The four actors devised Sau(dara) based on their own childhood memories. From left: Lyn Hanis Rezuan, Suryana Norddin, Syafiqah Shaharuddin and Syafiqah ‘Adha Sallehin.

“I’ve been getting goosebumps a lot,” says Soultari Amin Farid, the co-artistic director of young theatre group Bhumi Collective. For the past four months, he and his team have been developing a new work called Sau(dara), which will be presented under Centre 42’s Vault programme on 5 and 6 October 2018. It is a contemporary response to Three Children, a landmark play by Malaysian playwright Leow Puay Tin that was staged in Singapore 30 years ago. That production was co-directed by Ong Keng Sen, the artistic director of TheatreWorks, and Krishen Jit, the late founder of Malaysia’s Five Arts Centre. And the reason Amin is getting goosebumps is that he has been learning about some unintended parallels between Sau(dara) and the original productions of Three Children.

“I had very little to work with in the beginning except the script,” explains Amin. “But then I had an unarranged meeting with Puay Tin at a conference recently, then I read the programme booklet of the 1992 production just two weeks ago, and then I watched the video of the 1988 production a few days ago, and I saw that I have incorporated quite a bit of the original staging into the piece. It’s like fate!”

Three Children is a play about childhood and memories. Through a series of disjointed vignettes, two sisters and a brother revisit their childhood home on Kappan Road in Malacca, recalling the games and incidents that they experienced as kids. In his director’s message for the 1992 production of the play, Keng Sen mentioned how important it was for his cast to draw from their personal experiences for their roles.

“One thing we were very clear of: the final production of 3 Children would spring from the imagination of the actors,” he wrote. “They would build the world of the children, viewed through children’s eyes. The directors would act as catalysts, pushing them to explore and confront themselves. The process was built on experience, memories; felt by the body rather than rationalised by the mind.”

Similarly, Sau(dara) is created based on the team’s own childhood memories. The title of the piece is a play on the Malay words “saudara”, meaning siblings or relatives; “sau”, which is the sound of wind; and “dara”, which refers to young women or virgins. It is collectively devised by an all-female cast – dancers Lyn Hanis Rezuan and Syafiqah Shaharuddin (Syafiq), singer and actor Suryana Norddin (Sue), and musician Syafiqah ‘Adha Sallehin (Syaf) – with Amin facilitating the process.

Soultari Amin Farid, the co-director of Bhumi Collective, facilitated the devising process.

To get them started, Amin encouraged everyone to draw objects and memories from their childhood, which led to some very frank – and at times painful – discussions as they slowly opened up to each other. The team is honest in admitting that this was initially a challenge, as none of the cast members knew each other prior to this project, and none of them had ever devised a work from scratch before. Lyn, for example, struggled with the exercise because all she could recall was the verbal abuse that her mother hurled at her when she was young.

“At the time [of the exercise] I was like, hey what the heck, it’s not like they’re all gonna know how negative my earlier years were!” she says. “But then when Amin presented his stories first, I guess it helped that he was so sincere and honest about it. Which gave me the courage to open up a bit. And I’m glad we all did, because all our different memories helped to create genuine content for this piece.”

Each of the actors then went on to build their own monologues around particular themes or topics that they would like to explore. Lyn bravely followed through by delving into her difficult relationship with her mother, Sue questioned what it means to be a good friend, Syaf explored feelings of not being good enough, while Syafiq examined what it’s like to appear invisible to those she cares about. These are difficult things to work through, but Amin is grateful that everyone has embraced each other’s experiences with open hearts and minds.

“I remembered how we all felt that day listening to each other’s stories,” says Amin. “And in one of our recent runs, Lyn broke down whilst dancing to her voiceover and the others came to comfort her. That for me meant a lot more than focusing on a perfect product.”

