Francis Jue in “Cambodian Rock Band.”

Photo by Margot Schulman

When Ngo was first cast, his parents weren’t sure he should be involved with the show because of its dark subject matter—the show could traumatize (or retraumatize) people. But Ngo says there’s been a deep healing that has happened at their shows. In every city, CRB holds Khmer community days as outreach to the local community and to get people to the theater—which isn’t always accessible, for a number of reasons. These days sometimes include talkbacks with the cast after the show, so they have those difficult conversations about this dark moment in our shared history, but in a healthy way. The community day in Seattle will be Oct. 7. Ngo, who says these community days are always his favorite part of the show, also points out that this is the crux of CRB, as his character is finally forced to talk about his past with his daughter.

And even if a community day doesn’t include a conversation with the cast, Ngo is confident their show has prompted conversations among families. Just as it did with his family when they came to see the show—including his parents, as well as his musician uncle and cousins.

“I know that on that ride home, he’s going to talk about it,” Ngo says about his uncle, who saw the show with his kids in Washington, D.C.

In “Cambodian Rock Band,” (from left) Brooke Ishibashi and Joe Ngo play daughter Neary and father Chum.

Photo by Margot Schulman

Ngo’s parents weren’t the only ones who were worried about him taking on this role of a Khmer dad. Ngo feared people would think he was playing a parody or mocking his own dad and he was “really concerned with how to get it right.” He had to figure out how to honor the Khmer patriarch.

When he finally figured it out and settled into his role, the community took notice. Ngo says he’s had Khmer kids tell him they see their own dads in his character. Even better, Ngo’s aunts and uncles who have seen the show have told him that they see their brother. Part of this is Ngo throwing in what he calls “Khmerisms” while playing Chum, such as hitting his fellow cast members when he talks to them (he’s warned them ahead of time that he would be doing this).

“I’m completely unapologetic about it,” he says with a laugh.

While hitting someone while speaking to them may be singular to Ngo, who is the only Khmer cast member in CRB, he says it’s also universal to Khmer folks. And he’s right. I immediately know what he’s talking about—that’s just how some of us speak.

Putting in the work to get it right

As someone who is not part of the Khmer community, Yee took her responsibility as the writer very seriously. Her research process happened over the course of a few years. There was a lot of reading up on this period of Cambodian history, watching documentaries including Don’t Think I’ve Forgotten: Cambodia’s Lost Rock & Roll and talking with members of the Khmer community about their experiences—the dark as well as the joyful. Her dialogue with community members also included questions about what they needed and wanted to see on stage.

And that effort to get things right is ongoing. The show has also hired Sokunthary Svay as a Khmer vocal coach. Svay, a writer and poet who also has a background in opera, works with the actors on their Khmer pronunciation and diction, as well as to contextualize certain aspects of the musical and vocal performances. She’s also worked with the performers on vocal techniques so they sound like Khmer singers, versus someone just singing in Khmer.

“Cambodian Rock Band” will run in Seattle through Nov. 5.

Image by DC Scarpelli

Svay demonstrated this to me, singing a verse two different ways and as someone who’s grown up hearing Khmer music at parties, I immediately recognized the difference. Khmer singers tend to have a nasal quality to their voices that western singers typically don’t.

Svay—who was born in a Thai refugee camp and grew up in the Bronx, New York, when her family came to the United States—says as a member of the Cambodian diaspora, she understands people’s skepticism about CRB, with it being written by a non-Cambodian. But Yee puts in the work and bringing people together in the form of the Khmer community days shows  she’s here for the community, Svay says.

“(People are) totally right to feel this way,” Svay says. “But reserve judgment ‘til you see it…I feel proud and grateful (to be involved) because it’s clear to me that they are about doing it to the best of their abilities and getting it right.”

From left, Joe Ngo, Brooke Ishibashi, Abraham Kim, Jane Lui and Tim Liu in “Cambodian Rock Band.”

Photo by Margot Schulman