Review by Eric
Music From Southern Laos: A Hidden Gem That’ll Transport You Straight to the Mekong
If you’ve ever wondered what it feels like to float down the Mekong River with the sun on your face and traditional Lao melodies swirling around you, Music From Southern Laos by Molam Lao is about as close as you can get without a passport. Released in 1994 by Nimbus Records (yeah, from the UK—random, right?), this album dives deep into the soul of Lao music, blending folk vibes with raw, earthy instrumentation that’s impossible not to vibe with.
The lineup? Pure gold. You’ve got Khamsy Khounsavath killing it on the khene—a bamboo mouth organ that sounds like nothing else—and Nouthong Phimvilayphone flexing skills on both lute and xylophone. Throw in some killer vocals by Boualiane Thipsangvanh and Khampha Inthisane, and you’ve got an ensemble that could make even Spotify algorithms go “Wait…what year is this?”
Now let me tell ya about two tracks that stuck with me harder than rice stuck to the bottom of a pot. First up, “Pheng Lom Phat Phay.” This one hits different. It starts off slow, almost hypnotic, with the khene doing its thing while the vocals weave in like a lazy river. Then BAM—it picks up pace, and suddenly you’re dancing barefoot in your kitchen like nobody’s watching. I don’t even know what the lyrics mean (Google Translate failed me), but who cares? The energy just grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you awake.
Then there’s “Lam Saravane,” which might be my favorite for all the wrong reasons. It’s haunting, man. Like, proper goosebumps-level haunting. The xylophone here is so delicate it feels like it’s tiptoeing through the song, while the vocals are rich and layered, almost like they’re telling you ancient secrets. Every time I hear this track, I picture mist rolling over rice paddies at dawn. Cheesy? Maybe. Accurate? Absolutely.
What makes this album stand out isn’t just the music itself—it’s how alive it feels. These aren’t polished studio creations; they’re real people playing instruments their grandparents taught them, singing stories passed down through generations. And sure, maybe the production quality shows its age (it is nearly thirty years old), but honestly? That only adds to the charm.
So yeah, Music From Southern Laos isn’t gonna top any Billboard charts anytime soon, but it doesn’t need to. It’s less about being trendy and more about keeping something beautiful alive—a snapshot of a culture most of us will never fully understand. Listening to it feels like borrowing someone else’s memories for a little while.
And hey, fun fact: Did you know molam means “master singer” in Lao? Makes sense, because after spinning this record, I felt like I’d been schooled in good taste. Who knew Southeast Asian folk music could slap THIS hard?