Another parallel between the TheatreWorks production of Three Children and Bhumi Collective’s Sau(dara) is that both companies decided to incorporate traditional art forms into their performances. In the case of Three Children, the cast took lessons in voice, Chinese opera, and tai chi, as Krishen was a firm believer that mastering these techniques is crucial to good acting. For the Sau(dara) team, they became fascinated with the idea of wind and how it can sweep one’s troubles away, so Lyn suggested infusing elements of an Indonesian dance called Pakarena into the piece. She had learnt the dance when she was studying in Jakarta from a teacher who came from Sulawesi, the island that Pakarena originated from.

“The philosophy of the Pakarena dance is about hollowness and emptiness. It contrasts drastically with the traditional music that accompanies it, which shows that no matter how violent life can be, the wind is always there to guide you,” Lyn explains. “It’s hard to learn as it is mainly about patience and maintaining composure for the duration of the dance. But I’m trying my best to share my experience and knowledge with the girls in Sau(dara).”

The Pakarena dance in Sau(dara) will not be accompanied by drums and flutes like traditional performances, however. Neither will there be “an orchestra of percussions, flute, guitar and gu-zheng” like the 1988 production of Three Children. Instead, Syafiqah will be playing her accordion, which is, fittingly, a wind instrument.

To bring things full circle, there are also plans for the creative team to further develop this iteration of Sau(dara). In March 2019, Centre 42 and Bhumi Collective are hoping to bring the work across the Causeway to none other than Five Arts Centre in Kuala Lumpur, for yet another cross-cultural exchange between the two countries. Just like the good ol’ days back in 1988.

“I feel like we are reliving history by partaking in this cross-border collaboration, especially since Three Children also was part of a transnational endeavour by two prolific figures, Ong Keng Sen and the late Krishen Jit,” says Amin. “My hope is that we continue to remember our history and the links we share between the two countries. I think cross-border exchanges will continue to influence our performance practice and I think that’s really wonderful, because it keeps us dynamic and quite attuned regionally and globally. I’m excited for the conversations and future aspirations!”

In the meantime, as part of Centre 42’s commemorative activities for the 30^th anniversary of Three Children, we will also be holding a Living Room event here on 7 October. Audiences can hear from playwright Leow Puay Tin, actors Claire Wong (from the 1988 and 1992 productions) and Loong Seng Onn (from the 1992 production), who will reminisce about their experiences working on the play with theatre academic Robin Loon.

By Gwen Pew
Published on 28 September 2018

The Vault: Sau(dara) will be taking place at Centre 42 on 5 & 6 October – register here.
In the Living Room: Three Children will be taking place at our Black Box on 7 October – register here.

This article was published in Blueprint Issue #7.

Joash Tang and Ethel Yap play Danny and Amy in the gender-reversed version of “The Last Five Years”. Photo: Josh Cheah/Stay Films.

“But shouldn’t I want the world to see
The brilliant girl who inspires me?
Don’t you think that now’s a good time to be
The ambitious freak you are?”

These are the lines that the successful writer Jamie sings to his wife, a struggling actor called Cathy, in Jason Robert Brown’s acclaimed 2001 musical, The Last Five Years. Cathy never gets to be “the ambitious freak” in the original story, but now, with a project titled The Last Five Years: A Gender Reversal, local theatre actor and producer Ethel Yap has given Cathy the chance to finally shine.

The idea for The Last Five Years: A Gender Reversal had been brewing inside Ethel’s head for, well, the last five years, ever since she played the role of Cathy in Yellow Chair Productions’ staging of the two-handler in 2013.

“I felt as we were rehearsing the 2013 show that I enjoyed singing Cathy’s songs, but I really loved Jamie’s song,” Ethel remembers. “I mean they’re so fun, they’re so energetic, the lyrics are so witty, and as a character he’s really very compelling. So I thought, wouldn’t it be fun if I could just [play his part]?”

The more she thought about it, the more she realised that there was so much she could explore with a gender-reversed version of the musical, and that it would be an interesting and timely project to take on.

“What does it mean to be a straight man, and what does it mean to be a straight woman, and what roles do they play? And if we just turn those two genders on their heads, what would that show us about what we assume to be the roles of the two genders within this relationship [today]?” she questions.

