Twenty years ago, a young, rising musician, only five years into what would be a long and prosperous career, entered a studio with an already famous senior, who had by then achieved near-legend status, to record an impromptu acoustic session simply called Unplugged. It went on to sell more than a million copies, and has now become a collector's item.
The young gun was Pongsit Kamphee and the old hand was Preecha Chanapai, better known as Lek Carabao.
On Sunday, the two songs-for-life titans will be getting together for an exclusive showcase called Unplugged 2. Episode: Plugged. It will be a rare moment in music for these two to share the stage in a small, intimate concert.
"Neither of us has much free time to practice together, but we speak on the phone to make arrangements all the time. We'll make it work, don't worry," said Pongsit.
Hailed as one of the biggest songs-for-life artists and billed as the third generation of the Thai genre, a slightly slumped Pongsit lounged in his neighbourhood coffee shop with an air of indifference, answering as much as he needed to but never being impolite. The 45-year-old wore his signature bandana and cargo pants while the keys of his BMW rested quietly on the table. Having celebrated 25 years in the music business last year, Pongsit has never stopped working, and still tours extensively nationwide.
Last year, his much-hyped showcase to mark a quarter-century in showbiz was supposed to go off with a bang, and it certainly did _ an explosion of home-made ping-pong bombs. The brawling in the crowd that followed left four people injured and put a halt to what should have been his landmark, stadium-sized concert. In the following days, Pongsit issued a statement vowing to restage the concert, which he later did at Indoor Stadium Hua Mak.
"I felt it was normal as it was a part of my job to face these kinds of things, but I still felt a bit like a failure," Pongsit said. "We asked for money from sponsors to stage the concert, so when we couldn't finish, it was like burning money. We were able to re-do the concert because I'm just lucky to have good friends. People don't really know it but there is some fighting at my shows. People don't know it because I play more outside of Bangkok, and I don't like making news."
Violence at concerts seems to be a perennial problem in Thailand. Measures have been taken against such practices, from thorough body searches to hiking up ticket prices to prevent "unwanted" individuals who could stir up fights. Veteran, countrywide artists like Pongsit know how to arrange set lists to pacify the crowd, or how to cajole them to stop and enjoy the music instead. For Pongsit, the problem is rooted in improper education and youths who are ignorant and feel ignored.
"We have to ask ourselves if our education system is strong enough. Is it suitable for our people? Why do youths these days have a bad speaking and listening culture? Everyone wants to be individualistic. They want to be Westernised, but they're not educated enough. I am not talking about manners, but one must be able to hear and listen to others. When you don't know how to listen and speak to others then problems occur."
As a child growing up in the border province Nong Khai, Pongsit was a keen footballer and guitarist. He taught himself through the available songbooks. During his time at the Thai-German Vocational College, Pongsit joined a band called Retire as a guitarist, and the band played an opening slot for legendary songs-for-life outfit Caravan. That experience turned his life upside-down, prompting him to move to Bangkok to pursue a career as a songs-for-life musician.
"I was very young. I guess that was how my life happened. I just happened to meet people who influenced me, and I wanted to be like them. So I thought I would just give it a go. I didn't have any family burdens as they could take care of themselves, so I could do what I wanted. I didn't have a Plan B, but I had my education. I thought I was young and I could always go back to find work or continue my studies."
His short stint with Caravan as a bassist proved fruitful as in 1987, he seized the chance to release his debut album, which met with moderate success. It wasn't until 1990 that he broke through with The 11th Tiger which contained now classic love songs, Talod Waela (All The Time) and Kid Tueng (Missing).
"I was so shocked when I received my first payment, I didn't even have a bank account then," Pongsit recalled. "That was when I realised that I had some kind of success. At that point, I began to map out my life. I've been fortunate that I've always been surrounded by good people, so I didn't lose my head or anything. Sometimes when a singer gains fame, and they can lose it. Also, I've never tried to hang out with rich, influential people and imagine myself as a gangster."
Humility, distance from adoring fans, media isolation and moderation have been fundamental to Pongsit's long-lasting musical road.
