1. MASIA ONE IS BRINGING MAJOR REGGAE TO SINGAPORE’S MUSIC SCENE
by Kelsey Adams
On paper, Toronto, Montego Bay and Singapore don’t seem to have a lot in
common. Geographically distant and culturally disparate these three milieus are
quite different places.
Enter Masia One, real name Masia Lim.
Born in Singapore, Masia is a rap artist who started her career in Toronto 12
years ago, while she was studying at the University of Toronto. The culture in the
Canadian city was thriving and she carved a space for herself as an Asian woman in
the fledgling rap scene. While growing up in Singapore her artistic leanings were
quickly stomped out by her parents and the society at large that emphasized science
and math over art. Later in her career, she lived in Westmoreland, a parish near
Montego Bay, where she fell in love with reggae. Coincidentally, her name
phonetically sounds like the Jamaican patois word for major, and she arrived on the
reggae scene as major force. After a death in the family forced her to come back to
Singapore she decided to make the most of it and bring reggae to her hometown.
Masia lives life on the road, right now, she’s touring in Vietnam with “Saigon-based
selectas” and her band the Irietones. Masia’s mix of rap and reggae compliments the
history that the two genres have together. Far from the content she was putting out
in 2004, like “Split Second Time” a riff on Asian stereotypes, Masia has melded the
languid, head-nodding production of reggae into her hip hop emceeing.
When she’s not on tour, producing with Pharell Williams or working on her fourth
studio album she focuses on her pet project, The Singapura Dub Club. The club’s
main purpose is to proliferate “positive vibes” and to warm the South East Asian
population to the polarizing genre. “Singa” being the Malay word for lion coincides
perfectly with the fact that the lion is the symbol of Rastafarianism. However,
bringing reggae to Singapore hasn’t been easy. They’ve come across difficulties
getting Asian sponsors to “get behind an unfamiliar style of music and uncertainty of
the crowd.” Also Singapore’s strict drug laws don’t pair well with the stereotypical
symbol of reggae being Bob Marley with a spliff in his mouth. Masia jokes that if she
were selling K-Pop it would be much more simple. But she recalls a question her
friends asked when she returned to Singapore, “’Does the place that already have
vibes [Jamaica] need vibes or does the place with less vibes need it?’ I started the
Singapura Dub Club shortly after,” she says.
In Singapore’s status and image-driven society, the idea of a $60 membership and
exclusivity is how Masia and co-founder Rumshot sold the idea of The Singapura
Dub Club. Strangely, this contrasts with the emphasis on community that pervades

2. reggae culture. Still in its four years the club has made awesome strides, bringing
notable reggae, dub, ska and dancehall artist to Singapore for the first time.
With lazy reggae Sundays at Artistry Café near Bugis MRT, annual reggae jams
across South East Asia that bring in names like Donisha Prendergast (Bob Marley’s
granddaughter) and monthly shows across Singapore, The Singapura Dub Club has
become a fixture in the city.
In February, Masia and the Singapura Dub Club hosted “Marley Month”, a
celebration of Bob Marley’s life and impact on reggae music. “We collaborated with
a local club Refuge to create a 3-floor bashment of hip hop and reggae with rooftop
jerk chicken and flea market all inspired by Bob and his music.” For the uninitiated,
bashment is patois for a wild party involving food, great music and sweaty dancing.
Masia is pushing against the boundaries of Singaporean culture, bringing in a genre
of music that is the antithesis to the Lion City’s focus on consumerism and status.
She’s done this with her music but also through food. The Dub Club hosts an annual
“Great Singapore Jerk-Off”, a jerk chicken-eating contest. “Food is an easier entry
into a culture for many Singaporeans over music or art. Singaporeans love spicy
food and eating is one of the national sports, “ she says.
“When I first moved back to Singapore it was a culture shock, having spent most of
the last few years in Westmoreland.” Masia isn’t some poser who adopted Jamaican
culture to seem hip, she’s become a real fish spearing, river swimming, Jah-loving
yardee. She originally went to Jamaica to teach but carved her way into the reggae
industry similarly to how she made space for herself in Toronto’s hip hop scene. She
eventually found herself in Kingston, which totally shifted her sound. “Visiting
dancehalls saw me going from hip hop emcee to learning how to chat and toast,”
chat and toast being the style of rapping at a monotonous melody. It’s also in
Kingston that she first worked with Sizzla Kalonjii, a huge name in modern reggae.
Currently she’s been listening to kunokini, an Indonesian style of reggae that blends
traditional Javanese music with “Rasta vibrations.” She’s also getting a lot of
mixtapes from other international artist that she comes across in South East Asia,
like Amahoro Sound from Lyon, France. Of course she always goes back to her roots
with Nas’ “Halftime” on heavy rotation when she needs a morale boost. Masia is a
follower of Rastafarianism that sees Jah as an iteration of God, the phrase “Jah bless”
is heard in the refrain of many reggae songs.
When she thinks back to the Singapore of her childhood she gest nostalgic. She
mourns the days when the island had a slower pace. “Singapore is a very modern
society but because it moves forward so quickly there is little room to maintain
heritage. I know friends’ kids in Singapore that have never climbed a tree before but
are amazing at navigating smart phones. I definitely climbed trees when I was a kid
in Singapore.”

3. In Singapore the reggae and hip hop vibes are still new, but “people are coming
around and curious.” Masia sees all of South East Asia developing its own reggae
sound based on vernaculars and instruments varying from region to region. Jamaica
on the other hand has a long history of reggae culture and “anything goes as long as
you rock it with skill and style,” she says.
“Canada is the bashment.,” she laughs. For Masia, Toronto is the place where
everything comes together, the ultimate meeting ground for all genres and all
people. Considering all the disparate places she’s lived and produced music, Masia
doesn’t see citizenship as defining factor of her cultural identity. “I am just a soldier
in Jah army.”