• How can musicians keep in touch with their roots while going international? 

For a long time, ‘going global’ in entertainment seemed to come with a fairly predictable formula. Sing in English, make yourself understandable to an American or European audience, and smooth out the cultural references that might require explanation. To become international was, in some ways, to be less specific of your origins. 

Increasingly, some of the world’s biggest artists are challenging that formula. Spanish fills stadiums, Korean songs top international charts, and Thai imagery appears on some of pop music’s biggest stages. Artists who have built careers across borders are not necessarily leaving their local identities behind; in many cases, they are making them more visible.

It is a conversation that feels particularly timely after Rattikarn ‘Nene Royal’ Amloy became the first Thai act to win America’s Got Talent. The Phuket-born singer and guitarist won Season 21 after a run of rock performances, and her victory sparked celebrations back home in Thailand, with Prime Minister Anutin Charnvirakul among those publicly congratulating her.

Distinguishing decoration from genuineness

For Tipnaree Weerawatnodom, who is half Filipino and half Thai and lives in Sri Lanka, seeing artists retain a visible connection to where they come from matters.

“When someone from a country like Thailand succeeds internationally, you immediately feel a little bit of pride,” she told The Sunday Morning Brunch. “It is not necessarily because they are constantly talking about being Thai. Sometimes it is simply seeing someone from where you come from occupying a space where you are not used to seeing them.”

Nene’s case is interesting because her performances themselves are firmly rooted in Western rock music. Her Thai identity does not have to be the genre she performs in to remain part of the story. Global representation can be as simple as someone being able to stand on an international stage without their origins becoming something they need to disguise.

There are numerous other artists who also demonstrate such possibilities, and probably the most global of them all is Lisa of Blackpink. Born Pranpriya Manobal in Thailand and building her career through South Korea’s K-pop industry, Lisa is now a global pop star whose career moves easily between countries, languages, and industries. Yet her recent solo work has increasingly brought Thai identity directly into that global image.

Her 2026 single ‘Sawadika’ takes its title from the familiar Thai greeting ‘sawatdee kha’. Its music video was filmed in Bangkok, while the wider visual campaign has deliberately drawn attention to Thai cultural references. At the 2026 MTV Video Music Awards (VMA), even Lisa’s elaborate manicure referenced the long fingernails associated with traditional Thai dance.

The same evening, she became the first Asian solo artist to win the VMA for Best Pop, receiving the award for ‘Dream’. She began her acceptance speech with “Sawatdee kha” before later performing ‘Sawadika’ during the ceremony.

“I really like that Lisa can be this huge international celebrity and still very deliberately say: ‘I am Thai,’” Tipnaree said. “It isn’t presented like something she has to explain or make easier for everyone else. It is just there.”

That distinction is important. There is a difference between culture being used as decoration and an artist incorporating something that genuinely belongs to their own identity. For audiences who share that background, the smallest details can carry significance precisely because they recognise them without explanation.

Does global still mean English?

Language is perhaps where the tension between international success and local identity becomes most obvious. For decades, English language music has enjoyed enormous advantages in the global commercial music industry. Artists hoping to expand into Western markets have consequently often released English-language songs or English versions of existing tracks.

K-pop has complicated that model. BTS became one of the world’s biggest groups while building much of their catalogue in Korean. The group later released major English-language singles, including ‘Dynamite,’ ‘Butter,’ and ‘Permission to Dance,’ opening another debate among fans about what happens when a distinctly Korean group begins creating music specifically for a wider English-speaking market.

Aadya Karunasinghe, a K-pop fan, admitted she missed hearing more Korean in some of BTS’s internationally targeted releases.

“For me, part of what I loved about K-pop was that I didn’t need to understand every word immediately,” she said. “You looked up translations and learnt things through the music. So when BTS started doing more songs completely in English, I did feel a little disappointed. I understand why they would do it, but I don’t think they needed English to become global.”

The group’s 2026 era has brought that conversation back in another way. BTS titled their fifth studio album ‘Arirang,’ invoking one of Korea’s best known folk traditions, while the group continues to operate at the highest levels of global pop. At the 2026 VMAs, BTS won Song of the Year and Best K-pop for ‘Swim,’ as well as Best Group.