"I think I've positioned myself as a musician from the beginning. I don't have the looks for people to drool over. There's no need to know who I sleep with, or how many children I have. People ask me [personal things] too, but I don't think I have to divulge my personal information to anyone. Dogs have kids too, you know. Everyone has kids. Why the interest? Why do we care who sleeps with who? They're all grown up, and it's none of our business.
''I also don't like to be in the media, especially TV, because it's not fun. I am not a fun person, and the audience will be bored when they watch me. TV programmes these days are all about laughs and good times, and there's nothing wrong with that as the public likes them, and it makes them happy. I think I am not fit to be on TV as I would just look moody with a sour face, and that would take the fun out of everything.''
Pongsit also doesn't rely on social media like most musicians do. He has a strong fan page which is run by his label and management. If he was asked to communicate through social media, his team would film him, or take pictures of his handwritten messages to post.
''I think if you use it for work like how journalists have to send news, it's important. It's up to how you use it. I don't need social media to reach out to my fans. That's not my job. As an artist, you need to produce good works, and behave well to a certain extent, and if they like your music, they'll listen to your music. There's no need to reach out that much.''
During its inception, the songs-for-life genre was intensely political and in the same vein of protest music. As time has gone by, it, like all kinds of music, has branched out to include different parts of life _ grassroots, working-class life in particular. As a member of the genre's third generation, Pongsit's catalogue includes deeply personal love songs, which he is popularly known for. But what are the real songs-for-life?
''That's a very difficult question,'' he said. ''I think you have to ask those who created the genre. If they say you're not, then you're not. The first phase was for political reasons, but I am more commercial, I'd say. It changes over time. The content has also broadened to other aspects of society. I think our genre is difficult to break into. New faces are scrutinised, and get questioned about their authenticity. But I think if it's difficult, then they have to try harder to deserve the label and earn respect.''
Pongsit is also credited as being directly political and socially aware through his hits. He has never been shy about his political stances over the years, and his latest album was a good example.
''Everyone should be involved in politics to varying degrees,'' he explained. ''It's our responsibility to be politically active. It doesn't mean that those who don't agree with us are evil. Democracy means we share and exchange opinions. We want to be like Westerners, but we never listen. Back to artists, we're like any other people, we have opinions and we express them in our music. ''Overseas artists are very clear about what political sides they belong to. They even donate money, but they can still tour together and get along. But not in Thailand. If an artist here sides with someone, the opposition hates you even beyond your death.''
Politics aside, Pongsit has been, strangely, enjoying a growing reputation among hipsters and cool kids of late. You might think the youthful subculture would be the last to want to be seen associated with songs-for-life. It is far off the mark, but it has been happening for the past couple years. One reason might be that Pongsit's recent full-scale shows have almost taken on an alt-country feel with bleeding guitars and ethereal string arrangements _ a far cry from his original compositions. His lyrical honesty and collaborations with younger artists such as Palmy and Tul Waitoonkiat from Apartment Khun Pa as well as his virtuosity on the guitar might also contribute to his crossover appeal. His popularity within the scenester community can be seen in his frequent bookings and fully packed shows at indie bars.
''My band members and I are serious musicians, and maybe that's how we attract younger generations. It can't be because of our looks! They weren't born when some of the songs came out, but they can sing every song. As a musician, I am just overwhelmed. They're giving a new lease of life to me. But, no, I don't understand it either. Yes, I've noticed. For the past two years, I've been booked to play in Bangkok more and more. Now, I play at indie venues quite a bit which is kind of strange. I'm getting used to it.''
Pongsit even sources new music from his university-age children, and he admires the works of Tul and Greasy Caf.
His immediate plans involve finding time to record a duet album with Lek Carabao along with a tribute album to his hero Nga-Caravan. Other than that, he seems pretty content.
''I think I've been very lucky,'' he said, looking straight ahead through the large, glass window of the busy coffee shop. ''I have nothing left that I wish to go after.''
The concert Unplugged 2: Plugged will take place this Sunday at Aksara Theatre at 8pm.
