Symposium
Proceedings of the 5th
5th Symposium
THE INTERNATIONAL
INTERNATIONAL COUNCIL
FOR TRADITIONAL MUSIC
MUSIC
STUDY GROUP ON
ON
PERFORMING ARTS
OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
Symposium Themes
(I) Crossing Borders through Popular Performance Genres in Southeast Asia
(II) Tourism and the Performing Arts in Southeast Asia
(III)
(Ill) New Research
Research
Special Ten-Year Anniversary Edition:
Remembering Ki Mantle Hood, Ethnomusicologist
Best of B o r l
S11
Malaysia
S
UNIVERSITI MALAYSIA SABAH
Symposium Chairs
PASEA Study Group – Mohd Anis Md Nor (Malaysia)
Program Committee – Mayco Santaella (Malaysia)
Local Arrangements – Tuan Mansur Haji Asun (Malaysia)
Program Committee
Mayco Santaella, Chair (Malaysia), Sarah Anais Andrieu (France), Margaret Sarkissian (USA), Randal Baier (USA), Tan Sooi
Beng (Malaysia)
Local Arrangements Committee
YBhg. Datu Rosmadi Datu Sulai, Advisor (Ministry of Tourism, Culture & Environment), YBhg. Tuan Sintiong Gelet
(deceased) and YBhg. Tuan Mansur Haji Asun, Chair (Department of Sabah Museum), Prof. Dr. Jacqueline Pugh-Kitingan,
Deputy Chair (Universiti Malaysia Sabah), Judeth John Baptist, Secretary (Department of Sabah Museum); Committee
members: YBhg Tuan William Baya and Encik Denis Joannes (Sabah Cultural Board), Pn Suzaini Datuk Sabdin Ghani and
Pn Maimun binti Buyung (Sabah Tourism Board), Encik Zachary Mobijohn and Pn Francesca Lydia Desmond (Sri
Pelancongan Sabah Sdn. Bhd.), Pn Kamsiah Ibrahim (State Public Sector Training Institute [INSAN]), and Department of
Sabah Museum staff members Arif Abdul Hamid, Suchin Sidih, Stella Moo-Tan, Alfodus Lester John Milip, Dius Kubud,
Evren Subal, Robin Fedelis Lojiwin, Stenley Peter, Anne Chan, Philip Frances, Petronella Ed Haroldson, Norlaila Kasum,
Reuben Raymond, Joe Jacob, Flora Gudang, Caroline Mosigil
The 5th Symposium was hosted and sponsored by:
Department of Sabah Museum, Kota Kinabalu, Sabah, Malaysia
Ministry of Tourism, Culture and Environment, Sabah, Malaysia
Faculty of Humanities, Arts and Heritage, Universiti Malaysia Sabah
The Proceedings of the 5th Symposium is published and sponsored by Department of Sabah Museum, Ministry of Tourism,
Culture and Environment, Sabah, Malaysia, and Universiti Malaysia Sabah.
This publication was edited as a group effort with volunteers from the ICTM Study Group on Performing Arts of Southeast
Asia.
Chief Editors: Patricia Matusky and Wayland Quintero (Malaysia and USA)
Editors: Desiree A. Quintero (USA), Made Mantle Hood (Taiwan), Felicidad Prudente (Philippines), Lawrence Nathaniel
Ross (Malaysia), Christine May Yong (Malaysia), Hafzan Zannie Hamza (Malaysia)
Photo Credits:
Department of Sabah Museum, Kota Kinabalu, Sabah, Malaysia
Made Mantle Hood, ICTM Study Group on PASEA, and Tainan National University of the Arts, Taiwan
Reuben Raymond, Department of Sabah Museum
Cover Design: Nur Azreen Chee Pi, Universiti Sains Malaysia, School of Arts, Penang, Malaysia
Published by Department of Sabah Museum, Ministry of Tourism, Culture and Environment,
Sabah, Malaysia.
©2019, Copyright by ICTM Study Group on Performing Arts of Southeast Asia
Perpustakaan Negara Malaysia
Cataloguing-in-Publication-Data
International Council for Traditional Music Study Group on Performing Arts of Southeast Asia (5th : 2019 : Kota Kinabalu)
Proceedings of the 5th Symposium : THE INTERNATIONAL COUNSIL FOR TRADITIONAL MUSIC STUDY
GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA : Symposium Themes : (I) Crossing Borders through
Popular Performance Genres in Southeast Asia, (II) Tourism and the Performing Arts in Southeast Asia,
(III) New Research / Chief Editors: Patricia Matusky and Wayland Quintero ; Editors: Desiree A. Quintero, Made
Mantle Hood, Felicidad Prudente, Lawrence Nathaniel Ross, Christine May Yong, Hafzan Zannie Hamza.
ISBN 978-983-9638-36-3
1. Performing arts--Social aspects--Southeast Asia--Congresses.
2. Performance art--Southeast Asia--Congresses.
3. Government publications--Malaysia.
I. Matusky, Patricia. II. Quintero, Wayland. III. Quintero, Desiree A. IV. Hood, Made Mantle. V. Prudente,
Felicidad. VI. Ross, Lawrence Nathaniel. VI. Yong, Christine May. VII. Hafzan Zannie Hamza.
306.4840959
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Acknowledgements
xix
Introduction and Symposium Themes
xx
Tribute to Ki Mantle Hood
xxiii
Ki Mantle Hood’s Centenary: Honouring My Father, a Pioneer of Ethnomusicology
Made Mantle Hood
xxiv
SESSION 1—Commercialization, Internationalization, and “Neo-Ethnic” Popular Genres
in Southeast Asia and Beyond
Making Sundanese Music Local Again: Galengan Sara Awi’s Bamboo Musical Instruments
and Sundanese Modernity (Abstract)
Henry Spiller
259
From Kuda Lumping to Indonesian Pop: Australian Cross-Cultural and Cross-Border ‘Engagement’
with Indonesia through Music and Dance Presentations and Re-Imaginings
Aline Scott-Maxwell
1
From Sunda to Banyuwangi Across Campursari, Hip-Hop and Gamelan: Crossing Geographical
and Musical Borders on the Central Javanese Wayang Kulit Stage
Ilaria Meloni
7
SESSION 2—Performing, Protecting and Displaying Shifting Senses of “Home”
in a Globalising Southeast Asia
Globalizing Filipino Songs, Bodies, and Sounds Beyond Homeland
Ricardo Trimillos
12
Looking for “Home”: Cultural Identity in the Traditional Musics of Lombok
David Harnish
13
Nostalgia in Motion: Transition and Transformation of a Japanese Enka Song in East and
Southeast Asia
Masaya Shishikura
18
SESSION 3—Performing and Staging Tourism
Tourism and Performing Arts in Laos: The Lao Ramayana of Luang Prabang (Lightning Paper)
Marie-Pierre Lissoir
24
Gelungan in Balinese Arja: Physical and Psychological Interaction between Headdress and Performer
(Lightning Paper)
Ako Mashino
27
Performance Contexts of Burmese Puppetry: Postmodern Strategies in Today’s Myanmar
Cultural Tourism (Lightning Paper)
Lorenzo Chiarofonte
30
Maataw – the Floating Island: Performing Eco-Criticism for Tao People through an Artistic
Application of Research Findings (Abstract)
Lin Wei-Ya
259
SESSION 4—Contemporary Soundscapes of Tradition and Modernity in
Mainland Southeast Asia
Sound, Power, and Death: The Royal Funeral of HRH King Rama IX (Abstract)
Deborah Wong
260
Constructing a Place for the Youngest Royal Musician in the Royal Cremation of King Rama IX
(Lightning Paper)
Supeena Insee Adler
33
Khap Samneua from the Perspective of the Mobility of Singers (Lightning Paper)
Gaku Kajimaru
36
Oral Transmission System of Burmese Classical Songs: Overview of Bazat-Hsaing or Mouth-Music
(Lightning Paper)
Sayuri Inoue
39
SESSION 5—Performance and Video Presentation
Pichet Klunchun’s Site-Specific Monkeys: A Methodological Monologue (Lightning Paper)
Leow Puay Tin
42
The Song of Sri Tanjung: A Story of Spirit Journey in Ancient Javanese Culture
(Film, Abstract)
Yohanes Hanan Pamungkas
260
SESSION 6—Ronggeng: Straits of Malacca and the Andaman
Trans-Border Popular Performance
Phleng Tanyong: A Thai-Language Ronggeng Idiom Develops in Southwest Thailand
Lawrence Nathaniel Ross
46
Ronggeng Re-Invented: The Emergence of New Repertoires from Singapore to Peninsular
Malaysia
Mohd Anis Md Nor
49
SESSION 7—Case Studies of Filipino Soundscapes
Buut and Pangako: Interiority and Performativity in the Sayaw Tradition in Tubungan, Iloilo
(Lightning Paper)
Jose R. Taton Jr.
55
Sonic Framework: Re-Inventing Philippine Cinema Soundtrack (Lightning Paper)
Crisancti Macazo
58
SESSION 8—East and Southeast Asian Cultural Links
Sharing K-Pop Choreography Across the Border: Dance Cover Activities in the Malaysian
Chinese Diaspora (Abstract)
Sangwoo Ha
261
Majority or Minority: Vietnamese Music Scene in the First Square, Taichung City, Taiwan (Abstract)
Kuo Ta-Hsin
261
Music in Daily Life: Performance Location, Music Source, and Social Function of Karaoke Activities
in Chinese-Indonesian Community Java
Tsai Tsung-Te
62
Uniquely Singapore: Nanyang-Styled Compositions of the Singapore Chinese Orchestra (Abstract)
Lee Ming-Yen
262
Changing Names and Meanings in the Pounding Pestles Rite of the Thau People: A Literature Survey
on Past Researches (Lightning Paper)
Darrell Hung-Ren Tong
67
SESSION 9—Re-presenting, Re-inventing and Re-staging Dance and Theatre Traditions
‘Disavowed Freedom’: The Decontexualization of Igal (Dance) Tradition (Abstract)
Hafzan Zannie Hamza
262
Ajat Indu: From Ruai to Proscenium Stage of Sarawak Cultural Village (SCV) (Lightning Paper)
Andrew Igai Jamu
72
The Re-invention of Thai Classical Dance: Change and the New Tradition (Abstract)
Pawinee Boonserm
263
The Invention and Construction of Zapin Sebat: Across Sarawak-Sambas (East Malaysia-West
Kalimantan) (Lightning Paper)
Mohd. Hafzal bin Aziz
75
Baba Nyonya Dance: A Preliminary Survey on the Social History of Peranakan Dance Groups
in Melaka (Lightning Paper)
Rachel Ong
77
Subculture as Performing Arts Case Study: Oyot Godhong Cabaret Café (Lightning Paper)
Gigih Alfajar
80
Bringing the Bangsal to Stage: Performing the Urban Mek Mulung in Collaboration with Performers
of Kampung Wang Tepus (Abstract)
Nur Izzati Jamalludin
263
SESSION 10—Crossing Borders between the Performing Arts of Indonesia,
Malaysia and the Netherlands in the Riau Archipelago
Icons of Malay Identity in the Musical Arts of Indonesia’s Riau Archipelago: Concepts of
Space, Place and Generative Memory Codes (Abstract)
Margaret Kartomi
264
Dance Practices and Composition in the Indonesian-Malay Mendu Theatrical Form of Riau’s
Natuna Islands (Abstract)
Karen Thomas
264
The Sultan of Lingga’s Brass Band
Anthea Skinner
83
SESSION 11—Exploring Arrangement Strategies and the Search
for New Aesthetic Influences
Hand Percussion: Performing Cosmopolitanism through Musical Alliances Across the Globe
(Abstract)
Clare Suet Ching Chan
265
The Significant Role of the Arranger in Pop Sunda (Lightning Paper)
Indra Ridwan
87
Touring Spirits, Javanese Trance Dance in Immigrant Communities: Adaptive Strategies and
Transformations of Meaning (Lightning Paper)
Eva Rapoport
90
“It is like a Flower”: Understandings in Pangalay Movement (Lightning Paper)
Desiree A. Quintero
93
SESSION 12—Local Nuances of Vocal Expression and Embodiment of Movement in Dance as
Indigenous Knowledge (IK) in the Cordillera Administrative Region, Northern Philippines
The Sogna and Ullalim Songs of the Mudacayan Kalinga People of Northern Philippines
Felistina B. Pangsiw
95
Embodiment of Movement in Dance as Enculturation: Kiangan, Ifugao Province, Cordillera
Administrative Region, Northern Philippines
Wayland Quintero
98
Expressing Grief for the Dead among the Buaya Kalinga of Northern Philippines
Felicidad A. Prudente
101
SESSION 13—Minangkabau Music and Dance of West Sumatra, Indonesia:
Women, Architecture, Healing and Resilience (Panel)
Garak Nagari Perempuan [The Instinct of Nagari Women] Identities of Minangkabau Women
in the Rumah Gadang: A Dance Perspective (Lightning Paper)
Susas Rita Loravianti
104
Identities of Minangkabau Women in the Rumah Gadang of Solok Selatan: Symbol of Bundo
Kanduang (Lightning Paper)
Nursyirwan
107
Sojourns in Science: Plural Framings of Music, Disaster and Community Resilience in Minangkabau
Megan Collins
110
SESSION 14—ROUNDTABLE: Advocating Cultural and Social Change
Through the Performing Arts
Building Interethnic Peace Among Young People in Penang through Community Musical Theatre
(Abstract)
Tan Sooi Beng
265
Wayang Kulit Performance as a Tool to Improve the Cognitive Development in Cerebral Palsy
Children (Abstract)
Mumtaz Begum Aboo Backer
266
Performance as an Expressive Tool to Voice Cultural Identity among Refugee Children: A Case of
Rohingya Refugee Communities (Abstract)
Pravina Manoharan
266
Raising Social Issues through Folk Songs, Local Gestures and Movement in Devised Play (Abstract)
A. S. Hardy Shafii
267
SESSION 15—Cultural Excursion Day
SESSION 16—21st Century Multicultural Music Education in Malaysia: Transcending
Boundaries in Revitalizing Local and Popular Genres
in Formal and Non-Formal Music Education
Belian Dado’ (Kenyah Dance-Songs) Across Boundaries of Language and Ethnicity in
Music Education
Chong Pek Lin
115
Crossing Borders from Village to Recording Studio—Continuity and Change in Sinding Secular
Singing among the Kadazan Dusun of Sabah, Malaysia (Lightning Paper)
Jacqueline Pugh-Kitingan
121
Jazz Education in Southeast Asia (Lightning Paper)
Don Bowyer
124
Music of Sound: Empowering Young People in Recreating Popular Music Genres Using 21st Century
Pedagogical Approaches from Multiple Intelligences Pathways
Toh Lai Chee
126
SESSION 17—Sampling the Popular, Repurposing the Transnational:
Exploring the Interface Between Folk Performance Forms and Transnational
Performance Genre in Malaysia, Indonesia and Singapore
Kaleidoscoping Global Ethos through Local Responses in the Malay World: The Case of Despacito
Leonardo Garcia Fuenzalida
132
Malay Chronicles, Thai Drama, Javanese Tales: Mak Yong, Intertextuality, and Pasisir Cultural Flow
Patricia Hardwick
137
Commemorating the “Singapore-Medan” Connection: Contradictions in Appropriating “Indonesian”
Repertories into the Singapore Malay Dance Canon
Muhammad Noramin bin Mohamed Farid
142
From Folk Musicians to Popular Icons: Refashioning a Struggling Tamil Folk Music Tradition
in Singapore
Gene Lai
147
SESSION 18—Moving Music to the New and Local Modern:
Lessons from Cross-border Sound Aesthetics from the Philippines
Tanda de Valse and its Mode of Production in Nineteenth-Century Manila (Abstract)
Arwin Q. Tan
267
From “Lelang” to “Novelty Song”: Movement of a Music Across Categorical Definitions in
the Philippines (Abstract)
Jose S. Buenconsejo
268
Fighting Back via Fliptop: Manila’s Take on Hiphop Battles (Abstract)
Lara Mendoza
268
Filipino Indie Artists’ Impact to Popular Music Audiences (Abstract)
Ma. Christina Cayabyab
269
SESSION 19—Performing Arts, Religiosity, Dedication, and Belief (Religious Doctrine)
Functionalism and the Suling Dewa in the Ngaponin Sacred Purification Ceremony of
Northern Lombok
Nur Kholis Sumardi
151
Re-Voicing Pancasila: Catholic Music and Religious Pluralism in Indonesia (Lightning Paper)
Emilie Coakley
156
“Wor Aurak” at a Marriage Proposal Ceremony by Biak Youth to a Sentani Young Woman at
Jayapura, Papua, Indonesia (Lightning Paper)
I Wayan Rai S.