For Aadya, that ability to move between international pop and Korean identity is part of what makes the group interesting. “I don’t expect an artist to stay exactly the same forever,” she said. “But I think there is something powerful about becoming bigger globally and then having even more confidence in where you come from.”

Perhaps the clearest evidence that English is no longer an absolute requirement for global pop success came from Bad Bunny.

The Puerto Rican superstar headlined the Super Bowl LX halftime show in February, becoming the first Latino solo artist to headline the event and delivering a set performed almost entirely in Spanish. The show drew heavily on Puerto Rican and wider Latin cultural imagery and featured Ricky Martin, Lady Gaga, and Puerto Rican plena group Los Pleneros de la Cresta.

Even when the performance was first announced, Bad Bunny explicitly described the moment in terms of “my people, my culture, and our history”.

For Mayuri Pathirana, that is what makes this current generation of international artists particularly interesting.

“We grew up with the idea that if somebody became internationally successful, especially in America, they would eventually have to become more American,” she said. “Now you can have millions of people listening to something in a language they don’t speak. The audience is doing some of the work instead.”

Streaming and social media have undoubtedly helped change that relationship. Listeners can find translations within seconds, discover artists without waiting for local radio stations or record labels to introduce them, and become immersed in entertainment industries operating thousands of kilometres away.

The result is not the disappearance of American cultural influence, but a global audience that has become considerably more accustomed to encountering things it does not immediately understand.

Identity beyond music

This question of specificity is not limited to musicians.

Sri Lankans recently found themselves debating identity after Canadian actor Maitreyi Ramakrishnan publicly reiterated her Tamil-Canadian identity and family roots in Sri Lanka while rejecting the expectation that she personally identify as Sri Lankan. The comments generated considerable backlash online, including a campaign encouraging negative ratings for her 2026 Netflix film ‘Best of the Best’.

Whatever position one takes in the wider argument over labels, Ramakrishnan has also spoken about something more practical: identity changes the stories an actor is capable of representing.

In an interview with Hasan Minhaj, she discussed helping infuse Tamil culture into ‘Best of the Best,’ a Hollywood comedy centred on two friends who join the competitive Bollywood fusion dance scene of the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA). The film was written by Minhaj and Prashanth Venkataramanujam, while Ramakrishnan plays Maya.

It is a useful reminder that ‘South Asian’ itself contains enormous differences. Indian, Sri Lankan, Pakistani, Bangladeshi, and Nepali experiences are not interchangeable; nor are Tamil, Punjabi, Bengali, or dozens of other linguistic and cultural identities contained within the region. Representation becomes more meaningful when those differences are allowed to remain.

“You notice it more when it is something from your own culture,” Mayuri said. “Someone else might think it is a tiny detail, but you know that somebody had to specifically put that there. It tells you that the character isn’t just generically Asian or brown.”

The freedom to be specific

There is, of course, another side to the conversation. Artists should not have to continually perform their nationality to prove that they remain connected to it. A Thai singer does not have to include traditional Thai instruments in every song. BTS can sing in English without becoming less Korean. Bad Bunny could release an English song without somehow surrendering Puerto Rican identity.

Cultural pride can become restrictive when audiences begin demanding a particular version of authenticity from artists.

“I think sometimes fans can become possessive,” Tipnaree said. “We are proud when someone represents us, but that person is also an individual artist. They should be able to experiment without everyone saying they have forgotten where they came from.”

Perhaps that freedom is ultimately what makes the current shift significant.

Globalisation was once frequently imagined as cultures becoming increasingly similar. In entertainment, however, some of its most interesting results have been the opposite. Technology has made it possible for something extremely local to travel extraordinarily far.

A Korean title does not need replacing before it can appear on an international chart. A Puerto Rican artist does not need to abandon Spanish before taking the Super Bowl stage. A Thai pop star can greet an American awards show in Thai. A Tamil-Canadian actor can insist that the specificity of her background matters to the character she plays. And a 16-year-old girl from Phuket can walk onto one of American television’s biggest talent competitions, pick up her guitar, and win the whole thing. 

Going global, it turns out, does not necessarily mean leaving home behind. Increasingly, home is coming along for the ride.