How the Philippines helps make or break Aussie pop stars overseas
'I pay attention because it's generally an indication it will go wider,' says Ong, an Australian who rose through the ranks of streaming giant Spotify to become its global head of editorial. 'If it's pop and it's doing well in the Philippines, it usually spreads and grows from there.'
Larissa Lambert's Cardio is a good example: that track was embraced in the Philippines before it took off in the US and UK, while artists such as Grentperez and Keenan Te have also enjoyed massive success in that country. Indeed, Aussie acts racked up more than 140 million streams in the Philippines in March alone, making it the fastest-growing market for our homegrown pop.
This is one of the insights from Spotify's inaugural Global Impact Report, which documents the booming popularity of Australian music overseas.
In the four years to March 2025, the total number of streams by local artists in international markets grew by 37 per cent, placing Australia among Spotify's top 10 global music exporters.
Leading the list of most-played songs by Australian musicians – including those featuring a local guest artist – are I Know Love by Tate McRae and The Kid Laroi; Beautiful People by David Guetta and Sia; and Dreamin by Daya and Dom Dolla. Other prominent Australians to make the cut include Troye Sivan, Dean Lewis and Kylie Minogue.
'Australia's geographic isolation used to be seen as a disadvantage,' Ong says. 'But I actually think it's an advantage now because it's allowed a younger generation of artists – who feel connected through social media and technology – to want to replicate not just what they're seeing in the US and UK, but the many different cultures and artists from around the world. The quality of Australian music is of an international standard, and that's why it's resonating with audiences everywhere.'
The dominance of pop music in the Philippines – where artists such as Minogue, Guy Sebastian and Missy Higgins each have loyal followings – helps explain that country's influence on the global music scene. It's a similar story in Brazil, where dance music is enormously popular: in March, Brazilians streamed Australian songs more than 200 million times.
While Germany and Canada also account for a high proportion of Australian music streams, the UK and US remain the biggest markets thanks to their large, English-speaking populations. But the picture is more complex than it was a decade ago.
'In 2014, the import-export channels were largely the US and UK,' Ong says. 'Now, it looks more like those airline route maps, where you see all the lines going back and forth between the different countries. The fact that Australian artists are being listened to in markets they wouldn't have traditionally reached, especially non-Anglo markets, is really due to the 'no borders' streaming policy at Spotify.'
Of course, this policy also means Australians can consume as much international music as they wish. According to a report by research company Luminate, local acts comprise just 9.2 per cent of streamed music in Australia – while in India and Japan, 70 per cent of streams come from their own artists. And the proportion of Australian and New Zealand acts in the ARIA top 100 chart has fallen from 16 per cent between 2000 and 2016 to just 2.5 per cent in 2023.
It's an issue that various ministers and music bodies have debated, with some questioning whether streamers should be required to feature Australian acts more prominently on their platforms.
'There are consequences that need to be thought through,' Ong says. 'If every country adopts a cap [on the promotion of foreign artists in order to boost local performers], it will have an impact on international growth. Australia has a small population, so there's a ceiling there. What we're hearing from artists is that being able to have an international audience and a touring career outside of Australia is very important to them.'
Given the decline in sales of physical music formats, which has reduced the income of many artists, should Spotify increase its royalty payments?
Loading
'I was there when peer-to-peer file sharing [became popular two decades ago] and I saw the decline of recorded music,' Ong says. 'That has been completely reversed by streaming, and the royalty payouts have never been higher … we paid US$10 billion to rights-holders in 2024 and US$5 billion of that went to independent artists and labels. But there is a misconception about the payouts – because we pay directly to rights-holders, we don't have control over how a major label or publisher decides to split that money with their artists.'
Born in the UK to a Persian mother and Chinese father, Ong and her family spent time in Iran before fleeing the 1978-79 revolution. Eventually, they settled in Australia, where Ong studied music at Western Sydney University.
'I had two passions as a child: music and technology,' she says. 'I was told I'd have to focus on one or the other, but I didn't really buy that. I always felt they'd converge at some point.'
