Asian Bands Rock Out Against Stereotypes -- Asian-American Rockers Break Into Mainstream Pop Culture

In a tiny University District basement room, where Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix and Wonder Woman posters line the wood-paneled walls and large cracks split the cement floor, the three members of Lotus rock out.

"I took a trip in the morrrnin'. She's with me, music's by my side. And I lie awake in the eeevenin'. With my music, naked by my siiide," wails lead singer/guitarist Joe Choosakul. His eyes are closed, head bobbing, lips pressed to the mike in the classic pained-rocker stance as he sings along to the speeding drum beat and dissonant minor chords.

This could be a scene from Pearl Jam-meets-"Wayne's World." Except for one thing. These aren't long-haired white boys. They're Asian. Asian American. And every note they sing chips away at stereotypes about Asians not being able to rock.

Asians not musical? Take that guitar riff!

Not passionate? "Load a bowl, get real baked, pour a drink to the brink . . . I want a pretty girl and a real fine job," Chusakool howls and moans into the microphone.

Shouldn't he and his bandmates be, oh, doctoring or lawyering or engineering?

"I've always wanted to do music," Choosakul says. "I started playing at 12. I felt more comfortable with music than math or business."

The last notes of the song melt into silence and the band members take a breather.

"We knew that starting an Asian-American band, race would be an issue," says drummer Tony Tsuei. "People would be looking at our

names or seeing us on stage and they'd wonder."

Struggling for stardom

But all that could change soon. Asian-American rock and rap are coming on strong. Asian-American bands in Seattle and across the nation are struggling for the rock stardom that's usually the province of white or black Americans. The first anthology of Asian-American rock 'n' roll, "Ear of the Dragon," was released earlier this year. And a national Asian-American magazine was flooded with tapes for its Asian-American rock 'n' roll search.

These bands are breaking the stereotypes of the reserved, straight-arrow Asian. They're bursting forth with anger, ecstasy, sorrow and passion, set to searing guitars riffs, brooding dissonant chords or bullet-like rap beats. And although they all are Asian American, their music and experiences are as different as Hendrix is from Snoop Doggy Dogg.

"When I started the band about five years ago, I was consciously looking for other Asian Americans to play with," says Choosakul, 27, a University of Washington music major. "I had played with musicians from other ethnic groups, but I wanted to break the stereotype of no Asian-American bands. A lot of people just can't see an Asian-American person being in a rock band and being functional in that setting."

Not that Choosakul's parents didn't try to steer him in a more conventional direction.

"My family was trying to persuade me to pursue business or anything to do with math," he says. "But I just felt like I had the talent for music."

After Choosakul founded the group, Lotus went through several drummers and bassists before developing the current lineup of Choosakul, Tsuei and bassist Sabu Miyata, 21. In the early years, the Bangkok-born Choosakul played with Caucasian band members.

"I felt like the Caucasian members in the band didn't take me seriously," Choosakul says. "After I started playing and they saw I knew what I was doing, I got more support. But they seemed to see the band as a sort of practice group, not a really serious band. They weren't committed."

He hooked up with Tsuei, a 21-year-old UW biology major, at a UW talent show two years ago.

"I liked the idea of being in an Asian-American band," Tsuei says. "I wanted to break the stereotype that Asians can't play rock. And I was impressed by Joe - he writes all the music and lyrics himself."

The music is kind of a cross between Hendrix and alternative rock, with soaring, weaving guitar licks and angst-ridden chords.

The lyrics deal with everything from rock's angry-about-life themes to experiences unique to Choosakul's Asian-American heritage. Take "Sugarcane": "Take my hand and we'll find paradise. A place where we can rest our minds. Put away this insecurity and maybe I can love you and you love me." They're lyrics written in response to racism and hatred, Choosakul says.

It's the perspective, not the music, that distinguishes the songs as Asian American, he says.

"Music is like water," he says. "We're the faucet. The water already exists. We're just a different kind of faucet. The music comes out of our faucet. We're not claiming we're a different water just because we're a different faucet."

