Bangkok Music City is an international music conference and showcase festival featuring live performances, industry seminars, and business networking opportunities, bringing Asian artists alongside international delegates and music business professionals. Featuring a diverse lineup of artists from Thailand and across Asia performing at various stages in Bangkok’s Charoenkrung Creative District throughout the event, BMC includes business seminars and a conference component where music professionals can network and learn, as well as a dedicated stage available for companies to pitch their products and services to potential collaborators. Now in its third edition following a COVID hiatus, the event was co-founded and organized by local business entrepreneur Piyapong Muenpasertdee (aka “Py the Music Guy”), who also happens to be the co-founder of both Fungjai, an influential Thai music platform and community, and the AXEAN Festival, a collaborative music showcase for Southeast Asia held annually in Bali, Indonesia. We spoke with him about the evolution and present state of the current affairs affecting musicians in Thailand these days.
Tell us a little bit about your background and how you came to be involved with music initially? How did this evolve into taking on bigger projects and issues?
I’ve been obsessed with music since I was 12. It started the day I saw Nirvana’s Heart-Shaped Box on MTV in 1993. From there, I started collecting albums, diving deep into grunge, Seattle Sound, and metal. I dreamed of becoming a musician, but being raised in a strict Asian household, my career options were limited to two: doctor or engineer.
Like me, my siblings were also music lovers without parental support. We formed bands in secret. My band even charted on indie radio, and my sister’s band went on to become one of Thailand’s most well-known indie acts, Yellow Fang.
The real turning point came during my MBA studies in Boston, where I interned at a music startup. That’s when it clicked—I realized I could merge my passion for music with my skills in business and sustainability. My dad told me I could do whatever I wanted, as long as I could turn it into a business. So I started analyzing the American music industry with the mindset of a sustainability consultant and developed several ideas for a music startup.
In 2014, I finally co-founded a Thai music tech startup, Fungjai. It was eventually acquired, and we became one of the most influential platforms in Thailand’s indie music community. Leaning into my background in sustainability, and having grown up in five different countries around the region, I’ve since focused on building bridges across the Thai and Southeast Asian music industries.
How did you get the idea for Bangkok Music City? What kind of organization goes into it and what sort of support did you get from the local music industry?
During that internship in Boston in 2013, I attended SXSW in 2013 and saw how a music showcase festival could become a powerful platform—not just for artists, but for the entire creative economy. I immediately thought: Why doesn’t something like this exist in Thailand?
Of course, I had no idea how to organize something that big back then, so I spent years learning. I started attending international music conferences and showcase festivals across Asia, Europe, and North America—sometimes as a delegate, later as a speaker representing Thailand and Southeast Asia. I also did policy research for the Thai Government on domestic and global music markets, which deepened my understanding of the industry ecosystem. e started running music business seminars, workshops, and local conferences—basically training grounds for what would later become BMC.
It took a while for people in the Thai music industry to really understand the showcase festival format. Many were skeptical—some even disliked the idea of performing for free, even if it was for international business opportunities. What kept me going was the support from my international network. Friends I met at other festivals offered advice and encouragement.
Crucially, though, I wasn’t alone. Around the same time, Tom Pongsiri Hetrakul—now my BMC co-founder—was also working on a similar idea called Bangkok Music Capital. By sheer coincidence (or fate), a government agency introduced us to each other. We decided to join forces and co-founded Bangkok Music City.
How many have you done so far and what’s been the response?
The first edition of BMC took place in November 2019. The energy was amazing—international delegates were already making plans to book Thai artists abroad. But then COVID hit, and everything came to a halt. We did what we could, hosting hybrid and virtual editions in 2020 and 2021, but it just wasn’t the same. We put the festival on hold—until 2025, when Live Nation Tero came on board as our partner.
With their support, BMC 2025 returned with a bang. It became the talk of the region—literally and figuratively. Thanks to years of groundwork and educating the market, the local music community finally got it. The response was overwhelming: artists, industry professionals, and audiences all showed up with enthusiasm and a shared sense of purpose. It was a true turning point.
How has the music scene in Thailand changed, if at all, over the past ten years?
The Thai music industry has changed in so many ways over the past decade—often rapidly, and not always in ways that lasted.
At Fungjai we launched a local music streaming platform specifically for the Thai indie scene—years before Spotify entered the local market, back when no one here really understood what “music streaming” was. Eventually, we became a real community platform for people who were passionate about music discovery—especially the kind that wasn’t played on the radio. Artists and labels could upload their tracks directly. But once digital distribution became more accessible and platforms like Spotify could recommend great indie music through powerful algorithms, our platform couldn’t keep up on the tech side. So we pivoted to focus more on live events—specifically non-mainstream and alternative music experiences.
