Connecting Taiwan and Indonesia in a “Nongkrong” way—Interview with Irfan Muhammad of ID-TW Pop Bureau

*Irfan Muhammad (Photo Source: Irfan Muhammad)

Intro: Who are you and where are you from? 

Irfan: I am Irfan Muhammad from Indonesia, and I run a music initiative called ID-TW Pop Bureau. I describe myself as a writer and researcher—that has always been my framework for doing everything. I’ve worked as a writer and journalist formally since 2012, and I also published my first book, Bandung Pop Darlings, about the indie pop scene in my hometown, Bandung.

*Irfan’s first publishing- “Bandung Pop Darling” (Photo Source: Irfan Muhammad)

Q1: Why did you come to Taiwan, and why did you stay?

Irfan: Honestly, it was a coincidence. In 2019, I visited Taiwan and discovered a record store in Taipei called Waiting Room, where I picked up CDs by BOYZ & GIRL and Iruka Porisu (海豚刑警). That’s when I started getting into Taiwanese Indie. Before that, I never really knew the scene—in Indonesia, we recognized some Taiwanese bands as “global Indie bands,” not as Taiwanese ones.

Then the pandemic hit. My newspaper job became unsustainable, and I found that Taiwan offers generous scholarships to foreigners. I applied to NYCU (國立陽明交通大學), was accepted, and moved to Taiwan in November 2021. During the two years before I moved, I’d already connected online with Taiwanese friends like Chen Yin from Chiching Records (奇清唱片公司)—we exchanged music catalogs between our two countries.

*Irfan attended the panel session of LUCfest(Photo Source: Irfan Muhammad)

Q2: Your article about Indonesian migrant-worker musicians on Taiwan Beats around 4 years ago had generated a significant response. What changed?

Irfan: When I met these bands, I was annoyed by the term “migrant band,” because it frames them by status rather than musical ability. In the article, I called them “Indonesian bands based in Taiwan”—so you see them as musicians, not as migrants who happen to play guitar. 

What I wanted Taiwanese readers to understand is that these musicians didn’t just learn heavy culture after arriving—heavy metal is basically Indonesia’s “starter pack”. After the article was published, Jubah Hitam seems to have some booking by the local event promoters. For me personally, it became my introduction to the Taiwanese audience as a writer.

*Jubah Hitam live recap at Megaport Festival

Explore more：Scene Report : Headbanging Abroad! An Indonesian Underground Scene inside Taiwan

Q3: What is the ID-TW Pop Bureau, and how does it work?

Irfan: It started purely for fun. I never meant it to be a company or anything—I always call it an “initiative”. The word “Bureau” sounds official on purpose: Taiwan and Indonesia have no diplomatic relationship, so I’m mocking that gap with the name. 

Everything about the pop bureau runs on the scene network, not on contracts. In Indonesia, booking works “friends by friends,” through the Nongkrong (hanging-out) culture, and that’s how I operate here too. I’m glad this exchange isn’t industrialized—people don’t need a middleman; they can make their own approach.

Q4: Although you self-recognize as a “writer, " you have helped bands come to Taiwan or Indonesia. How did that happen?

Irfan: Because the bureau is never a formal institution, I only help when I'm genuinely into the music—otherwise I just connect the band with someone who can. As long as I don't lose money, that's enough.

The clearest example is xiexie from Japan. I found their music in 2021 and started promoting them on Instagram, and finally, we met in person at Vagabond Festival (浪人祭) in 2023. When they toured Southeast Asia, I connected them with my Indonesian organizer friends—"friends by friends," as always. I've also worked with Virgin Vacation (假日貞操) from Hong Kong, PRAED from Lebanon through my contacts at YES NO WAVE MUSIC, and most recently Jantokoi, featuring a former Boredoms drummer.

It's all fairly random and never for profit. Some friends have encouraged me to launch a proper booking agency, but that's not really my point.

*Xie Xie Indonesian tour poster (Photo Source: Irfan Muhammad)

Q5: Where do the biggest cultural differences in the music scene or industry between Indonesia and Taiwan lie?

Irfan: Musical references differ sharply. Indonesian punk traces back to UK Punk—1977’s Punk, Oi!—while Taiwanese Punk leans more Japanese. Indonesian Indie Pop relates to UK bands, such as Sarah Records or some Scottish Indie; many Taiwanese friends play Japanese-style Indie. Even when we use the same genre labels, the underlying references differ, making bands harder to translate across.

One thing I’ve genuinely learned from Taiwan is how art forms connect—experimental gigs here routinely combine music with dance and visuals—and I’ve also learned to rethink “festival”: in Indonesia it means a huge field with seven stages; in Taiwan it can be a mid-scale, intimate event, which I actually prefer.

Q6: How would you describe Taiwan’s music scene to the world from your perspective?