158
Following the Whims of the Demon: The Function and Usage of Angsel/Ngopak in Jauk Keras
(Lightning Paper)
Kurt Schatz
161
Performing Ramayana: Contact Zone, Singapore Indian Dancers and Their Reflexivity (Abstract)
Yoshiaki Takemura
269
SESSION 20—Innovation in Balinese Music: New Research in
Musical Changes and Developments
Innovation of Tembang Bali within an Ever-Changing Local-Global Domain
I Komang Sudirga
165
Meguru Gending: I Ketut Sukarata’s Musical Concept for Playing Kendang Tunggal
(Solo Drumming) (Lightning Paper)
I Gde Made Indra Sadguna
171
Gamelan Gong Kebyar as Communication Media between Balinese and Sasak Ethnicities in Lombok
(Lightning Paper)
I Gede Yudarta
174
Answering Questions, Questioning Answers: Intellectuality in the Creative Process of Balinese
Gamelan Composition
I Wayan Sudirana
179
SESSION 21—Crossing Borders through Popular Performance Genres in Southeast Asia
Border Crossing of Popular Performance Genres and the Search for Identity: A Case Study on
Indonesian Dance Performance (Lightning Paper)
Madoka Fukuoka
185
D’ Academy Asia: Crossing Borders through Dangdut Contest (Lightning Paper)
Michael HB Raditya
188
Crossing Borders through Popular Performance: A Comparative Study between Southern-Thai
and Malay Menora (Abstract)
Kanit Sripaoraya
270
ASEAN Pop: Contemporary Pop Music with Rich and Diverse Traditions (Abstract)
Isabella Pek
270
SESSION 22—Vocalized Popular Music of Southeast Asia
Kulintang in Philippine Ethnic Pop: Identity and Aesthetic Cosmopolitanism (Lightning Paper)
Teresa A. Montes
192
Goyang Karawang: Exploration of Womens’ Body between Rites and Fiesta (Abstract)
Citra Aryandari
270
The Birth of Iban Popular Song in the 1960s (Lightning Paper)
Connie Lim Keh Nie
195
Journey Across Borders: The Unfulfilled Desire of Megat Nordin
Raja Iskandar bin Raja Halid
198
SESSION 23—Music and Dance Heritage, New Compositions and
Foreign Traditions in Bali
Tango in Paradise: Why Dance Tango Argentino on Bali?
Kendra Stepputat
201
The Dancer’s Image and the Visual Discourse on Tourism and Sustainability in Bali
Elizabeth A. Clendinning
205
Who are the Communities Involved in Intangible Cultural Heritage? A Consideration of the “Beautiful
Indonesia Miniature Park” Proposal as Best Practice (Lightning Paper)
Yukako Yoshida
210
Basang Tundun: Compositional Concept in Balinese Gamelan (Lightning Paper)
I Wayan Diana Putra
213
Reassembling Musical Heritage: The Agency of Wayan Pande Tusan and Gamelan Selonding Culture
in Bali (Lightning Paper)
Akiko Nozawa
216
The Gendering of Gender: Exploring Femininity and the Female Role in Balinese Shadow
Theatre Music (Abstract)
Meghan Hynson
271
SESSION 24—ROUNDTABLE: The Malay Shadow Play (Wayang Kulit) in Transit:
Sustainability/Viability of a Traditional Malaysian Art in the 21st Century
Introduction to the Roundtable Presentations and Demonstration
Patricia Matusky
219
The 20th Century Style of Wayang Kulit Kelantan
Patricia Matusky
220
Different Approaches to New Shadow Play (Wayang Kulit) Music in Malaysia
Hamdan Adnan
224
A New Hope: Peperangan Bintang Wayang Kulit
Christine May Yong
227
Shadow of Change
Tintoy Chuo
231
Peperangan Bintang (‘Star Wars’ Inspired Wayang Kulit) (Notes on the Performance)
Tok Dalang Pak Dain (Muhammad Dain bin Othman)
234
SESSION 25—Popularizing the Indigenous, Indigenizing the Popular
Popularizing the Indigenous as an Alternative Modernity: The Development of Dero in
Central Sulawesi, Indonesia
Mayco Santaella
235
Cello-Drumming in Indonesian Keroncong (Abstract)
Andy McGraw
271
New Nostalgia: Yogyakarta’s Annual Keroncong Festival (Abstract)
Hannah Marie Standiford
272
Multi-Hybridity in Indonesian Keroncong Music in the Twenty-First Century (Lightning Paper)
Mei Artanto
238
SESSION 26—ROUNDTABLE: Sustainable Tourism Potential
for the West Javanese Performance Practices
Wayang Golek and UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage Labelling…15 Years After (Abstract)
Sarah Anais Andrieu
272
Putting an Old Silat Culture of Banten and its Music Back into the Public
Uwe U. Paetzold
242
Performance and Spectacle as an Element of Domestic Tourism in Banten Kidul, West Jawa,
Indonesia (Abstract)
Randal Baier
273
SESSION 27—New Research for the Performing Arts in Southeast Asia
Locating Yolŋu Cultural Expressions of Historical Makassan Exchanges in NE Arnhem Land
Aaron Corn
247
Human/Other Relations in Burmese Performing Arts: Dissolving the Boundaries of Self
Gavin Douglas
253
Beyond Hybridization: Javanese Black Metal and Transcultural Music (Lightning Paper)
Gianluca Chelini
257
‘Maid’ Invisible: Marginalised and Reclaimed Soundscapes of Foreign Domestic Workers
in Singapore (Abstract)
Tan Shzr Ee
273
ADDENDUM TO TABLE OF CONTENTS
Presenter & Title
Andrew Igai Jamu
72
Ajat Indu: From Ruai to Proscenium Stage of Sarawak Cultural Village (SCV) (Lightning Paper)
Andrieu, Sarah Anais
272
Wayang Golek and UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage Labelling…15 Years After (Abstract)
Baier, Randal
Performance and Spectacle as an Element of Domestic Tourism in Banten Kidul, West Jawa,
Indonesia (Abstract)
273
Bowyer, Don
Jazz Education in Southeast Asia (Lightning Paper)
124
Buenconsejo, Jose S.
268
From “Lelang” to “Novelty Song”: Movement of a Music Across Categorical Definitions in the
Philippines (Abstract)
Cayabyab, Cristina Maria P.
Filipino Indie Artists’ Impact to Popular Music Audiences (Abstract)
269
Chan, Clare Suet Ching
Hand Percussion: Performing Cosmopolitanism through Musical Alliances Across the Globe
(Abstract)
265
Chiarofonte, Lorenzo
30
Performance Contexts of Burmese Puppetry: Postmodern Strategies in Today’s Myanmar Cultural
Tourism (Lightning Paper)
Chelini, Gianluca
Beyond Hybridization: Javanese Black Metal and Transcultural Music (Lightning Paper)
257
Chong, Pek Lin
Belian Dado’ (Kenyah Dance-Songs) Across Boundaries of Language and Ethnicity in Music
Education
115
Chuo, Tintoy
Shadow of Change
231
Citra Aryandari
Goyang Karawang: Exploration of Womens’ Body between Rites and Fiesta (Abstract)
270
Clendinning, Elizabeth
The Dancer’s Image and the Visual Discourse on Tourism and Sustainability in Bali
205
Coakley, Emilie
Re-Voicing Pancasila: Catholic Music and Religious Pluralism in Indonesia (Lightning Paper)
156
Collins, Megan
110
Sojourns in Science: Plural Framings of Music, Disaster and Community Resilience in Minangkabau
Corn, Aaron
Locating Yolŋu Cultural Expressions of Historical Makassan Exchanges in NE Arnhem Land
247
Douglas, Gavin
Human/Other Relations in Burmese Performing Arts: Dissolving the Boundaries of Self
253
Fuenzalida, Leonardo Garcia
132
Kaleidoscoping Global Ethos through Local Responses in the Malay World: The Case of Despacito
Fukuoka, Madoka
Border Crossing of Popular Performance Genres and the Search for Identity: A Case Study on
Indonesian Dance Performance (Lightning Paper)
185
Gigih Alfajar
Subculture as Performing Arts Case Study: Oyot Godhong Cabaret Café (Lightning Paper)
80
Ha, Sangwoo
261
Sharing K-Pop Choreography Across the Border: Dance Cover Activities in the Malaysian Chinese
Diaspora (Abstract)
Hafzan Zannie Hamza
‘Disavowed Freedom’: The Decontexualization of Igal (Dance) Tradition (Abstract)
262
Hamdan Adnan
Different Approaches to New Shadow Play (Wayang Kulit) Music in Malaysia
224
Hardwick, Patricia
137
Malay Chronicles, Thai Drama, Javanese Tales: Mak Yong, Intertextuality, and Pasisir Cultural Flow
Hardy Shafii, A. S.
267
Raising Social Issues through Folk Songs, Local Gestures and Movement in Devised Play (Abstract)
Harnish, David
Looking for “Home”: Cultural Identity in the Traditional Musics of Lombok
13
Hood, Made Mantle
Ki Mantle Hood’s Centenary: Honouring My Father, a Pioneer of Ethnomusicology
xxiv
Hynson, Meghan
The Gendering of Gender: Exploring Femininity and the Female Role in Balinese Shadow
Theatre Music (Abstract)
271
I Gde Made Indra Sadguna
Meguru Gending: I Ketut Sukarata’s Musical Concept for Playing Kendang Tunggal (Solo
Drumming) (Lightning Paper)
171
I Gede Yudarta
Gamelan Gong Kebyar as Communication Media between Balinese and Sasak Ethnicities in
Lombok (Lightning Paper)
174
I Komang Sudirga
Innovation of Tembang Bali within an Ever-Changing Local-Global Domain
165
Insee Adler, Supeena
33
Constructing a Place for the Youngest Royal Musician in the Royal Cremation of King Rama IX
(Lightning Paper)
Indra Ridwan
The Significant Role of the Arranger in Pop Sunda (Lightning Paper)
87
Inoue, Sayuri
Oral Transmission System of Burmese Classical Songs: Overview of Bazat-Hsaing or
Mouth-Music (Lightning Paper)
39
I Wayan Diana Putra
Basang Tundun: Compositional Concept in Balinese Gamelan (Lightning Paper)
213
I Wayan Rai S.
“Wor Aurak” at a Marriage Proposal Ceremony by Biak Youth to a Sentani Young Woman at
Jayapura, Papua, Indonesia (Lightning Paper)
158
I Wayan Sudirana
Answering Questions, Questioning Answers: Intellectuality in the Creative Process of Balinese
Gamelan Composition
179
Kajimaru, Gaku
Khap Samneua from the Perspective of the Mobility of Singers (Lightning Paper)
36
Kanit Sripaoraya
270
Crossing Borders through Popular Performance: A Comparative Study between Southern-Thai and
Malay Menora (Abstract)
Kartomi, Margaret
264
Icons of Malay Identity in the Musical Arts of Indonesia’s Riau Archipelago: Concepts of Space,
Place and Generative Memory Codes (Abstract)
Kuo, Ta-Hsin
261
Majority or Minority: Vietnamese Music Scene in the First Square, Taichung City, Taiwan (Abstract)
Lai, Gene
147
From Folk Musicians to Popular Icons: Refashioning a Struggling Tamil Folk Music Tradition in
Singapore
Lee, Ming-Yen
262
Uniquely Singapore: Nanyang-Styled Compositions of the Singapore Chinese Orchestra (Abstract)
Leow, Puay Tin
Pichet Klunchun’s Site-Specific Monkeys: A Methodological Monologue (Lightning Paper)
42
Lim, Connie Keh Nie
The Birth of Iban Popular Song in the 1960s (Lightning Paper)
195
Lin, Wei-Ya
Maataw – the Floating Island: Performing Eco-Criticism for Tao People through an Artistic
Application of Research Findings (Abstract)
259
Lissoir, Marie-Pierre
Tourism and Performing Arts in Laos: The Lao Ramayana of Luang Prabang (Lightning Paper)
24
Macazo, Crisancti
Sonic Framework: Re-Inventing Philippine Cinema Soundtrack (Lightning Paper)
58
Mashino, Ako
Gelungan in Balinese Arja: Physical and Psychological Interaction between Headdress and
Performer (Lightning Paper)
27
Matusky, Patricia
The 20th Century Style of Wayang Kulit Kelantan
220
McGraw, Andy
Cello-Drumming in Indonesian Keroncong (Abstract)
271
Mei Artanto
238
Multi-Hybridity in Indonesian Keroncong Music in the Twenty-First Century (Lightning Paper)
Meloni, Ilaria
7
From Sunda to Banyuwangi Across Campursari, Hip-Hop and Gamelan: Crossing Geographical
and Musical Borders on the Central Javanese Wayang Kulit Stage
Mendoza, Lara
Fighting Back via Fliptop: Manila’s Take on Hiphop Battles (Abstract)
268
Mohd Anis Md Nor
49
Ronggeng Re-Invented: The Emergence of New Repertoires from Singapore to Peninsular Malaysia
Mohd Hafzal bin Aziz
The Invention and Construction of Zapin Sebat: Across Sarawak-Sambas (East Malaysia-West
Kalimantan) (Lightning Paper)
75
Montes, Teresa A.
Kulintang in Philippine Ethnic Pop: Identity and Aesthetic Cosmopolitanism (Lightning Paper)
192
Muhammad Dain bin Othman
Peperangan Bintang (‘Star Wars’ Inspired Wayang Kulit) (Notes on the Performance)
234
Muhammad Noramin bin Mohamed Farid
142
Commemorating the “Singapore-Medan” Connection: Contradictions in Appropriating “Indonesian”
Repertories into the Singapore Malay Dance Canon
Mumtaz Begum Aboo Backer
Wayang Kulit Performance as a Tool to Improve the Cognitive Development in Cerebral Palsy
Children (Abstract)
266
Nozawa, Akiko
Reassembling Musical Heritage: The Agency of Wayan Pande Tusan and Gamelan Selonding
Culture in Bali (Lightning Paper)
216
Nur Izzati Jamalludin
263
Bringing the Bangsal to Stage: Performing the Urban Mek Mulung in Collaboration with Performers
of Kampung Wang Tepus (Abstract)
Nur Kholis Sumardi
151
Functionalism and the Suling Dewa in the Ngaponin Sacred Purification Ceremony of Northern
Lombok
Nursyirwan
Identities of Minangkabau Women in the Rumah Gadang of Solok Selatan: Symbol of Bundo
Kanduang (Lightning Paper)
107
Ong, Rachel
77
Baba Nyonya Dance: A Preliminary Survey on the Social History of Peranakan Dance Groups in
Melaka (Lightning Paper)
Paetzold Uwe U.
