They have had the kind of career most bands can only dream of: songs that have been downloaded more than a billion times, 11 million records sold and thousands of fans in dozens of cities.
But if you have never lived in Denmark or Asia, you may never have heard of Michael Learns to Rock.
The Danish soft rock band broke through in Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines and other parts of Asia in the 1990s. They sang in English about love, longing and loss — think Chicago, but the ballad years — and created a soundtrack for a generation of Asian youth.
Thirty years on, their songs remain karaoke staples in this part of the world. They also have a younger audience — one of their biggest hits, “Take Me To Your Heart,” became a dance challenge on TikTok. They have toured regularly in the region, playing a sold-out concert hall in Medan, the third-largest city in Indonesia, last week as part of an eight-stop Asia tour. A few days earlier, they were in Manila, making concertgoers misty-eyed with their greatest hits.
There, Jascha Richter, the 61-year-old lead singer, spoke to the crowd of 7,500 fans about the band’s journey.
“Since we came to Asia for the first time in ’94, we really felt a special connection to you guys in spite of the distance to Scandinavia, and in spite of the many different cultures here in Asia,” he said. “You really took us to your hearts.”
The audience roared.
“Their music has inspired me from childhood to now,” said Richel Rose Dupit, 39, the president of the band’s fan club in the Philippines, who said they were the only act she’d ever seen live.
Like her, I grew up listening to Michael Learns to Rock, as a child in Singapore. I was reminded of their staying power last year in Indonesia, when I heard a taxi driver listening to their music. The following week, I was on a farm in Bangkok where “Take Me To Your Heart” was blaring. I conducted an informal poll on X: Why do so many people in Southeast Asia love Michael Learns to Rock?
I received an outpouring of explanations. Karaoke. The use of simple lyrics. The easy melodies. Many wanted to share what the band meant to them. An Indonesian man told me that one smash hit, “That’s Why You Go Away,” had been the soundtrack for all his class reunions.
“The true story is really that Asia picked us,” Mr. Richter said.
The band started out in 1988 as a group of high-school buddies in Aarhus, the second-largest city in Denmark. They came up with their name — a tongue-in-cheek reference to Michael Jackson — when they were entering a rock competition.
Initially, they set their sights on England and the United States. But in England, they were quickly rebuffed. Recording companies thought their lyrics were too simple, recalled Mikkel Lentz, the guitarist.
Consider the chorus of “The Actor,” a track from their self-titled debut album that was a hit in Scandinavia:
I’m not an actor,
I’m not a star,
And I don’t even have my own car,
But I’m hoping so much you’ll stay,
That you will love me anyway
“That is not a song that Blur or Oasis would sing,” Mr. Lentz, 55, said.
The band’s three members — originally there were four — describe their success in Asia as a series of lucky twists. They landed a record deal in Los Angeles, but the record company went bankrupt. Their second album tanked in Denmark because grunge was in and pop and soft rock were out.
Then, they received a fax telling them that “The Actor” was a No. 1 hit in Indonesia.
“We had to find a map and see: ‘Where is Indonesia?’” recalled Kare Wanscher, the 55-year-old drummer. “You know, none of us had ever been to Asia before. We were young kids and it was just a very big surprise.”
Agus Syarif Hidayat, an executive at Aquarius Musikindo, a record company in Jakarta, played a part in their success. Short of new material while competitors were releasing music from the likes of Madonna and Bon Jovi, he turned to Michael Learns to Rock.
“When I heard ‘The Actor,’ the lyrics really got me,” he said. “I was a bachelor at that time, so I could relate — my salary was still minimal, I didn’t have a car and I couldn’t treat my girlfriend to an expensive restaurant.”
Soon, word spread to Singapore and Malaysia. By the time the band started their first Asia tour in 1994, they were stars.
In Bangkok, their concert was stopped midway through because so many fans, about 12,000, had turned up that the authorities feared the venue’s floor would give way. In Hanoi, the riot police were deployed because fans duped by fake tickets had climbed in through the windows and the roof.
At a time when few Western acts, with the exception of superstars like Michael Jackson, traveled to the continent to perform, the band was a revelation — and they returned year after year.
They were the first international act to perform in Cambodia after the fall of the Khmer Rouge, and they have played in places as remote as Papua New Guinea.
“I really think we won the lottery with Asia,” said Mr. Lentz. “All our Danish colleagues, they don’t make it outside of Denmark.”
Asked to describe their finances, Mr. Wanscher noted the high tax rates in Scandinavia and said: “We live very comfortably in a very expensive part of the world.”
Many fans said they felt a shared connection to the band with their parents.
In Manila, Orlando Aton, 32, said his late father, who delivered pizzas in Saudi Arabia, had introduced him to Michael Learns to Rock. Listening to their music, Mr. Aton said, is “like my father and me ‘fanboying’ together.”
In Medan, Maria Juli also gave credit to her parents. She cried as she sang along with the band while thinking of her late mother.
“Tonight, it truly brought back old memories,” said Ms. Maria, 32, a kindergarten teacher who came with her two aunts to the concert. “Our voices are hoarse.”
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