Irfan: Two keywords: “party every night” and “well developed.” In Taipei, there’s a show almost every night; a band never has to worry about finding a slot. For such a small country, it’s a remarkably festive scene, and it’s clearly supported by the government’s embrace of Taiwanese identity.

But after five years here, I also see the critical side. Because there’s a show every night, everyone shares the same limited audience. There are arguably too many festivals—some bands get booked by all of them, lineups repeat, and younger bands have to fight for space. Still, the headline is: Taiwan’s scene is very active, very convenient, and Taipei is a great hub for Asia.

*Indonesian Experimental duo Kuntari Taiwan tour poster (Photo Source: Irfan Muhammad)

Q7: How would you describe the Indonesian scenes to a Taiwanese friend — including something about the music industry? 

The first thing to understand is that, in Indonesia, heavy music is our "starter pack." Many of us begin with punk or heavy metal, and it comes straight out of our environment. We have a culture called nongkrong — hanging out — and a lot of music spreads that way: someone has one CD, lends it to you, you record it and pass it on, you make a mixtape. The scene is very festive and very dressed-up; people express their identity through music and copy the style that goes with it — death-metal tees, certain cuts of jeans for deathcore, an army look for hardcore. It's not only about the music, it's about identity.

It's also very geographic and very social. In Bandung there's an area called Trunojoyo — it's a bit like Zhongshan, full of clothing and cool stores — and each subculture has its own hangout: skinheads at one store, mods at another, indie kids at another, all close together. 

Booking and networking work the same way: "friends by friends," through that nongkrong network, rather than through agencies. That DIY, relationship-driven mentality runs through everything — I had my own band, my own zine, and ran a small label from 2010 to 2012, and that's just how things move.

The turning point from the scene to industry.

A tragic incident at a 2008 metalcore show where around ten people died due to overcrowding, organising underground events became very expensive - you have to pay for the venue rent excluding all the backlines and sound systems and pay more to the police too. 

Because of that, cigarette companies moved in and started funding gigs, but they only care about audience numbers — they don’t care about the band, so there’s no space for new acts. That is when the “industrial mindset” entered the scene.

This incident affected the regeneration of our musicians. It wasn't only metal, either. One cigarette brand ran a festival that turned indie bands into a competition — a first winner, a second winner — which is absurd to the indie-pop community, because a scene shouldn't be about who's the best. Many of us were against it. But it had its pros and cons: before that festival, "indie" was a term only a few people who were really into the music used, and afterwards everyone started claiming to be indie. 

Q8: From your experience, how could a government-funded institution like TAICCA help the artists?

Irfan: This is something I think about a lot. When you have the budget to share your "cultural products" with Southeast Asia, you want to go there for many reasons, and TAICCA has already been very supportive. For example, sending Taiwanese bands abroad for showcases. That's clearly valuable: it gives Taiwanese artists, not only in music but also in contemporary art and film, far more access to the world and bigger production budgets. As a foreigner, when I collaborate with Taiwanese artists, I can sometimes tap into that funding too, so it's a very supportive environment.

From my own angle, the part I care about most is connecting artists with new markets in a way that puts culture before business—that's simply how I like to work. Because once you frame the artists as "cultural products," Taiwan is in the same arena as China, Japan, Korea, and Thailand, and the shared challenge for everyone is the same: how do you build a recognizable identity abroad? 

In my opinion, people tend to know Thailand best among Southeast Asia nowadays—Thai Pop and Boys' Love culture have crossed over, partly because Thailand is such a popular travel destination—while Indonesian or Filipino Pop culture is much less known, on the other hand, it’s just like many Taiwanese still encounter Indonesia mainly through migrant-worker culture rather than its urban culture.​

There’s also an awareness gap in both directions. Many Indonesians at my age (mid-30s) only know Taiwanese music up to “Meteor Garden (流星花園)”—after that, it goes blank. Sunset Rollercoaster (落日飛車) and Elephant Gym (大象體操) are popular in Indonesia, but many know them from playlists, so they don’t associate them with Taiwan. 

But I do see progress, especially through film: Taiwanese series and films on Netflix have genuinely raised global awareness of Taiwan. Cultural diplomacy is abstract—there’s no instant formula—but I believe the result will be good.

Q9: What advice would you give to Taiwanese artists going to Indonesia?

Irfan: Before you go anywhere, research the culture first. The first question is: what’s your specialty, what’s your character? If you sound like a million other bands in that country, you’re not special. That’s why I respect bands like Mong Tong, Scattered Purgatory (破地獄), and Lilium (百合花)—they have a character you can only find in Taiwan. 

Embracing your identity is essential. It doesn’t mean you have to be traditional; you can be completely modern, but modern in a Taiwanese way. For an artist, doing that cultural homework is part of the responsibility of expanding into another culture.

Photo: Irfan Muhammad
Author: Liyang／YSOLIFE