Four years ago, Myanmar’s democratic experiment was violently cut short. A military takeover, orchestrated by General Min Aung Hlaing (also chief architect for the ethnic cleansing of Rakhine State’s Rohingya Muslims), overthrew Aung San Suu Kyi’s NLD government, shattering the nation’s fragile progress and throwing the already deeply dysfunctional Southeast Asian state into turmoil. The aftermath of the 2021 coup has been nothing short of catastrophic: a country derailed from its democratic course and plunged into a nationwide civil war.
The economy has imploded, millions have been displaced, thousands languish in prisons or have lost their lives, and millions more face extreme poverty and destitution. In 2024, the military introduced a conscription law forcing young men and women into its ranks—effectively drafting them to fight on the side of their authoritarian overlords—which has only accelerated the country’s ongoing brain drain, with thousands fleeing to the exits to escape forced service.
Freedom of the press is nonexistent, internet use is restricted, the country’s power grid is on the brink, and prostitution—as a desperate means to make ends meet—has surged. Wherever you are in the world, you’re unlikely to live somewhere quite as devastated as modern-day Burma.
Protest carries immense weight in Myanmar, where dissent is not only punished but eradicated with terrifying efficiency. Speaking up against the junta—even in song—can lead to imprisonment, torture, or death. The stakes are stratosphere high for artists whose work can become lightning rods for swift government retaliation.
Yet, despite these dangers, Cacerolazo—a collective comprised of Burmese and foreign nationals—have chosen to make their voices heard. Their debut album, The Sound of Anger and Dissent, is a blistering hardcore punk record—a Molotov cocktail of rage, defiance, and grief—ignited in a country under siege and lobbed at enemies from within. Recorded across 2021 and 2022 (all members have now left the country), it’s a record that’s as defiant as it is catchy. They’re not the first in Myanmar to put it on the line for their art, but few have done so with such righteous fury and with quite so many headbangers.
For security reasons, most members remain anonymous, but The Sound of Anger and Dissent speaks (more often screams) for itself. Singer and songwriter Kyaw Kyaw, a veteran of Myanmar’s punk scene and frontman of the legendary Yangon-based band the Rebel Riot, lends his ferocious vocals to the project. “There is soft power and hard power in a revolution,” Kyaw Kyaw told PopMatters. “The two are inseparable, like body and soul. That’s why armed resistance is important, and so is art and culture. Protest music is especially important.”
The opener, “The Night Will Not Be Silenced”, features snarling gang vocals and Burmese-language lyrics, referencing—and opening with—the banging of pots and pans, a tradition long used to ward off evil spirits, and which took the form of nightly protests during the 2021 coup.
Meanwhile, a highlight, “Sick to the Back Teeth”, seethes with crust punk energy, laying bare the twisted logic of the Burmese Tatmadaw (military)—who, through their warped self-image, see themselves as the guardians and gatekeepers of their insular, nativist vision of Myanmar, all the while waging an unrelenting 60-year war against their people. “You say you love this country, so that’s why you’re always at war / You built a fucking prison, and you threw away the skeleton key.”
The whiplash hardcore of “Weaponise” explores the darker, systemic ways the regime wields its power. In under two minutes of frenzied percussion and riffs, Cacerolazo spits out a scathing critique of the military’s cynical lies and institutional manipulation: “You arrest anyone who can threaten your grip on power / You have even managed to weaponize love, turning it into a weakness.” It’s a sobering reminder of the lengths authoritarian regimes will go to control the narrative.
Other tracks, such as “Shatter the World”, drive home the harsh realities of armed resistance—how everyday spaces can become battlegrounds. “There’s blood on the factory floor / The ones who worked here are fighting a war.” For those of us who were in-country for the immediate bloody aftermath of the February 1 coup, it brings back painful memories such as the massacre at Hlaingthaya township (a poor, industrial suburb on Yangon’s peripheries).
Countless young people in Myanmar have been forced to trade what should be normal, everyday lives for a struggle to reclaim their homeland—to take the fight to the military and secure their country’s future. Beyond the bangers, the record’s greatest strength lies in the solidarity it offers to those enduring these hardships.
“I hope, at the very least, it provides some sort of catharsis or comfort,” Cacerolazo’s guitarist and principal songwriter says, “for people enduring such difficult times in Myanmar, and also for people in similar situations in other countries. For those listening outside of Myanmar, I hope it opens people’s eyes to what’s really going on there.”
