Lee Xa – Rock Music Pioneer

If you’re into Hmong rock music, you’ve probably heard the name Lee Xa. In 1960, Lee founded one of the world’s first Hmong rock groups, Tsoom Hmoob, which went on to influence numerous Hmong and Hmong-American rock bands over the following decades. Soft-spoken and humble, Lee recognizes his place in Hmong-rock history, but he is careful never to forget the many years he spent working against the odds.

As Lee tells it, Tsoom Hmoob came about simply. At the tender age of 15, he and his high school friends Phang Lee, Vu Yang, and Moua Yao weren’t hoping to make the big time, they just wanted to make music. “At that time in traditional Hmong folk music, we didn’t have full bands that played together,” Lee explains, “You had the qeej, the flute, the vocals – but they were never combined.” He describes with a half smile how he and his Hmong classmates would get teased by their Laotian neighbors for their unusual musical traditions. “They would sing traditional songs in the Lao language, and ask us why we didn’t have any Hmong songs, trying to insult us,” Lee remembers, “so we decided to make music of our own.”

They decided to call themselves “Tsoom Hmoob” – a name which expressed their desire to represent with their music the Hmong experience, Hmong issues, and Hmong life. “We faced a lot of challenges at that time,” Lee says, explaining how his parents couldn’t afford to pay for instruments or music lessons. To make matters worse, the members of Tsoom Hmoob had almost no way of hearing recorded music -- no television, no turn tables on which to play records, and only inconsistent access to radio. At an age when many young musicians were listening obsessively to their favorite artists, Lee and his friends had to work collectively to remember unfamiliar rhythms and melodies. “We had to learn to play by ear,” he explains, “by listening to the feel.”

Over the next eight years, Tsoom Hmoob practiced tirelessly, balancing rigorous schedules at their highly competitive preparatory school with band practice. They devoured music wherever they could find it, developing a special affinity for Western rock-and-roll music -- everything from classic folk songs like “500 Miles” and Hank Williams’ “Your Cheating Heart,” to Elvis’ “Don’t Be Cruel” and the Beatles’ “Back in the U.S.S.R.” The group was perhaps most heavily influenced by instrumental rock, and one can hear in Tsoom Hmoob’s music the surf-guitar sound of songs like “Walk Don’t Run” by The Ventures and “Apache” by The Shadows.

Lee and his friends were breaking new ground.  By 1968, Tsoom Hmoob overcame their lack of resources to perform their first concert in front of an audience at a club in Long Tieng. “That was the concert I will remember until I die,” Lee says. “Even though we were only beginners, it was my favorite.”  The milestone presented a new challenge, however; the band had finally made their “own” music, but they still had to earn acceptance from the Hmong community at large. Even more challenging, they had to do so while following more practical pursuits, like getting educated. Through the early 70s, Lee, Lee, Yang, and Yao continued practicing as they graduated from high school and entered the University of Vientiane, the only school in Laos to offer Bachelor’s program, at the time. Lee graduated in 1974 and began working as a college professor of Biology. His future looked bright. “It was right about that time,” he said, “that people finally started to accept our music. And then we had to flee.”

In 1975, Lee packed up what little he could and immigrated to the United States with his family and his young wife. “We assumed our music was finished,” he says, “we had other things to worry about.” Lee was 25 years old by then, and even though he knew how to read and write in English, he found it difficult to communicate verbally. But he wanted to continue teaching and found inspiration in an American film he had seen back in Laos -- To Sir, with Love, a 1967 film starring Sidney Poitier as an African-American teacher who comes to be accepted by a class of Caucasian students. “I thought, ‘It was a challenge for him,’” he recalls, “‘but in the end, they learned to appreciate him. Maybe that’s what happens in the United States.’”

In the years that followed, Lee continued working with children, had four of his own, and watched his children grow up to have children themselves. Despite his humility, there is an obvious glint of pride in his eyes as he speaks of his family; all his children and grandchildren speak both Hmong and English, and many of them play music -- a kind of language in its own right. “Me, I’m stuck in the ‘60’s,” he says, “at a certain point, I couldn’t learn anything new. But I love watching young people. They know how to appreciate and respect the different types of music that are out there, and that will make their music stronger.” He cites artists like The Sounders, Destiny Band, and acoustic guitarist Alain Lee, saying their musical skill far exceeds his own. Alain Lee, he admits, recently travelled to visit him, to play for the elder Lee and to express his thanks for paving the way. “He was the best I’ve heard yet,” Lee says. “Listening to him was a dream come true. I felt unqualified to be considered his teacher.” Still, Alain Lee’s pilgrimage is evidence that Lee Xa’s legacy is very real. “My advice to young Hmong people,” Lee says simply, “is to learn music early. Go to music school. Learn all you can.”

To his apparent surprise, Lee managed to continue playing music well into his adult life. He had several hit songs throughout the ‘80s and ‘90s, one of which was featured as the theme song to a local Hmong children’s show for many years. The other members of Tsoom Hmoob are still at it, too:  Vu Yang plays rhythm guitar in Wisconsin, while Phang Lee and Moua Yao are in California, singing and playing drums, respectively. And although Lee hasn’t performed for about four years (too busy with work and grandkids, he says), he still picks up the guitar when he needs to unwind. “I have a lot of instruments now,” he admits, “to make up for lost time.”

By Maggie Sandford