“I was completely unprepared – all I knew was the basic overall picture – Khmer Rouge, Angkor Wot, Dead Kennedys’ Holiday in Cambodia, Apocalypse Now, The Royal Ballet, that sort of thing,” Poulsen says.
Poulsen was aware, however, of the Cambodian psychedelic pop scene – a once fertile musical environment that would be almost obliterated by the Khmer Rouge forces in the ‘70s. “I’d grown up through my musical life listening to community radio, and American radio, and I’d heard stuff from this by now very famous compilation, Cambodian Rocks,” Poulsen says.
Poulsen, however, wasn’t initially interested in Cambodian pop when he first arrived in the country. “When I first got there I was more interested in the musical traditions, the more folky history,” Poulsen says. Eventually Poulsen began to explore the contemporary Cambodian music scene. “It kind of pulled me in,” Poulsen says. After initially contemplating a film project based on the idea of rural singers moving to Phnom Penh, Poulsen happened upon a local bar where he witnessed a young female singer, Srey Thy, singing karaoke.
“I was walking around with a video camera interviewing people on the street singing,” Poulsen explains. It was to be the catalyst for The Cambodian Space Project, a musical project that would see Poulsen, Thy and a “melting pot” of musicians from different cultural, professional and demographic backgrounds exploring and celebrating the Cambodian psychedelic pop scene.
In many ways, it is a miracle that anything of that scene survived Pol Pot’s ruthless purges in the ‘70s. In addition to largely wiping out the intellectual and academic population as part of the ‘Year Zero’ genocidal policy, the Khmer Rouge targeted artists and musicians. The Cambodian pop scene had grown out of the influence of western tourists, and American servicemen, who brought with them ‘50s and ‘60s pop and rock’n’roll records. To the Khmer Rouge, hellbent on destroying every aspect of modern society, the music scene was an obvious target.
“Very little of that whole scene survived,” Poulsen says. “The very exceptional singers of that golden era – which was really as little as between 1965 and 1975 when the Khmer Rouge took control of the country – they all disappeared in the killing fields,” Poulsen says. “There are some macabre stories, like when Sinn Sisamouth, the Elvis of Cambodia, who was executed, but allowed to sing one final song before he was shot – which apparently his executioners were very moved by, but he was killed anyway.”
Ros Sereysothea, the so-called Queen of Cambodia was murdered, and other notable musicians, such as Pan Ron, simply disappeared. The recorded output also vanished. “If you compare it to the ‘50s and ‘60s scenes in neighbouring countries like Vietnam and Thailand, where you can still see copies of the original material, in Cambodia you can’t – it’s a very sensitive topic, and there’s lots of debate at the moment,” Poulsen says. The Cambodian Space Project has arrived at the right time, with a cultural revival taking place – a revival that is adding inspiration and momentum to the Cambodian Space Project. “That’s something that inspires us, and fuels us to do what we do,” Poulsen says.
Poulsen says the reaction to The Cambodian Space Project has varied. “On the one hand, Cambodia is a more conservative place than ever – female singers can be a target of violence or jealousies. It can be dangerous if they’re deemed to be politically or socially incorrect – they can be attacked,” Poulsen says. “But at the same time, for the original musicians, the survivors who can recall Cambodia’s music and arts tradition before 1975, Srey is very much seen as a champion, and they really appreciate the Cambodian Space Project.”
Would the symbiotic relationship between psychedelia and Cambodian music, if not for the Khmer Rouge’s murderous efforts, be fertile ethnographical and musicological material? “It’s an interesting question,” Poulsen says. “In the ‘60s there was this explosion of music all over the world, and the same thing happened in Cambodia – there was probably even a bigger catalogue of music produced in Cambodia than in Australia.”
The Western rock’n’roll scene fit well with Cambodia’s desire to modernise. “The musicians were influenced by The Yardbirds, The Kinks, Ike and Tina Turner, and possibly later when GI radio spilled into Cambodia, more intense stuff like The Stooges and the Velvet Underground,” Poulsen says. “And Cambodia’s music was always psychedelic, in the true sense of the term, so all these things came together, especially as the war loomed on the country’s doorstep.”
In 2011, The Cambodian Space Project recorded its debut album, as well as touring through Asia, Europe and the United States. “It’s been well received – I think music builds bridges. And there’s a strong back story that appeals to people as well,” Poulsen says.
Poulsen initially considered bringing the project to Melbourne to record, with Mick Harvey as producer. While that may still happen, The Cambodian Space Project has been recording recently with the legendary psychedelic guitarist and Rodriguez producer Dennis Coffey in Detroit. “He’s credited with taking The Temptations in a psychedelic direction, and he virtually invented the whole Blaxploitation soundtrack,” Poulsen says. “He and his partner Mark Theodore have done hundreds and hundreds of Motown tracks, but The Cambodian Space Project is their first time Cambodian band.”
BY PATRICK EMERY