She assembled a mostly female squad and, in August this year, began an 11-day residency under Centre 42’s Basement Workshop programme, which culminated in a public showcase in our Black Box on 1 September 2018. One of the first things they had to decide as a team was how to alter the original material to effectively engineer the gender swap: Should they just have the male actor read the female part and vice versa? Or should they swap the characters’ names? Or should they go all the way and give the characters new names and change the gender of the peripheral characters as well? After several meetings and experimenting on the rehearsal floor, they settled on the latter. Cathy was renamed and revamped as Danny (played by Lasalle Musical Theatre student Joash Tang), while Jamie was transformed into a new character called Amy (played by Ethel). All gender references to other peripheral characters in the piece are also swapped.

“We believe that it would be a more powerful way to engage the audience. Because if [we just swapped] the two main characters, then perhaps we would be able to easily dismiss them as anomalies, and not consider how we could learn anything from their journey,” explains Ethel.

Ethel Yap fell in love with the male character’s songs in “The Last Five Years” when she performed the musical in 2013. Photo: Josh Cheah/Stay Films.

But even after the logistics of the gender swap were settled, the team still encountered a plethora of creative challenges as they worked out how to alter the score and the script. Certain gender-specific lyrics had to be changed, with one example being the line “I could be in line to be the British Queen / Look like I was 17”, which was edited to “I could be in line to be the British king / See Niagara Falls in spring”. Then there’s the case of finding replacements for gendered insults, which proved to be surprisingly difficult.

“In one of the songs, we were trying to find a female version of ‘jerk’, but it was really hard to find a gendered insult for a woman that doesn’t attack her appearance or her sexuality,” says Ethel. “It’s got so much to do with sort of the history of how the language has evolved around gendered roles, and therefore the reversal isn’t as clean and direct. It was really eye-opening.”

Even the process of transposing the musical score turned out to be a time-consuming endeavour, even though the music director, Aloysius Foong, was already familiar with the material since he also worked on the 2013 Yellow Chair production.

“With the help of modern technology – thank god – you can put your score through this programme that will churn out the new notes for you in a different key, but there’s still a lot of weird technical things that Aloysius had to adjust,” says Ethel. “Like for example in the original version, for Cathy’s songs, there are parts where she sounds like she’s wailing or crying. But then when you put that in a man’s voice, what does the wailing sound like? Is it supposed to sound, like, high-pitched? Or can it go a bit lower?”

Nonetheless, the team managed to work through all these text and technical issues, while also figuring out blocking and other simple staging elements, all in the span of just 11 days. But while Ethel admits that it may have been easier if they had just treated this as text exercise, she also saw the value in translating it into a performance.

“I think when you have something embodied in a physical performance, then it really becomes something that you have to confront in a way,” says Ethel. “I feel like people’s reactions to it will be a lot more visceral, a lot more real, because it’s not just a concept on paper. If I’m seeing a woman but she’s not saying things that I usually associate with a woman, then how does that make me as an audience member feel?”

Her instincts were right, as audience members did have lots to discuss during the talk-back session, as well as in their feedback forms.

“We thought that the world of our workshop would be slightly foreign to people, but no, actually in the end it turns out that they do recognise people like this. A lot of the feedback we got was like, ‘Oh it’s so truthful’, or ‘It’s so relatable’, or ‘I know people who are like this, and this workshop has given a voice to them’,” shares Ethel. “So yeah definitely for me, I feel that we achieved what we set out to do.”

That said, Ethel believes that this is just the first phase of her experiment, and she and her team already have many other ideas of how they would potentially want to grow and further the piece in the future should the opportunity arise. But whichever direction Ethel and her team decide to take the work from here, one thing’s for sure: the world is, indeed, ready to see more ambitious freaks.

By Gwen Pew
Published on 28 September 2018

A work-in-progress showcase of The Last Five Years: A Gender Reversal took place at Centre 42 on 1 September 2018. Find out more about the work here.

This article was published in Blueprint Issue #7.

