Voice Of Baceprot: “Metal raises our adrenaline and makes us more confident”

Voice Of Baceprot have got some noise to make. It’s in their name as well as their nature – the word ‘baceprot’ (pronounced ‘bah-che-prot’) means ‘noisy’ in their native Sundanese, an apt descriptor of their frenetic yet graceful sound, dancing on the frontiers between groove, nu and funk metal. They’re loud as hell – and they’ve got reason to be. These girls – vocalist and guitarist Marsya, bassist Widi and drummer Siti – have got some big things to say.

Their story started back in 2014, when they were still in school, and were introduced to metal by their music teacher, Ahba Erza. The first song they heard was System Of A Down’s Toxicity, which may not come as a surprise when the fingerprints of Serj Tankian and co. can so easily be heard in their own music. “We fell in love,” says Marsya, sat between her bandmates, shoulder to shoulder, in front of their computer in the home they share in the Indonesian capital of Jakarta. “[Metal] raises our adrenaline and makes us more confident.” From there, they went further down the rock rabbit hole, discovering Rage Against The Machine, Lamb Of God and Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Indonesia boasts a thriving metal scene, but, as is usually the case in many countries around the world, it’s more concentrated around cities. Marsya, Wati and Siti, meanwhile, grew up in the more rural, conservative region of West Java, surrounded by grazing animals, three hours from any major scene. “We needed to take part in several band competitions and become champions in order to be reckoned with and accepted as part of the scene there,” Marsya explains. “It was hard for us to get the support from the local scene and the world around us, but we tried to stay consistent and continued to make music.”

The first time their parents saw them play was at a school farewell concert. Nobody expected the band to unleash such heaviness, least of all them, especially since they attended a rather strict Islamic school. Their parents cautioned them against making music, but they continued to rehearse in secret for a year. Luckily, their stance later softened after their daughters won several competitions and appeared on TV, and were eventually able to make an economic contribution to their livelihoods.

Their one constant source of support has been Ahba Erza, who showed Marsya and Wati how to play guitar and bass respectively, assisted with lyrics and later became their manager. “Ahba is always by our side when bullying, terror and threats arise,” says Siti. “He was the only one who didn’t say we were wrong or we were a bad band, even anti-law.” This is no exaggeration – the unfortunate truth is that there are plenty of conservative naysayers in Voice Of Baceprot’s home nation who want them not to be noisy, but to be silent, simply because of who they are. At best, keyboard warriors have questioned why their music has to be political; at worst, it’s spiralled into torrents of online abuse and death threats. “At first, it was a bit hard for us,” continues Siti, “but we found that the most effective way [to fight back] was not stopping playing music, because that’s what they want. We believe that with time, we’ll prove that we weren’t wrong and what we do is not a crime.”

It means that the themes of protest in Voice Of Baceprot’s music have a heavier weight than other bands of their ilk. Indeed, one of their most successful songs on TikTok, God Allow Me (Please) To Play Music, is an emotional plea for the chance to speak freely and express themselves through music – ‘I’m not a criminal, I’m not the enemy,’ Marsya begs, ‘I just want to sing a song to show my soul.’ That song appears on their recently-released debut album Retas, alongside several others that were also written while they were in school – they even had its title in mind as far back as 2018. “It [reflects how] the songs on this album have managed to break away from the rigidity of standard music, music which says we have to do this or that,” says Marsya.

Beyond God Allow Me (Please) To Play Music, there’s plenty more fist-raising feminist battle cries to be found, including the skittering empowerment anthem P.M.S. (short for ‘perempuan merdeka seutuhnya’ or ‘completely independent women’), the blazing anti-war tirade What’s The Holy (Nobel) Today and even some slick, stylish nu-metal – complete with lightning fast Sundanese raps – in the form of School Revolution. “The school system is still conservative and [doesn’t support] the dreams of students,” Marsya reasons. "We are just asked to take notes and memorise and listen and study to get good marks. It made us feel like robots who only do the things we are asked to do.” Indeed, their seemingly outward-looking lyrics blur the line between the personal and the political. Sometimes, after all, they are one and the same. “We write songs based on our experience, what we read, what we hear, what we ourselves have experienced as victims of discrimination,” Marsya continues.

Voice Of Baceprot know their own power. They’ve always been more than rebellious teenagers – in a way, their very existence has been a statement of power in and of itself. Ultimately, they are here to be a force for good, mending the world one riff at a time. “Music has great power to change the perspectives of many people,” concludes Siti. “We want the earth to be a better place to live for today and tomorrow, and so on for the generations after us.”

Retas is out now via 12WIRED

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