It’s a Friday night. BAYANG (tha Bushranger) and I are in the outside seating section of a Fitzroy pub. Goddamn, it’s cold. We order 2 pints of Carlton Draught, and clink our glasses to the tune of “Cheers”. People around us are doing the same. Facing the frost, and finding comfort in the company of one another. It’s like we’re all soldiers, enjoying one last moment of peace before we pounce onto the battlefield.
For the Sydney rapper I sit across, the warhorn of Yah Yah’s is scheduled to bellow in 2 hours, signifying the start of his first Melbourne headline show. A well-deserved milestone after the buzz around the meditate gutter rap of singles like ‘NGL’, and the post-punk grit of highlights like ‘Dexamphetamine’.This set finds him joined by noise trio BRACT to play through their collaborative AOTY-contender REDBRIKGOTTHIK. The unabashed rap poetry of DNR will open the show, followed by Teether, Realname, and Mr Society’s woozy hip-hop project TOO BIRDS striking from the support slot.
For now, however, Bayang and I continue to clink our glasses and slowly sip our beers. “When I’m here [in Melbourne], it’s usually studio sesh after studio sesh. But my time here so far has been smoking weed, going to eat, enjoying time with my peers and friends.” The calm we bask in serves as the final stop before the storm.
When it comes time to grace the stage, Bayang performs like a necromancer, summoning swarming mosh pits with the microphone as his sceptre, melting any inkling of frost that made its way inside the venue. He spends the quiet moments in between trudging back and forth to BRACT’s eerie soundscapes. His unhinged gaze gleams like portals to hell from within the armour of his Gore-Tex jacket. This menacing presence is unlike the Bayang you meet in conversation, because it’s a combination of his creative passion, with a creature of bad habits, dark moments, and rage.
“[The creature] is this hardcore head who just wants to smash skateboards into shop windows. I sympathise with his inclination, but letting it out often gets us nowhere,” He tells me. “When performing live, I can let him roam around off his leash a little bit, and it’s nice to have him on display.”
REDBRIKGOTTHIK centres around a looming sense of darkness that floods his hometown of Sydney, and chronicles his never-ending journey navigating it. The idea dates back to his days as frontman of the hardcore band DISPOSSESSED, but credits “the limitless possibilities of hip-hop” as a driving force in finally bringing the concept to life. BRACT’s sword-sharp synths, catapulting bass barrages, and meteor-like drum crashes create an apocalyptic atmosphere. Waves of distortion propel Bayang throughout this world, as he slices through the illusions of a sanctuary the skyscrapers portray.
Like when he performs, his artistry exists as a two-headed brute on this album. One head gnaws with aggression through affirmations like “Cannon fodder my city” on ‘Babylon’. The other head serves as a harbinger of hope, resulting in songs like ‘Burn City (Linkup)’, where Teether and Big Leng join Bayang in forming a battalion of bars, fighting against fodder with their flows. Bayang breaks down this duality to me through the lenses of the iconic manga Berserk. “My favourite thing about the series is that it’s this incredibly dark story, but a sense of hope always persists,” he explains. “This album is the same to me because while it is bleak, there’s hope in the fact that it’s a lit fire. It’s about pushing against the bleakness, and not letting it overwhelm you.”
Outside of the booth, Bayang works full-time in construction. 12-14 hour workdays left him exhausted before his flight to Melbourne, to the point where even the studio seemed like a chore. We all experience these moments in life, where the constant grind of capitalism leaves us feeling like the cannon fodder that’s yelled about on ‘Babylon’, and even our passions can’t pull us from the depths of burnout. Yet, he’s still spent a portion of this trip picking up records from bands like The Wet Ones, an 80s punk band who his dad introduced him to. His eyes still widen when remembering his love of David Bowie growing up, grinning as he announces it as “The moment my parents knew something was wrong with me.” Heck, his love of art is so strong that he describes himself as “Someone who can’t make friends with someone I can’t talk about music with.”
However, as I propose the notion of music being the thing that inspires the hope he has for the future, he disagrees. “It’s always going to be the people that can change things,” he says. “The more people gather in spaces around the country and realise that they’re not alone in not wanting to take the stale Australian dream lying down, the more they will be emboldened to act differently. This can enact changes in things like the music industry, but also one another’s destinies.”
Bayang is an enthralling man. He channels his love of genres like hardcore and hip-hop to create some of the most unique music in the country. He taps into past adversity to fuel the things he expresses, becoming a two-headed creature of art that provides us entertainment, relatability, and encouragement. He communicates through music but finds his sense of hope instilled in the power of humanity. With a slew of new music slated before the end of 2023, both solo and collaborative, it becomes more and more exciting to see Bayang leave his legacy in real-time. But in terms of how his presence in the scene stands the test of time, the rapper has simple ambitions, proclaiming that “I just want to be remembered as a guy who said ‘fuck it’ and gave it a crack.”
For now, may the warhorn of Bayang shows continue to beckon us to the battlefield, and may we be partners in the pandemonium he incites.
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