That’s one of the biggest shifts we’ve seen: how people discover music. Previously, it was radio DJs curating what you heard. Now, algorithmically personalized playlists dominate—and while that can help people go deeper into specific niches, it often means they don’t explore as widely. I once heard another indie festival organizer say that at their shows, the crowd rotates almost completely after every set—fans only come to see the artist they already know, then leave, rather than staying to discover new acts.
Online music events became the norm during COVID. We were one of the first in Thailand to host a fully live-streamed music festival, with artists performing from their homes. Fans were excited and incredibly supportive, but sponsors were hesitant to spend. We gave 100% of fan donations to the artists—hoping to show sponsors the potential of virtual music events and help out artists during this awful time. It was a huge success… until the format got saturated. Everyone jumped in, quality varied wildly, and eventually, the excitement wore off.
There was also a brief moment when NFTs seemed like the next big hope for independent artists—but that came and went quickly too.
Through it all, one thing hasn’t changed: independent artists still struggle to make a sustainable living. But what has improved are the tools they have—better ways to promote themselves, connect directly with fans, and distribute their music internationally. That’s where I see the future of Thai music: not limited by geography or language, but globally connected. The next wave of success stories won’t necessarily be local heroes—they’ll be artists who build their audience worldwide.
How much of an influence, if any, has K-Pop had on the music scene in Thailand? Are there musicians intent on recreating that here, or do they march to their own beat so to speak?
K-Pop has undoubtedly had a significant influence on the Thai music industry. From what I’ve observed, this influence might have initially taken hold at the top—through major labels trying to replicate the Korean music industry’s success—before filtering down to the grassroots level.
In the early days of the K-Pop wave in the 2010’s, Thailand’s indie and underground scenes were still heavily band-oriented, rooted in rock, with a strong emphasis on live instruments. But as music streaming platforms became more widespread, listeners—especially younger ones—started engaging with music more fluidly, without the boundaries of genre or format. This led to a noticeable rise in some independent Thai artists and labels creating music that carries clear K-Pop influences, whether in sound, aesthetics, production, or performance style.
But the evolution hasn’t been linear. Thailand was also influenced by Japanese idol culture. Over time, these influences blended—with elements from J-Pop, K-Pop, Western pop, and even traditional Thai genres like Luk Thung and Molam—to form what is now loosely referred to as “T-Pop.” While T-Pop isn’t a clearly defined genre, it represents a contemporary cultural blend that reflects both global trends and local flavors.
What’s important to emphasize is the diversity of Thai music today. Thai artists aren’t just recreating popular music like K-Pop; they’re absorbing various influences and creating something uniquely their own. The same goes for artists across Southeast Asia. I believe we’re in an incredibly exciting era for the region’s sonic landscape—one that’s rich, diverse, and impossible to pigeonhole. And that’s exactly what I want to champion—not just Thai music, but Southeast Asia’s distinct and evolving sound.
What in your opinion are the best opportunities for musicians these days in Thailand, and what are the biggest challenges?
Accessibility is the greatest opportunity for musicians today in Thailand and beyond. The barriers to entry have never been lower. You don’t need permission from gatekeepers. You just need a compelling voice, a clear vision, and the drive to share it. Affordable home recording gear and digital production tools let musicians create near-studio-quality tracks from their bedroom. And instead of needing a major label for distribution, you can upload your music yourself and reach a global audience instantly.
But that same openness also presents the biggest challenge: oversaturation. I ran a quick check and found that in 1984, roughly 200,000 to 500,000 tracks were released globally in the entire year. Compare that to 2024, when estimates were that 99,000 to 120,000 tracks uploaded every single day—amounting to over 36 million new tracks annually. That’s around 100 times more music, while the global population has only grown by about 70% in the same 40-year span. Listeners still only have 24 hours in a day. The competition for attention is fierce.
Yeah, it’s like the top of the funnel got a lot bigger, but the spout at the bottom stayed the same size.
Yes, the doors are wide open—but that means you have to work harder and smarter to stand out. You need to be strategic, but also authentic. Use every tool available to build your audience—but do it with sincerity. Be honest with yourself, your art, and your fans. And most importantly, find sustainable and fair ways to monetize your work.
We’re in a time where it’s never been easier to make music, but never harder to get heard. That’s the paradox. And mastering that balance is the real work of today’s artist.