Someone likes that different faucet. Lotus recently won a spot on TicketMaster's showcase, an annual event where the ticketing service flies representatives from major record labels, management and music-publishing companies out to listen to bands in 42 U.S. cities. More than 10,000 bands this year vied for 185 showcase spots. The five Seattle bands will perform Oct. 18 at Moe's Mo'roc'n Cafe. But Lotus may still have a hard road ahead. In a culture that generally defines music as "black" or "white," it has been hard for the band to find acceptance on its own terms.

"Sometimes I've given demo tapes to someone, and I'd be standing next to the person as they're playing it for the first time," Choosakul says. "And then - this happens a lot - the first thing they say is: `Wow! You sound white!' No I don't. I sound Asian American. I don't know why they say that. Are Asians supposed to sound different? Are we supposed to sing with an Asian accent?" Rap from the Seoul Brothers

The Seoul Brothers certainly aren't about to rap with an Asian accent. Instead, brothers Michael and Raphael Park, both born in Korea, proclaim their ethnicity proudly, cleverly, even belligerently:

"I'm the Asiatic brother from Seoul, Korea.

Al Capone heard my rhymes and said `Mama Mia.' "

Or:

"I was an Asian death machine,

Here to trample MCs,

Asiatic but not refugees."

"It was hard to get away from the Asian/Pacific Islander stuff," Park says. "That's who we are. It's not that we're trying to do that consciously. But it's where we're coming from. All writers - a lot of their material comes from their experiences."

Michael Park, 26, founded the Seoul Brothers during his junior year at Roosevelt High School.

"Hip-hop is really something that's down-to-earth and personal," he says. "I was never into rock."

Raphael, 24, joined him a few months later along with a series of DJs. They began playing at school assemblies and parties, and later performed at the Oz nightclub.

"People would look at us with apprehension sometimes," Park says of the Seoul Brothers' performances. "They'd be doubtful. But after they heard us, they'd tell us we were good. They were shocked because they'd never seen Asians do rap before."

The group is on hiatus while Raphael trains in Colorado Springs for a spot on the U.S. Olympic tae kwon do team. Michael works as executive director of the Northwest Asian Weekly Foundation, a nonprofit organization serving Asian-American youths in the Seattle-Tacoma area.

Sometimes Michael, who's a DJ on Saturday nights at the El Lobo Loco club in Pioneer Square, will still perform a rap song or two during his DJ gig.

But he's hoping for more recognition for Asian-American bands.

"A lot of these bands might get overlooked because Asian Americans are not perceived as musical or hip," Park says. "The Asian-American bands are there. They're just not being recognized. The big recording companies are kind of blind. They don't think that Asian bands are marketable."

From Nature Boys, a message

The perceived lack of marketability limits opportunities, says Iuta Semo, lead singer and manager of the Samoan-American group the Nature Boys.

"But we've also accomplished a lot more than we thought we would," he says.

The Nature Boys, five 20- to 30-year-old brothers and first cousins, perform a capella, hip-hop and rhythm and blues, infusing their songs with Samoan melodies, street beats and messages of peace.

The current members' older relatives founded the Nature Boys in the 1970s, and various family members have kept the group alive through the years. The present group performs three to four times a month around the state, most recently at Bumbershoot.

Their smooth, almost angelic harmonies belie their turbulent backgrounds. They were involved in gang activities, Semo says, and witnessed their share of violence.

"You look around and you hear a lot of things happening - a lot of tragedies," Semo says. "When we go places, we'll run into people from the opposite gang to the one we were affiliated with, and they'll still test us - they'll throw their weight around. It's a thing that's always going to be with us."

But that same background inspired their music.

"Growing up in the ghetto area, the music that influenced and inspired us as we grew up were R&B, a capella and hip-hop," Semo says. And that background helps them get their message of peace across to young people.

"We've learned our lesson in life," he says. "Our message might not change a child's mind from doing the wrong thing, but to be given the opportunity to try is the biggest reward we could ask for."

