Dannqrack and Eemrun’s love for Kuala Lumpur is not about its skyline, glossy restaurants, or the curated “city life” images that get shared. The two rappers behind Menara Berkembar (or commonly known as the Twin Towers), an album named after the city’s most iconic landmark, fell for the city through its people.

Eemrun says the idea for the album began one night in Bukit Bintang, during a walk that became an observation of life around him. “I was just walking, and suddenly I realised I had been watching everyone — Malaysians my age coming home from work in different uniforms, couples holding hands, friends laughing on the sidewalk. And behind all of that, a busker was singing this old mellow Malay song. I don’t even remember what song it was. But I remember thinking, this place has this way of being calmly chaotic. And I like that.” That small, unexpected moment became the emotional blueprint for the album.

From that feeling, that strange and tender sentiment for the city’s atmosphere, came 11 tracks shaped through their shared experimentation in jazz, hip hop, and R&B. The result is an atmospheric mixtape of heartbreak and growing pains, the fleeting surge of confidence that hits after a late-night club, and the disorientation of navigating your early 20s. At its core, the album, according to Dannqrack, is meant to soundtrack the inner lives of young people in the city, capturing the messy, hungry and beautiful process of becoming yourself.

Their perspective on KL, and on each other, anchor the project. Friends since high school, Dannqrack and Eemrun have witnessed every version of each other, from awkward pre-teen years to the artists they are today, now releasing a record that climbed to number three on Apple Music in its first month. As a duo, they have built a reputation for moving like twins: making music together, performing together, and growing up together.

It is no surprise, then, that this observational and grounding nature of the two of them makes them gravitate towards the corners of the city that feel alive and real, closer to the people, rather than staged or aspirational. Men’s Folio meets them here, outside the shop lots by Pudu Plaza, to talk about everything that has changed since our first shoot in September 2024 — a year that saw them grow not just as musicians, but as keen witnesses to the city that inspired their first collaborative record.

How has this year been for you guys?
DQ: It’s been a wild year for us honestly. A lot of growing up, late nights in the studio, and figuring out who we are outside the music too. We dropped a new project together, met new people, lost a few, and every part of it pushed us to level up.

What’s one way you think you’ve changed?
DQ: My vision towards music. I feel like the new generation is craving something fresh in production, and as a rapper from this era too, I want to push that forward while keeping the standards high for local sounds and artists.
EEM: I’m definitely less introverted and reserved than before. It took some effort, but after a year it feels easier now.

And while we’re talking about growth, take me back to the beginning — how did the friendship between you two even start?
DQ: I was scrolling through @malaysianhustler on Instagram and saw this video of a 14-year-old boy rapping in AEON Setiawangsa. I thought it was the coolest thing. This was 2018 in KL, when a wave of new-gen rappers were recording freestyle videos and posting them on social media. That boy turned out to be Eemrun.
EEM: Can I say Dann slid into my DMs? [laughs] We talked, found out we lived close, and became online friends for a time before meeting in person. My parents were quite strict back then about where, who and when I was hanging out, so meeting up wasn’t easy.

Where did you finally meet?
EEM: My school. We had this event called McFest, and I invited him to watch a rap show I performed in. That was the first meet-up. I’m quite shocked he actually came to watch. But after that, we started hanging out properly.

First memory of making music together?
DQ: Funnily enough, we were already friends for about one or two years before making anything. We both had different plans: I wanted to attend culinary school, and Eem planned to take university seriously. Then the 2020 lockdown hit. We were bored at home, messing around on GarageBand, and ended up releasing a track called 3 A.M. We were teenagers stuck in lockdown, dealing with the same thing everyone around us was dealing with: long-distance relationships with someone we met online.

Your first big hit together?
EEM: Lampu Biru. When it blew up on TikTok, on the radio, clubs started playing it we started convincing our families to let us take this seriously full-time. One thing that pushed us was wanting to hit the same level of success, or even more, than what people usually say you get through the “traditional route.”

Seven years of friendship now. Eem, tell us something about Dann people wouldn’t know.
EEM: He’s always on time. I’m pretty sure this album dropped this month simply because he decided it should drop this month. And whenever we plan a hangout, he’s always the first one to show up. I respect him for that.

