The Post spoke to seven female independent musicians who are making a difference and blazing the trail for others.

Moon Tang

The 23-year-old singer and songwriter describes herself as a positively chaotic ball of energy and an outsider who never really caught up with the restless rhythm of Hong Kong.

“I fit in the subculture right around the mainstream pop music,” she says, gesturing with her hands. “I’m like the grass feeding the tree.”

Though she is among the rising talents signed to the Warner Music label, Moon is not a Canto-pop artist. As shown by her latest singles, I hate u and Lately, which are both local and international in tone, she excels in sharing intimate feelings in English, with her silky voice floating on catchy rhythms.

“The fact that I’m part of the music scene today is proof that the industry is evolving,” the singer says.

Her upbringing was mostly influenced by “good-looking idols singing ballads”, and her generation of artists “is definitely tackling the conformity we grew up with”.

“This is an exciting time to be an artist in Hong Kong,” Moon says, smiling. Despite still being subjected to some persistent sexist myths, there are now more artists to collaborate with and more sounds to be explored.

“People and the media tend to define me through my love relationships, and I’m focusing on getting rid of that stereotype for the moment,” she says. “I am my own artist with my own style, talent and fan base. My success has nothing to do with the person I’m dating.”

Mengzy

How women’s successes are attributed to the men they work with is a prejudice prevalent in the industry, according to Li Meng de Bakker, who goes by the name Mengzy.

“An unfortunate stereotype that sometimes crops up in the dance music scene is that women don’t do the work themselves,” she says.

“I recently experienced this first-hand when an industry contact (a guy) I was introduced to complimented one of my productions and then immediately followed [that] by asking if I did it by myself. I’m sure he didn’t mean to be rude, but I have serious doubts whether he would have asked me that if I was a man.”

Promoting the local and regional underground scene is inherent in her musical identity. She is doing a PhD on dance music culture in Hong Kong and has helped organise events through different collectives she’s part of, from the UK dance music-centric Wonton Bass to the inclusive and empowerment-focused Mean Gurls Club.

“I am often approached by women during or after gigs who are really happy to see a female DJ and some ask for advice on how to get into the industry,” Mengzy says.

“I believe part of the enthusiasm I encounter is because they are excited to see themselves represented in what can be quite a male-dominated sphere, and perhaps they feel more comfortable to approach another woman in the club space.”

Reggie the Leaf

For Reggie Yip, better known as Reggie the Leaf, representation is one of the most influential factors in determining the future of a scene.

“The braver and the more diverse we are today, the more we’ll make other women comfortable to come out and take the place they deserve on the scene,” she says.

With more than one string to her bow – which includes being a member of It’s Us: Ophelia, an international artist-led collective – she considers herself quite new in the Hong Kong music scene.

Reggie the Leaf is working on different personal musical projects, but she’s mostly known today as the lead singer of R.I.D.D.E.M., a five-member act where modern jazz, psychedelic hip hop and neo-soul sensually groove together.

While she thanks her male bandmates – Mat Lui on the bass, Aldous Yu on keys, Arizton Pamplona on the guitar and Akira Mimasu on drums – for helping her push her creative limits, it is harder to extend this “trust” to the audience.

Live performance of some sensual songs such as Rihanna brings, sometimes, some misplaced attention, and “male gaze”.

“I have become really critical about ‘male gaze’ during the shows, as well as the way I internalised it, because it’s something that is everywhere and in everything I grew up with.”

Cehryl

If indie artist Cheryl Chow, who goes by the stage name Cehryl, had to change one thing about the Hong Kong music scene, it would be the hyper-focus on an artist’s appearance, she says.

“In Hong Kong, your artist image online is really important. It’s a little more influencer-ey. It is more obvious in the music scene in Hong Kong than in other places I lived.”

This music-visuals relationship is dear to Cehryl, as her musical identity is almost completely inseparable from her aesthetic sense. She learned how to produce music and engineer sound at Boston’s Berklee School of Music and when she returned to Hong Kong in 2019, she captured her audience with her folk-influenced indie pop.

Listening to a live version of Philadelphia or Callus has the power to bring people back to the comfort of their bedrooms. Cehryl cherishes this intimacy, which makes her so unique in the scene.

“Music is the space where I feel the most liberated – I don’t mean on a stage, or in a studio, I just mean in my head, or when I’m alone in a room. It’s empowering because it’s the most truthful version of me.”

Luna is a Bep

Luna is a Bep (Lee Chui-ting) is one of the few female Cantonese rappers on the scene. She says: “I grew up with the mainstream local music scene, like 2000s pop singers Eason Chan, Twins, Janice Vidal. Back then there wasn’t much chance to explore indie music for me.”

“Rap is my redemption. Rap is an empowerment tool by itself,” she says, adding that her challenges are mostly coming from “the writing skills, the aesthetic of how to present my content, and work with the music”.

During the preparation of her first album, she says that, as well as reinventing herself musically, she learned about design, manufacturing, and about how to deal with “a whole lot of stuff out of just creating music”.

Xiaolin

Olivia Dawn Mok, also known professionally as Xiaolin, describes herself as a “sound artist” and a “sound explorer”.

She studied classical violin at the prestigious Juilliard School in New York and jazz performance and electronic music production at Berklee School of Music, and when she returned to Hong Kong in 2020, she contracted Covid-19 and lost 30 per cent of her lung capacity, while also mourning the death of close ones.

“These years were so difficult … I had to completely reroute myself and break down my identity to go through all of that,” she recalls. “It was a very humbling experience that reflected a lot on my music.”

It made her rethink the place she wanted to occupy in the music scene.

“I used to see being a woman in the music industry as a disadvantage. Because I wanted people to take me seriously, I changed my looks, I pushed down my femininity. I realised later that this wasn’t necessary: as long as I am myself, I will be taken seriously,” she says.

She started to embrace different fields, which included fashion and visual arts.

“The fact that the Hong Kong scene is so small makes it so special. I’m grateful to be surrounded by so many talented women: it creates a great safe place for pushing the boundaries of collaborations,” says Xiaolin.

Subez Yeti

Whether it is with Yeti Out, Thür or the Mean Gurls Club, Hong Kong-grown DJ, promoter and content creator Subi Tse, widely known as Subez Yeti, has made her first mission to promote the local underground community.

From Shanghai to Chicago, she showcases new talent from different creative scenes in events that she organises. From hip hop to electro, without forgetting Canto-pop and techno, an hour with Subez Yeti will make you rethink your definition of “boundaries”.

As she says, music is about connecting together despite our differences, and having a great time.

With the Mean Gurls Club, she tried to increase the number of women headlining shows around the city. However, as empowering as it can be, she thinks the label of “female artist” can be restrictive.

“I hope my next interview does not ask about gender roles,” she adds.

“In an industry typically dominated by men, there are societal constraints that make it more difficult for women to break into the scene. But at the end of the day, it’s about who you are and what your personality is like.”