So then how do Thai musicians measure their success these days? Is it considered necessary to make it big in the United States, for example?
Success looks different for every Thai artist these days. Some may have relatively low streaming numbers but tour extensively and build loyal fanbases through live performances, while others might perform rarely but still generate income throughout platforms like YouTube or other digital channels.
Because Thailand has a large and self-sustaining domestic music market—where over 90% of consumption is Thai music—many artists don’t feel the pressure to break into overseas markets, especially the U.S. For most, “making it in America” is more of a distant dream or even just a symbolic milestone rather than a realistic or necessary goal.
But things are changing. More Thai artists are starting to reach international audiences, not by chasing the U.S. market, but by focusing on regional opportunities across Asia—especially in Japan, Taiwan, China, and neighboring Southeast Asian countries. These markets feel more accessible, culturally aligned, and increasingly valuable as stepping stones for broader recognition.
How good of a job, overall, does the Royal Thai Government do in supporting creativity and the arts in your opinion? What more could they be doing to show their support for musicians and other creatives?
To be honest—not that great. But to be fair, it’s better than it used to be. Given all the political instability, multiple coup d’états, and of course the pandemic, it’s hard to expect long-term, consistent support. So I don’t entirely blame them.
That said, there’s still a lot of room for improvement. One major issue is that the government often consults the wrong people when it comes to shaping creative policies. Instead of involving practitioners who are actually doing the work—building platforms, engaging with communities both locally and internationally—they still rely heavily on outdated “big wigs” who view the creative industry through the lens of the past. What’s needed instead is support that reflects how today’s creative economy actually works. That includes funding schemes designed with input from people who’ve worked directly with independent artists, built grassroots networks, and navigated global markets.
If the government truly wants to support musicians and creatives, it needs to invest in infrastructure, education, rights management, and international pathways—while giving real experts a seat at the table.
Are Thai musicians concerned to any degree with censorship? In China, for example, we’ve seen the authorities come down hard on the song “Glory to Hong Kong” and anyone or anything associated with it. Has anything like that happened here? Are there any topics that are simply off limits for songwriters?
There are certainly a few “unspoken” topics in Thai society that tend to be avoided—and I won’t go into those here—but overall, Thai songwriters enjoy a relatively high degree of creative freedom, especially when compared to some of our neighboring countries. For instance, when I co-organized events in Singapore in 2022 and 2023—first as the ASEAN Music Showcase Festival, and later renamed AXEAN Festival—we were required to submit full lyric sheets and translations for every artist’s setlist. Authorities would review them for profanity, political references, religious themes, or LGBTQ+ content.
In contrast, this kind of pre-approval process isn’t required in Thailand, which allows for a broader and more spontaneous expression on stage. That relative freedom is something we often take for granted—but it’s important to acknowledge and appreciate.
That said, there have been moments when artists crossed into politically sensitive territory. A well-known example is the track “Prathet Ku Mee” (translated roughly as “What My Country’s Got”), a satirical hip-hop song that criticized government corruption and social inequality. While the content could have landed the group in legal trouble under a strict interpretation of Thai law, the song’s viral popularity created a sort of protective buffer—any attempt to prosecute would likely have triggered a public backlash. Interestingly, the junta government responded with their own rap track, “Thailand 4.0,” which was quite cringeworthy to say the least.
So while there is space to speak out in Thailand, it’s not without risk. If you become influential or high-profile enough, you may be able to push boundaries—but you’re also walking a very fine line.
Are songwriters and musicians in Thailand generally knowledgeable about intellectual property rights and how to monetize their work and talent? Where is the most glaring need for education?
Over the past decade, I’ve seen a significant improvement in how musicians in Thailand understand intellectual property and music copyright. Back in 2015, my company was actually commissioned by the Department of Intellectual Property (DIP) to produce a TV commercial to raise awareness about music copyright and discourage infringement. At the time, we had to explain the basics—why using unlicensed music was wrong. These days, there’s a much wider understanding that stealing music or using non-copyrighted material without permission is not acceptable.
But when it comes to monetizing their work, that’s where a big knowledge gap still exists. Many artists are still unaware of key income opportunities like synchronization licensing or the role and benefits of working with a music publisher. They may understand the value of streaming and live shows, but the broader world of music monetization—especially passive income through rights management ecosystem of collecting societies and publishing—is still largely untapped.
Let’s drill down on that a bit, the existing infrastructure in Thailand for monetization. Are organizations like Music Copyright (Thailand) or the Thai Entertainment Content or Phonoright (Thailand) considered ineffective, therefore?
