social media manager, senior account manager, regional marketing manager, regional head of partnerships, and partnerships director. Out of all the titles that I've had in my 15-year career, the one that I'm most proud of is being a granddaughter. I spent most of my childhood with my grandparents by my side, being the only child in the family. I was the apple of their eye. But as they grew older, the roles reversed and I became the one standing by theirs. In 2007, I experienced grief for the first time
when my Akong passed away. And in 2017, I experienced my deepest heartache when my AMA passed away. Music was the backdrop of my childhood, mostly because karaoke was their favorite thing to do. And every single day, they would be singing without fail. For years, I've held on to some of my Akong's old cassette tapes, capturing the raw recordings of him singing the songs that he loved the most. Without realizing it, I became the keeper of our family history and developed this obsession with keeping their memory
alive. constantly just returning to whatever footage or audio that I had just to listen to their voice one more time. But magnetic tapes fade and I didn't want their memory to be sitting on a digital folder risking corruption or getting lost in a digital cloud. I wanted to create an heirloom, something lasting and real that I could hold and could be passed down from generation to generation. I began researching alternative mediums, which eventually led me to wanting to turn those cassette tapes into something else. The
idea of making custom vinyl kept appearing in my searches, and I couldn't shake it off. I started looking into whether or not it was possible for me to do something like this here in Singapore. That search led me down a massive rabbit hole where I discovered something amazing which now today fuels whatever that I'm doing as well. Singapore used to be the vinyl capital of Southeast Asia. But to my surprise, none of that history existed anymore and the factories were gone, the machines were quiet and
there was no one else making records here. the entire booming industry just completely vanished. We didn't just have one pressing plant. Singapore was home to at least four major record pressing plants. These weren't small operations. They manufactured music for our local artists and were the recording and distribution hub for Southeast Asia. Singapore was exporting music back then. Back in the 60s, we weren't just pressing records for our local X original bands. We were pressing records for some of the biggest, most iconic global superstars in the
world, like the Beatles. This industry was so massive that EMI Records actually set up their Southeast Asian headquarters right here in Singapore. Many of you probably walk past this landmark all the time without ever realizing its history. Trust me, a year ago, I didn't even know this as well. McDonald House, right on Orchard Road, was once the booming home of EMI Records and their legendary recording studios. While the rest of the world caught Beetle Mania, Singapore had Quest Mania. Our very own homegrown band, The Quest,
was so massive that they actually knocked the Beatles right off the number one spot of our local charts in 1964. You might be wondering, what song could possibly beat the Beatles in 1964? It was a guitar-driven instrumental track called Shanti. And it didn't just touch the top spot, it stayed number one for 12 weeks straight. That gives you a glimpse of how our music used to sound back in the day. But we didn't just have English language bands from the pop yayya era. We also birthe
our own uniquely Singaporean genre. Signal. Signal is a genre of uniquely Singaporean Mandarin folk songs that emerged in the late 1970s and 80s. The word itself is a blend of sin, Singapore, and Yao, a ballad. It was a grassroots movement by students who wanted to sing original songs that reflected their own lives, our local identity, and their experiences. This movement was led by Singapore's composers like Leang Wan Fu and Eric Moo. And Leang Wan Fu's impact is still felt today. Almost every National Day parade, you
will hear a song that he wrote, a track that has become so significant and a big part of our national identity. That song Now, I don't know if most of you remember that song, but probably this upcoming National Day parade. Keep a lookout for it because they might just play it. Standing right here this afternoon at New Buaru, we are actually on historic ground because the old Nanchel Secondary School was at the forefront of this entire movement. It was right here in this school hall where
a young generation of students picked up guitars, found their voice, and helped write the soundtrack of Singapore. These are Nanchel X students. From pressing plants to the top of the charts, the music business was Singapore's business. And leading that charge were the Crescendos. The iconic front woman, Susan Lim, was discovered at the young age of only 15 years old, proving that our tiny island had so much talent to offer. >> One, two, one, two, three. >> YOU WON'T SEE MY BABY TWIST. He goes around like
this. >> It's wild for me to think that we went from being the region's cultural engine to a country that imports nearly everything. I felt that it was a big shame to let all that history fade. So, I walked away from the corporate ladder, rolled up my sleeves, and threw myself entirely into learning how to make records in 2024. I did it for two reasons. One, on a deeply personal level, I wanted to give my grandparents' voices and memories a permanent tangible home. And second, I
wanted to reclaim a forgotten Singapore craft to prove that we could still create and manufacture right here in Singapore. Every revival starts somewhere. And this is where my journey began. in Arizona. I brought our first LA machine back to Singapore in 2025 and we've been making records here ever since. For me, made in Singapore isn't just three words slapped onto a product. It's about creating a local ecosystem that is self- sustainable, partnering with our cities, homegrown makers, and local family businesses. Getting everything done here was
a deeply intentional choice because bringing back a record-making culture, it takes a village and it can't just be me. From cutting raw plastic into the shapes of drilling the spindle hole, we are completely redefining the way we produce. All of this are proudly made here in Singapore by residents of Singapore. It doesn't just mean Singaporeans. It also means people who have called Singapore home. So we intentionally work with these people to bring this idea to life. The records we make are not mass-produced records stamp out
by a factory. The bespoke approach that we do is actually LA cut records. And what it does is that it gives us the flexibility to really create one record with zero minimum order quantity. For me that was important because everybody had memories that were that they were trying to preserve and sometimes you don't need a hundred copies just one to be passed down from generation to generation. Except this time we were doing things a little bit differently. I wanted to create bold statement pieces that break
the mold and get people talking. The limited edition records that we make are released in collaboration with our local musicians like Cesari, Benjamin King and they are the ones that are not shaped like a typical record that is circular. So we do all sorts of shapes except circles at artist records. We are here on a mission to bring back record-making culture into Singapore to help people preserve their memories on something that they can actually hold and pass down. We started as a humble home studio back
in 2025, but today we now have our own dedicated space at Scape where people come in for hands-on workshop, learn about our forgotten music heritage, and to even cut their own record. From an audio clip to an ultrasound to a wedding vow or just the final voice note left by a loved one who has passed. What started as my own personal quest to preserve my grandparents' memory has grown into a space where I help others hold on to theirs. This is how Artist Records was born.
Singapore may have stopped making records in the 1980s, but we are starting again. My name is Charlene Yap and I'm Singapore's only female lathe cutter here to reclaim a forgotten craft so that our story is never forgotten or never lost. And my deepest hope is that one day I will not be the only person here in Singapore making records. Thank you.