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by Alexandra Mansilla

Sharing Sri Lankan Culture Globally. Interview With Beverney Shane

18 Jul 2024

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If you are into underground parties in the UAE, you have probably heard of Beverney Shane — a Dubai-based creative with Sri Lankan roots. I discovered him through his amazing piece on ROADBOOK, "A Guide to Dubai’s Underground Music Scene," and thought, wow, we need to talk to this guy! We chatted about his Sri Lankan heritage, the music scenes in Dubai and Sri Lanka, and how these two worlds sound. At the end of our interview, there is a surprise: Beverney curated one of IKEA's rooms specifically for those who live with pets. Oh, and meet Nova, Beverney's cat (he calls her his brand strategist).
— Can you tell me a bit about your past and your childhood? You have Sri Lankan roots, but you were born and raised in Dubai, right?
— Yes, I was born and raised in Dubai in 1991. I grew up around so many cultures, calling myself Sri Lankan, but I didn't really have any connection to it. I tried to understand what it meant to be Sri Lankan from my parents, but it wasn't enough. Then, I moved back to Sri Lanka for six or seven years and returned to Dubai.
— So, you went to Sri Lanka to learn more about your roots?
— I went there to the university and thought I could kill two birds with one stone. I wanted to get in touch with my culture, learn more about my identity as a Sri Lankan, and do something different and humbling. I understood Sri Lanka through friends, family, or what I read online, and I wanted my narrative and experiences to understand it better.
People would always ask, "So where is home for you?" There is no one-size-fits-all answer. Personally, I think home is where you contribute to the most. I always wanted to create my own sense of home.
— How did you feel there?
— I had never lived there before, so I was experiencing my motherland or home country as a foreigner. The more time I spent and the more people I met, the more I understood what it meant to be Sri Lankan. But I always faced the issue: I felt too Dubai for Sri Lanka and too Sri Lankan for Dubai. That was a good challenge, but I think I found a balance.
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Photo: Beverney's personal archive

— Which university did you choose?
— I went to Northwood University and studied international business there. I was initially going to do accounting but moved away from finance and went into international business instead.
— You were raised in Karama. Can you share some memories of this place?
— Yes, Karama is where I was born and raised. A lot has changed, but there is still a part of Karama where I can put my hand on the street and feel its pulse. There are still people I know there. For example, I can go to a restaurant I visited 20 years ago, and the owner will greet me and say, "Oh, hello! How’re you? You’re from Al-Futaim building 111; that Sri Lankan family I used to deliver food to! How’s your family doing?"
It is a little nostalgic and emotional because they are not family, but they have become part of this societal ecosystem. I can go to the fish market, and the vendor will ask, "Where's your mother? Why haven't I seen her in so long?" I tell him she is in Sri Lanka and that I will let her know to visit him next time. They still have the same conversations and attitudes as before.
I have memories attached to Karama, but I know I can't hold on too tightly because it has changed so much. So, I try to go whenever I can and document places, capturing these moments in time before they are gone. Many buildings and restaurants have changed, and it has become more commercial, which is normal and fine. But some of the people still remain the same.
— How would you describe Karama 30 years ago and Karama now?
— It was definitely more sparse back then — fewer buildings, less crowded. We didn't have many parks; we had one, but we would often play football in parking lots. We made the most of what we had. Karama has changed in terms of how dense and busy it has gotten, but I feel like the people are still the same. They are still trying to make it to Dubai, pursuing their dreams.
Maybe I am romanticising old Dubai, but while Karama has changed visually, the people haven't changed as much. There is still a sense of intimacy, community, familyhood, and kinship among the people there. The people are what make Karama what it is.
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Karama. Photo: Beverney's personal archive

