Kam Raslan’s Talking Edge

(Reprinted from The Edge – Options pullout, 6 March 2017 issue)

Dear Kam,
Is it my imagination or did Sudirman die 25 years ago?
Memory loss

Recently, it was the 25th anniversary of the death of the singer Sudirman. I saw him perform way back in 1983 and he was astonishing. I saw him perform at KL’s old Hilton Hotel.

Not many people know this but back in those days, the Hilton was the place to be. I was too young to go to the legendary Tin Mine discotheque where, I was told, every night was Saturday Night Fever and fortunes were won or lost at the backgammon tables, but it was a thrill to be able to stay up late for a supper in the coffeeshop — it made me feel like a real grown-up.

I was visiting Malaysia on holiday because in those days I was growing up in a sleepy town in England and I assumed that everybody in Malaysia went to the Hilton where their Mercedes-Benz would be whisked away by a nimble car jockey. I have subsequently discovered that the old Hilton was not representative of Malaysia and it was probably the wrong place to get a reintroduction to a country that I had left when I was five, but at the time, it was exciting for me because it was so much more glitzy and glamorous than my sleepy English town where the only restaurant was called Mr Zippy and where an exciting day out was to visit the only shop that had an escalator.

KL’s Hilton did not just have escalators but also elevators that could whisk you up to the top floor and the absolute pinnacle of glamour: The Paddock. The Paddock was a banqueting hall that was small by today’s standards but it had large windows so that you could watch the racecourse down below. The Hilton and the racecourse are no longer there but it was in The Paddock that I watched Sudirman perform.

I had never heard of Sudirman before. I did not know that back in 1976, Malaysia had been glued to one of only two TV stations (Britain only had three) to watch the Bintang RTM singing competition and been dazzled by the showmanship of this tiny young man as he swept to victory (my wife has just recreated his prize-winning performance for me and it is no wonder that he won). I did not know that he was a qualified lawyer and nobody knew then that in 1989, he would hold an open-air concert in Chow Kit attended by 100,000. I did not know that The Paddock must have been an unlikely venue to contain Sudirman, but everything about Sudirman and my night in The Paddock in 1983 was unlikely.

I did not actually want to see this unknown local singer that night but I was bored and did not have too many options. My older brothers chose not to go and were probably having a great time way downstairs in the Tin Mine, and I think the tickets were only purchased in an attempt to keep me entertained. I do not remember much about the audience except that they were all wearing batik shirts and that in the middle was a table where Soviet and American diplomats were toasting each other with copious amounts of vodka. And then Sudirman performed — and I was amazed.

Although I cannot remember a single song he sang that night, I was mesmerised by the sheer energy and charisma of his showmanship that was akin to Prince. Sudirman would have been far away in a big concert hall or in the open air of Chow Kit, but in Th e Paddock his stage was only one-step above the audience and he was constantly sprinting up to the tables where he grabbed, practically demanded, the attention of the startled Datuks and Tan Sris. The Soviet and American diplomats absolutely loved him and I was dazzled too. Because he was so close, I could see that he was so small and yet his performance was so big.

This young man from Temerloh, this singing lawyer with his band and back-up singers, had somehow conjured up Las Vegas in KL. I realise now that he had truly studied and worked on his craft and was employing techniques of showmanship learnt from the greats. For instance, because he was running around so much he would become breathless but he would use his breathlessness for dramatic effect at the finale of a song, letting it help him to draw out all the emotion. He did not want to look cool or sexy, it did not matter that he was covered in sweat, he just wanted to entertain everybody from Chow Kit to the Hilton, with a stop at the Albert Hall along the way.

Back in 1983, I did not have a very good understanding of Malaysia, and I probably still don’t. Back then I assumed that every Malaysian went to the Hilton and only later did I discover for myself that the Versace and Mercedes-Benz on display were not representative of Malaysia. And when I saw Sudirman perform, I assumed that all Malaysian entertainers had the same showmanship and skill, dedication to keep learning and to work hard, the same ambition and the same charisma. Was I wrong? Sudirman was a one-off, a unique personality who could shape his own times but I have since seen so many Malaysians who, in their own way, have captured the same energy as that young man from Temerloh (Siti Nurhaliza is from upriver Kuala Lipis). It is still out there waiting to be harnessed.

I do not have any of his records and I barely know any of his songs (except THAT Hari Raya song), but I feel so fortunate that one night in 1983, I was able to witness the blistering and bewildering energy and charisma of Sudirman.

Reprinted with the kind permission of