Each day, Ong – who has a team of 130 music editors reporting to her – makes a point of switching off her phone's notifications, lying on the floor and listening to music for at least three hours. It's a process she believes is essential to help discover and promote new artists, despite Spotify's use of artificial intelligence to recommend songs to its users.
'When you've got AI and machine learning, human taste is even more important,' she says. 'AI is very good at scraping data and finding patterns, but what if there's no data, like when you have a brand-new artist? That's why we've never had a reduction in the size of our editorial team.'
Could Spotify do more to promote Australian music?
'As an industry, we have to do more across the board,' Ong says. 'It's concerning that smaller venues are disappearing because they're important for artists to get a foothold and hone their craft. If you look at markets like Korea, where they're strong not just in music but in TV and film, their government invested in a 20-year strategy because they believed that with the right support, their entertainment could be commercially viable and internationally successful – and they were right.'
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles

Sydney Morning Herald
29 minutes ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
A couple visiting Ho Jiak looked around in confusion. I can see why
Previous SlideNext Slide On a recent weeknight, a young couple was ushered into the spacious dining room at Ho Jiak Junda's Playground, Sydney chef Junda Khoo's Malaysian fine-diner. The restaurant sits in the middle of his ambitious three-storey complex − his first foray into Melbourne − in a laneway off Bourke Street in the CBD. Jaunty piano jazz played a little too loudly in a room that was brighter than you might expect for an upscale venue. The space is encircled by windows covered in drapes made of gold netting, set against light wood tables and brown banquettes. Female waitstaff wear black brocade cheongsam dresses. The young couple looked around, quizzically. 'This is the main restaurant?' the man asked his waitress. She explained that there were three: fast casual Da Bao on the ground floor, Ho Jiak in the middle, and beer hall Ho Liao upstairs. 'I think we meant to book that,' the man said. 'We were expecting something a little more lively.' They took a minute to peruse the menu, then decided to move the party upstairs. Which is a shame, because there's some truly delicious food to be had at Ho Jiak. But at the same time, I get it. There's something a little stiff about the feel of the place, of the nervous-seeming servers trying to find the wine you've ordered on their iPads, of the bright lighting and gold netting and tiled flooring. The menu is organised in familiar brackets – bites, entrees, mains, sides – and there are currently a bunch of truffle additions to the main offering. The most fun to be had is with the dishes where Khoo takes a Malaysian staple and throws a spanner in the works: warm, comforting curry puffs with a slurry of Stilton cheese for dipping or smearing (yes, it works). Rendang with stretchy roti, accompanied by two fat bones full of quivering marrow. The laksa bombs – chicken and prawn dumplings in a rich laksa broth with fistfuls of bean sprouts – are a signature at his Sydney CBD restaurant for a reason, delicate and bold, perfectly balanced. Some dishes are more creative, like a lovely slice of silken raw kingfish draped across a shiso leaf, then topped with pineapple salsa and a tamarind-heavy granita that mimics assam laksa. And some are traditional dishes with luxe ingredients thrown in, like a sticky rice with foie gras that accompanies rock lobster, or char kwai teow with a smattering of hand-picked mud crab that adds a sweet pop to the familiar noodles. Vegemite has long been known to Australian cooks as a vector for umami, and Khoo cleverly thinks to use it as a sauce for Angus beef short-ribs. But the result is a little too glossy, a little too much like the stuff you get at fast-food restaurants, not quite elegant enough to justify the $58 price tag. Other things felt wonky, too. I had two cocktails, both very pretty and very sweet (which I expected, given ingredients like lychee), that arrived almost warm – room temperature at best. On the other hand, white wine is served extremely cold, which is a pity because the selection is great. Of course, you can ask to keep it off ice; of course, this is a small quibble. But details matter in a setting like this. It's an easy (and insidious) trap to fall into, to profess that Asian food works best in more casual venues, or that Australian diners don't understand or want upscale Asian cooking. (It's also just not true, as a little spot you may have heard of called Flower Drum exists to prove, among others.) But any restaurant with luxury aspirations has multiple hurdles to clear, food being only one of them. A huge part of the fine-dining experience is being immersed in a space that feels magical, with service that's smooth. Vibe is not everything, but it certainly is important at the higher end of dining. As it stands, the vibe and service at Ho Jiak are a bit too reminiscent of an '80s hotel restaurant. I can't tell if that's intentional or not, but it doesn't come across as nostalgic, just weirdly out of date. Khoo ought to be commended for putting this kind of thought, investment and care into a temple for Malaysian food, and it is absolutely time that we had a restaurant that spoke to the higher ambitions of this cuisine. Unfortunately, being the first often means that you're the practice pancake, one that others learn from. My gut tells me that Ho Jiak needs to be more fun, more slick, a little darker, a little sexier, a little less corporate feeling – or at least a few of those things – to truly hit its mark.

