From Far East Plaza to Paris — Do Singapore’s breakers stand a chance at the Olympics?
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By Yong Hui Ting / Chia Kun Liang
Live breaking events make a comeback post-COVID-19. (Video: Lee Jia Ying )
Those who were around in the early 1980s would remember the throngs of young adults on all six floors of Far East Plaza.
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Amongst them were groups of breakers, gathered around empty spaces in malls along the street to practise their dance moves — think feet shuffling across laminated floors, body waves grooving to 80’s disco music and somersaults in the air. Teenage boys and men in their early 20s would move their bodies reactively to the music and dance like no one was watching.
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They would find an empty spot to claim as their dance floor and return to the same place day after day.
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Sometimes, one group would stumble upon another’s “spot” on some days.
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Then came the heated showdowns. Eager to prove themselves worthy of the territory, these men — who are also known as b-boys — would challenge each other to a dance battle.
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“We would sit in one corner and look at the other crews,” said Adrian Quek, 55, one of the b-boys who frequented Far East Plaza. “It became quite territorial, or at least egocentric, like my crew’s better because I’ve got a move better than yours.”
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Whoever won would have to move out and make space for the group who had won. But these battles were not always friendly. Some ended in fights between crews, which led to frequent visits from police officers who made multiple vain attempts to disperse the groups that were causing disruptions to the businesses in the mall.
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When these attempts failed, a nation-wide ban was implemented in 1984, putting a stop to all forms of dancing in public spaces, including breaking.
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Fast forward 35 years later, uniformed security can still be seen in areas where breakers gather. Only this time, for a whole different purpose — to manage the crowds who have come to watch them in the dance’s first debut in the 2019 Southeast Asian Games (SEA Games).
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Some, like SEA Games breaking bronze medalist Jeremy Sim, are hopeful of a chance to compete in the Paris 2024 Olympic Games, where breaking will debut as an official sport. But others believe Singapore still has miles to go before it is ready for the big stage.
HOW HIP-HOP CULTURE TOOK SINGAPORE BY A STORM IN THE 1980s
American breaker Ken Swift of Rock Steady Crew performing on stage at The Venue, London, 1982. (Photo by Janette Beckman/Getty Images)
Before it was officially listed as an Olympic sport, breaking started as a kind of dance born out of the streets of South Bronx, New York City. It was used as a medium for self-expression by minority communities such as African Americans and Latinos. The dance represented a form of conversation between these minority groups, who shared experiences of being marginalised by political rules at the time.
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Breaking made for one of the four elements of hip-hop culture. The other three parts are: disk-jockeying (DJ-ing), emceeing or rapping, and graffiti.
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While hip hop culture made waves in the West in the 1970s, its moment in the East came later, around the 1980s.
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“I remember this band called Shalamar, it was a three-piece band. One of the guys in there didn’t sing that well. His name was Jeff Daniels. But he was a damn good dancer and he was the one that did all this popping stuff, it was very very stylish,” he said.
Influenced by moves he saw on television and in the movies, Adrian learnt the dance on his own. At 16 years old, he saw it as an outlet to express himself and a way to make friends with other breakers in the community.
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Together with his brother Aldrin, the duo danced all night, most days of the week at a record shop in Far East Plaza, DBX Audiophile Lab. This led to the birth of DBX Audiophile Breakers, Singapore’s first recorded breaking crew.
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“We went to Dinner & Dance, we performed everywhere. Every shopping mall that you could imagine, we were there,” said Adrian. At the peak of its popularity, the crew’s weekend schedule was packed for weeks.
Adrian (far right) with his crew at a Dinner & Dance party. (Photo: Adrian Quek)
Each b-boy in the crew was also paid an average of S$60 for every show — the price of roughly 24 movie tickets or 50 plates of chicken rice then.
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As breaking’s popularity picked up amongst the masses, so did the size of the crowd that gathered every time someone danced.
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“A lot of people are curious because not everybody knows what this is about. Then they started forming bigger and bigger circles and everyone's just crowding around trying to have a look,” said Aldrin.
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Then things took a turn for the worse.
A BAN ON BREAKING
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Breaking’s popularity amongst Singaporeans rose quickly. Local media reported that more than 3,000 people attended a show at Far East Plaza. DBX Audiophile Breakers was one of the crews invited to perform.
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The crowd posed a security concern, as well as unwelcome stares from shopkeepers who felt that the crowd, mostly youths, were scaring away tourists and shoppers. News reports also detailed occurrences of fighting and suspected drug use whenever such shows were held.
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In June 1984, dancing in public spaces, including breaking, was officially banned.
But it did not stop the dance-loving crowd of Singaporeans, who had by then fallen completely in love with the scene - its music, dance moves and the community.
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“Youths at that time loved to dance,” said b-boy Mohamad Hata bin Rahmad, 56.
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“The breakdance movies and breakdance songs were very energetic, very exciting, so people tried… because everything was new, so everyone was trying to get into this.”
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Sparked by the energy and the moves he saw on the big screen, Hata learned to dance on his own. With a background in gymnastics, he mastered it in no time. He created one-of-a-kind moves, such as a slow body wave while inverted on a handstand, and executed his windmills flawlessly. But with breaking banned in public places, he needed an arena for his skills.
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His chance to shine came when authorities gave the green light for Singapore’s first official breaking competition, organised by Sentosa Development Corporation and DBX Audiophile Lab. It became one of Singapore’s largest breaking events, attracting more than 10,000 spectators to the island.
