The only time I listen to Thai radio is in taxis. Which means almost every night on the way home and very occasionally during the day. After hundreds of rides I've come to realize how shocked most drivers are by the strange farang woman who plonks herself down in the left front seat and tells them precisely what route to take to her destination and exactly how fast or slow they'd better drive getting there. I've also discovered that by initiating a discussion about their favorite music station I can usually nip any "who is this demanding bitch anyhow?" reactions in the bud.
As soon as a farang enters the vehicle, taxi drivers usually turn to one of the horrible western music stations. Perhaps a few actually enjoy the dismal circa 1970 playlists, but mainly they're just trying to be accommodating. "You LIKE Thai music?" they ask incredulously when I ask them to switch 88.5 or 95 FM, the two luk thung (Isaan country music) stations. Most Thais believe we farangs are from Mars and would never eat, speak, or listen to anything remotely Thai.
Actually I love luk thung, especially the pre-synthesizer numbers from the 1970s and 80s. I understand enough of the words to know they're all about heartbreak, unrequited love, economic woes and assorted other Life Sucks Bigtime topics. Such gloom and doom validates my own depressive tendencies. All over the dial, however, these soulful ditties have ceded their place to overproduced high-decibel modern versions of luk thung screamed out by young stars who obviously never suffered their predecessors' deprivations.
Even more than luk thung, I love pleng phua cheewit (Songs for Life). This folk and protest music popularized by the iconic Caravan band during the 1970s democracy crackdowns is now terminally out of synch with current Thai pop trends. Very occasionally a late-night luk thung DJ will play a few PCC tracks, but never one by the heartfelt crooners from that long-gone less amplified era.
Which is why I was ecstatic after climbing into a taxi yesterday and encountering a sweet gem of a driver in the midst of listening to an MP3 compilation of early PCC ballads by Caravan and the more mainstream 1980s group Carabao. "Where did you buy this?" I asked him. "I really really want a copy." Alas, the driver said a friend had given it to him and the disc wasn't commercially available.
"Can I buy it off you, oh please please please!" I begged. In these times of rising fuel prices and meter rates unchanged for over 10 years I assumed 200 baht would be more than enough to persuade him to part with his disc. But no, he enjoyed the 200 songs he said were on it and most uncharacteristically wasn't ready to make a quick baht.
"Wait. I have an idea. Can you loan it to me for a few minutes so the friend I'm going to visit can make a copy on his computer?" I proposed. I said I'd pay him the regular fare and then he could reset his meter for however long it took to copy his disc. Plus I promised him another 100 baht for his kindness. The driver agreed and I rang ahead so my friend could prepare his computer.
In the end the disc was too scratched and beat up to be copied. I brought it out to the driver who was cleaning his bright pink backseat upholstery while he waited. I paid the second fare and held out the 100 baht but he refused it saying it wasn't fair since I hadn't ended up with anything. I made him take it anyhow because his kind generosity and good intentions meant way more to me than 200 old songs.
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