The group is recording a demo tape, with dreams of someday selling a gold or platinum record.

"We've had many incidents where people thought it was weird seeing Asians performing R&B," Semo says. "As time went on, people are more willing to not judge us by color. We want to be able to support ourselves and our families someday with our music."

A nationwide boom

It's not just Seattle that's experiencing a boom in Asian-American music. In Chicago, San Francisco, New York and places in between, Asian-American alternative bands have contributed to the CD anthology "Ear of the Dragon."

The brainchild of Chicago band Seam's lead singer, Soo Young Park, and produced in conjunction with the A.Sides Records label, "Ear of the Dragon" features 19 bands with sounds ranging from melodic and dreamy to hard-charging and clangy.

A recent rock-'n"-roll band search by the national Asian-American magazine, A. Magazine, brought in hundreds of entries.

"The diversity of the entries really surprised us," says Jeff Yang, editor and publisher, and organizer of "Ear of the Dragon."

"The one thing we can say about Asian-American rock after listening to all that stuff is that there is no one Asian-American rock. People are doing a wild palette of things."

But why the recent boom?

"There's been such a drought in Asian-American rock bands that the representation we've got in the past year or so seems like a mob," Yang says. "I think it's part of an overall cultural wave that's beginning to crest among Asian Americans. It has to do with the generation that's coming of age now. We're the first generation that's grown up with the idea that we're Asian American."

Before the late 1960s, Asians in America had largely identified themselves by their countries of origin, considering themselves Chinese Americans or Japanese Americans. It wasn't until the civil-rights movement that a Pan-Asian American identity was formed, born, in part, from the realization that Asians in America faced similar struggles.

"Plus, we're the first generation to live in the intensely media-dominated, intensely pop-dominated American culture," he adds.

It's this convergence of strong ethnic consciousness, rock-influenced childhoods and an American culture that doesn't require adherence to traditional roles that have led to the current boom, Yang suggests.

But before Asian-American bands can succeed, "people are going to have to get past this belief that Asian Americans can't generate the kind of passion required in rock, that they can't transmit strong emotions. Most people, when thinking of Asian-American musicians, think primarily of technically skilled classical musicians, not passionate, interpretive musicians."

As Yang sees it, there are similarities in subject matter and cultural references among Asian-American bands. But the most unique part of the music, he says, is its rareness.

"When we come to a point where Asian American or black or Latino hard-rock performers are as prevalent as white hard rockers, the racial category will disappear," he says.

But in the meantime, the racial aspect is still important to the bands for at least one reason.

"When I was growing up, I didn't have an Asian-American rock band to look to, to be my role model," says Lotus's Choosakul. "I had to make my own path. Now, when I see Asian-American kids in the audience, I feel that they see there's already been a path started for them and it's going to be a possible route for them to take, if they have the talent and perseverence." ----------------------------------------------------------------- Where to catch the bands

Lotus:

-- Performs as part of poetry open-mike night at Lux Coffee Bar, 2226 First Ave., 8 p.m. Oct. 12; no cover charge.

-- Performs as part of TicketMaster Showcase at Moe's Mo'roc'n Cafe, 925 E. Pike St., 9 p.m. Oct. 18; cover charge to be announced.

-- A limited number of cassette tapes are available for $5 by calling 524-2944.

The Nature Boys:

-- Performs at the Washington Center for the Performing Arts, 512 Washington St. S.E. in Olympia, at 5 p.m. and 9 p.m. Friday, free.

The Seoul Brothers:

-- On hiatus. Michael Park DJs at El Lobo Loco, 309 First Ave. S., Saturday nights from 10 p.m. to 2 a.m.; $5 cover charge.

"Ear of the Dragon" CD

-- Copies should be available at major music stores, or by calling (800) 446-6235. Cost is $12.99 plus $2 postage and handling.

Hearing test To hear sound samples from "Ear of the Dragon" and from Seattle-area Asian-American bands, call the Seattle Times InfoLine at 464-2000 and enter category ASIA, 2742.