Digging for the diaspora with Deb Oh

When browsing through a record store, you'll often find the usual suspects: A mix of rock, jazz, hip hop, and blues records. If you’re lucky, there’s a section for “international” vinyls that span multiple genres in one pile, but it’s frequently scant.

Deb Oh is hoping to change that. She’s the driving force behind Year of the Tiger Records (YOTT), a curated collection of records from Asia, the Pacific, and the diaspora.

“My goal is to build a diverse catalog that allows access to, celebrates, and inspires these rich musical heritages of past, present, and future,” she says on her website.

Her work in sync licensing for advertising, background as a classically trained pianist (who “barely practiced” and would learn everything by ear), and singing and songwriting chops, which shine in songs by her band Deb Oh & the Cavaliers, have also played roles in the creation of YOTT.

We chatted with Oh over email about what inspired her to create YOTT, where she sources her records, and her partnership with Yu and Me Books, a bookstore based in Chinatown, NY that focuses on books by POC authors and immigrant stories.

What is your earliest memory of listening to music?

I technically don’t remember doing this, but I memorized the entire Sound of Music soundtrack when I was three years old and performed it for my parents when they came home from work one day—they got me piano lessons pretty soon after that. My own memories around music start around age 8 or 9. I was (and still am) really into all the diva vocalists like Celine Dion and Mariah Carey.

What inspired you to start Year of the Tiger Records?

A few years ago I had the realization that even as someone whose personal and professional life has been steeped in music, I had such little knowledge around music from Asia and the diaspora—both historical and contemporary. So it was mainly this personal curiosity that became the seed from which YOTT would sprout, and wanting to do as much legwork as I could to create access for others. Another big factor came from my wondering how my own journey as an artist and songwriter years ago would have been different if I had seen and heard more representation, or had more touch points of musical context and history, so this project has been a healing process for younger me too.

Why focus on vinyl from Asia, the Pacific, and the diaspora?

I’ve had little to no luck finding such vinyl represented in U.S. record stores, which I found frustrating because I don’t think [it] reflects a lack of interest from music/vinyl consumers, but rather a lack of access. So I wanted to build a collection that allows access to and celebrates these rich musical heritages, as well as the incredibly vibrant soundscape of current artists across these regions and the diaspora.

Where did the name come from?

Year of the Tiger represents the birth years of myself, my mother, both my grandmothers, and this record collection; so on that level, I love harnessing this powerful matrilineal energy. But more broadly speaking, the name embodies the resilience and inspiration handed down through generations, and reflects YOTT’s mission to highlight the importance of cultural connection and empowerment through music.

Having been a musician, songwriter, music supervisor and music curator, how has your experience helped you when creating Year of the Tiger Records?

One of the neat things about this project is that it really feels like *all* of my experience on both the artist and industry side of things has informed how I approach it. I have lived experience in how community and representation (or the lack thereof) can impact an artist’s journey, and that drives me to help build community, both for AAPI artists as well as people looking to learn more about music from Asia and the diaspora.

Music supervision and curation go hand in hand. It’s all about expanding my breadth of knowledge around as many different genres/eras of music, balancing my own taste against the tastes of others, helming the projects (in my lane, mostly commercials), and engaging in lots of creative problem-solving. It’s humbling to think about how much music I’ve consumed over the years for my work, and knowing that I’ve barely scratched the surface of what’s out there. That insatiable curiosity definitely transfers over to YOTT.

You’re also behind Debop, a music concierge service. How has creating Debop influenced your work on Year of the Tiger?

Debop and YOTT are sisters. They share the same DNA of wanting to spark meaningful and personal music discovery. They both also rely on liner notes and blurbs that help contextualize the music. Debop does this on an individual song level that’s hyper-personalized for each playlist and based on a questionnaire; for YOTT, I print out blurbs that include some info and context about the artist and album. The main difference between the two is that Debop is totally digital. And maybe as a result of that, I’ve really loved focusing on the in-person aspect of YOTT.

As of now, the only way to buy a record from the collection is to either visit Yu and Me Books or come to a pop-up. My favorite part of pop-ups has been getting to preview some of the records for folks. Seeing their reactions, hearing the music, and chatting with them about it is always the highlight.

How do you source your vinyl?

It’s a patchwork effort! I spend a lot of time scouring the internet for rare/used records, work directly with a growing network of labels and distributors to source newer vinyl and re-releases, and I collaborate with other amazing curators who specialize in regions/genres, including @therecordwala and @tokyocondition (and shoutout @latingoldrecords who will often hit me up if he comes across any vinyl that might work for YOTT as well)! All of these connections have come about organically through lots of conversations with folks who are then kind enough to recommend or link me up with the next person.

Is there an elusive album you’ve been hoping to find?

There’s a record I found, sold, and now want to find again: the Kim Sisters’ first album. It was one of the first records I acquired for the collection and though I know it ended up in the right hands, I’m hoping to find a copy for my own collection!

What’s something interesting you’ve learned while managing Year of the Tiger?

When I started YOTT, I was really curious about who the demographic of record buyers might be, given the industry as a whole still seems to skew older, white and male. But so far, the interest in vinyl—or at least this collection—has been younger and more diverse, which DELIGHTS ME and really inspires me to keep going.

What has it been like partnering with Yu and Me Books?

An absolute dream. Yu and Me was a huge inspiration behind YOTT, so when I reached out to Lucy and her team last year to propose our first pop-up, it meant so much to me that they were immediately so welcoming and supportive. We’ve then just kept the convo going, and in addition to the YOTT section that I’m curating for the store, we’re having fun brainstorming ways to collaborate further!

What are your plans for Year of the Tiger Records’ future?