Putting an Old Silat Culture of Banten and its Music Back into the Public
242
Pangsiw, Felistina B.
The Sogna and Ullalim Songs of the Mudacayan Kalinga People of Northern Philippines
95
Pawinee Boonserm
The Re-invention of Thai Classical Dance: Change and the New Tradition (Abstract)
263
Pek, Isabella
ASEAN Pop: Contemporary Pop Music with Rich and Diverse Traditions (Abstract)
270
Pravina Manoharan
266
Performance as an Expressive Tool to Voice Cultural Identity among Refugee Children: A Case of
Rohingya Refugee Communities (Abstract)
Prudente, Felicidad A.
Expressing Grief for the Dead among the Buaya Kalinga of Northern Philippines
101
Pugh-Kitingan, Jacqueline
121
Crossing Borders from Village to Recording Studio—Continuity and Change in Sinding Secular
Singing among the Kadazan Dusun of Sabah, Malaysia (Lightning Paper)
Quintero, Desiree A.
“It is like a Flower”: Understandings in Pangalay Movement (Lightning Paper)
93
Quintero, Wayland
Embodiment of Movement in Dance as Enculturation: Kiangan, Ifugao Province, Cordillera
Administrative Region, Northern Philippines
98
Raditya, Michael HB
D’ Academy Asia: Crossing Borders through Dangdut Contest (Lightning Paper)
188
Raja Iskandar bin Raja Halid
Journey Across Borders: The Unfulfilled Desire of Megat Nordin
198
Rapoport, Eva
Touring Spirits, Javanese Trance Dance in Immigrant Communities: Adaptive Strategies and
Transformations of Meaning (Lightning Paper)
90
Ross, Lawrence Nathaniel
Phleng Tanyong: A Thai-Language Ronggeng Idiom Develops in Southwest Thailand
46
Santaella, Mayco
Popularizing the Indigenous as an Alternative Modernity: The Development of Dero in Central
Sulawesi, Indonesia
235
Schatz, Kurt
Following the Whims of the Demon: The Function and Usage of Angsel/Ngopak in Jauk Keras
(Lightning Paper)
161
Scott-Maxwell, Aline
1
From Kuda Lumping to Indonesian Pop: Australian Cross-Cultural and Cross-Border ‘Engagement’
with Indonesia through Music and Dance Presentations and Re-Imaginings
Shishikura, Masaya
18
Nostalgia in Motion: Transition and Transformation of a Japanese Enka Song in East and Southeast
Asia
Skinner, Anthea
The Sultan of Lingga’s Brass Band
83
Spiller, Henry
Making Sundanese Music Local Again: Galengan Sara Awi’s Bamboo Musical Instruments
and Sundanese Modernity (Abstract)
259
Standiford, Hannah Marie
New Nostalgia: Yogyakarta’s Annual Keroncong Festival (Abstract)
272
Stepputat, Kendra
Tango in Paradise: Why Dance Tango Argentino on Bali?
201
Susas Rita Loravianti
Garak Nagari Perempuan [The Instinct of Nagari Women] Identities of Minangkabau Women
in the Rumah Gadang: A Dance Perspective (Lightning Paper)
104
Takemura, Yoshiaki
269
Performing Ramayana: Contact Zone, Singapore Indian Dancers and Their Reflexivity (Abstract)
Tan, Arwin Q.
Tanda de Valse and its Mode of Production in Nineteenth-Century Manila (Abstract)
267
Tan, Shzr Ee
‘Maid’ Invisible: Marginalised and Reclaimed Soundscapes of Foreign Domestic Workers in
Singapore (Abstract)
273
Tan, Sooi Beng
265
Building Interethnic Peace Among Young People in Penang through Community Musical Theatre
(Abstract)
Taton, Jose R. Jr.
Buut and Pangako: Interiority and Performativity in the Sayaw Tradition in Tubungan, Iloilo
(Lightning Paper)
55
Thomas, Karen
264
Dance Practices and Composition in the Indonesian-Malay Mendu Theatrical Form of Riau’s Natuna
Islands (Abstract)
Toh, Lai Chee
126
Music of Sound: Empowering Young People in Recreating Popular Music Genres Using 21st Century
Pedagogical Approaches from Multiple Intelligences Pathways
Tong, Darrell Hung-Ren
67
Changing Names and Meanings in the Pounding Pestles Rite of the Thau People: A Literature Survey
on Past Researches (Lightning Paper)
Trimillos, Ricardo
Globalizing Filipino Songs, Bodies, and Sounds Beyond Homeland
12
Tsai, Tsung-Te
62
Music in Daily Life: Performance Location, Music Source, and Social Function of Karaoke Activities
in Chinese-Indonesian Community Java
Wong, Deborah
Sound, Power, and Death: The Royal Funeral of HRH King Rama IX (Abstract)
260
Yohanes Hanan Pamungkas
260
The Song of Sri Tanjung: A Story of Spirit Journey in Ancient Javanese Culture (Film, Abstract)
Yong, Christine May
A New Hope: Peperangan Bintang Wayang Kulit
227
Yoshida, Yukako
Who are the Communities Involved in Intangible Cultural Heritage? A Consideration of the
“Beautiful Indonesia Miniature Park” Proposal as Best Practice (Lightning Paper)
210
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The Proceedings of the 5th Symposium of the ICTM Study Group on Performing Arts of Southeast Asia
is the result of a shared contribution of papers by presenters, editors and sponsors of this publication.
We thank all of them for their contributions.
As a special mention, we wish to acknowledge the following institutions and agencies for their assistance
in making the 5th Symposium of the ICTM Study Group on Performing Arts of Southeast Asia a success.
For the local arrangements committee and publisher of the Proceedings, the ICTM-PASEA Study
Group acknowledges:
Department of Sabah Museum, Kota Kinabalu, Sabah, Malaysia
Ministry of Tourism, Culture and Environment, Sabah
Faculty of Humanities, Arts and Heritage, Universiti Malaysia Sabah
For a tribute to the renowned scholar and ethnomusicologist, Ki Mantle Hood, on the centenary of his
birth, we thank his son, Professor Dr. Made Mantle Hood, for the commemorative article.
Finally, we wish to extend our gratitude to the International Council for Traditional Music (ICTM), the
parent body of this Study Group on Performing Arts of Southeast Asia, for their constant support and
for providing a space on their website for the online version of the PASEA Proceedings.
Thank you
(Terima kasih)
Mayco Santaella,
Chair, Programme Committee
Mansur Haji Asun, and Jacqueline Pugh-Kitingan.
Chair and Deputy Chair, Local Arrangements Committee
xix
INTRODUCTION AND THEMES OF THE 5th SYMPOSIUM
The 5th Symposium of the ICTM Study Group on Performing Arts of Southeast Asia (PASEA) was
hosted and sponsored by the Department of Sabah Museum, Kota Kinabalu, Sabah, Malaysia, the
Ministry of Tourism, Culture and Environment Sabah, and the Universiti Sabah Malaysia, 16 - 22 July
2018. With this Proceedings, the ICTM Study Group on PASEA celebrates the 10-year anniversary of
its existence and the 5th production of a Proceedings documenting the Study Group’s bi-annual
Symposium. As a further distinguishing aspect within this 5th Proceedings, the ICTM Study Group on
PASEA pays tribute to the ethnomusicologist, Ki Mantle Hood, on his centenary birth year by including
a commemorative article written by his son, Professor Dr. Made Mantle Hood.
The 5th PASEA Symposium opened on 16 July with welcoming remarks from the Director of the Sabah
Museum, Mr. Mansur Haji Asun, who spoke on behalf of the Department of Sabah Museum and the
Ministry of Tourism, Culture and Environment thanking the delegates and participants for their presence
at the Sabah Museum. He also expressed Sabah Museum’s appreciation to the Executive Committee of
ICTM-PASEA for selecting the Sabah Museum as the site for the 5th Symposium of the ICTM Study
Group on Performing Arts of Southeast Asia (PASEA). In his capacity as the Chair of the Local
Arrangements Committee for ICTM-PASEA 2018, Mr. Mansur Haji Ansun took the opportunity to
thank the Local Arrangements Committee for the work they had done that contributed to the making of
the 5th Symposium of ICTM-PASEA. He gave his assurances that the Local Arrangements Committee
would work closely with the Program Committee throughout the week-long event in order to ensure the
success of the 5th Symposium of the ICTM Study Group on Performing Arts of Southeast Asia (PASEA).
This was followed by opening remarks delivered by the Chair of ICTM-PASEA, Professor Dr. Mohd
Anis Md Nor, who thanked the Department of Sabah Museum, the Ministry of Tourism, Culture and
Environment, and the Local Arrangements Committee for facilitating preparations toward the
Museum’s inaugural event of hosting ICTM-PASEA for the first time ever in Sabah. He also thanked
the Program Committee chaired by Dr. Mayco Santaella, for successfully putting together Papers, Round
Tables, Panels, Lightning Papers inclusive of sub-study group meetings and ICTM-PASEA general
meeting. He acknowledged the high expectations from ICTM-PASEA participants that the 5th
Symposium of the ICTM Study Group on Performing Arts of Southeast Asia (PASEA) would generate
a wonderful and highly engaged meeting of scholars, practitioners, and students in academic and
scholarly research on the Performing Arts of Southeast Asia.
The final opening remarks were delivered by the Chair of the Program Committee, Dr. Mayco Santaella,
who thanked members of his committee for the work that each of them had put in from late 2017 to the
date of the 5th Symposium. The work included reviewing abstract proposals to the making of the
symposium program in cooperative tandem with logistical planning by the Local Arrangements
Committee at the Sabah Museum. Dr. Santaella explained to attendees how the program was put together
with the idea that younger to senior scholars would share similar sessions presenting full papers and
lightning papers.
Themes
With two specific themes as the main focus of topics in this 2018 Symposium, along with papers and
reports on new research, this published Proceedings has been organized and presented in the identical
format and arrangement of the 5th Symposium itself. Each of the seven days of the symposium was filled
with ten to fifteen or more reports and regular paper presentations that provided the delegates a varied
selection of topic presentations by PASEA members (especially graduate students from Southeast Asia)
as well as roundtables. The number of presentations totalled one hundred and one (101) in all. While the
main organization of the papers in this Proceedings book mirrors the organization of the symposium
program, readers can do a quick search for a particular paper or author by referring to an alphabetical
listing of authors with title and page number that follows the Table of Contents.
xx
As in past PASEA symposia, the delegates enjoyed one day during this symposium to travel together
on a cultural tour. For this symposium, the areas that were selected were along the west coast of Sabah.
The day’s adventure included a bus tour to see and walk on the famous bridge at Tamparuli, a visit at
Kampung Rampayan Laut at Kota Belud and a short river cruise. Some PASEA members also enjoyed
a post-symposium excursion to the interior Tambunan area of the state.
As mentioned above, the 5th Symposium focused on two main themes and new research. These themes
were represented in the form of regular papers by the PASEA members and also in ‘lightning’ report
papers mainly by graduate students as well as by some of the regular members reporting on their current
research-in-progress. A description of the themes follows.
THEME I: Crossing Borders through Popular Performing Arts Forms in Southeast Asia
This theme envisions a discussion of popular performing art genres and their movement across both
physical and virtual borders that are on one hand considered to be limiting or restricting, and on the
other hand, protecting. Such borders can be caused by issues and phenomena such as traditionalism,
nationalism, prejudice, ignorance and so forth. The focus of this theme opens the possibilities for a broad
discussion of how performing arts genres in Southeast Asia, that are popular by definition of being
practiced and consumed by a large number of people, enable both performers and spectators to widen
personal experiences, broaden their recognition or influence, and how, in turn, such movements and
border crossings may lead to an internationalization, relocation or general change in the performing arts
genres themselves.
THEME II: Tourism and the Performing Arts in Southeast Asia
Southeast Asia attracts tourists from all over the world due to its historical sites, its climate, its
contrasting landscapes, its highly interesting cuisine and its diverse music and dance cultures of different
people and religions. These music and dance cultures are preferably represented in performances that
consider the purposes of tourism in various ways. As tourism is one of the steadily growing subjects in
Southeast Asia, tourism and the performing arts do mutually influence each other in an often,
contradictory manner. Thus, this topic includes questions of:
Modifications in music and dance production, which accommodate unexpected or different
levels of understanding among audiences
The impact of global production modes and employment patterns on cultural recreation
Reduction or re-definition of ritual or religious justification of performances
Re-invention of traditions
Export of cultural set pieces regarding music and dance
Manipulation of cultural experiences with music and dance
Recruitment of music and dance performers according to external expectations
The role of mass media in the process of co-educating audiences and promoting tourism
And many other questions, which may shed light on that tremendously important aspect of
current developments in the performing arts of Southeast Asia
THEME III: New Research
This theme covers all new research topics by members of the PASEA Study Group and may be presented
in the form of a full 20-minute paper or a 10-minute lightning report.
xxi
Group photo of participants at the 5th Symposium of the ICTM Study Group on Performing Arts of Southeast
Asia, at the host institution, Department of Sabah Museum, Kota Kinabalu, Sabah, Malaysia, 16 - 22 July 2018.
xxii
A TRIBUTE1
KI MANTLE HOOD
1 The
ICTM Study Group on Performing Arts of Southeast Asia wishes to extend a sincere tribute to a famous
ethnomusicologist, Mantle Hood, on this his centennial year. As we reflect on his work and concepts set forth
in the field of ethnomusicology many decades ago, we acknowledge the continued importance of his ideas
on original field research, bi-musicality, and other concepts, processes and procedures that are relevant in
music research today. The presentation on this eminent scholar, given at the 5th Symposium of the ICTM
Study Group on Performing Arts of Southeast Asia, is presented in this article by his son, Professor Dr. Made
Mantle Hood.
xxiii
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
KI MANTLE HOOD’S CENTENARY:
HONOURING MY FATHER, A PIONEER OF ETHNOMUSICOLOGY
Made Mantle Hood
Tainan National University of Arts, Taiwan
Introduction
In this paper, Ki Mantle Hood (1918-2005) is both remembered for his past contributions to the field of
ethnomusicology and honoured for mentoring future generations of students. In the early 1950s, Ki Mantle
Hood established the program of ethnomusicology at the University of California, Los Angeles to encompass
the study of musical, social and cultural dimensions of human expression in American universities. At the
time, it was considered quite novel and even risky to actually learn and perform Thai piphat, Javanese
gamelan or Japanese gagaku in the same institutions of higher learning as Bach, Beethoven and Brahms. But
Mantle Hood was a visionary. Today many universities around the globe offer world music courses, graduate
programs, and performance ensembles in ethnomusicology. This paper examines three areas of Hood’s
career: the early years of Hood’s establishing the UCLA program; my personal experiences as his student,
and his enduring methodology of bi-musicality and its relevance for future generations of scholars.
Four events held in the USA, Thailand, Malaysia and Slovenia marked the centenary of pioneering
ethnomusicologist, Ki Mantle Hood in 2018. The first was held in California on May 31st to honour Mantle
Hood and his contributions to the field. After ten years of inactivity at the UCLA Herb Alpert School of
Music, the original gamelan purchased by Hood for UCLA called Gamelan Khyai Mendung, one of the very
first gamelan in the United States, was refurbished for the special occasion. Introduced by Mantle Hood’s
student Münir Beken, the Director of the World Music Center, a new generation of UCLA students led by
Pak Djoko Walujo Wimboprasetyo presented a concert entitled, “Music of Java - Mantle Hood’s 100th
Birthday”. This was followed by lectures and discussions about Hood’s archival materials recently donated
by Hazel Chung to the UCLA Ethnomusicology Archive which included original fieldnotes, audio recordings
and photographs.
