Crossing the dancefloor of the Pioneer nightclub in Rangoon, I trail behind a denimclad Zaw Min Htut, one of Burma's most popular musicians. Installed in the VIP area with the man lovingly referred to as the country's answer to Rod Stewart, we have a bird's eye view of the sweaty teens dancing to dated hi-energy trance. As a remix of Opus III's 1992 hit 'It's a Fine Day' drops, we could be in any club in the world. In 1992.
This was not what I expected. Following a military coup in 1962, the country has been isolated from the outside world. The week of my visit saw the launch of the Burma UK Campaign's 'I'm Not Going' initiative, which argues that tourism equals money in the regime's coffers (a view opposed by those who say the boycott hasn't worked and that responsible travel benefi ts the beleaguered Burmese people).
There is no argument, though, about the commonplace corruption and brutality in Burma. In a place where human rights abuses are rife and freedom of speech severely restricted, musicians and songwriters are routinely imprisoned and heavily censored.
But in the capital, Rangoon, a thriving music scene exists as a new generation of musicians seeks to rebel in their own way. Nightclubs et al featuring western style music were ostensibly banned by the regime in 1962, but now any offi cial ban has dissipated, or as Aung Zaw, the Thailandbased editor of the magazine Irrawaddy, puts it: 'There are no rules. Whatever they [the regime] say are the rules...'
Ask most participants what is Burmese about the Rangoon music scene, however, and you'll be met with a puzzled stare and a long silence.
'To combine rock and traditional music... well, nobody has really heard that before,' says Htut. 'It's not easy.'
To many, modern Burmese music is simply derivative, with homegrown pop and rock aping western styles, and dated western styles at that. But this isn't simply laziness.
For many, western music signals freedom of expression, something anathema to a repressive regime.
Take hip hop, Burma's newest and hottest import. A quick spin of Rangoon's most popular star, Sai Sai, is slightly dispiriting. Western backing tracks are nicked wholesale, with Sai Sai rapping in Burmese over Mary J Blige's 'Family Aff air'. But by creating hip hop, musicians are aspiring towards the cultural freedom they see symbolised by US rappers.
Polite young rapper Saw Nyi Nyi of the Too Big collective says that although his lyrics are apolitical, rapping about everyday life allows him to reach out to a new generation. And the western style dress? 'They don't like it,' he says with a hint of pride, fiddling with his small diamond stud.
Other pundits point out that the hip hop scene is only open to the urbane and wealthy. And there is no doubt the endemic poverty in Burma is a barrier to innovation. In one Rangoon bar, a long-haired performer sings 'Rhinestone Cowboy' with gusto. ' I want to learn a lot more about music,' he says, on condition of anonymity, 'but even our guitar player doesn't own his own guitar.'
One person painfully aware of the changes in Rangoon's music scene is composer and guitarist Win Maw. In 1997, he was sentenced to seven years hard labour for writing songs in support of National League For Democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi, at her request.
'I knew I was going to be in trouble - but if I didn't write them no one would,' he says.
Later that night we head to Rangoon's ABC pub to watch Maw play. The small audience of midweek drinkers applauds politely as he and his band play Madonna covers. Speaking at his apartment earlier, Maw dismissed Rangoon's new generation of musicians. ' I don't like hip hop,' he had said, 'but it is becoming so popular that if people say "write me a song", I can't say no. Here in Rangoon, everything can be created.'
And with the regime showing no signs of loosening its grip, it will be up to musicians like Maw to keep on creating in the face of adversity.