Dann, how would you describe Eemrun?
DQ: He might be young, but he has a very old soul. All the music he listens to is golden, bro — his favourite genre is blues. After our concerts, when we’re in the car, he’ll put on Gary Moore, Michael Jackson, P. Ramlee, Alleycats. Something like that.

Congratulations on Menara Berkembar, your first collaborative album together. Why that title?
DQ: Everywhere we go people always say we look alike, we’re like twins. So we want to approach the title with the same idea too. At first we wanted to name it Twin Tape, but felt it sounded too unserious. We wanted our first album together to be something we’d look back on and feel proud of. And what’s better than naming it after Malaysia’s most respected architecture: Menara Berkembar, the Twin Towers.

What’s the usual vibe when you’re working together?
EEM: Very chill. We treat it like hanging out — come to the studio, make coffee, sit and talk. It’s always the conversations that spark ideas. A lot of our lyrics started from late-night talks. The same thing for tracks on Menara Berkembar too.

Share one conversation that inspired a track on the album.
EEM: ‘Kuala Lumflow’ came from a conversation we had about death in the studio. I asked Dann, “What if the album drops, everything is good, we’re on our way to success… but before reaching it, we both end up dead?” You know, like the 27 Club? It’s a conspiracy theory about musicians hitting their peak at 27 and then passing — Kurt Cobain, Amy Winehouse, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix. We talked about how wild it would be if something like that happened to us. It turned into this long talk about what we want out of life. That became the whole theme of the song.

Since we’re talking about KL, what’s your favourite spot in the city?
DQ: My bedroom [laughs]. That has to be in the top three. Since I live in the middle of the city, I can see everything from my window. And then the mamak I always go to with the Lampu Biru boys — for hangouts, meetings, whenever we want to link up.
EEM: Probably our local mamak spot, but we’re gatekeeping that one. Fire maggi goreng.

You got Indonesian producer Concerto on three tracks — he’s known for “Brrbery Jacket” and “Di Bawah Bulan.” What was that experience like?
DQ: I wish I could describe it, but watching Concerto work is something you need to see. I remember video-calling Eem just to show him. He joked that Concerto works like he’s AI. We gave him 12 beats; in 30 minutes he returned four different options in four completely different styles.

Your collective, Midlyfe, has been teasing “The Big League.” What does that actually mean?
EEM: These past few months, we’ve realised how much our work has expanded: shows in Singapore, producing music in Indonesia, meeting people from all over. One day, while we were just chilling, it hit us that we can’t stay stagnant any more. The only way from here is up.

After a few years in the scene, do you now understand the game better? What do you guys know today that you didn’t before?
EEM: Back then, we thought making good music would be enough. We believed talent alone would open every door, and if you were good, the rest would follow. But growing up in the scene showed us it’s not that simple. It’s also about business, marketing, strategy — understanding how to position yourself, how to connect with the right people, how to manage your time and energy. You can be talented, but if you don’t learn these other parts, you might just become a one-hit wonder.

Are there any new-gen rappers that you’re excited about right now?
DQ: There’s a hijabi girl from Shah Alam who dropped her debut single Magazine. She’s @ira4ma on instagram. The song got picked up by music pages from Korea, the UK, the US. She hit 11k streams in her first week and seems to be off to a strong start.

The new year is almost here. Finish this sentence: next year I am going to…
EEM: Be the best ever.
DQ: Drop a project I’ll be proud of.

Give the fans something to look forward to. Spill a 2026 project.
EEM: We’re already working on our solo albums. But let me keep mine a secret first.
DQ: I’m too excited about it, so I’ll say it: my solo album SOULJAH is coming soon. It’s dedicated to the hustlers, to everyone grinding day and night, fighting to put food on the table. I’ve been producing it with Concerto and Zidane, and we’ve really pushed ourselves to make something that hits musically and emotionally. Can’t wait for everyone to hear it. Stay tuned.

Last one — give us one word to tease what’s next.
DQ: WTTBL. Welcome To The Big League

Production Crew Credits

Styling Liew Hui Ying

Photography Cham Zihan

Grooming & Hair Fiona Yip

Photography Assistant Azwan, Joseph

Styling Assistants Aqil Karlzafri, Alexander Cassius Alliun

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