It’s hard to say how effective organizations like MCT or Phonoright truly are for most songwriters and musicians, especially those working independently. The majority of the market is still dominated by major Thai labels, which often manage their own copyright and licensing systems. Because royalty distributions tend to be based on market share, independent artists might see little to no benefit.
As a result, many smaller artists may feel left out of the system entirely. If there were mechanisms to better support and level the playing field for independent musicians—whether through more transparent reporting, equitable distribution, or improved representation—then organizations like MCT and Phonoright could become far more relevant and impactful for the broader creative community.
Access to clear, localized information is crucial. It would be great, for example, if there was a more transparent and accessible, so licensing companies—especially international ones—can easily find out who owns what, and whom to contact for permissions. Just making rights ownership data public and navigable could open up substantial new revenue streams for artists and songwriters.
How easy is it for a musician to get a gig performing in Bangkok, say in a bar or a restaurant? Do the venues pay? What’s a typical arrangement?
Most bars and restaurants in Bangkok hire regular house bands to perform cover songs, and breaking into that scene can be quite challenging, especially for foreign musicians. Work permits and visas are required, which adds another layer of complexity. That said, many Filipino musicians have been working in this space for decades, so it’s definitely not impossible. Many smaller or independent artists visiting from abroad often enter on tourist visas and play under the radar, especially for one-off shows or short stays. It’s not ideal, but it’s a reality in the current ecosystem.
If you’re an original artist, the best approach is to connect with a local promoter who can help you secure gigs. If you already have some visibility in the Thai market—whether in the mainstream or a niche scene—you might be offered a performance fee (guarantee) or a revenue split from ticket sales. Some venues also act as promoters or have in-house teams that book artists directly, so arrangements can vary widely.
Do musicians get ripped off frequently in Thailand? And if so, what do they typically do about it?
Unfortunately, yes—musicians in Thailand still get taken advantage of, whether it’s through unfair contracts, unpaid gigs, or lack of proper credit and compensation. One of the core challenges is that artists, including musicians, often struggle to organize collectively. Attempts to form strong associations or unions haven’t been very successful, partly due to a lack of unity, but also because of a deep-rooted distrust in authority and formal organizations. This makes it difficult for them to leverage collective bargaining power or pursue legal remedies effectively.
As a result, the most common way artists seek justice is through social pressure—calling out issues publicly on social media. In many cases, this has proven to be the fastest and most effective way to bring attention to exploitation or misconduct, especially when the legal route feels slow or inaccessible.
That said, things have started to improve, especially since COVID. During the pandemic, some musicians began speaking out more boldly—highlighting how the government had overlooked the creative sector in its relief efforts. That momentum has continued post-pandemic, with growing awareness around structural issues in the music industry and a stronger push for reforms. It’s still a work in progress, but at least there’s more dialogue now—and more courage among artists to demand fair treatment.
What are your views on the impact that artificial intelligence is having, and will have, on the music industry? Is AI a good thing, or a bad thing?
This is a hot-button topic, and any opinion on it can spark passionate debate. Personally, I take a neutral, historically grounded view. The way I see it, the music industry has always been shaped—and reshaped—by technological disruption.
One of the clearest explanations I’ve encountered is from John P. Kellogg’s Music Business Foundations: Innovation and Growth in the Music Industry course by Berklee Online. He traces how each era of the modern music industry emerged from a technological shift: from traveling musicians replaced by sheet music sales in the late 19th century, to mechanical piano rolls, then vinyl, then radio in the 1930s, followed by jukeboxes, television, cassette tapes, CDs, mp3s, file-sharing platforms, streaming—and now, artificial intelligence. In every era, the pattern has been the same: a new technology is invented, reaches critical adoption, and is eventually regulated before becoming the norm—until the next disruption arrives.
AI is simply the latest wave in this ongoing cycle. We’re still figuring out how to deal with it, just as we did with every innovation before it.
Any parting advice for up-and-coming musicians?
If I could leave you with one thing, it’s this: never forget why you chose to walk this path in the first place.
Music is a passion-driven journey. You probably fell in love with it the way most of us do—by listening to something that moved you, or by picking up an instrument and discovering the magic of creating sound. That was me too. I started out as a fan, inspired by my heroes, dreaming of making music as powerful as theirs.
Even though I didn’t end up a successful musician, I found my purpose in supporting those who want to—helping to keep the spirit of music alive. And by alive, I don’t mean just active or commercial—I mean music that’s authentic, emotional, and human, not heartless, formulaic or capitalistic.