In a world where freedom of expression is increasingly under siege and genuine truth has become a precious commodity, The Sound of Anger and Dissent challenges listeners to pay attention, engage, resist complacency, and remember the power of music to confront injustice—whether at home or abroad. Meta’s recent announcement to cease fact-checking across their platforms is an ominous development, especially in a country like Myanmar, where fact-free posting has done real, tangible damage.
Cacerolazo inject a dose of cautious optimism with “The Sea Is Rising”, which charts the growing momentum of the resistance forces. “A mangrove root is wrapped around your foot / The sea is at your neck / There’s no hope to unhook.” With its thick, distorted bassline, melodic backing vocals, and fist-pumping intensity, the track reflects an inspiring reality: the tide might—just might—be turning against the junta in Myanmar.
In a dramatic turn of events, in October 2023, Myanmar’s patchwork of resistance forces—including major ethnic armed groups—launched a surprise multi-front offensive, Operation 1027, reclaiming vast swathes of territory and dealing a significant blow to the military. Since then, the junta has struggled to regain control, its iron grip badly weakened as it lost key border areas and much of the countryside, though it continues to hold major urban centers. As of late 2024, some estimates suggest the military may control less than a quarter of the country.
The fight for Myanmar’s freedom is far from won, but the generals’ hold on power is shaky at best. Just a few short months ago, Assad’s brutal rule over Syria—from an outsider’s perspective at least—appeared as a permanent, immovable object, an indestructible fortress in the heart of the Middle East, only for the world to watch on as his regime collapsed in a matter of days. Even though Myanmar is a very different country with complex and often conflicting internal forces, it’s not inconceivable that General Min Aung Hlaing and his cronies’ decaying and wantonly cruel reign of terror could one day meet the same fate.
The Sound of Anger and Dissent closes with a cover of the anti-fascist anthem “Bella Ciao”—made famous by Italian partisans during World War II—a gesture of solidarity against oppression worldwide, framing Myanmar’s fight as part of a broader global struggle. Far-right populism is having a resurgence in the early 21st century. The same month this story was filed, Donald Trump was inaugurated as the 47th President, and leaders like Austria’s Herbert Kickl and Germany’s Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) are on the rise.
Meanwhile, right-wing establishment poster boy and conservative man-crush, Hungary’s Viktor Orban, continues to set the standard for illiberal nationalism—to say nothing of Vladimir Putin’s barbaric war in Ukraine. Elon Musk—a vocal advocate of many of these figures—couldn’t resist inserting himself in the most odious—and frankly, cringe-inducing—way at a high-profile event coinciding with Trump’s inauguration. Fascism is back. If, in fact, it ever truly went away.
Just to be clear, for PopMatters readers who may—understandably—not be too familiar with the finer details of Burmese politics, General Min Aung Hlaing’s regime is, without question, one of the most repressive on the planet—responsible for some of the worst human rights abuses in recent memory. You would have to go as far back as Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge in Cambodia to draw an accurate regional comparison—not for nothing is the general wanted by the ICJ for crimes against humanity.
Yet, Myanmar receives far less media attention and, crucially, the international support it so desperately needs. Cacerolazo’s songwriter put it like this: “Myanmar is a country that many people in the Western world remain ignorant of, if not completely unaware. The first step towards ending many of the terrible things happening in the world is to shine a light on it. It’s important that people in the free world—and it is much more free than we often take for granted—pay attention to what’s happening in Myanmar and do what they can to help by donating or simply by spreading the word.”
The Sound of Fury and Dissent doesn’t just document Myanmar’s struggle; it contributes to it, with every cent downloaded from Bandcamp funneled directly to humanitarian causes. The group’s lead singer, who spoke to PopMatters, reflected on the power—as well as the limitations—of protest music: “I think it would be hubris to think this record will ultimately change anything in Myanmar, but I think solidarity and awareness are an important aspect of any movement.”
It’s true that art can only do so much. It can’t win battles fought with bullets and paid for in blood. It is powerless to defend rural communities from aerial bombardment. World leaders will not be galvanized by punk rock, no matter how hard it hits. What protest music can do is amplify the voices of the oppressed and encourage meaningful support. Every eyeball and eardrum around the globe that turns its attention to Myanmar adds another heartbeat to their cause and helps the world see and hear their suffering more clearly.
The same Cacerolazo member went on: “At a time when there is no freedom of speech, and people are muzzled from expressing how they truly feel, it’s critical to find gaps and cracks through which to speak out and raise awareness, whether that’s through music, film, writing, or poetry. But in Myanmar, people’s individual safety has to come first. Artists do not want a knock on their door late at night. That’s why it’s important for those outside the country to do their bit.”
Four years on from the coup, Myanmar’s fight for freedom goes on. You can download The Sound of Anger and Dissent here.