Southeast Asia’s alternative music scene has never been short on talent. From Jakarta’s hardcore collectives to Manila’s indie-pop aficionados and Bangkok’s genre-hopping producers, the region has long thrived on DIY energy and cross-border influence. But Singapore—often stereotyped as clean, controlled, and culturally risk-averse—has quietly become one of the most important connective hubs for alternative music in Asia. At the heart of that ecosystem sits Baybeats, the annual festival that has, for over two decades, proven that loud, left-field, non-mainstream music not only belongs in the city-state, but actively shapes its youth culture.
Organized and owned by Esplanade, Baybeats has become a platform for Singapore’s alternative community—a rare meeting point where local acts, regional underground legends, and curious first-timers collide. As we’ve previously explored in depth, Baybeats serves as a cultural anchor for Singapore’s independent music scene in arapidly changing world.
A Festival That Refuses To Gatekeep
At a time when festival tickets globally are creeping into triple digits, Baybeats’ most radical feature remains deceptively simple: it’s free. No wristbands, no VIP barricades, no algorithmic pricing tiers. Just walk in, wander around, and stumble into sounds you didn’t know you needed.
Held across multiple stages within Esplanade—from outdoor waterfront spaces to seated indoor theaters—Baybeats encourages discovery by design. You might come for a band you love and leave obsessed with two others you’d never heard of. Beyond live performances, the festival in 2025 hosted workshops, talks, and mentorship showcases. It’s part gig, part music club, part living archive—a reminder that music scenes don’t sustain themselves on streams alone.This year’s edition (October 30–November 2) once again pulled artists and fans from across Asia. To unpack why live music—and especially festivals like Baybeats—still matter in an era of digital oversharing, AI-generated everything, and post-pandemic social fragmentation, RADII spoke to three very different bands on the lineup: South Korean post-hardcore outfit Soumbalgwang, Singaporean shoegaze/dream-pop trio motifs, and Japanese math/indie rock band paranoid void.
Soumbalgwang: Chaos, Catharsis, and Collective Energy
RADII: Your music thrives on controlled chaos, where your live shows fully denonate that energy. But before hitting that button, what are your backstage rituals?
Kang DongSoo (Vocal): “I smoke a lot right before going on stage—it calms my nerves. Talking with bandmates or other artists over a cigarette, or even spending a quiet moment alone, helps me focus once the show starts.”
Kim SeongBeen (Bass): “I warm up with 95 bpm 16th-note down-picking. Sometimes I drink strong, cheap liquor. The down-picking works. The alcohol… probably not.”
Ma JaeHyeon (Drums): “I don’t really have a ritual. Maybe not having one is my ritual.”
Park SeongGyu (Guitar): “I drink before the show. Playing in a trance-like state helps me express myself more honestly. And, it just makes everything more fun.”
Baybeats delivered its own surprises. Anything unexpected for you guys?
Kang: “Singapore’s slamming was way more intense than Korea’s. The crowd suddenly went into hardcore-style moshing—that rarely happens back home.”
Kim: “I forgot my sunglasses, which I always wear on stage. Seeing everyone’s faces so clearly was… unexpected.”
Despite those moments, what stood out most was the scale and accessibility of the festival. What would you say to someone who has never been to Baybeats?
Kang: “It’s free—and world-class. Some Singaporeans told me they wait all year just for Baybeats. That says everything.”
For many, live music isn’t just performance—it’s proof of connection. What’s the most fulfilling aspect of performing live?Kang: “When people come to us with tears in their eyes, telling us how much the show meant to them—that stays with me forever.”
motifs: Hugs, Familiar Faces, and Growing Together
RADII: For being locals, perhaps Baybeats feels less like a milestone and more like a reunion. What are your pre-show rituals when you’re backstage?
Paul: “Our pre-show ritual is a group hug. We skipped it once—never again. It brings us to the same mental space.”
Onstage, unpredictability reigns. Did anything crazy happen to you guys this year?
Paul: “Badrul broke his pick after the first song. It looked like something out of Jaws. He went hard, man!”
Els: “I hate talking on stage… Jo had bet that I wouldn’t ask the audience to stand, so I proved her wrong. I regret it, though. It was awkward, and why did I have to say it three times??? Never speaking on stage again except to say thank you.”
Jo: I was daring Els backstage to get the audience to stand. I mean, I wasn’t expecting her to do it… But she actually did! And it was a fun lil moment.
Baybeats’ openness is central to its appeal, but for the unfamiliar, what would you tell them about the experience?
Paul: “Free doesn’t mean it’s no good. Baybeats is the festival to look forward to every year. So, free in this case means super awesome. You discover music, meet people, and gig friends become real friends.”
For motifs, live music is about continuity—watching listeners grow alongside the band. Over the years, what’s been consistently fulfilling from playing live?
Paul: “Some fans first saw us in 2020. Now they’re taller, older, still here. That’s humbling.”
Els: “These moments can’t be recreated. Videos don’t come close to being there.”
paranoid void: Listening Closely, Feeling Together
RADII: The three of you take a different approach to preparing for a show, intentionally avoiding pre-show rituals altogether. Why is that?
paranoid void: “Routines make us anxious. We try to keep things open.”
What about what surprised you the most at Baybeats 2025?
PV: “It was a seated venue, but everyone listened so seriously. We expected a looser vibe—instead, it felt deeply focused.”
Like many bands, I’m sure it’s easy to feel the tangible support beyond the stage.
PV: “Our merch sold out way faster than expected. We should’ve brought more.”
Has the audience’s rapport and energy changed over the years while playing live?
PV: “We used to direct our energy inward. Now we want to create the show with the audience. That changes everything. And, even though our music still has roots in math rock and post-rock, we’ve been taking a more danceable, electronic approach.”
Having evolved your approach to performing on stage, what do you now get out of performing live?PV: “Those moments when we feel completely in sync with the audience — when we can tell we’re all sharing the same vibe—that sense of unity during a show is what’s incredibly fulfilling.”
Why Baybeats Still Matters
Across genres, countries, and career stages, all three bands echoed the same truth: live music offers something digital culture can’t replicate. In a time when everyone is more connected than ever—yet increasingly isolated—festivals like Baybeats carve out rare spaces for unfiltered, real-world connection. You don’t just hear the music; you feel it ripple through a crowd that’s fully present, even if only for a fleeting moment.
And while Baybeats is built for the now, it also understands that not everyone can be there, pressed against the barricade. That’s where its growing archive of full-set performance videos comes in. Watching bands both local and international, like Silica Gel, an indie rock band from Seoul, Sydney’s metal outfit Battlesnake, and the previously featured motifs, tear through their sets—sweaty, imperfect, alive—you get a real taster of what unfolds on the festival grounds: the feedback hum between songs, the awkward banter, the split-second moments when a crowd locks in together.
Cover image via Facebook/Soumbalgwang.