— How did it all start with music?
— I have always been interested in it. My mom is a piano teacher, and my dad is a violin player. But I couldn't pick up instruments because I didn't have the discipline.
I can read and understand music, and I am currently trying to practice the piano as much as I can. I need to get back into that. I always grew up around music and sounds. Growing up in Dubai, it was hard to find authentic sounds or music that wasn't heavily curated. There are so many clubs here, but they focus more on the commercial side of music, and I never related to it. I felt it was disconnected from what music should be — feeling the environment, the sounds, and the people around you.
When I was younger, you had to be 21 and above to go to clubs, so we used fake IDs to get into smaller, underground places. I did this not to get drunk or get involved with the wrong crowd but just to be there and listen to music and support something different. I remember small parties with 30 to 50 people where they played glitch hop, which is not a genre you would typically find in Dubai. Back then, I thought it was so different and exciting, and I wanted to go listen and support it.
I believe in supporting people who are doing something different and creating something new in the city. Why not just go listen to them and show support? Supporting people is a really underrated aspect of music and party culture. So, I started doing that, and then I began finding different communities here in Dubai and Sri Lanka.
When I moved back to Sri Lanka, it really opened my mind to how you can create your own sound and have your own identity through music. I had a lot more exposure there. In Sri Lanka, because people were so suppressed and lacked the freedom to create, they ended up creating even more, and it was more powerful. When you tell someone not to do something, they are definitely going to do it. That is what I experienced there.
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— Why do they lack the freedom to create?
— Back then, it was more of a cultural issue, with the priorities being to go to school and become a doctor, lawyer, or engineer. Spending time on the arts was seen as a waste, something that wouldn't get you anywhere in life. However, I felt the need for people to voice their concerns through art was much stronger in Sri Lanka, especially right after the 30-year civil war was over.
It was a different experience seeing people united through art movements in Sri Lanka. That opened my mind to the strength of how art can unify people. It can bring strangers into a room and get them aligned on the meaning of a song or the feelings evoked through music and sounds. I feel like that is where most of my growth in music came from.
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Sri Lanka. Photo: Beverney's personal archive

— So, you began exploring communities in Sri Lanka. How could you describe them?
— At the time, the grassroots level in Sri Lanka had barely anything to work with. They could hardly get proper equipment. Some places managed, but it was interesting to see how they would just find a corner somewhere, set up, and tell everyone, "Hey, next week we’re having a little jam session here, a little party here. Come through." It would be around 50 people max, but the quality of the sounds and the curation was genuine and authentic. It wasn’t mainstream; it was about personal expression and identity. That rawness allowed me to see how a person’s normal life translated into their sounds, and it really influenced me a lot.
— You have written an article about Dubai’s underground techno music scene, and you listed different collectives. How can you describe the scene in general?
— The problem with Dubai is that, unlike in other countries, you don't have specific locations where different generations have gathered and partied over the years. In other places, you might hear stories like, "Oh, we partied under that bridge in the 1970s and 1980s," and new generations continue to use those same spots.
The party culture here is different; it exists primarily online, and the communities are online, too. There are only a handful of places in Dubai, maybe four or five, where new parties start, and they try to figure out how to evolve from there. Secta does a good job finding a small space, DIY-ing it, bootstrapping, and testing it out. But again, most of their community is on Instagram, filtering out the crowd. Analog Room and Boogie Box are some old places that have been around for more than 20 years.
Dubai has always had underground communities, but the quality control wasn't great because they were in their own bubble and didn't benchmark against bigger festivals. For example, the quality of sounds at events like Sonar or Primavera Sound is hard to match here. There are one or two events in Dubai that reach that level. It is challenging to start underground communities here, and they usually max out at 50 to 100 people.
However, Secta is starting a new wave of underground culture and doing a good job of evolving it. They are creating a travelling label, playing in places like Georgia and Kazakhstan. It is a very modern concept, balancing physical spaces with the digital realm. It is really interesting and cool to observe.
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Photo: Beverney's personal archive