The second event took place in Bangkok, Thailand on July 5th during the "Theories and Methods of
Ethnomusicology and Ethnochoreology” Symposium organized by Chulalongkorn University which had
papers from ICTM Executive Board members including Salwa El-Shawan Castelo-Branco, ICTM President,
Ursula Hemetek, Don Niles and Larry Witzleben among others. There was a Roundtable entitled ‘The
Legacies of Mantle Hood’ organized by Svanibor Pettan, a poster exhibition organized by Bussakorn Binson,
a paper presentation by Made Mantle Hood; Hindu-Balinese prayer by Ketut Gede Asnawa; celebratory
dance called Puspanjali arranged by Hazel Chung Hood.
Figure 1. Hazel Chung Hood and her family with Kjell Skyllstad and Svanibor Pettan after the 2018 Centenary performance
honouring Mantle Hood at Chulalongkorn University, Bangkok.
(Photo by I Ketut Gede Asnawa, used with permission)
The third event honouring Mantle Hood’s centenary was presented in Kota Kinabalu, Sabah, Malaysia during
the 5th Symposium of the ICTM Study Group on PASEA (July 16-22). Made Mantle Hood presented a paper
in honour of his father entitled, ‘Ki Mantle Hood’s Centenary: Honouring My father, a pioneer of
xxiv
KI MANTLE HOOD’S CENTENARY: HONOURING MY FATHER, A PIONEER OF ETHNOMUSICOLOGY
ethnomusicology’ followed by a Balinese dance performance by the Hood family including Hazel Chung,
Ni Nyoman Somawati and granddaughters Mahea and Maile. An exhibition of commemorative posters,
books and publications were put on display.
The fourth event was held in Ljubljana on August 25th which consisted of an exhibition of posters
and a commemoration paper by Svanibor Pettan as part of the International Multidisciplinary Symposium on
the Sounds of Minorities in National Contexts in Ljubljana, Slovenia.
First of all, I would like to thank Chulalongkorn University and the Faculty of Fine and Applied Arts
which initiated a one-day symposium that inspired me to formulate memories and impressions of my father
for this paper. My heartfelt appreciation goes to Prof. Kjell Skyllstad for proposing a centenary celebration
in January 2018 and I sincerely thank the Dean of the Faculty of Fine and Applied Arts, Prof. Bussakorn
Binson for her unwavering support and dedication for me to present in Bangkok. Now giving this paper in
Kota Kinabalu, I am grateful for this opportunity to say a few words about my father, Mantle Hood. But
before I do its lady’s first. I would like to honour my mother Hazel Chung Hood who joins us today. She was
Mantle Hood’s partner in crime during the so called ‘Golden Age’ of ethnomusicology, both personally as a
spouse, and professionally as one of the first women to help build UCLA’s program in ethnic dance. She
worked tirelessly to train her students in dance who would go on to become leaders in the field. Indeed, the
Hood/Chung partnership and the partnership between early ethnomusicology and the dance department at
UCLA was crucial in the formative years of the field and that continues until today.
Ki Mantle Hood (1918-2005) is remembered for his past contributions to the field of
ethnomusicology. Ki Mantle Hood established the program of ethnomusicology in the early 1950s at the
University of California, Los Angeles to encompass the study of musical, social and cultural dimensions of
human expression. In this paper I will examine three areas of my father’s career: the early years of Hood’s
establishment of the UCLA program; my personal experiences as his student, and his enduring methodology
of bi-musicality and its relevance for future generations of scholars.
With this centenary celebration, it gives me an excuse to dig through some of Mantle Hood’s stuff
piled up in my office. I would like to briefly take you back in history to the years just prior to the 1960s and
the establishment of the UCLA Ethnomusicology Institute. I thought it would be fun to share with you some
of the dirt I uncovered about my father through his letters of correspondence.
In 1957, Hood had just left California to embark on a two-year field research trip to Central Java in
Indonesia. He was weighted down by 200 reel-to-reel tapes, microphones and recording equipment to record
and study the performance practices of master gamelan musicians in the cities of Yogya, Solo and Bandung.
At UCLA, he left behind a program in the emerging field of ethnomusicology. Bill Malm was teaching in
Hood’s absence. The Chairman of the Department of Music, Robert Nelson, was given a laundry list of items
that Hood had systematically written down to transform the program into an institute. My father was always
thinking 5 years ahead. “Where are we going? What needs to be done?” he would say to me. Hood’s plans
included setting up an exchange program for UCLA graduate students to study abroad, purchasing world
music instruments, and remodelling the basement of the music building so students could experience the
music they studied. All of this required money.
Sponsors, Student Grants and Bi-Musicality
While in Indonesia, Hood wrote and revised grant applications to the Rockefeller Foundation in New York.
In a letter dated June 19, 1958 addressed to Dr. Charles Fahs, the Director of the Humanities Division of the
Rockefeller Foundation, Hood’s reasoning as to why money should be spent supporting his students in field
research is conveyed by Nelson. Nelson writes:
It is the opinion of Dr. Hood that the best qualified student this year, and the one working in an area
most vitally in need of field research, is Mr. David Morton. His field of study is the music of
Thailand. Dr. Hood feels that the materials Morton may discover in that area will have an important
bearing on his own work and on the work of our man in India, Robert Brown. We believe that
granting a fellowship for study in this area is in keeping with the philosophy of the program, (Nelson,
1958, correspondence letter, UCLA archives).
The letter goes on to mention that Hood’s proposal for funds will also be used to purchase a rare collection
of tapes from India and a set of Persian instruments from Iranian music scholar, Hormoz Farhat. The proposal
also outlines Hoods plans to build UCLA’s Japanese collection through the efforts of Mr. Robert Garfias
xxv
MADE MANTLE HOOD
who was on his way to Japan at the time. The list of names goes on. Hardja Susilo is earmarked for travel
money and a graduate assistantship that will see him earn his Masters at UCLA and go on to train many of
today’s leading scholars in Indonesian music. Tangore Viswanathan receives a grant and later becomes the
guru of generations of students at Wesleyan University.
For me, the letters of correspondence convey the nature of a man driven by his passion and
conviction for his students and colleagues to succeed in their endeavours. Their endeavours were taking them
across social, cultural and musical boundaries towards the direction of Hood’s master plan: to embed his
methodological approach firmly into the psyche of the field: that approach was, and is, Bi-musicality. Hood’s
musical identity is inextricably linked to this linguistically inspired term. Those students who graduated from
UCLAs institute of ethnomusicology and went on to establish their own programs, may or may not have used
the term themselves to describe their approach. Indeed, the term ‘bi-musicality’ appears less frequently in
contemporary literature. It has been critiqued in online forums such as Decolonializing Ethnomusicology for
essentializing culture, and as Nettl exclaims, “...an outsider cannot come to understand music like a native,
even though he or she tries to follow the path of bi-musicality” (in Titon, 1995, p. 288).
What relevance does bi-musicality have given today’s international geo-political climate of
increased racial tension, forced migration, and neo-nationalism? What value does learning through bimusicality have for current and future generations of scholars? Hood’s bi-musicality has been shown to help
students bridge differences, cultivate understanding, and advocate for tolerance through praxis, exposure and
experience. And the fact remains that today, World Music ensembles still function as gateways into
ethnomusicology for most University students in programs across the globe.
Bi-musicality was never simply about performing displays of ‘Otherness’ for the sake of
entertainment. It was, and still is, about getting at the deeper communicative aspects of a musician’s palette
of expression. It is about respect, honour, and admiration for the diversity of a culture’s musical structures,
tonal systems, and approaches to rhythm.
Mantle the Mentor and his Anecdotes
I remember Mantle Hood not only as my teacher but as a mentor. And there is a difference. During my
undergraduate studies at the University of Maryland Baltimore County, I attended my father’s pro-seminar,
research methods and field research classes. His lectures involved not just instructing students from his lesson
plan, but cultivating their individual passions for music through critical thinking and debate. It is one thing
for a teacher to instruct or guide a student, but Mantle had this innate ability to relate course content to
student’s own research interests. He always started the first class of each semester going around the room
encouraging each student to not just introduce themselves, but to feel comfortable enough to open up and
share what they were most passionate about in studying music. Dad made students feel welcome. Dad was a
listener. He listened carefully when students spoke. He asked them questions with the objective to better
understand their motivations, desires and interests.
The ethnomusicologist is inclined to be highly sensitive to other human beings, to respect their scales
of values and their behaviour, even if these are not compatible with his own…He has a healthy
curiosity about the new and the unknown and a talent for stepping outside himself…long enough to
take a sympathetic look at the unknown…Above all, his liking for music is closely tied to his liking
for people;…In the most literal sense, he is a humanist attuned to the world of the arts. (Hood, 1971)
Hood’s literal interpretation of his positionality as a humanist attuned to the world of arts became the fuel for
his papers, course material, his lecture topics. Ethnomusicology readings, methods and theories came alive
because Hood always related them to students’ projects in meaningful and tangible ways. We had Indian,
African, Taiwanese, and Indonesian musicians sitting next to good-old American Jazz guitarists, sound
engineers, and concert pianists, many of whom had never travelled abroad. Dad not only taught, he mentored
his students by bridging cultural gaps, and linking theories with the practicalities of each student’s research
project. In this way he encouraged diversity by bringing students together as a mentor.
The other point I would like to make about Mantle Hood’s teaching concerns one of his greatest
pedagogical approaches in ethnomusicology: his use of the anecdote. The anecdote, or ‘story telling’ was my
father’s signature teaching tool. This ‘teaching through association’ tool gave narrative to the discipline’s
musical and social theories. For example, I remember him lecturing on Pike’s emic and etic, insider/outsider
theory. He helped students problematize this theoretical binary by critically analysing Western concepts
xxvi
KI MANTLE HOOD’S CENTENARY: HONOURING MY FATHER, A PIONEER OF ETHNOMUSICOLOGY
about the categories of music and dance and how many cultures see movement and sound as intertwined
media. Dad would lean back in his office chair, take off his bifocals, and stroke his white head of hair as if
to jar the memory he was about to share with his students.
He told us a story about how he was driving along a winding road on the island of Hawaiʻi. Seated
next to him in his convertible MGA sports car was a senior Kumu Hula dance teacher. As they drove, the
hula teacher explained to Mantle how hula was much more than pretty girls dressed in grass skirts swaying
their hips and arms to music. Traditional mele hula was more akin to poetry in motion, sung text honouring
revered ancestors or even protective spirits that often appear in the form of animals. They continued driving
along Hawaiʻi’s North shore with the Pacific Ocean on one side and volcanic mountain cliffs on the other.
The dance teacher who came from a long line of revered hula instructors explained that his protective spirit
was the Owl, a native bird revered for its strength and wisdom.
This insider, emic positionality that stood in opposition to Hood’s initial etic understanding of hula
dance got my father thinking. Suddenly, as Mantle steered the car up the tree-lined coastal road, an owl
swooped down in front of his car and proceeded to lead the vehicle for several minutes. Just as quickly as
the owl appeared it flew away back towards the palm trees, the kumu hula teacher smiled confidently at the
ethnomusicologist who now appreciated Hawaiian performing arts as much more than just dance or music.
‘Story telling’ was my father’s signature teaching tool. I am sure many of Mantle’s students continue this
anecdote tradition and tell their own stories.
Conclusion
On a personal note, I would like to invoke the names of my three brothers who also remember and honour
their father today. Marlowe, who lives in Paris, remembers growing up seated on the floor of UCLA’s music
building playing gongs and drums in the gamelan. My brother Maiyo, who has lived and worked in Hong
Kong for 25 years, remembers his Tagalog inspired name connects him to the late Jose Maceda, one of
Mantle’s first PhD students. And finally, Mitro in Baltimore gets his name from the brother of the late Hardja
Susilo, also my father’s student who taught ethnomusicology for many years at the University of Hawaiʻi.
Come to think of it, my own name is also inspired from another of Mantle’s students named I Made Bandem
who is now my Balinese uncle. Why? Because I married his niece!
So, on behalf of the Hood family, thank you for celebrating the centenary of Mantle Hood with us.
I would like to invite my wife Koming, my mother Hazel and my two daughters Mahea and Maile up on
stage to dedicate Balinese offerings and a dance to mark this centennial. I can think of no better way than to
express our love for Mantle than to make music and dance for you today. In Balinese belief, anniversaries
are occasions to remember ancestors as protective family spirits and the teachings they have left behind
because it is those teachings that provide our foundation to create and negotiate our own futures.
References
Hood, M. (1960). The challenge of “bi-musicality”. Ethnomusicology, 4(2), 55-59.
Hood, M. (1971). The ethnomusicologist. Ohio: Kent State University Press.
Titon, J. T. (1995). Bi-musicality as metaphor. Journal of American Folklore, 108(429), 287-297.
Nelson, R. (June 19, 1958). Dr. Charles Fahs, Director of the Humanities Division of the Rockefeller
Foundation’. [Correspondence letter]. UCLA Ethnomusicology Archives.
xxvii
ARTICLES
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
FROM KUDA LUMPING TO INDONESIAN POP: AUSTRALIAN CROSS-CULTURAL AND
CROSS-BORDER ‘ENGAGEMENT’ WITH INDONESIA THROUGH MUSIC AND DANCE
PRESENTATIONS AND RE-IMAGININGS
Aline Scott-Maxwell
Monash University, Australia
Musical and other performances have long formed a significant part of cross-border and cross-cultural
engagement between Australia and Indonesia, fostered by Australia’s geographical location as Indonesia’s
immediate neighbour.1 Such forms of engagement, including between Australia and Asia more broadly, have
become much more diverse and complex in recent decades through the mobilities and cultural flows arising
from globalisation and the many changes taking place in Asia itself, with Indonesia being no exception.
Australia today is a highly multicultural and visibly Asianising country. According to the 2016 Australian
census, the majority of Australia’s large overseas-born population (itself comprising 26.3% of Australia’s
total population) is now from Asia and 10.3% of all Australians were born in an ‘Asian’ country.
This paper considers three examples that are drawn from my broader research into Indonesianinflected music and performance in contemporary Australia. They show how the present-day Australian
cultural and demographic environment enables highly divergent, or diffuse, types of cross-border and crosscultural musical engagement with Indonesia. The examples also serve to problematise the idea of engagement
itself. This term is used widely and often rather loosely; as Ang et al. (2011) point out: “”Engagement” is a
problematic term…because no one knows exactly what it means” (p. 2). It is also often applied in ways that
place a value on engagement as a ‘virtuous activity’ (James, 2016) or on particular types of engagement
above others (for example in Mitchell & Teychenné, 2018). In this paper, however, ‘engagement’ simply
denotes some form and degree of cross-cultural or cross-border connection made through music or
performance—whether by its producers, audience or both, whether it involves a reciprocal connection or not
and whether it is more ‘imagined’ than ‘real’.
The three examples discussed are, firstly, two contrasting but interconnected curated projects created
for mainstream Australian arts festivals. Together, these projects trace a journey from Indonesia to Australia
of the Javanese traditional performance form of kuda lumping and its two very different realisations, or
transformations, within a mediated, contemporary arts-festival environment. They illustrate how
‘engagement’ with Indonesia through performance is filtered or ‘translated’ for Australian audiences. The
other example is an annual concert of Indonesian pop and rock held in Melbourne called Soundsekerta.
Presented by and for a local Indonesian diaspora sub-group comprising international students from Indonesia,
it raises the question of whether in fact any form of cross-cultural or cross-border engagement is involved.