The Age
29 minutes ago
- The Age
A couple visiting Ho Jiak looked around in confusion. I can see why
Previous SlideNext Slide On a recent weeknight, a young couple was ushered into the spacious dining room at Ho Jiak Junda's Playground, Sydney chef Junda Khoo's Malaysian fine-diner. The restaurant sits in the middle of his ambitious three-storey complex − his first foray into Melbourne − in a laneway off Bourke Street in the CBD. Jaunty piano jazz played a little too loudly in a room that was brighter than you might expect for an upscale venue. The space is encircled by windows covered in drapes made of gold netting, set against light wood tables and brown banquettes. Female waitstaff wear black brocade cheongsam dresses. The young couple looked around, quizzically. 'This is the main restaurant?' the man asked his waitress. She explained that there were three: fast casual Da Bao on the ground floor, Ho Jiak in the middle, and beer hall Ho Liao upstairs. 'I think we meant to book that,' the man said. 'We were expecting something a little more lively.' They took a minute to peruse the menu, then decided to move the party upstairs. Which is a shame, because there's some truly delicious food to be had at Ho Jiak. But at the same time, I get it. There's something a little stiff about the feel of the place, of the nervous-seeming servers trying to find the wine you've ordered on their iPads, of the bright lighting and gold netting and tiled flooring. The menu is organised in familiar brackets – bites, entrees, mains, sides – and there are currently a bunch of truffle additions to the main offering. The most fun to be had is with the dishes where Khoo takes a Malaysian staple and throws a spanner in the works: warm, comforting curry puffs with a slurry of Stilton cheese for dipping or smearing (yes, it works). Rendang with stretchy roti, accompanied by two fat bones full of quivering marrow. The laksa bombs – chicken and prawn dumplings in a rich laksa broth with fistfuls of bean sprouts – are a signature at his Sydney CBD restaurant for a reason, delicate and bold, perfectly balanced. Some dishes are more creative, like a lovely slice of silken raw kingfish draped across a shiso leaf, then topped with pineapple salsa and a tamarind-heavy granita that mimics assam laksa. And some are traditional dishes with luxe ingredients thrown in, like a sticky rice with foie gras that accompanies rock lobster, or char kwai teow with a smattering of hand-picked mud crab that adds a sweet pop to the familiar noodles. Vegemite has long been known to Australian cooks as a vector for umami, and Khoo cleverly thinks to use it as a sauce for Angus beef short-ribs. But the result is a little too glossy, a little too much like the stuff you get at fast-food restaurants, not quite elegant enough to justify the $58 price tag. Other things felt wonky, too. I had two cocktails, both very pretty and very sweet (which I expected, given ingredients like lychee), that arrived almost warm – room temperature at best. On the other hand, white wine is served extremely cold, which is a pity because the selection is great. Of course, you can ask to keep it off ice; of course, this is a small quibble. But details matter in a setting like this. It's an easy (and insidious) trap to fall into, to profess that Asian food works best in more casual venues, or that Australian diners don't understand or want upscale Asian cooking. (It's also just not true, as a little spot you may have heard of called Flower Drum exists to prove, among others.) But any restaurant with luxury aspirations has multiple hurdles to clear, food being only one of them. A huge part of the fine-dining experience is being immersed in a space that feels magical, with service that's smooth. Vibe is not everything, but it certainly is important at the higher end of dining. As it stands, the vibe and service at Ho Jiak are a bit too reminiscent of an '80s hotel restaurant. I can't tell if that's intentional or not, but it doesn't come across as nostalgic, just weirdly out of date. Khoo ought to be commended for putting this kind of thought, investment and care into a temple for Malaysian food, and it is absolutely time that we had a restaurant that spoke to the higher ambitions of this cuisine. Unfortunately, being the first often means that you're the practice pancake, one that others learn from. My gut tells me that Ho Jiak needs to be more fun, more slick, a little darker, a little sexier, a little less corporate feeling – or at least a few of those things – to truly hit its mark.