— You like visiting abandoned places. What do you feel or what do you think about when you are there?
— I like to romanticise or dream about who lived there before and what their emotions and attachments to the location were. There are many buildings being torn down, so I try to visit these old apartments and see what kind of memories people might have had in these spaces.
Sometimes, I visit old abandoned places I am familiar with, like Lamcy Plaza, one of Karama's first malls. I remember going there with my mom a lot. It is abandoned now, but I spoke to the security guard, and he agreed to take me on a tour.
I like visiting these empty spaces to imagine the past and dream about the future. I hope we can build a culture in the UAE where we don't have to destroy everything but can repurpose things instead. Not everything has to be new and flashy or filled with the latest gadgets. There is beauty in repurposing things and bringing life into something old and renewing it.
— If you had a chance to organise a party, which place would you choose?
— I love speakeasies and intimate spaces, and I am a big fan of listening bars because they offer a balance between dancing and simply enjoying the music. You can sit down if you want to and party mindfully if that makes sense.
That is one of the projects I am working on — a listening bar in Sri Lanka.
— Wait, you live in Dubai and are launching a bar in Sri Lanka?
— Yes, that is right. I am trying my best — that is all we can do, haha. I think this started from my Sri Lankan cultural side. In Sri Lanka, we have a huge problem with brain drain, where all our best talent is leaving the country, leaving little for Sri Lankans to own, be proud of, or have, except for the country itself. Right now, there is a movement among Sri Lankans who grew up abroad to move back and start Sri Lankan-first projects.
For example, Bloom Record Bar, the record bar we are working on, features Sri Lankan vinyl, Sri Lankan tapas, and Sri Lankan-inspired cocktails made from various Ayurvedic ingredients and indigenous plants. Even though I grew up here, I am proud of my Sri Lankan heritage and want to celebrate it. My two friends and I are creating this project down south in Ahangama.
Currently, there are no significant Sri Lankan projects down south due to foreign investment. Many people say it is the next Bali, with a lot of foreigners in Sri Lanka. It is a big problem, and a few Sri Lankan business owners, including us, are trying to solve it. In the area where we have the bar, there are around 60-70 foreign-owned businesses and fewer than ten Sri Lankan businesses. This project comes straight from our hearts. We want to share Sri Lankan culture with the rest of the world, but we want to do it right.
We are having a soft launch for family and close friends, but it is officially coming in November. So yeah, stay tuned.
— And would you like to launch something Sri Lankan in Dubai?
— Yes, ultimately, I am trying to do it in the most feasible way possible. Launching directly in Dubai would be too much of a financial burden, so I am starting in Sri Lanka. I am using what I have learned from Secta and other parties in Dubai, leveraging our digital connectivity to create a travelling restaurant concept. We aim to have pop-ups in different countries to showcase Sri Lankan culture the way it should be.
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Photo: Beverney's personal archive

— By the way, you have a full-time job, too. What is it?
— I am working as a senior social media manager in Ogilvy. It is fun because I get to wake clients up and say, "Listen, you're doing things the wrong way." There are so many grassroots movements that they need to work with. A lot of my projects involve taking localised insights or cultures and giving them a voice with big brands. I try to get big brands to support local grassroots movements.
I have done this with one of the oldest cafeterias in Dubai and historical sites in Dubai. I like to conceptualise local values and cultural norms to create off-kilter and inclusive moments accessible to everyone. It is a human-first approach.
— So, you are working in Ogilvy, DJing, and opening Bloom Record Bar. I think I missed something.
— I am involved in photography, videography, helping friends with their businesses, DJing, and documenting Dubai through sound and audio.
— How do you document Dubai through audio?
— In my last project with Sukatoyo and Analog Amigos, we documented Dubai visually and through audio clips. We captured sounds from empty spaces, like the hum of a fan from someone's AC, and incorporated them into the ambient mix. This mix included sounds from Karama, Deira, and Bur Dubai, creating an immersive experience that reflects the unique auditory landscape of these areas.
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Sukatoyo and Beverney Shane

— When you think about Dubai, what sound comes to your mind?
— It is definitely cars, but I feel like it has two layers. On the surface level, you have a very big city with cars honking, lots of footsteps on the street, and people talking at coffee shops. But underneath all that, there is a more feminine, gentle side with more intimate sounds if you really pay attention. There is stillness in Dubai; you just have to dig deep to find it.
I feel like those are the more genuine sounds of Dubai — whether it is the sounds of people in old restaurants that are somewhat empty but still kept alive by regular patrons or the sounds of people airing their clothes on their rooftops. So yeah, there are two sides to it.
— And when you think about Sri Lanka?
— For me, Sri Lanka is definitely characterised by the sound of waves crashing on the shore and the trains. It is also about the sense of community and hospitality. If there were a sound of people smiling, I would associate that with Sri Lanka for sure because that is our first instinct whenever we see someone we don't know — we smile.
— What projects do you want to announce?
— Bloom Record Bar is something I am quite passionate about because I am trying to take Sri Lankan culture and find a middle ground that the outside world will understand while still keeping that authentic Sri Lankan element.
And also, IKEA collaboration. They were looking for people in the UAE with specific requirements like living in a studio, having a pet, and more. The campaign is called "Made by You". I managed to fit the profile they were looking for, and they selected me to curate one of the rooms, creating a small creative space for someone who is an artist with a cat and various art styles they are exploring. It is pretty cool! They will be featuring it in the IKEA catalogue, which they are printing for the first time in four or five years here.
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Beverney Shane x IKEA

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