These three examples occupy entirely different spheres of music and performance activity, being presented
variously as either a traditional form, contemporary ‘art’ or popular music and involving differing types of
producer and audience. They also differ in the degree to which their ‘Indonesian’ content is mediated. In all
three cases, however, cross-cultural or cross-border engagement—or connections—through music or
performance arguably occur just as much in the process as in the outcome, including through the two-way
‘pathways’ between Australia and Indonesia that are created as part of this process.
‘Translating’ and Re-Imagining Kuda Lumping for an Australian Audience
Kuda lumping, also known in different regions of Java and beyond as jaranan, jaran kepang, jathilan, kuda
kepang, or reog amongst other names, is a traditional Javanese ‘folk’ (or non-court) performance genre that
involves dance with bamboo hobby horses, gamelan music, trance and acts of ‘superhuman’ endurance (such
as eating glass or dancing on hot coals).2 In August 2015, a kuda lumping troupe from Batu (near Malang) in
East Java called Padepokan Gunung Ukir, led by Ki Iswandi, was invited to Melbourne to perform in the
Melbourne Arts Centre, Melbourne’s principal concert hall and theatre precinct, as part of a ‘festival of the
ecstatic’ called Supersense. Over two years later, in February 2017, a newly-created, award-winning
contemporary dance piece called Attractor that was directly inspired by the earlier kuda lumping performance
was premiered in the same venue.
Besides the East Javanese performers themselves, there were three key artists, collaborators and
mediators involved in both kuda lumping-related projects: Gideon Obarzarnek and Indonesian musicians,
Rully Shabara and Wukir Suryadi. Gideon Obarzarnek is an acclaimed Australian contemporary dance
1
ALINE SCOTT-MAXWELL
choreographer who was ‘artistic director’ of the 2015 kuda lumping performance and co-choreographer and
director of the 2017 Attractor dance work. Vocalist Rully Shabara and multi-instrumentalist and instrumentbuilder, Wukir Suryadi, perform together as Senyawa, a Yogyakarta-based punk and metal-influenced
experimental music duo. Senyawa have frequently performed in Australia since their first visit in 2011 and
are now also widely known in Europe, the United States and elsewhere. They collaborated with Gideon
Obarzarnek in bringing kuda lumping to Melbourne. They chose the Gunung Ukir troupe for the Melbourne
project and took Gideon to see them in Batu, where he witnessed his first kuda lumping performance.3 Rully
and Wukir also served as cultural mediators and behind-the-scenes interpreters for the 2015 Melbourne
production. And, as Senyawa, they provided live music for the Attractor dance performance that was based
on Gideon’s experience of kuda lumping in both East Java and Melbourne.
Like other traditional Javanese forms, kuda lumping is anchored in diverse aspects of Javanese
culture from dance, music and history to (in this case) animist or mysticism-related beliefs, practices and
rituals. How, therefore, could such a performance and its associated trance and other seemingly transgressive
practices be taken out of this cultural context and presented in any sort of authentic or meaningful way in a
venue designed for opera and ballet to a mostly non-Indonesia literate audience? Artistic director Gideon
Obarzarnek had himself expressed concern about “taking something traditional out of its original setting”
and presenting “some kind of religious or animistic ritual ceremony” (Obarzarnek, 2015). On seeing the
performance in East Java, however, he had been relieved to discover that it was also a ‘spectacle’, or
entertainment. Rather than trying to recreate its traditional environment or re-work its content in some way,
he decided instead to “heighten…the ecstatic essence of it”4 “to find a means of showing the dance in a way
that wasn’t exoticised…[and] shifting the environment to be a representation of the psychological change as
they go into trance…” (Hawker, 2015).
Obarzarnek’s artistic direction for the production involved three main elements: (1) bringing
performers and audience together on the massive State Theatre stage in close proximity and in an informal
setting where audience members were able to come and go or buy drinks at an on-stage bar, (2) creation of a
semi-enclosed ‘almost neutral’ white space with a white floor and lowered white screens, and (3)
programming the coloured lighting to respond to particular gamelan instruments, especially the drums, in
order to try and represent, or ‘reinterpret’, the sound through the lighting (‘so you’d be able to see what the
sounds looks like’). The performers were apparently happy with these interventions and with the whole
notion of it as a “sensory collaboration” (Hawker, 2015).
The resulting, relatively minimally-mediated performance unfolded with all the contingencies and
extremes of such trance performances in Java—with no apparent compromises taken in presenting all its key
traditional elements. As screens dropped to close off most of the vast cavernous vault of the State Theatre’s
tiers of red plush seating, the confined intimate white space helped to create a highly focused and very
‘present’ and intense experience for a fully absorbed audience. OHS rules apparently did not preclude the
burning of incense on a charcoal burner or presentation of offerings in the space.5 A long welcome by the
troupe’s leader in Javanese that included prayers in Arabic did not defer in any way to the audience’s Englishspeaking needs. The gamelan, supplemented by an electronic keyboard (used for the campur sari songs that
are commonly incorporated into present-day kuda lumping and many other traditional performance contexts
in Java), was elevated on a platform, but the many female and male dancers as well as the pawang (shaman),
Pak Iswandi, and his assistants were barely separated from the audience seated on the floor right around
them. The shift from music foregrounding pesindhen vocalists and keyboard melodies or suling to the strident
sound of the double-reed slompret signalled a transition from a dance to a trance environment. The constantly
changing, sometimes pulsing coloured lights, synchronised with amplified drum strokes, accentuated the
music’s intensification during the performance and, together with the pungent smell of incense and the
cracking of whips to induce trance, created a profoundly multi-sensory effect.
Trance events were numerous, seemingly spontaneous and random—and appeared very real to
audience members who witnessed them up close and were even asked to unwrap and test razor blades that
were subsequently chewed and eaten.6 Even gamelan players fell into trance with the gong player nearly
knocking over the gong stand and stumbling over the drums and kenong, instruments dropping out without
their entranced players, and a single remaining kethuk and heavily, beaten drum taking the music well beyond
‘norms’ of Javanese gamelan music. When the pawang, Pak Iswandi, suddenly brought the performance to
a close, the screens rose, opening the space to ‘the real world’ of the State Theatre, and a ritual selamatan
feast with a rice mountain was brought on to the stage for all performers and audience to share together.
2
FROM KUDA LUMPING TO INDONESIAN POP: AUSTRALIAN CROSS-CULTURAL AND CROSS-BORDER
‘ENGAGEMENT’ WITH INDONESIA THROUGH MUSIC AND DANCE PRESENTATIONS AND RE-IMAGININGS
‘Translated’ for its audience through semi-participatory and sensory although decontextualised
immersion, published reviews and blog comments about the performance testify that the audience found it,
on the whole, a mesmerising, challenging and ‘other world’-ly experience, for example: “This was one of the
most amazing experiences I have ever had the chance to witness, and I found myself absolutely hypnotised
for the entirety of the performance” (Rew, 2015).
Even for those in the audience I spoke to who were familiar with kuda lumping or other Indonesian
trance dances, the performance was confrontingly ‘real’.
‘Attractor’ Dance Piece
The contemporary dance work, Attractor, performed by the professional Queensland dance company, Dance
North, and co-choreographed and directed by Gideo Obarzarnek and another acclaimed Australian
choreographer, Lucy Guerin, was presented on the same closed off State Theatre stage, except that the
audience sat on raked benches. With kuda lumping and Senyawa’s music as its starting points, it was
promoted as ‘an ecstatic ritual for non-believers’ and described as ‘participatory’, among other things. The
young, highly trained dancers moved rapidly around the performance space in choreographed swarms or
quasi-ceremonial circles and other formations, using repetitive movements and seemingly improvised or
random thrashing or jerking gestures, presumably intended to simulate the possessed ‘in trance’ body. At one
point, twenty unrehearsed (though planted) members of the audience entered the space and became part of
the performance, following instructions about where and how to move through earpieces, and representing
in a semi-choreographed way the sometimes blurred boundaries between performer and audience and the
participatory spontaneity that Gideon had witnessed in East Java.
What appeared to me—at least when compared to its kuda lumping model—as the abstracted, rather
superficial artifice of this choreography was in stark juxtaposition to the largely motionless but very powerful
presence and visceral sounds of the two Indonesian musicians. Rully Shabara’s loudly amplified extended
vocal effects, including groans, breathy mostly unpitched guttural and glottal sounds, screaming and
squealing, together with Wukir Suryadi’s unorthodox striking techniques on his home-made electric guitar
or his bowed or plucked home-made electricified bamboo tube-zither (with tuning-pegs), were overlaid with
deep pulsing electronics.7 These combined sounds and effects somehow responded to the perceived ‘other
world’-ness of kuda lumping, but in a contemporised and transformative rather than imitative way.
Occasional snatches of vernacular text or wayang-like chant and the distinct pelog tones of a briefly-heard
Javanese suling provided sporadic explicit connections to a more traditional Indonesia. There was some
(choreographed) interactivity between musicians and dancers as they responded respectively to sounds or
movements, but the two musicians stood or sat in the centre of the dancers throughout except at one point
when they were picked up by the dancers and carried around as they continued to sing or play.
Stripped of its specific Javanese aesthetic, cultural and spiritual meanings, Attractor re-packaged or
‘translated’ kuda lumping as a generalised and rather essentialised trance and ritual-like event that, in the
case of the dance, carried no Indonesia-specific references at all, representing the ‘other’ without the
‘difference’. For Attractor’s music, however, Indonesian performers were placed at the work’s centre and,
by contrast, presented an unmediated ‘contemporary’ version of Indonesia that was as compelling in its own
way as the kuda lumping performance. For example, one reviewer wrote:
Drawing on traditional music and folklore from the cultures of the Indonesian archipelago,
[Senyawa] combine elements of punk, heavy metal, and avant garde musical performance into an
absolutely exhilarating, impossible-to-predict performance that may have no other comparison in
contemporary music. (Wunnan, 2017)8
Both the kuda lumping and the Attractor performances, especially Senyawa’s music, created possibilities for
audience engagement with either a perceived ‘traditional’ Indonesia or ‘contemporary’ Indonesia, whether
through types of participation or semi-participation, sensory immersion, or juxtapositions of Indonesian and
non-Indonesian elements. Yet neither Attractor’s marketing promotion nor its reviews made explicit
references to Indonesia except in relation to Senyawa, who wore the ‘cloak’ of ethnic authenticity (Weiss,
2008, p. 218). Much more significant in relation to Australian engagement with Indonesia through these
performances was that both were strongly underpinned and driven by a cross-cultural and cross-border
collaborative process. This process involved the personal engagement of Gideon Obarzarnek with Indonesia
3
ALINE SCOTT-MAXWELL
(see Mitchell, 2018), including through his discovery and experience of kuda lumping, the Senyawa
musicians’ personal and creative engagement with Australia through their frequent visits, performances and
local creative network, and the three artists’ intense and shared collaborative experience of staging kuda
lumping and especially of creating Attractor. As noted in one newspaper report:
Javanese duo Senyawa are not just central to the stage and the performance. Their work was the
inspiration for the entire piece, and they were full creative partners in the development of the
choreography. (Hawker, 2015)
Transplanting an Indonesia Pop Culture World into Melbourne
The third example discussed here shifts the paper’s focus from a cross-cultural scenario within a mainstream
Australian arts environment to a context that is entirely and starkly ‘cross-border’, that is, the pop music
world of a distinctly demarcated Indonesian diaspora sub-group in Australia. Every year since 2007,
international students from Indonesia who are studying at my university, Monash University (Melbourne),
have organised a large concert of Indonesian pop and rock called Soundsekerta.9 The concert, together with
the broader social and pop culture scene of which it is a part, illustrates various notable aspects of this
international student community, who together with international students from other parts of Asia comprise
a numerically very large transient diaspora grouping in Australia.10 Features of this community include: (1)
the students’ highly concentrated geographical presence in the central city and a few suburban locations
where they study and live, (2) the types of social groupings, organisations and networks they form,11 which
consist almost exclusively of fellow international students from their own country (described by Gomes
(2017) as ‘parallel societies’), (3) their highly limited and mostly superficial engagement with Australian
society and culture (as well as with the local Indonesian-Australian migrant community) and (4) their strongly
transnational lives expressed through their social media networks and their consumption or production of
music and other forms of pop culture, among other things (as also discussed in Scott-Maxwell, 2008).
The annual Soundsekerta concert is project managed and produced entirely by a team of students,
who raise a very substantial budget from sponsors, fund-raising and ticketing, select the artists and market
and manage the event.12 The centrepiece and main drawcard of Soundsekerta is a line-up of top Indonesian
pop and rock acts who are invited to Melbourne especially for the concert. Artists who have performed in
Soundsekerta in previous years include Sheila on 7 (2010 and 2014), Gigi, d’Masiv (2011), Dewa 19 (2013),
Noah, Nidji (2015) and Project Pop (2017). Held in the 2000-seat capacity Melbourne Town Hall, the
concerts attract an audience of up to 1500 people or more who are almost exclusively Indonesian and
overwhelmingly international students.
Soundsekerta brings students together because of a shared love of the pop and rock from their
homeland. It is also driven by the status and meanings attached to celebrity pop. But the significance of the
event lies in other things, including its social dimension: of students wanting to experience it together with
their friends and of responding collectively to the musicians through swamping the area in front of the stage,
waving, dancing and singing along as well as meeting and chatting to friends. Artists often actively
collaborate musically with the student audience, who know many of the songs and lyrics. Also highly
significant is the larger participatory process, which includes pre-event activities and competitions, such as
song cover contests for student singers or bands, with their entries posted on YouTube, or a competition for
a student band to open the concert. Part of this participatory process is the organising of the event itself,
which creates an intense, shared bonding experience amongst each year’s new committee due to the close
team- work demanded by the responsibility of managing such a large-scale event (alongside their studies) as
well as the very tight time-frame and the consequent steep learning curve for team members. Within this
time-frame the project team must, amongst many other things, find sponsors, make a long ‘shortlist’ of
preferred artists, contact them regarding availability since many already have performing schedules bookedout well ahead, and negotiate discounted deals on their fees. Much of this involves intensive on-the-ground
work in Jakarta during the mid-semester break.13
The case for discounted artists’ fees is made not just on the basis of the concert’s not-for-profit status
but by invoking nationalist support for fellow citizens studying far away from home. In fact, the concert itself
demonstrates a strongly projected diaspora-formed nationalism. This is not just evident in such things as the
students’ celebration of and pride in their pop culture and singing of the national anthem or, sometimes, the
4
FROM KUDA LUMPING TO INDONESIAN POP: AUSTRALIAN CROSS-CULTURAL AND CROSS-BORDER
‘ENGAGEMENT’ WITH INDONESIA THROUGH MUSIC AND DANCE PRESENTATIONS AND RE-IMAGININGS
inclusion of other national songs by the featured artists but, notably in 2017, in the concert’s theme of
Harmony in Diversity. For example, Facebook promotion for the 2017 concert included the following:
Funny thing about people is that it takes many differences to split them apart, but it only takes one
thing in common to unite them. No matter what your race, skin tone or religion is, we all belong to
one nation with one purpose in mind: better future for our beloved country. (20 August, 2017)
In emphasising that music was a unifier across race, ethnicity, religion, gender and so on, the theme of
‘Harmony in Diversity’ was undoubtedly responding to recent political events in Jakarta and emerging ethnic
and religious tensions there arising from blasphemy accusations against the previous Jakarta governor, Ahok,
and his eventual controversial jailing—as well as no doubt the Indonesian national motto of ‘unity in
diversity.