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Ferries were packed on every trip from Harbourfront to Sentosa, running on full capacity from 3pm to 7pm, said Hata.
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“My god, that was the first and the last time ever, the biggest ever!”
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Yet the crowd was not the only thing that surprised him. He emerged as the champion amongst 14 finalists — bagging the gold medal he never expected to take home.
“Everyone was so good you know,” said Hata.
Members of DBX Audiophile were so impressed, they invited him to join their crew right after the show. Hata accepted.
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Then, like all passing trends, the breaking scene went quiet. There were no more events the following years and the number of breakers dwindled.
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“When we got into it, it wasn’t really a culture. It was just a trend, this cool thing that we picked up as kids,” said Aldrin. “We didn’t really think much of the four elements (of hip-hop). Whatever new (thing) came about, we just picked up the next trend.”
Mohamad Hata bin Rahmad puts up a show for the audience at the open space outside Ngee Ann City. (Photo: Mohamad Hata)
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HOW BREAKING MADE ITS COMEBACK
Gone were the mobile discos, record players and cassette tapes when the Internet took the world by storm in the late 90s and early 2000s. CD players meant that DJs could no longer spin discs to extend the “breaks'' of music — parts of a song which breakers danced to.
All was quiet till the release of Step Up, the first film in a franchise which ran from 2006 to 2019.
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“Most of us in the era were very influenced by videotapes, we’re very influenced by MTV, we’re very influenced by movies,” said b-boy Felix Huang. “Most of us picked up all this stuff through this final form of mainstream media.”
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But unlike its early days, young breakers no longer had to face the risk of getting evicted from practising in malls.
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Studios were opening up across the island by mid 2010s, many offering classes for aspiring breakers-to-be.
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Singapore also played host to one of Asia’s largest street dance festivals, the Radikal Forze Jam, which is the brainchild of the Radikal Forze crew. Held annually since 2008, the festival attracted a sizable audience — from dancers to judges and even those who did not dance — who flew in to Singapore to watch the battles.
Radikal Forze Jam 2017 (Photo: Radikal Forze)
“You have really big names… dance celebrities, not just breakers, who would come down, whether they were flown out or they flew down themselves. They come down, they teach, compete or they just party,” said b-boy Shane Tay, 25, who had participated in every year’s competition since 2011. Until COVID-19 took the world by storm and put an end to all live events.
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Yet its members find a way, keeping the spirit of breaking alive in the underground basement of Esplanade MRT. Every evening when the music plays, dancers from across different genres gather at the space. They let their bodies sway freely in tune with the beat; every move unplanned and ever-changing to the music — which is decided by whoever has a speaker.
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“It goes all the way to people that just believe in freestyle, where it’s an on-the-spot kind of thing; whether you’re listening to the music or whenever you just respond to your body,” said Shane, who visits the underground space three times a week.
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“It’s just whatever you have in your muscle memory,” he added.
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Shane believes that such freedom, born out of a lack of competition and events due to COVID-19’s restrictions, has done good in rejuvenating the scene.
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It has brought about a fresh perspective, along with a new generation of breakers who are more eager than before to showcase their newfound moves via a much bigger dance floor — the Olympics.
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WHEN STREETS MEETS OLYMPICS
In December 2020, the International Olympic Committee announced that breaking is listed officially as a sport. It is set to hit the arena in the Paris 2024 Games.
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But the Games will not be breaking’s debut into competitive sport.
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It was first featured as a dancesport in the 2018 Youth Olympic Games in Buenos Aires, Argentina. In the following year, it made it to the SEA Games in the Philippines, where Singapore’s representative, Jeremy Sim, clinched bronze in the men’s singles.
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But with just two years until the Games in Paris, Singapore DanceSport Federation’s breaking lead Felix Huang believes that Singapore is not ready to be represented on the global stage yet.
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Currently, Singapore DanceSport Federation is the only governing body for breakers and Felix is the only person managing all duties where breakers are concerned.
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“I think the most difficult challenge that we have as a breaking community and trying to legitimise this for the Olympics,” said Felix, “is to be able to get the b-boys who are… maybe not so good at breaking and better at administration to step up and help me organise things.”
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“None of us are doing this as a full-time thing. It is completely volunteer work… so we’re doing the best we can.”
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Many b-boys and b-girls self-fund their way to international competitions. After winning the Freestyle Session Asia Qualifier in 2018, Jeremy spent nearly S$2,000 out of his own pocket for accomodation and living expenses at the World Finals in Los Angeles.
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The amount he spends to improve himself through overseas competitions makes up almost half of his monthly income. He also trains independently — unlike athletes from other conventional sports such as swimming, who train with the help of a professional coach.
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While breaking is currently a newly listed sport by the National Youth Sports Institute, there are no support programmes for breaking athletes yet, as none have been officially carded by the national Olympic committee.
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The process of selecting an athlete to represent the country typically happens six months before an event. Only an athlete who is given the green light to represent Singapore receives support — such as advice from professional nutritionists and physiotherapists and, potentially, financial support.
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It is not clear if and who will represent the country in breaking. Both the Singapore Breaking Federation and Singapore DanceSport Federation have yet to announce their lineup.
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Despite the uncertainties ahead, Jeremy remains optimistic about his chance to compete at the next major games. “I’m already prepared, it is just waiting for the time.”
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Besides working as a breaking instructor, Jeremy spends most of his time at the basement of Esplanade, practising for three hours on end, six days a week.
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Said Jeremy: “It is better to be ready with no opportunities than to be not ready and with the opportunities, isn’t it?”