Our rapporteur for the ADN Lab 2018, Akanksha Raja (left), worked closely with translator Fiky Daulay (centre) to capture the goings-on of the Lab.

How do you listen? It’s such a seemingly facile act, as instinctive and unconscious as breathing – but when was the last time you listened mindfully, not just with your ears, but with all your senses and your energy? I got to do plenty of listening in my role as rapporteur at the Asian Dramaturgs’ Network Laboratory (ADN Lab) 2018 programme, which took place in Yogyakarta, Indonesia. From 7 to 10 September, two groups of participants (Lab 1 and Lab 2) worked on the dramaturgy of two very different performance projects in their early developmental stages. My role was to observe and document the proceedings in Lab 1 at Teater Garasi through text and image.

The participants of the Lab comprised about 30 arts practitioners from eight countries. The predominant spoken languages were Bahasa Indonesia and English, which meant that for those fluent in only one or the other – or those for whom neither was their native language – attentive listening and reliance on good translation were crucial.

Lab 1 participants explored real-life stories of displaced residents from an estate in Bandung.

In his opening keynote on the first day of the Lab, renowned performance academic Rustom Bharucha touched on the importance of collaborative and collective energy in the dramaturgical process. He also emphasised that the practice of translation is an integral part of the process. That’s especially crucial when working within two contexts relevant to performance-making in Asia: the intracultural, which refers to the diversity and plurality of identities present within a certain culture, and the multilingual, which gives rise for the need for translation.

Rustom’s point about the importance of translation was one that stuck with me through my time documenting all the discussions that took place. In Lab 1, Indonesian translator Fiky Daulay worked at rendering almost everything that was being said in English and Bahasa Indonesia. While his translation was not verbatim, it was apparent that he was paying close attention to the context of what was being said and where the speaker was coming from, which he attempted to communicate with the rest of the group. Where he encountered difficulties, the other multilingual participants in the group – Alia Swastika and Lisistrata Lusandiana – would step in to clarify.

A key factor in the translation process is mindful listening. As ADN’s co-director Charlene Rajendran shared on the first day in a panel discussion, one of the dramaturg’s most important roles is to offer a critical “listening presence”. She emphasised the need for conscious listening not just to the aural, but to “spaces, sounds, movements, people, energies” – an acute and sensitive act of listening that involves the whole body. She alluded to Singaporean director Kok Heng Leun’s proposal of a “listening aesthetic”, a sensitivity to hearing what is spoken as well as unspoken or conveyed in non-auditory ways. Rustom similarly mentioned the benefits of listening with the body in his keynote, especially in a multilingual context, where the body can pick up nuances and feeling without necessarily having to understand the language that is being spoken.

Participants in Lab 2 experimented with ways of performing the theme of death.

On occasion, Fiky’s translation was also an embodied one: for example, during a rehearsal, one of the performers led the audience to a corner of the performance space where he recounted, in Bahasa Indonesia, an intimate story about his family. He spoke in a softened tone that quivered with emotion and vulnerability. In translation, Fiky did not merely relay the performer’s words in English, but also took on the same softened tones approximating the expressiveness of the performer. It was through closely observing Fiky’s process – as I had to, since I needed to document every conversation – that I got to witness how the act of translation is very much a creative process, or even a dramaturgical one.

At the beginning of the second day of the Lab, Fiky suggested that instead of translating every single line, he would only do so “if those who need translation raise their hand”. He proposed that, in order to save time, he would wait for people to have an entire conversation before translating, rather than parsing line by line. In response, Rustom and several members of the ADN team asserted that they preferred not to be in a hurry, and that despite the time that translation takes, they felt it was useful and worthwhile. It struck me how everyone was sensitive to the delicate and sometimes time-consuming process of translation, and frequently slowing their talking speed and halting at regular intervals to accommodate the process. In the silence between a speaker speaking and Fiky rapidly processing what was being said, I felt the listening presence that Charlene spoke of when discussing the role of the dramaturg. There was as much attention paid to that laborious but necessary process of translation, as it was to the performance-making dramaturgy, which was ostensibly our main focus.