Soundsekerta concerts are primarily an expression and affirmation of the students’ individual and
collective Indonesian identities through their social experience of the event and their identification with
Indonesian pop amongst other things. These meanings are created within and shared by organisers and
participants alike and, without non-Indonesian Australians in the audience, the concerts require no mediation
or ‘translation’. Soundsekerta concerts strongly demonstrate the transnational connections of the students and
their engagement with Indonesia and, to some degree, its social and political issues rather than any overt
engagement with Australia as such. Yet, it is transplanted into and takes place within an Australian ‘lifestyle’
setting and is enabled by its Australian context. And the students’ engagement with Indonesia is from their
diaspora position within Australia.
Conclusion
Together, these three select and very varied examples demonstrate some of the diversity and complexity of
how Indonesia is presented, mediated and contextualised through music and performance in contemporary
Australia. The examples show how Australian ‘engagement’ with Indonesia through performance presents
in filtered or disguised ways. In Australia, proximity to Indonesia and specificities of diaspora together create
a unique scenario for cross-cultural and cross-border musical engagement with Indonesia—especially in a
transient diaspora context where, arguably, the cultural and social borders between Australia and Indonesia
are found within Australia itself. The paper has also tried to highlight the particular significance of process
and of the pathways between Australia and Indonesia that these processes can create or reinforce, including
through extended collaboration. But even in the absence of clearly demonstrated forms of cross-cultural or
cross-border connection, or engagement, each of the performances or concert events considered here created
in their own way a space for Indonesia in Australia and, I suggest, for Australia in Indonesia.
Endnotes
1
See Scott-Maxwell (2015). See Macknight (1976) regarding pre-white settlement encounters between
Yolgnu Aborigines and visiting trepang fishermen from Makassar.
2 Amongst the extensive literature on this genre, recent studies include Mauricio (2002), Simatupang (2002),
Browne (2003), Groenendael (2008), and Hardwick (2014).
3 The Gunung Ukir troupe was sourced through Wukir’s connections in Malang, where he comes from (W.
Suryadi, personal communication, 14 February, 2018).
4 From printed promotional material for the Supersense festival.
5 I was unable to ascertain whether the offerings included a live black chicken, which in Javanese
performances is usually tied under the offerings table.
6 Issues pertaining to trance as such or its genuineness are not relevant to how it was received in the
Melbourne performance.
7 Wukir calls his home-made instruments, ‘spatula’and ‘bambuwukir’, respectively (personal communication, 14 February, 2018).
8 This review is of a later performance from the production’s United States tour.
9 The concert takes its name from Sansekerta, the Indonesian word for Sanskrit.
10 Australia is the overseas country of choice for Indonesian undergraduate students. In 2017, there were over
20,000 education enrolments from Indonesia, of which nearly 10,000 were in Australian universities or other
5
ALINE SCOTT-MAXWELL
higher education institutions (Australian Embassy, Indonesia, 2017). The overall number of international
student enrolments in Australia was nearly 600,000.
11
These organisations include local university branches of the Indonesian Student Association in Australia:
Perhimpunan Pelajar Indonesia Australia (PPIA).
12
In 2016, the Soundsekerta budget was A$75,000 (personal communication, Jessen Tjandra, 6 September,
2016).
13 Personal communications: Jessen Tjandra, 6 September, 2016, and 25 October, 2016, and Christian Parera,
8 November, 2017.
References
Ang, I. et al. (2011). What is the art of engagement? In E. Lally, I. Ang & K. Anderson (Eds.), The art of
engagement: Culture, collaboration, innovation. Crawley, W.A.: UWA Publishing.
Australian Embassy, Indonesia. (2017). More Indonesian students studying in Australia. Retrieved from
https://indonesia.embassy.gov.au/jakt/MR17_059.html
Browne, K.O. (2003). Awareness, emptiness, and Javanese selves: Jatilan performance in Yogyakarta,
Indonesia. The Asia Pacific Journal of Anthropology, 4(1-2), 54-71.
Gomes, C. (2017). Transient mobility and middle class identity: Media and migration in Australia and
Singapore. Singapore: Palgrave Macmillan.
Groenendael, M. C. V. van. (2008). The horse dance and trance in East Java. Leiden: KITLV Press.
Hardwick, P. A. (2014). Horsing around Melayu: Kuda kepang, Islamic piety, and identity politics at play in
Singapore’s Malay community. Journal of the Malaysian Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,
87(306), 1-19.
Hawker, P. (2015). Tradition meets collaboration in ritual of trance and dance at Supersense Festival. Sydney
Morning Herald. Retrieved from https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/dance/tradition-meetscollaboration-in-ritual-of-trance-and-dance-at-supersense-festival-20150727-gildui.html
James, P. (2016). Engaged research. Retrieved from https://www.westernsydney.edu.au/__data/assets/
pdf_file/0009/1149876/Engaged_Research.pdf
Macknight, C. C. (1976). The voyage to Marege: Macassan trepangers in Northern Australia. Carlton,
Victoria: Melbourne University Press.
Mauricio, D. (2002). Jaranan in East Java: An ancient tradition in modern times (M.A. thesis). University
of Hawaii, Hawaii. Retrieved from https://scholarspace.manoa.hawaii.edu/bitstream/10125/7082/
2/uhm_ma_3041_r.pdf
Mitchell, J. & Teychenné, L. (2018). Beyond cultural diplomacy: The artistic nuance in Australia-Indonesia
relations. In T. Lindsey & D. McRae (Eds.), Indonesia and Australia in the Asian century (pp. 323344). Oxford: Hart Publishing. Retrieved from http://dx.doi.org/10.5040/9781509918195.ch-017
Obarzarnek, G. (2015). Kuda Lumping: Ritual Trance from Indonesia [radio interview podcast]. Retrieved
from http://www.abc.net.au/radionational/programs/booksandarts/kuda-lumping3a-ritual-trance-fro
m-indonesia/6671866
Rew, K. (2015). Arts festival review: Supersense Festival - Arts Centre, Melbourne (7th to 9th August 2015).
The AU Review. Retrieved from http://www.theaureview.com/arts/reviews/supersense-festival-artscentre-melbourne-7-9-august-2015
Scott-Maxwell, A. (2008). Making music to feel at home: The Indonesian student music scene in Melbourne.
In D. Bendrups (Ed.), Music on the edge: Selected papers from the 2007 IASPM Australia/New
Zealand Conference, Dunedin (pp. 149-154). Dunedin: IASPM Australia/New Zealand.
Scott-Maxwell, A. (2015). Representing Indonesia in Australia through performance: Communities,
collaborations, identities. In B. Hatley & B. Hough (Eds.), Performing contemporary Indonesia:
CelebratingiIdentity, constructing community (pp. 182-202). Leiden: Brill.
Simatupang, G. R. L. (2002). Play and display: An ethnographic study of Reyog Ponorogo, in East Java,
Indonesia (Unpublished doctoral dissertation). University of Sydney, Australia.
Weiss, S. (2008). Permeable boundaries: Hybridity, music, and the reception of Robert Wilson’s “I
LaGaligo”. Ethnomusicology, 52(2), 203-238.
Wunnan, N. (2017). At White Bird, ‘Attractor’ is magnetic. Oregon Arts Watch. Retrieved from http://
www.orartswatch.org/at-white-bird-attractor-is-magnetic/
6
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
FROM SUNDA TO BANYUWANGI ACROSS CAMPURSARI, HIP-HOP AND GAMELAN:
CROSSING GEOGRAPHICAL AND MUSICAL BORDERS ON THE
CENTRAL JAVANESE WAYANG KULIT STAGE
Ilaria Meloni
La Sapienza Università di Roma, Italy
This paper discusses some important changes and new tendencies affecting the Central Javanese shadow
puppet theatre (wayang kulit) in recent days. The wayang kulit has undergone continuous transformations
across the centuries and, still now, external influences determine interesting modifications in its performance
practice and music repertoire. This art has always been open to new suggestions and impulses from outside,
meaning both “outside the tradition” and “outside the geographical area”, in this specific case the courtly
center of Yogyakarta. In fact, despite courtly centres it can be considered the core of the tradition (Sutton,
1991). In the last decade, the processes of transformation have considerably accelerated, and they are heading
to new directions. The openness to contemporary hybrid musical genres and diverse musical traditions are a
leading thread to follow in the analysis of the new audience fruition and the response of the society to the
performing arts:
The traditional musical culture of the islands is rich and diversified, with each of the major ethnic or
regional groups developing one or more distinctive genres. And the arts have reflected historical
change. Artistic activity proved to be a major means of facilitating the assimilation of external
cultures into the mainstream of tradition. Forms of cultural expression maintained their vitality by
assuming new roles and functions, hence providing a framework for continuity in a changing society.
Borrowing, adaptation, and transmission of cultural elements between groups were always major
forces in Indonesian artistic development, resulting in unique artistic forms – including music.
(Lockard, 1998, p. 56)
The Indonesian archipelago is rich in cultural diversity which is reflected in the arts. Looking at Java, there
can be found a large variety of the so called “regional styles”, meaning local cultural and artistic peculiar
traits in which the artists of some macro and micro-areas identify themselves, developing their own musical
styles. Despite this, “regional styles” cannot be considered hermetic and sharply defined, since they share
mutual exchanges and common roots between different areas, they are significantly relevant for the locals,
to create their own identities or embodied communities (Hughes-Freeland, 2008). Some of these styles can
be associated with the following areas: Yogyakarta, Surakarta, Banyumas, Semarang, Jawa Timur or East
Java (a macro area including smaller areas), Banyuwangi and Sunda. Nowadays, more and more artists tend
to mix these “regional styles” in order to create new spectacular expedients and to interface with the
contemporary audience demand. Especially in Java and Bali, wayang kulit has become the main artistic
medium (Lockard, 1998, p. 57) and, consequently, a huge container of different styles and a kaleidoscope of
musical genres blended together in the body of the “tradition”, and that is the reason it can be analysed as a
mirror of the historical and social changes.
“Jaman Dulu” vs “Jaman Now”
Strictly talking about Yogyanese wayang, many of my informants individuate two great periods called
“jaman dulu” (“past time”) and “jaman now” (“current century”). The “jaman now” is a very recent reality
but it can be rooted back in the ‘70s to the ‘90s, with the determinant advent of radio broadcasting and cassette
recording. Especially from the post-independence period, also thanks to the charismatic impulse of great
innovators such as Ki Narthosabdho (Petersen, 2001; Mrázek, 2005) and the impact of new media, the
musical repertoire has undergone dramatic transformations affecting the specific Central Javanese or
Yogyanese flavour and the classic karawitan style (Hood, 1988). Interviews conducted to senior sindhen
(female singers), during my fieldwork, showed that, formerly, there was only a comic interlude in which
classical pieces (as Kutut Manggung or Uler Kambang) were sung by one or two vocalists, who used to sit
in the gamelan orchestra next to the male musicians. In the ‘70s, Narthosabdho created a second comic
interlude and moved the female singers on stage, introducing many new genres, mostly taken from other
local traditions like Banyumas, Semarang, and East Java, taking inspirations from rural arts like lénggér,
tayub, ngremo.
7
ILARIA MELONI
Nowadays, this openness and fusion between musical genres and regional styles seems to be
determinant in the majority of wayang kulit performances, not only in Yogyakarta. The means of this
crossover are the voice of the sindhen and the creativity of innovative puppeteers and karawitan groups which
try to please the audience demand and keep the interest of the young generations alive through new solutions
in which tradition meets the contemporaneity. Comic interludes are becoming more and more a wide, open
access for innovations. According to my fieldwork experience, both as researcher and foreign sindhen in
practice, I could notice, on contemporary Yogyanese wayang stage, a taste for some particular regional
flavours and musical genres. Amongst others already quite established (as the “Banyumasan”) there are some
rather new, like the “Banyuwangen”. Two songs are very often required of the sindhen during comic
interludes (and they are usually performed standing up and doing joget-hinted dance moves): Sambel
Kemangi and Gelang Alit. Notwithstanding, the “Banyuwangen” doesn’t necessarily refer to the original
repertoire of the Banyuwangi tradition, on the contrary, it consists in a borrowing of some traits of
Banyuwangi vocal style, blended in campursari or Pop or Rock arrangements. There is also the so called
dangdut “Banywangen” by the superstar Nella Kharisma, a genre which seems to be largely appreciated both
by the artists and the audience, especially since the dangdut genre has become the most popular music in
Indonesia (Weintraub, 2010).
Sunda, Gamelan and Hip-Hop: The Case of Bajing Loncat
Besides the Banyuwangen hits, a peculiar piece, entitled Bajing Loncat, seems to be highly required on the
Yogyanese wayang stage during comic interludes (I encountered this piece almost every night when I was
researching and performing in Yogyakarta, during my 2017-2018 fieldwork).
The first time I listened to this piece was on the 2nd of August 2016, during a wayang kulit by the
famous Yogyanese dalang Ki Gondo Suharno (Pak Harno). During the comic interlude (Figure 1), Pak Harno
took his set of golek (tri-dimensional rod-puppets typical from Sunda, [Weintraub, 2004]) and asked Natalia,
one of the most talented singers of the gamelan group, Canda Nada (who often collaborates with him), to
sing a Sundanese piece. Pak Harno introduced the piece as following: “A joget [dancing] piece, Bajing
Loncat, in the Sundanese style, re-arranged in slendro tuning and turned into a Hip-Hop version by our friends
from Satria Laras [gamelan] group” (Ki Gondo Suharno, August 2, 2016). Right after this introduction, the
Central Javanese gamelan in slendro tuning played a brief introduction consisting of an ascendant note
progression from low 1 to 5. Then the gender gave the incipit to the singer who started singing the first verse:
“Bajing Loncat, Bajing Loncat ka astana, aduh, aduh, ieu.” The impact given by the incipit of the song was
not only given by Natalia’s excellent voice quality but also by the juxtaposition of the pelog degung scale
(sung by her) and the slendro scale (played by the gamelan). The contrast became stronger when, after the
first verse, constituted by an alternation of the singer’s cengkok (melodic patterns) and the gamelan arpeggios
in slendro, the two scalar systems overlapped, with Natalia’s voice resonating over the gamelan heterophony.
After the exposition of the Bajing Loncat theme in the classical version (even if always slightly different in
the singer’s voice elaboration) a change happened: the gamelan played a series of repeated notes on the
slendro pitch 2, in ostinato, ending in a sudden stop and a signal with the drums. At this point, the sindhen
and gerong (male vocalists) choir entered repeating the Bajing Loncat main verse, spelling it in a syllabic
rapped style, instead of the melismatic solo Sundanese female voice, and fusing the two diverse laras (modal
systems) of pelog degung and slendro, in a diatonic Western-like scale. This piece appeared as a perfect
example of the new musical tendencies of the contemporary wayang stage: a mixture of different “regional
styles” (meaning both different repertoires, vocal techniques and tuning systems), musical genres (from
Central Javanese gamelan, to Sundanese folk music to modern global genres like Hip-Hop) and performance
embodiments (I refer to the different gestures and attitude of the female singers, which is rather gendered and
standardized in the traditional performing arts).
8
FROM SUNDA TO BANYUWANGI ACROSS CAMPURSARI, HIP-HOP AND GAMELAN:
CROSSING GEOGRAPHICAL AND MUSICAL BORDERS ON THE CENTRAL JAVANESE WAYANG KULIT STAGE
Figure 1. Pak Harno with his Sundanese golek rod-puppet during the comic interlude.
