Don't Think I've Forgotten: Cambodia's Lost Rock and Roll

Before the Khmer Rouge took over, Cambodian art and culture flourished. In John Pirozzi's stirring documentary, speakers recall how music filled the air during the 1950s and 1960s—on the radio, at dances, and during live performances. Several stars were popular, including Sinn Sisamouth and Ros Serey Sothea, who became duet partners (when Ros left Phnom Penh after an ugly divorce, Sinn coaxed her back into performing). As war broke out in Vietnam, Cambodia strove to maintain neutrality, but as former U.S. Ambassador John Gunther Dean remembers, “We did get involved in bombing a neutral country.” The music continued with rock acts such as Yol Aularong and Drakkar, but once the Khmer Rouge came to power, the new era of long hair, free speech, and outside influences swiftly came to an end, as musicians joined the army, played state-sanctioned material, and hid their records (to do otherwise would risk destruction of property—or worse). As Prince Norodom Sirivudh notes, “If you want to eliminate values from past societies, you have to eliminate the artists, because artists are influential.” Following liberation in 1979, the survivors were free to make music again, although many had disappeared under mysterious circumstances (even those who managed to leave the country returned to find few family members left). Fortunately, Cambodian rock's appealing combination of Western and Eastern influences has witnessed a resurgence. A powerful film about the enduring legacy of a culture's music even in times of severe repression, this is highly recommended. Aud: C, P. (K. Fennessy)