I believe an important aspect of both the acts of listening and translation is patience. Lab 1 began with the artists emphasising that they were “not in a rush to make a product”. They asserted that they were comfortable with taking their time to work through their process. This set a pleasantly unhurried and relaxed pace over the two days of Lab activities. Perhaps it’s because I’m so used to fast-paced and results-oriented Singapore, but I felt a distinct peacefulness in the laid-back environment at Teater Garasi, even on occasions such as when lunch arrived late and delayed a rehearsal. I rarely sensed pressure or tension in the air over those intensive two days

The final showcase of works by the artists from both Labs took place on the final evening at Teater Garasi. It was a rewarding experience after the rigorous rounds of rehearsals and conversations, through which the artists managed to finesse several scenes.

There were around 30 participants from eight countries at the ADN Lab.

When I was invited to be a participant in the ADN Lab a couple of months earlier, I was excited. As a young arts writer finding my own critical voice, I’m interested in ways of thinking and writing about performance-making processes that go beyond a passive recount of what is performed on stage, and into explorations of how art-making relates with broader social, political and cultural concerns and contexts. The Lab offered an avenue to be part of such processes and conversations. What I learnt – or re-learnt – as a rapporteur was more visceral: what it means to listen, even to words in an unfamiliar language. My most immediate takeaways from the Lab lie more in the value of these invisible, liminal processes of listening and the other subtle creative ones that happen in the surrounds of the performance-making space, which bring home again the notion that dramaturgy is alive even in the apparently mundane.

By Akanksha Raja
Published on 28 September 2018

The Asian Dramaturgs’ Network Laboratory 2018 took place from 7 to 10 September 2018 in Yogyakarta, Indonesia. Find out more about the event here.

Akanksha Raja is an arts writer from Singapore. She has been writing reviews on theatre (and occasionally visual art) as part of the editorial team at ArtsEquator.com since its launch in 2016, and is an alumnae of the Points of View Performance Writing workshop organised by the Asian Dramaturgs’ Network in 2018.

This article was published in Blueprint Issue #7.

One of the “Triple Bill” performances at the 2017 edition of Southernmost festival. Photo: Tuckys Photography

When we think of a theatre festival, we usually think of a programme line-up of performances, interspersed with a smattering of post-show talks or panel discussions. But in December 2017, the then-newly formed company Emergency Stairs introduced a new breed of theatre festival to the scene: one that is for the artist, and whose intention is to facilitate dialogue between different cultures.

The first edition of Southernmost festival brought together three directors – Liu Xiaoyi (Singapore), Danny Yung (Hong Kong), and Makoto Sato (Japan) – who worked with eight artists to create three performances over the course of two weeks.

The second edition of Southernmost will be taking place at Centre 42 from 3 to 11 November 2018. Similar to last year, the festival will still revolve around the “one table, two chairs” format (which is borrowed from traditional Chinese opera performances), while working with both traditional and contemporary artists. But there will also be a slight shift in the focus this time. We find out more from festival director Xiaoyi.

In what ways do you think Southernmost brings together traditional and contemporary art practices, and why is this important?
When we talk about tradition and contemporary, what are we talking about? The two are usually seen as polar opposites. But I always think they are two fluid concepts. For instance, art forms that we now consider to be traditional were perhaps once very contemporary and very experimental. The experiments we doing today might also become a tradition in the future. The ideas of tradition and contemporary are constantly in flux and will continue to change.

The idea of contemporary theatre is also from a Western-centric perspective. Contemporary is something developed from the Western tradition. Hence, what is our Eastern contemporary? What does it have to do with our tradition? How do we create our contemporary from an Eastern perspective? These questions are leading us to question who we are.

Asian traditional art forms carry hundreds of years of history. They are treasures. Southernmost provides a platform for artists coming from different disciplines to get together. Building on mutual respect and understanding, the artists get to know one another through observation and interaction, and learn from one another. Southernmost is also about fostering closer collaboration and artistic development through different working formats – workshops, showcases, dialogues and creation.

