Various | Cambodian Rocks Volumes I and II |Khmer Rocks | Cambodia

Recently, in looking back at the the classic bootleg Cambodian Rocks, I discovered that a new label was putting out its own Cambodian Rocks titles. About a week later I received Cambodian Rocks Volumes I and II in the mail, neatly packaged with no note or press information. There was also no hint as to the identity of the new label Khmer Rocks' proprietor, though it's pretty clear that the person is Khmer. Three weeks ago, I called the original Parallel World Release "an early example of the anonymous-Whitey-finds-weird-Asian-music phenomenon." These new compilations take the genre to another level: they are heartfelt tributes to the musical heroes of an anonymous Cambodian.

Both in terms of packaging and song selection, these CDs are quite different from the Parallel World release. Though there is overlap, Khmer Rocks' song choices are a little more conservative than the acid rock-influenced material included on the original. There's also a heavier reliance on Cambodian cover versions of American rock tunes, often to surprisingly good effect. The biggest difference, however, is the inclusion of the notes, photos and lyric translations that add so much to the experience of the music.

A great example of the latter from Volume I is Ros Sereysothea's "I'm So Shy." The gritty groove and sexy vocal are definitely accentuated by a knowledge of what Ros is singing (with a male chorus responding in parentheses):

Ah ah ah, don't look at me
(Can I look? Can I look?)
I'm still a virgin and I'm very shy
Every single day I only stay in the house
I'm so shy, scared of love[...]

Ah ah ah, don't look at me
(Can I look? Can I look?)
The flower hasn't bloomed yet--don't pinch it off
Please be kind to this young flower
Don't pick for fun, just cannot

In a brilliant production touch, the lascivious men's voices are mixed in the foreground while Ros's voice emanates from a reverby distance. We identify with the men: the voice of the inaccessible Ros, dripping with irony, eggs us on with these "demure" lyrics that advertise what they claim to protect.

There are other revelations. Thanks to the notes in Volume II, there is now a name to blame for the godawful James Brown imitation that has been burned into the memory of every Cambodian Rocks owner: Lelu Thaert was inviting you to "Dance Soul." The titles of the songs alone speak volumes about what Cambodia was like just before the era of the killing fields: "Women of '72," "Hippie Men," "Bachelor Without Worry," "The Sound of the Drums" and "Whisky, Whisky" suggest an emerging middle class and a party goin' on.

Then there are the cover tunes--especially on Volume II, which features at least seven. Sinn Sisamouth is the biggest purveyor of these. The notes claim he recorded over two thousand songs before his untimely death at the hands of the Pol Pot regime, a figure which becomes slightly less astonishing when you realize how often he simply wrote new lyrics for famous American pop songs. (Interestingly, these lyrics are never translations of the originals, which suggests that perhaps Sinn couldn't understand the words to the songs that so profoundly influenced his music.) "Missing Tender Hands," a reworking of Scott Mackenzie's "San Francisco," sounds like it may have been recorded live. Sinn's voice, full of longing, is strangely reminiscent of Morrissey's. Unburdened of lyrics about wearing a flower in your hair, the bittersweet melody exercises its full power. But the song that Sinn Sisamouth really manages to transform is "A Whiter Shade of Pale"--gone are the pomposity and sixteen vestal virgins, added is a derelict trombone and what sounds like a Mellotron on the verge of collapse. It's lo-fi, well and simply sung and more haunting than the original.

If you're looking for a bottom line on which Cambodian Rocks to buy, I'm gonna cop out and suggest getting them all. While some cuts appear on both the Parallel World and Khmer Rocks comps, most don't. Cambodian Rocks has some Southeast Asian psychedelia that Cambodian Rocks I and II lack, but the latter volumes are a deeper and more informative collection. And though I doubt it pays out royalties, at least Khmer Rocks pays great respect to the artists. There's plenty of goofiness and goodness in these CDs, so watch out: you may find yourself really hooked on Cambodian pop. Then you'll have to get on the Khmer Rocks website and start mainlining their $5 CD-R copies of the original albums.