(Photo by the author)
Bajing Loncat (“Flying Squirrell”) is a Sundanese folksong or lagu daerah. It was composed by the famous
Sundanese Pop singer Kosman Djaja and made in several versions from Pop to jaipongan (the Sundanese
modern dance, evolved from the ancient practices of ronggeng and ketutk tilu, now disappeared (Spiller,
2010). Amongst other versions, there is the one sung by the famous Sundanese singer Upit Sarimanah,
published by the MTR Records (available on the YouTube). This song has been re-arranged by Satria Laras,
a gamelan group collaborating with the superstar dalang, recently passed away, Ki Enthus Susmono,
considered as an innovator and taken as an example by many puppeteers all across the Javanese island. Ki
Enthus was the regent or bupati of Tegal, a crossroad area on the Northern coast, between Sunda and Central
Java. One of his peculiarities as innovator was the crossbreeding of “regional styles”, especially from Sunda,
Banyumas, Semarang, Central Java, Banyuwangi and also Bali. He used a mixed ensemble, united with
musicians and sindhen coming from different areas. On the 4th of July 2018, I had the opportunity to interview
Mas Agung Pengging, the leader of Satrio Laras group and the one who arranged this piece. He joined Satrio
Laras group in 2006 and he soon became the leader. He revealed that in Ki Enthus group, everybody, even
the dalang himself, participated to the arrangement and to the creation of new repertoires, used both for the
narration and for the comic interludes. Mas Agung said that he used to suggest some compositions or
arrangements, while the other members participate in the music composition in an extemporary way, rarely
using notation, under Ki Enthus supervision and coordination.
As in the case of Bajing Loncat, a musician from Sunda was specifically appointed to find a good
Sundanese song (Mas Agung specified that the musicians choosing the lagu daerah are always locals so they
are more expert). Also, many inspirations are taken from the Sundanese repertoire because of the
geographical position of Tegal (Figure 2). Mas Agung made the arrangement of the Sundanese piece and Ki
Enthus suggested to add the Hip-Hop part, because of the trends of “jaman now”, strictly connected with the
idea of modernity and globalization. The instrumental accompaniment was moved from pelog to slendro to
be played on the Central Javanese gamelan, yet maintaining the Sundanese scale for the vocal part. Further,
the rhythm was modified to introduce the Hip-Hop section. The piece received a very positive response from
the audience and, as a consequence, it was adopted by many other gamelan groups, as well as other Satrio
Laras pieces.
Figure 2. Bajing Loncat geographical “border crossing”.
9
ILARIA MELONI
Therefore, from Tegal, this piece spread out and was adopted by many puppeteers, mostly in Banyumas,
Semarang, Yogyakarta, Surakarta and East Java (especially in Surabaya, where there is the massive fan
community of Ki Enthus). Ki Enthus has many fans, admirers and emulators all across Java, he has become
an icon and an inspiration and his iringan (wayang musical accompaniment) is considered the most catchy
and effective on the audience, compared to other wayang groups. This is a fundamental requirement for
contemporary puppeteers and gamelan groups: satisfying the demand of the audience of “jaman now”, that
means heading toward a musical hybridity (both on a synchronic and a diachronic axis) and a constant update
of the social contents communicated by the wayang media.
Crossing Borders: Gender Fluidity and “Trans-Regionalism”
This genre fluidity and cross-cultural or transcultural musical taste have become an essential aspect of the
contemporary wayang kulit, and also in the more conservative wayang traditions like the Yogyanese one.
The “campuran” (“mixture”) between regional styles and genres is something existing for a long time, but
only very recently is having a fast acceleration and it is pushing beyond certain “borders”, specifically:
Farther areas from Central Java, like Sunda and Banyuwangi.
Musical genres generating a huge gap with the classical karawitan, like Rock and Hip-Hop,
involving new instrumentation beside gamelan (like Rock bands, keyboards and synthesizers).
While great parts of the former innovations (both in music and dramaturgy) could be considered to some
extent innovations within the tradition, the new directions seem to totally cross both local and traditional
borders to create a pan-Javanese or “trans-regional” musical product (even the figure of the sindhen is a sign
of this tendency), which is representative of the “unity in diversity” more than the singular territorial
specificities.
Explaining the taste for “regional styles”, Mas Pengging pointed to the nationalist idea of taking
pieces of cultures to create a unified tradition, in which different regional elements are blended together. In
another famous Satrio Laras piece (also inspired by Sundanese music) entitled Renggong Buyut, this aspect
is underlined in the lyrics: “It talks about Satrio Laras nationalism. Satrio Laras strength is the synergy
between artists who are compatriots. Through the culture we express our belonging to one nation, Indonesia”
(Mas Agung Pengging, July 4, 2018). The unified Javanese regionalism or “trans-regionalism” can be seen
as a symbol of an imagined community which reflects the unified Indonesia, thence, on a higher level, a
symbol of nationalism (Anderson, 2006), and the modernity of this community is symbolized by the musical
choice. A stanza of Renggong Buyut song perfectly expresses this concept:
Negara aman Sentosa
Dengan talatah nan luhur Pancasila
Dan Bhinneka Tunggal ika
Pemersatu karagaman nusantara
NKRI harga mati
Itulah prinsip abadi
Undang empat lima landasan
Peraturan perundangan Indonesia.
A safe country
With the high message of Pancasila
And Unity in Diversity
Unified diversity of the archipelago
(Negara Kesatuan Republik Indonesia)
Republic of Indonesia, united nation
That is the immortal principle
References
Anderson, B. (2006), Imagined communities: Reflections on the origin and spread of nationalism. London,
UK: Verso.
Hood, M. (1988). The evolution of Javanese gamelan. Book III: Paragon of the roaring sea. New York, NY:
Heinrichshofen.
Hughes-Freeland, A. (2008). Embodied communities, dance traditions and change in Java. New York, NY:
Oxford University Press.
Lagu2 Kasohor H. Upit Sarimanah - Lembur Kuring. (n.d.). Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watc
h?v=NvURTpG4_tE
10
FROM SUNDA TO BANYUWANGI ACROSS CAMPURSARI, HIP-HOP AND GAMELAN:
CROSSING GEOGRAPHICAL AND MUSICAL BORDERS ON THE CENTRAL JAVANESE WAYANG KULIT STAGE
Lockard, C. A. (1998). Dance of life: Popular music and politics in Southeast Asia. Honolulu, HI: University
of Hawaii Press.
Mrázek, J. (2005). Phenomenology of a puppet theatre. Leiden: KITLV Press.
Petersen, R. (2000). Lakon karangan: The legacy of Ki Narthosabdho in Banyumas, Central Java. Asian
Theatre Journal, 18(1), 105-112.
Spiller, H. (2010) Erotic triangles: Sundanese dance and masculinity in West Java. Chicago, IL: University
of Chicago Press.
Sutton, R. A. (1991). Traditions of gamelan music in Java: Musical pluralism and regional identity,
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Weintraub, A. (2004). Power plays: Wayang golek puppet theatre in West Java. Athens, OH: Ohio University
Press.
11
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
GLOBALIZING FILIPINO SONGS, BODIES AND SOUNDS
BEYOND HOMELAND
Ricardo D. Trimillos
University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa, USA
FOR FULL ARTICLE SEE PUBLISHED PROCEEDINGS
12
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
LOOKING FOR “HOME”: CULTURAL IDENTITY IN THE
TRADITIONAL MUSICS OF LOMBOK
David D. Harnish
University of San Diego, USA
Introduction
Most of my research on music culture on Lombok since the 1980s has predicted the gradual decline and even
the disappearance of many older styles of arts embedded in adat (localized socio-religious law and practices)
and performed for adat ceremonies and events.1 Through 2013, this gloomy trajectory seemed confirmed. A
few styles of music, for instance the instrumental ensemble known as kamput and the vocal/instrumental
ensemble cepung, had vanished from the landscape. Field research in 2017, however, suggests something
else. While most people confirmed that some arts styles were “punah” (extinct), other forms had been
reintroduced in schools or were sustained by modern study groups dedicated to the understanding and
preservation of adat.
In most places of Indonesia—Java, Bali, and Lombok in particular—are multiple forms of religion.
Java and Lombok, for instance, maintains what I will call both adat Islam, that is, the maintenance of deeply
rooted practices related to rice cultivation, the landscape, life-cycle rites, kinship, pre-Islamic spirits, rulers
and religious founders; and agama (legitimized world religion) Islam, following the five pillars of Islam and
Islamic jurisprudence without the impurities of adat (see Hefner 1999 for explication). This is similar to
Budiwanti’s (2000) distinction between “local” and “universal” forms of Islam. Generally, these islands have
seen the steady ascent of agama and the decline of adat. I frequently wrote about such developments on
Lombok and how performing arts within adat events were becoming increasingly scarce as citizens were
compelled—by religious leaders, globalization, education, and urbanization—to embrace modernist Islam.
So, what did it mean when modernist Muslims, most of them Hajjis, were studying adat and
promoting performing arts? The development seemed to challenge the theory of adat’s gradual deterioration.
Part of the answer here lies in a reconsideration of history. Whereas formerly it was acknowledged inside
and outside the government that early Sasak society was Hindu or Buddhist (in addition to following adat),
the emerging notion is that they were Muslim from the very beginning, practicing an early form of the religion
that was inextricably bound up with ethnic identity. And, I believe that what many people desire on
Lombok—and perhaps on Bali and Java as well—is a clear sense of cultural identity, knowing who they are,
where they came from, and what they stand for. In recent trips to Lombok and Bali, I find clearly this yearning
for identity—to be looking for home. In addition to groups newly studying adat on Lombok, a number of
forces have worked to get performing arts back into schools, and new educational initiatives suggest a
possible lasting impact and endeavor of arts sustainability.
Background Issues
To the west of Lombok is Hindu Bali; to the east is Sumbawa. Lombok, inhabited primarily by the Muslim
Sasak, is part of the province of Nusa Tenggara Barat. Religion is the focus of identity and the reason is
historical. Lombok was colonized by Hindu Balinese for 200 years until the late 19th century (Hägerdal,
2001). As I have argued elsewhere (see 2011), being ruled over by a non-Muslim people gave rise to Islam
on Lombok as a bulwark of Sasak pride, resistance, and identity; populist religious leaders still invoke this
external control by non-Muslims as a strategy for local control. Muslim leaders have uniquely found success
in government on Lombok since Indonesian Independence following WWII. Clergy have won wide-ranging
appointments in government offices; in many cases, Hajjis and influential, charismatic religious leaders, Tuan
Guru, are prioritized for posts (see Kingsley for more on Tuan Guru). Expertise in religion is considered
qualification for government. The governor of the province—Tuan Guru Hajji Bajang—is a major religious
leader and grandson of the influential Muslim leader, Tuan Guru Hajji Zainuddin Abdul Majid. Tuan Guru
Bajang has had tremendous political capital, based upon his religious capital, and he enacted a number of
unfriendly arts policies, such as forbidding local Balinese performing arts at state events, restricting Sasak
arts at these events, and prioritizing Arab-related arts such as sholowat praise songs. However, he is stepping
down in 2018 due to term limits and he has now taken a moderate tone toward local culture, reportedly
because he is hoping for a national post. This moderation might have played a role in the formation of adat
study groups because local culture was no longer scrutinized for impurities.
13
DAVID D. HARNISH
The provincial Department of Education and Culture, DEPDIKBUD, worked somewhat
independently of the governor and had a different charge. They were tasked by the national government with
digging up and developing the arts on Lombok for local consumption, touristic consumption, and often for
the national stage. The officials worked to increase the quality of the arts and to aestheticize performances of
select music forms. These projects decontextualized and secularized those arts, and attempted to make them
as spectacular as possible and to both represent and modernize local identity. The goal was to maintain and
transmit these forms to the next generation. I worked closely with the department over decades and was
sponsored by the director, Sri Yaningsih. She and her staff selected those forms that “stuck out” and
constituted apexes of local culture for further development, and these included the gendang beleq ensemble,
the shadow play wayang Sasak, the social dance gandrung, and the musical theatre rudat (Harnish, 2007).
Of these four, the music/dance ensemble gendang beleq quickly and dramatically flourished, moving from
12 known ensembles in 1983 to an estimated 6,500 ensembles today.
Figure 1. Gendang beleq, Central Lombok, 1983.
(Photo by D. Harnish)
Figure 2. Gendang beleq, Lingsar, West Lombok, 2014.
(Photo by D. Harnish)
It is necessary to backtrack to understand how this could happen. The people following adat Islam were
called Wetu Telu (three stages) and this group constituted a majority into the early 20th century, when Tuan
Guru began to execute a shift in Sasak religious orientation from syncretic to orthodox. Most Sasak
performing arts originate from the Wetu Telu and were used for a range of ritual events. A purported
communist coup attempt in 1965 led to retaliation by government, Islamic and vigilante forces that killed
about one million people in Indonesia, including tens of thousands Wetu Telu and Chinese Indonesians on
Lombok (see Muller, 1991).
Since it was assumed that communists could not have religion, the slaughter encouraged a strong
turn toward agama and away from adat. Thus, many traditional arts were prohibited or restricted, particularly
those that seemed similar to local Hindu Balinese arts, such as gamelan ensembles like gendang beleq
because Sasak arts had to be distinct from Balinese arts. Lombok emerged scarred from this violence and arts
14
LOOKING FOR “HOME”: CULTURAL IDENTITY IN THE TRADITIONAL MUSICS OF LOMBOK
and artists were scrutinized by political and religious leaders. Sri Yaningsih told me in 1988 that the 1970s
were a dark time (jaman gelap) for the arts, and arts education was absent in schools. Lombok began to open
up in the 1980s and part of the reason was Sri Yaningsih and her office, which provided troupes opportunities
to perform and to receive grants for new musical instruments and new costumes, and sometimes workshops
with government officials. From her point of view, the arts had to modernize—to be made more
contemporary—in order to survive, prosper and to reach Sasak youth. The changes included new
performance outfits, better staging, updated dance vocabulary, and sometimes re-tuned and more
standardized instrumentation.
One other development fell in line during the late 1980s. Tuan Guru, in association with government
agencies, dropped their prohibitions against many styles of traditional music. Some had banned bronze
gamelans (such as gendang beleq), believed to be related to ancestral worship; others disallowed wayang
Sasak because it glorified meditative narratives, depicted human-like forms, was accompanied by drinking
alcohol and maintained adat practices, such as using the water that cleans the puppets as medicine (see
Harnish, 2003). By the 1990s, most Tuan Guru rescinded restrictions particularly against gendang beleq (see
Harnish, 2016a). Coupled with the Education and Culture development of this form—increasing the number
of musicians from about 7 to 20 or more, adding new instruments and choreography, accelerating the music,
and featuring youth instead of older men—gendang beleq could become the icon of Lombok and Sasak
ethnicity and proliferate dramatically. Gendang beleq and other traditional arts were then available in schools
as extracurricular offerings.
The recession of the late 1990s and then the granting of provincial autonomy undermined this
progress as schools suddenly faced budget shortages and so slashed arts education, ending extracurricular
music courses, and then Tuan Guru Bajang became governor in 2008, which advanced religious reformism
and further negated adat Islam.
Education and Adat
In 2002, a man in West Java, Endo Suanda, established LPSN (Lembaga Pendidikan Seni Nusantara; Institute
for Arts Education of the Archipelago) to maintain the arts in public schools. A Sasak teacher and arts
advocate, Mochammad Yamin, worked with Suanda to open a branch on Lombok in 2005. The national
organization was awarded a Ford Foundation grant and the office in Lombok received assistance from 200507. The branch on Lombok invited hundreds of teachers to come to the capital, Mataram, to train in and learn
to teach the arts and produce such artefacts as masks (topeng) and gambus (lutes). The teachers were provided
materials (booklets and video-compact disks) for presenting local and national arts in their classrooms and
the participants were awarded certificates upon completing the training. Since 2007 (when the grant expired),
this training has not been free, but has been provided for a nominal cost (see Harnish, 2016b).
