plate to become one of Singapore’s next electronic dance music purveyors. Just as the Canadian-Filipino Singaporean permanent resident is culturally and ethically mixed, he is also musically diverse. From being exposed at the tender age of 11 to the sounds of Run DMC, The Cure and Herbie Hancock; to being immersed in club bangers from Chicago warehouse, New York garage and Detroit house and techno when he started mixing proper; JNR sure knows his way around the music. His current musical palate has grown to include soul, funk, disco and rare grooves. “It’s house music that you can’t tell if it was made in 1988 or 2010 which I dig. I like the periodic vagueness,” he says.
JNR’s top five selections:
“Just A Groove” by Glen Adams Affair
This to me is typical Friday / DISCO:VERY anthem. It's feel good boogie that makes everyone dance!
“Flashlight (JNR's Edit)” by Parliament
I recently did a re-edit of this for my Gilles Peterson WorldWide Fest set and fell in love with it again. I gave it the thump that it deserves and a hip hop swing to the beat.
“Work That Body (Larry Levan Mix)” by Taana Gardner
Another gem, that though it is an oldie, is poised to be a future classic anthem for Fridays.
“Just A Touch” by Slave 
One of my musical influences and another block party jam. Need I say more?
“I'll Do Anything For You Part 2” by Lee Mc Donald
There's nothing like that happy Philly soul / disco sound to get me through the day. You can also expect to be uplifted by this song on any given Friday at Velvet by yours truly.
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“I would like to see Mr. Shake because I like to drink tea.”
“KFC, or any other fast food place so that when we’re hungry from traveling, we can buy and eat it right away.”
“I want bookstores on the station so that I can read while waiting for the train.”
“Salapao (Chinese bun) would be nice because it’s so easy to eat.”
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I was a good, sweet boy. Quiet and sedate. I’m not now. I have a temper, though I can still be sweet.
I remember childhood loves and crushes and my kindergarten years but nothing too impactful; nothing that really changed my life. My circumcision was memorable.
I grew up in a middle-lower class Malay Muslim family. The environment wasn’t exactly liberal, but I was exposed to music and arts and crafts which allowed me to be expressive and creative.
I wanted to be a nuclear physicist in secondary school.
The education system here didn’t do any justice for me but somehow I managed to bulldoze my way through it.
I got into the Theatre Studies program at Victoria Junior College but it wasn’t because of a love for the arts. I thought it came with the possibility of kissing girls. I didn’t get to though, except outside of theater. What a f**king waste of time!
I’d started working in Malay theater in Junior College, and in my National Service days I dabbled in performance arts, so I became more multi-disciplinary and mixed with the visual arts community. In 1997, I left for Chicago to do a Bachelor of Fine Arts, and came back in 2000 when I got my first job. I became the Artistic Director of Teater Ekamatra.
The Substation is the Ekamatra experience multiplied 10 or 20 times; it’s a much greater responsibility.
Managing an arts group or producing a work by another artist is a legitimate art practice in itself.
I never had any delusions that this was going to be an easy ride. I took on this job on my conviction that there are things The Substation needs to provide for and contribute to the community.
What we’re doing is injecting reality into the current process of turning the arts into an industry. It should slow down; it should not be hastened at the expense of artistic development or the health of the community.
The Substation has to be affordable but “affordable” doesn’t mean “cheap.”
The Substation must remain porous. The idea that you can have a traditional Indian dancer in the same room as a skinhead; that’s it. The next step is for them to freely interact.
I believe in diversity and the beauty of chaos in diversity; you have to embrace it and acknowledge it.
The most difficult thing today is recognizing potential. We’re so stuck with KPIs, criterion, order and structure, that we fear potential because it isn’t finite. The possibilities of potential are endless.
Mistakes need to be protected because a lot of good art is born out of mistakes, accidents and randomness.
As you get older your peripheral vision gets wider, but your focus gets narrower. You realize you don’t need too many things.
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