On the other hand, I also feel that crossing boundaries is very important for art making. It creates space for self-reflection and critical thinking. When we are having true dialogue with others and when we are listening to others, we become more aware of what we are doing. In this information age and with increasing globalisation, cross-cultural dialogue is key to development and change.

According to your publicity materials, Southernmost “focuses more on process and artist”. Why do you see this as your answer to the question of how you create “an arts festival for the future”?
Having a new festival is to critique existing festivals. I think that the existing festivals are usually audience-centred and product-driven. So how about we create a festival that focuses more on the process than the production, more on the artistic development than the audience’s entertainment? Production and entertainment are fine. However, I think an arts festival focusing on artists and process is important but lacking in the scene.

It is also an attempt to create a self-questioning and self-reflective festival. This lies at the centre of my practice as well, but by curating Southernmost, I’m also exploring what an arts festival is and can be. I might not have the answer yet, but through criticism and self-criticism, Southernmost aims to be the platform for this experimentation.

Director Liu Xiaoyi created Southernmost festival in 2017 to focus on the artist and art-making process.

What is the role of the audience in this festival?
When the audience members are watching a show, they are actually experiencing a process. I just think if we can take a step backwards (or forwards), inviting the audience to observe the rehearsals is just an extension of a process. If we see the performance of Southernmost as the curtain call of the bigger/longer performance, then it makes a lot of sense for the audience to watch the performance before the curtain call. So they might understand and appreciate the curtain call in a different way.

On another note, since Southernmost is also about dialogue, I think the audience should be able to take part in all the dialogues in Southernmost, not only rehearsals, but also workshops, showcase, masterclass, open forum and more. Some might say our target audience is the artists. But I will say everyone can be an artist as long as they want to learn, create and experiment. At the same time, everyone is also an audience member while we are watching. I always feel that I’m a lucky audience member when I’m directing. In fact, audience creates theatre with artists when they share the time and space with them. If so, then it can be argued that the rehearsal, open forum, performance, workshops and masterclass, and even the questioning and answering of this interview, are part of a process/performance. In the end, it’s about the exchange between people.

This is also one of the experiments that I want to explore with the audience – the question of how we can create an arts festival for the future, together.

Tell me more about Journey to Nowhere, the new work that will be developed during the festival and showcased on the last two days. What do you envisage this new creation to be, what expectations do you have, and how do you foresee the seven artists going about the process?
Last year there were three works directed by three directors, performed by five artists from different art forms. Through the process, we looked into their bodies, creative methods and process. More importantly, we compared the different cultures of and approaches to theatre. It was a very valuable experience for all of us as artists.

This year, we changed the format into a full length performance directed by me and performed by seven artists. With Journey to Nowhere, I’m thinking about how to expand and deepen this comparative study with these seven artists across Asia. I have designed a research and creation method for Journey to Nowhere, which is closely connected to the spirit of Southernmost. The seven artists will observe one another, and go through a teaching and learning process. I, together with the audience, will observe how they communicate and interact with each other. Definitely there will be lots of discovery, negotiation and criticism. At the end we will witness how they end up sharing the stage. I’m the director, but to a certain extent, I’m the table to link all the chairs together.

Sometime I feel that the exciting part of a journey is the uncertainty of the unknown and the impossible. Every time we choose the unknown, we win more independence, freedom and possibility. Therefore, I always choose a journey to unknown and nowhere.

What inspired the changes in this year’s festival?
Last year, we invited six speakers to share their thoughts in the open forum. Jobina [Tan] talked about the strategy planning of arts venues. Cedric [Chan] talked about the international circuit of the cultural exchange projects. [Lim] Wah Guan and Alvin [Tan] shared the historical context of intercultural experimentation in Singapore. Corrie [Tan] and Alfian [Sa’at] provided critical perspective for intercultural projects.

