Preem’s shot at the bigtime was cut short by the pandemic. Thailand’s Mini Heart Girls existed for only nine months in 2020.
“I was 12. I was dancing outside one day, killing time while I was waiting for my mom”, she says. “A talent scout asked if I wanted to attend an audition.”
You can’t help but suspect Preem, 17, has a little ADHD about her as she performs her way into the room. She seems a sunny young woman, with a surplus of likeable personality. Despite this, you notice how thick set she is and her bad dentistry. She seems untypical of the slender milk-skinned beauty standards so prevalent across Asian popular cultures. Yet, she does radiate an undefinable quality.
Thai pop-groups are typically safe bland fluff produced to formula by an autotune Tin Pan Alley. The music is lifestyle affirming. Rebellion, angst and politics are all absent in a country that still imprisons children for criticising the monarchy.
The popular groups are pink-laden cute girls or pretty boys framed against Asia’s hectic consumer culture landscape. This zeitgeist shifts rapidly, containing everything from Blackpink frappuccinos to anime cosplay. There are no emos, goths or protest bands, just a-political doll-like simulacra fresh off the Lolita Express. Yet, product reaches a mass audience of pre-teens and western-educated professionals in Bangkok, Seoul and beyond.
Unsurprisingly, Preem says her life changed immediately after auditions. “Five of us practiced every day after school, from 8 to 10pm and for 6 hours each day at weekends. We had constant instruction in singing and dancing”. She loved every minute of it even though she was not the lead.
Her pop career started promisingly enough. Official promo photos are dated February and March 2020. They debuted in April 2020; two singles were released: ‘Falling in love with you’ and ‘Mini-heart’.
Their videos show a fantasy of girly pink peer groups – all ice-cream and giggles. The pre-teen audience seems obvious. Translated YouTube comments speak to their cuteness and compliment their outfits.
Talking to her, you immediately notice how unclear she is on the details of the date and location of their performances. She describes a promotional tour, appearances broadcast on three Thai networks and in Korea. She communicates a sense of being at the centre of rapid and constant activity. The group seemed to have momentum.
“We were going to be part of Korea’s [pop-idol-like] I-Land show in 2020 but Covid happened”, she says.
And then, nothing. A couple of the girls dropped out. Participation was costing her family surprising amounts of money. “For every 1000 baht we put into it, we made about a 100”, she says. The Mini Heart Girls were finished by December 2020.
Unavoidably, she had to finish high school and decided to do a year in New Zealand. Now, back in Bangkok, she’s thinking about university. Like everyone else in Thailand, she wants to study business and “manage something”. Asked wouldn’t she rather go to stage school, she seems ambivalent as if the topic is taboo.
Yet, she clearly still has performing aspirations. She had a supporting role in Coffee Melody, a drama in Thailand’s popular ‘boy love’ genre, produced by the same company. It debuted in 2022. On the day of our interview, she dressed dramatically having just auditioned for a K-pop group. She wasn’t confident in getting it.
Unsurprisingly for a Gen Z, she’s been trying to influence on YouTube since 2017, even before her pop days. She admits she likes being on camera; she has 547 subscribers. Her most recent posts are about studying for GED and some behind the scenes footage from Coffee Melody.
A commenter on YouTube describes how much they miss the group and their desire for them to make music again. “I know, right? We have fans!”, she says excitedly. It’s obvious how much she enjoys the attention.
Most Thai parents dream of safe dull middle-class lives for their children in respectable careers, and are obsessed with status on an incremental social scale, measured only against the closest neighbours and extended family. Talent is rarely encouraged beyond turning promising mathematicians into accountants, marketers and data analysists. Meeting someone with creative ambitions is so oddly refreshing that you can’t help but hope Preem gets another chance at the big time. Let’s wish her luck.
Lee Russell Wilkes 