Courier-Mail
2 hours ago
- Courier-Mail
Live review: Kita Alexander leaves her mark on Perth with intimate set
Don't miss out on the headlines from Music Tours. Followed categories will be added to My News. Research emerged last year that found that streaming platforms with their algorithmic recommendations have created a monoculture dominated by US and UK artists, leaving very little room for homegrown talent to truly flourish. As so many artists are getting lost in the mix, now and again someone with such discernible talent comes along that they just can't be ignored; and that's Kita Alexander. She's been kicking around for a decade now, working hard to cement her position as an indie darling in Australia and capturing the attention of US pop star Madison Beer and UK pop diva Dua Lipa, who both asked her to support them on tour. Aussie artist Kita Alexander. Aussie artists' desperate plea for change Video Player is loading. Play Video This is a modal window. Beginning of dialog window. Escape will cancel and close the window. Text Color White Black Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Opacity Opaque Semi-Transparent Text Background Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Opacity Opaque Semi-Transparent Transparent Caption Area Background Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Opacity Transparent Semi-Transparent Opaque Font Size 50% 75% 100% 125% 150% 175% 200% 300% 400% Text Edge Style None Raised Depressed Uniform Drop shadow Font Family Proportional Sans-Serif Monospace Sans-Serif Proportional Serif Monospace Serif Casual Script Small Caps Reset restore all settings to the default values Done Close Modal Dialog End of dialog window. X Learn More Loaded : 8.25% 0:00 00:00 / 00:00 Close Modal Dialog This is a modal window. This modal can be closed by pressing the Escape key or activating the close button. 02:00 SUBSCRIBER ONLY Aussie artists' desperate plea for change together...... more more to demand Aussie musicians be platformed at the 2024 ARIA Awards. 'Legislate it': Artists have come ... more Now 29, Alexander, who's married to Australian professional surfer Owen Wright, has experienced some chart success throughout her career, with her single Hotel going 2x Platinum after its release back in 2017. What struck me most about Alexander was the warmth that emanated from her the moment she stepped out onstage. As someone who beforehand knew only of Alexander's album track I Just Killed A Man – which is genuinely one of the most meticulously crafted break-up songs I've ever had the pleasure of hearing – I wasn't entirely convinced how easily she would be able to win me over with a relatively short set of 15 or so tracks. But any doubts immediately melted away from the moment she sung her first note. Sometimes you meet someone and are inexplicably drawn to them and their energy, and Alexander has that in spades. Kita Alexander. Picture Lachie Millard Her voice sounds like a blend of the pop rock sensibilities of Olivia Rodrigo paired with the warmth and smokiness of a 1920s jazz club singer, and some of the nuances in her delivery that she brought to songs depending on what genre they leaned into brought them to life so wonderfully. Communication was a clear standout for me, a gorgeous slice of glittering break-up pop that would feel at home on Taylor Swift's Midnight's record. Her cover of Djo's modern classic End of Beginning was so enrapturing that my partner turned to me and was convinced it was her own original song. The last handful of songs was banger after banger, kicking the set into a higher gear and with the small but loyal crowd in the palm of her hand singing back lyrics. Alexander would occasionally take a moment to have a giggle with the crowd and let her personality shine through, but there was one moment where she spoke earnestly of having children at a relatively young age that I really connected with, and it's those times when an artist really gives you an unedited glimpse into the lives that truly helps you form a better understanding and appreciation for their discography. It seems clear to me that with a team and a label behind her that believes in her talent, Alexander is one breakout hit away from becoming a powerhouse within the music industry Down Under, and I don't think it could happen to a more deserving woman. Now go and listen to I Just Killed A Man and give Alexander the streams she deserves! Originally published as Kita Alexander leaves her mark on Perth with intimate set