On the content level, all these helped me form a larger picture relative to what I’m doing. I have a better understanding of what has been done and what has not been done from the historical span and international span. This led to the changes we made for this year’s Southernmost. One question that came up during and after the open forum is how Southernmost is in relation to Singapore. Although I always remind myself to look beyond Singapore and the framework of the “CMIO” culture, I’m also interested to examine and understand more of this city. Therefore, I want to break the conventional format of “one table, two chairs” by casting seven artists in this edition, including four from Singapore.

On the format level, curating and observing the open forum also made me think about the possible development of open forums. In the open forum last year, I borrowed the format of “one table, two chairs” to conduct it. And I saw that the lines between performance and dialogue blurred, and the roles of performers and speakers merged. I found this very interesting – is this the potential format of performance/forum of the future?

By Gwen Pew
Published on 28 September 2018

Southernmost will be happening at Centre 42 from 3 to 11 November 2018. Find out more here and get tickets here.

This article was published in Blueprint Issue #7.

Frank Shen founded American Taproom with his beer buddies Johnny Christensen and Winston Kwang in April 2018.

When American Taproom opened at Waterloo Centre in April 2018, it instantly became a popular addition to the craft beer scene in Singapore. Founded by Frank Shen, Johnny Christensen, and Winston Kwang, the bar boasts a huge variety of beers on tap – 32, to be exact – with new flavours constantly being introduced. From stouts to IPAs, there’s a beer for everyone.

Find out more about American Taproom from co-founder Frank.

How did the idea for American Taproom come about?
The idea came about when Johnny [Christensen] who is American, Winston [Kwang] who distributes American beers, and me who love[s] the US and started the first taproom concept in Singapore, felt that the industry needed to grow.

How did you guys know each other?
Johnny relocated to Singapore and was working for Brewerkz, where we met. So beer kinda brought us together, the same way that American Taproom wants beer to bring people together. Winston has been in the industry since the beginning, so we met through the industry.

Before establishing American Taproom, you were the bar manager of Nickeldime Drafthouse. But how did you first get into the local beer scene?
I got into the beer scene when a buddy brought me to one of the first craft beer bottles bars in Singapore, called Old Empire Gastrobar. I drank so many beers that the owners started talking to us. I was asked to help at a beer festival, and from there I fell in love and got offered a position in their distribution and restaurant.

American Taproom has the largest collection of craft beers in a bar in Singapore. How do you decide which beers to put on the board?
We want to have a diverse beer list, so we try to have as many styles as possible. We want everybody to have a suitable style of beer for them. Some brands already have a reputation. (Like us!) Some we read about, find out about the brewery, the brewer and their reputation. And some we try at tastings, of course! We love beer!

You guys also do tap takeovers, where other brands come in to literally takeover your tap(s). How does that work, and how do you decide who to work with?
Yes, we do. We talk to the distributor. We know people, and try to help whoever we can as long as the beers are good.

How do you ensure the quality of your beer, and how can someone be sure that they haven’t been given a bad beer in general?
We taste the beer very often. All our guys are trained. We store them in our cold room, which is specially for beers and set at 2 to 5 degrees. If the beer is bad, it will taste off. If the beer is bad, we take it out and send it back. If the beer has deteriorated, we take it off the tap. But so far, all is good. We also maintain the lines and facets on our own.

What if a customer isn’t very familiar with beer? Can they ask for recommendations?
Usually, we start by asking our customers their taste profile. We can start with something light or dark, followed by the style if they know – fruity, or if it’s dark, whether they want more coffee notes or chocolate etc. From there, we kinda try to figure out what they like. If they are confused, we do allow them to taste some of the beers we recommend.

What’s your favourite kind of beer?
I like sours, as they are always unexpected.

And finally, what exciting events does American Taproom have coming up in the last quarter of the year?
On 27 October we have Heretic Brewing doing a tap takeover for Halloween. We also have new menus coming in October, and we’re starting our happy hour – 15% off from 4pm to 6pm, Saturdays to Thursdays.

By Gwen Pew
Published on 28 September 2018

Visit American Taproom at Waterloo Centre, #01-23, 261 Waterloo Street, and stay up to date by following its Facebook page here.

This article was published in Blueprint Issue #7.