At the moment, just working on taking baby steps (literally and figuratively) and continuing to experiment with the setup at Yu and Me Books, while thinking about how to build artist and listener communities that align with YOTT’s mission, either through more pop-ups, events, partnerships, etc. I’m so excited for all that’s ahead!

. . .

Here are Deb Oh’s 12 songs, and a disclaimer from Oh: “I approached this as an exercise of choosing songs that have been formative throughout my life, so it leans heavily into songs from my childhood/teens/early adulthood, rather than newer artists and recent discoveries (I feel like I had to include that disclaimer because there's nothing I love more than discovering new artists!!)”

This is the first song I can remember being *instantly* hooked on after hearing it on the radio as a kid, and desperately needing to hear again. It’s a perfect pop chorus in how much of an earworm it is, but I love how the music conveys emotional complexity too. Even without understanding the deeper subject matter of the song at the time, I was still drawn to that bittersweet feeling and sound. In fact, I think that’s the thread between most of the music I’ve always gravitated towards—having that balance of happy and sad, of longing, saudade (I’ve never met a seventh chord I didn’t love). 

If I had to choose an album equivalent of my origin story, this would be the one. Growing up, there weren't a lot of records or CDs in the house, so my access to music discovery was pretty much limited to radio (pre-Internet life, y’all). But one day, a family friend either gifted or left Celine Dion’s “Falling Into You” CD at our place and it became my gateway to a lifelong love of pop diva vocalists (along with killer melodies, capital-B Bridges, and well-timed key changes). Also, remember “VH1 Divas”?? My kingdom for a reboot of that special. 

My first exposure to K-pop was in middle school. I remember living in what felt like two very different yet similar music worlds in being obsessed with both the Spice Girls and S.E.S back then. I could recognize how much S.E.S's sound was influenced by American pop, but the fact that they sang in Korean blew my mind. And zooming out, the history of K-pop is a unique example of how a genre’s evolution is in constant dialogue with broader political or geopolitical landscapes (this topic is basically the Venn diagram of my political science degree and music nerd-dom, so I easily could go on but will stop here for now!). 

Sang this song all the time with my dad when I was a kid, and until recently I thought that his love of John Denver was an idiosyncratic one—but as it turns out, Denver's music resonated with a lot of Asian immigrants of my dad's generation. So from a cultural standpoint, this song illustrates how the music we’re exposed to is rarely random or part of a vacuum (and again, often intrinsically tied to larger cultural/political contexts). From a musical standpoint, this chorus also has that bittersweet one-two punch I live for: the minor dip of “to the plaaaace” that launches you into the euphoric “I beloooong” is perfection (it's even better when you’re belting it with a big group at karaoke). I also have to shout out this beautiful cover by Mountain Man, which lives on a playlist that my husband and I now have on rotation for our baby daughter. The tradition lives on! 


So much of my own songwriting was kickstarted in high school by listening to a lot of piano-driven singer songwriters like Norah Jones, Fiona Apple, Tori Amos, and especially Sarah McLachlan. Her strength-in-vulnerability songwriting resonated so strongly with me and all of my Big Feelings back then. I finally saw her in concert for the first time a few months ago at Radio City; it also happened to be my first postpartum concert outing, and such a fitting one. Hearing and seeing Sarah (and Feist, who opened for her) embody the balance of motherhood in all its different stages alongside creative life was so affirming. 

The first artist to make me truly marvel at the dexterity and capabilities of the human voice as an instrument. She made the impossible sound effortless. Somewhere in my parents’ home is a recording I did of this song when I was in high school. I’m making it a mission to find it, if only for a good laugh at hearing myself trying to imitate Ella's phrasing and runs. 

If Sarah McLachlan was my high-school songwriting muse, Feist was most definitely my college-era one. And as much as I can talk at length about specific songs I love, I also deeply admire how fluid, curious, and ever-evolving her artistry is across her discography. On release day for Metals, I got to be part of a small audience as she performed the album in the crypt of a church in Harlem, with full band and orchestral ensemble. To this day, it’s one of my absolute favorite, most magical live music experiences ever. 


For better or worse, I’m not a super emotional music listener. I can count on one hand the number of times that a song has made me cry during the first listen, but I still remember getting weepy the first time I heard this song. It’s a marriage of songwriting craft and performance at the highest—almost divine—level. If we ever create another Golden Record to launch into space, this would absolutely have to be on it.

Harmonies make my world go 'round, and they’ve always come naturally to me (unlike sight-reading, which I can still barely do despite all those years of piano lessons). For that reason, CSN scratches that specific itch in my brain and I picked this song specifically for the “I’ve got an answer / I’m going to fly away” harmony section which is just *chef’s kiss*.

Phoenix has been one of my favorite bands since their Alphabetical album. Their music has soundtracked so much of my life, and it was amazing to see their insane trajectory after Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix came out. This album felt like an instant classic the moment it was released. Listening back now, there’s an urgency mixed with cool bittersweetness (there it is again) that felt like it really struck a collective chord back then. 

Robin Pecknold is such an unique songwriter, and Fleet Foxes is a really formative group for me. Each of their albums shine in their own way, but this is the song that first drew me in; the writing and production feels expansive, epic, and intimate all at once—and never predictable. A few years ago, I took a songwriting course that Robin taught (shoutout School of Song.They offer lots of amazing workshops and foster an incredible community), and it felt like a full-circle moment in getting a glimpse into his writing process and in turn, rekindling my own songwriting. 


This one’s a two-fer. Dylan’s songwriting, re-imagined by Nina. The beauty of a great cover—one that walks the line of preserving the integrity of the original while revolutionizing it at the same time. I used to cover this version (a cover of a cover?) with my band at a lot of our shows, and it was always a blast to perform.