Over the past 4-5 years, civil and education leaders came forward to advocate for increased arts
education in schools. Several offices—Education, the Arts Office, LPSN and Taman Budaya (Culture
Centre)—launched the 80 Artists in 80 Schools project in 2017. As the title suggests 80 artists visited 80
schools and worked with thousands of elementary through high school students. This year the program is
expanding, adding more artists and more students. When in 2017 I asked Lalu Surya, the head of the Arts
Office in Education and Culture, he explained that maintaining the arts is essential to instil and sustain
cultural identity, suggesting that the arts are the main vehicle to cultural identity.
I had met H. Lalu Gus Fathurrahman (called Mamiq) a few times in past decades. I knew he was
engaged in the arts as a painter and in deep studies of Islam; he also served as director of Taman Budaya and
spent 11 years going around Lombok and learning about local adat. It was he who founded, along with other
elite and intellectual Sasak, the adat study group, Lembaga Rowot Nusantara Lombok (Institute of Lombok’s
archipelago star) four years ago; they shorten the title to Rowot Rontal. Mamiq copies and translates lontar
and teaches old literature at University of Mataram; several members of Rowot Rontal teach at the university.
Mamiq studied the traditional Sasak calendar called warige in older villages and encouraged their larger
productions onto wood. Rowot Rontal produces a paper warige calendar and makes thousands of these
available to communities throughout Lombok. Warige are similar to the Balinese pawukon calendar. It is 210
days long, specifies a series of different weeks, and indicates days for certain action, for instance days for
life-cycle rites, for visiting friends, and so forth, except that it is built off of the star of Orion. Rowot Rontal
meets weekly for discussions on adat, traditional literature and on the characters, ethics and morals in the
shadow play wayang Sasak, based on the Menak cycle of tales featuring the uncle of Prophet Muhammad,
15
DAVID D. HARNISH
Amir Hamza, who paves the way for Islam. Mamiq regularly visits the primary Wetu Telu center of Bayan
village where, due to his adat studies he is considered a leader of ceremonies.2
Ki Ageng Sadarudin is another agent in the study of adat and supporter and musician of Sasak arts.
He founded an organization called Lembaga Pengemban Budaya Adat Sasak (Institute for Caretaking Sasak
Adat Culture) and is principal at an elementary school in Mataram, where arts education is readily available
to students. Bpk Sadarudin has studied to be a dalang of wayang Sasak. Like Mamiq, he is a noted and
respected Hajji and has studied traditional literature and is a proponent of the singing and translation of these
texts in the music style called tembang Sasak or pepaosan. He organizes weekly meetings for discussions
and rehearsals and performances of wayang Sasak, and assists in organizing pepaosan and seminars on the
Jejawan script that is used on lontar for Menak cycle and other traditional literature. While I was in Lombok
last year, we attended a wayang Sasak performance in Central Lombok by an old friend dalang, Ki Budiman.
One other individual to mention in the movement toward adat and home is Haji Lalu Anggawa, the head of
the PEPADI wayang organization in Lombok. He also formed his own adat study group, Lembaga Konsultasi
dan Mediasi Budaya Adat Sasak (Sasak Cultural Adat Consulting and Mediation Institute) and is an Islamic
authority with the power to issue fatwas if behavior in wayang is wrong. But, he is strongly against the
Arabization of Sasak culture, which was spearheaded by religious leaders from the mid-20th century, and
stated directly that if a Tuan Guru declares traditional music forbidden, he is mistaken, and that he and other
Hajjis have dismantled the approach of developing “agama hilang adat” (agama without adat), which again
was an initiative by Tuan Guru from the last century.
Though there are others, the last organization to mention today is AMAN—Assosiasi Masyrakyat
Adat Negeri—whose role is to guard adat and associated behaviours and musics, including arts used at
wedding parties.
Summary
After fieldwork over decades on Lombok since 1983, I was very surprised to learn about the recent move
toward adat by so many individuals and organizations because it seems to reverse the trajectory of
discrediting adat, an effort that engaged so many Sasak leaders until a few years ago. In addition, some
traditional performing arts functioning within adat could suddenly be studied and celebrated. It is important
to add that not all older arts fall into this category of support. Several forms have indeed disappeared or are
on the brink of doing so. In my opinion, those arts—mostly lesser-known ensemble traditions or rural theatre
forms—were too “kampungan” (of the village, backward) or could not be reconciled into a conceived early
Islamized adat. The adat study groups hold that early Sasak society was almost always Islamic and they are
fascinated with those practices of Islam, which are no longer considered haram but rather point to early
cultural identity, and, as mentioned earlier, many hajjis and intellectuals today are seeking a distinctive
Islamic identity—non-Arabic and non-Javanese—but particular to Lombok and particular to the Sasak. The
literary forms loved by these communities, especially wayang Sasak and pepaoasan, offer a rich lineage of
this identity.
In the meantime, educators and musicians have convinced a suddenly more willing provincial
government that education in the arts is crucial for the success of Sasak youth, to equip them with a sense of
identity, history, and culture to deal with an increasingly globalized future. A wide range of performing arts
are entering and sometimes being taught in schools, from the ubiquitous gendang beleq to gambus lute to
gamelan rebana, including the new project called 80 artists in 80 schools. And, it was Arts Office of Culture
and Education that began the effort to modernize and sustain the arts. The overwhelming success of gendang
beleq is part of that legacy. All of these developments are bound up in efforts to reconcile a past that was
alternately dominated by Javanese or Balinese and then Arab-oriented, always suppressing Sasak voices.
These voices and projects now circle back to Lombok itself, to home and to a history where many traditional
musics and adat are central.
Endnotes
1
This paper is dedicated to the people of Lombok, who endured a series of earthquakes, tremors, and
aftershocks in July and August, 2018. At least 400 people have been confirmed dead and recovery will take
many years.
2
Bayan, the focus of traditional arts and beliefs on Lombok, was very near the epicentre of some of the
tremors and aftershocks in July and August, 2018. It is unclear at the time of this writing how many residents,
16
LOOKING FOR “HOME”: CULTURAL IDENTITY IN THE TRADITIONAL MUSICS OF LOMBOK
cultural leaders, and artists were killed. Perhaps the majority of buildings and homes have collapsed or suffer
extensive damage.
References
Budiwanti, E. (2000). Islam Sasak: Wetu telu versus waktu lima. Java: LKiS Yogyakarta.
Hägerdal, Hans. (2001). Hindu rulers, Muslim subjects: Lombok and Bali in the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries. Thailand: Hans Hägerdal.
Harnish, D. (2016a). Gendang Beleq: The negotiation of a music/dance form in Lombok, Indonesia. In M.
A. M. Nor & K. Stepputat (Eds.), Sounding the dance, moving the music: Maritime Southeast Asian
performing arts in choreomusicological perspective (pp. 148-161). Oxon, UK and New York:
Routledge.
Harnish, D. (2016b). The challenges of music sustainability in Lombok, Indonesia. In A. McGraw &
Sumarsam (Eds.), Performing Indonesia. Washington, WA: Freer Sackler. Retrieved from http://
www.asia.si.edu/research/performing-indonesia/article-harnish.php
Harnish, D. (2011). Tensions between adat (custom) and agama (religion) in the music of Lombok. In D. D.
Harnish & A. K. Rasmussen (Eds.), Divine inspiration: Music and Islam in Indonesia (pp. 80-108).
New York, NY: Oxford University Press.
Harnish, D. (2007). ‘Digging’ and ‘upgrading’: Government efforts to ‘develop’ music and dance in
Lombok.” Asian Music, 38(1), 61-87.
Harnish, D. (2003). Worlds of wayang Sasak: Music, performance, and negotiations with modernity. Asian
Music, 34(2), 91-120.
Hefner, R. (1999). Religion: Evolving pluralism. In D. K. Emmerson (Ed.), Indonesia beyond Suharto:
Polity, economy, society transition (pp. 205-236). Armonk, N.: M. E. Sharpe.
Kingsley, J. (2014). Redrawing lines of religious authority in Lombok, Indonesia. Asian Journal of Social
Science, 42, 657-677.
Muller, K. (1991). Wetu Telu: Mix of Islam and traditional adat practices. In K. Muller (Ed.), East of Bali:
From Lombok to Timor (pp. 54-55). Berkeley-Singapore: Periplus Editions, Inc.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
NOSTALGIA IN MOTION: TRANSITION AND TRANSFORMATION
OF A JAPANESE ENKA SONG IN EAST AND SOUTHEAST ASIA
Masaya Shishikura
University of Tokyo, Japan
Introduction
This paper investigates a shifting sense of home from Japan to many different regions around Asia. As a case
study, I examine the Japanese enka song, titled “The Spring in a Northern Land [Kitaguni no Haru],” that
enjoyed international popularity in East and Southeast Asia. In a Japanese context, the song tells about
nostalgia for home in a snowy northern land, while living in a city elsewhere. When changed to other places
in Asia, the lyrics transform to tell about many different stories, such as nostalgia for a rainy hometown, a
banyan tree on a roadside, or a former lover whom one will never see again. As the lyrics transform, the
music is also modified to appeal to audiences of different regions. However, a sense of nostalgia is still
preserved in these different versions of “The Spring in a Northern Land.”
I argue that the wide dissemination of “The Spring in a Northern Land” is an example of a globalizing
Asia, where people, commodification, and media are widely circulated and consumed. Concurrently, the
shifting sense of home is a local contestation against the intrusive globalization, where many people struggle
with rapid changes and a sense of displacement.
In this paper, a sense of nostalgia is one of the issues to be explored. The term “nostalgia” can trace
its origin to 1688; it was a word invented by Swiss doctor Johannes Hofer. He coined the term from two
Greek words: nostos—“return home,” and algia—“longing.” Since then for about 200 years, nostalgia had
been considered as a disease or a public epidemic. Interestingly, a new sense of nostalgia appeared in the
modern age, from the mid-nineteenth century to the early twentieth century. The modern period provided an
experience of happiness with advanced technologies and newly explored lands.
Concurrently, the experience of modernity was unfamiliar; “modern society appeared as a foreign
country, public life as emigration from the family idyll, urban existence as permanent exile” (Boym, 2001,
p. 24). Also, it is difficult to escape from the impact of modernity that invades human life, activities, and
emotions in multiple ways (Gaonkar, 2001). I find that this sense of modernity is relevant to the experience
of people in a globalizing Asia. Especially, global flows of media invoke contradictory senses, such as
unification, exclusion, trans-nationalism, localism, international cooperation, and nationalistic ideology (Erni
& Chua, 2005; Iwabuchi, 2014). Rapid changes of lifestyle along with the constant movement of peoples,
merchandises, and media in the region arouse a sense of displacement, even when one still remains at home.
Here, I introduce a definition of nostalgia by Svetlana Boym, a scholar of Slavic and Comparative
Literature, that is useful for this study.
Nostalgia is paradoxical in the sense that longing can make us more empathetic toward fellow
humans, yet the moment we try to repair longing with belonging, the apprehension of loss with a
rediscovery of identity, we often part ways and put an end to mutual understanding. Algia – longing
– is what we share, yet, nostos – the return home – is what divides us. (Boym, 2001, pp. xv-xvi)
In this paper, I use this definition by Boym. The song “The Spring in a Northern Land” can appeal to different
audiences because of the empathetic sense of nostalgia shared among people in a globalizing Asia. But,
concurrently, I observe the local politics that contest the intrusiveness of globalization. Through technologies
like radio, television, karaoke, and Internet, worldwide distribution of songs became feasible and apparent,
yet performances and behaviour of music-making are often modified and transform into a local context
(Mitsui & Hosokawa, 1998; Condry, 2006; Lie, 2015). “The Spring in a Northern Land” is no exception. The
song is necessarily modified to appeal to a myriad of listeners, who are yearning for different homes. Below,
I present my analyses of the song lyrics and music that demonstrate the ambivalence of a globalizing Asia.
18
NOSTALGIA IN MOTION: TRANSITION AND TRANSFORMATION
OF A JAPANESE ENKA SONG IN EAST AND SOUTHEAST ASIA
Figure 1. Image of “The Spring in a Northern Land”
(Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGvECzTIlCw, 27 September 2018)
Case Study: “The Spring in a Northern Land”
It was 1977 when the original song “The Spring in a Northern Land” was first published, and the song
achieved a great popularity in Japan from the late 70s to the early 80s. As mentioned, the lyrics convey
nostalgia for a home in a snowy northern land, while living in a city somewhere.1
Silver birch trees, blue sky, southerly wind
The hill filled with the kobushi flowers
This is a northern land, ah, spring in a northern land
In the city, you may not feel the seasons
So saying, my mother sent me the small package
Shall I return, shall I return to that home
(The first verse, author’s translation)
Musically, it is composed using an anhemitonic pentatonic scale, common to Japanese folk songs and also
enka style songs. Instrumentally, it is marked in the score that the mandolin plays the introductory melody.2
Below is a transcription of a performance by the original singer, Sen Masao.
Figure 2. Transcription of a performance by the original singer, Sen Masao
(By the author)
19
MASAYA SHISHIKURA
As mentioned, the song not only retained great popularity in Japan, but it also attracted many audiences in
other regions of Asia. For instance, the legendary singer Teresa Teng covered the song both in Japanese and
Chinese that was disseminated around Asia, including Taiwan, China, Hong Kong, Malaysia, and Singapore.
Also, the technology of karaoke should be noted in the international distribution of songs in general. It was
invented in Japan in the early 1970s, and soon spread to the rest of the countries around Asia (Mitsui &
Hosokawa, 1998). The marketing of different versions of “The Spring in a Northern Land” corresponds to
the promotion of the karaoke machine throughout Asia; different languages of karaoke of the song can be
found on YouTube also. According to a non-fiction writer Suzuki Akira, more than 1.5 billion people in Asia
have listened to, sung, and enjoyed “The Spring in a Northern Land” since it was published in the late 70s
(cited in Koizumi et al., 1984, p. 108).
In Hong Kong, the song also gained popularity from the late 70s. The Cantonese version of the song,
titled “Gùxiāng de Yǔ (The Rain of My Home Town)” sung by Fanny Wang, was still heard on Temple Street
in Hong Kong in the early 21st century.3 According to my informant, this version was also popular in
Malaysia and Singapore (anonymous, email communication, December 22, 2017). Here are the lyrics:
A letter from home containing words of care, a phrase of concern
Makes me happy, filling my heart with warmth
As though I am sitting in the sunshine of spring
The letter mentions the swallows under the eaves in our house, taking me back home
The letter mentions the rain of my hometown, each drop of rain describing my childhood
Have I been missing the swallows and the rain of my hometown?
(The first verse, translation by Kim Woo)
As evident, the lyrics still maintain the sense of nostalgia for home while living in a city. The images of drops
of rain and one’s childhood are superimposed, and show her/him to miss a rainy hometown. However, the
home described in the lyrics is not in a snowy northern land; the lyrics were modified to tell about somewhere
with swallows and some rain. Probably, in Hong Kong it would be difficult to imagine home in a northland.
Musically, the sounds of the mandolin are replaced with the sound of the yangqin struck zither in the
introduction melody. Also, the voice has a rather nasal quality and often includes a sort of ‘leaping’ like tone
(disjunct motion) in the melodic line.4 In these changes, I observe the local politics against intrusive
globalization.
The second example is the song “Huáiniàn de Chūntiān (Springtime That I Miss)” a Taiwanese
version of the song sung by Kerris Tsai. This version also maintains a sense of home, good memories of
homeland in spring, and missing one’s parents. Although it still tells about countryside, there is no description
of cold snowy home; again, it would be difficult to imagine a northland homeland in Taiwan.
Lingering on my mind are memories of my homeland
The greenness that filled the hillsides every spring
There is still beautiful scenery across the countryside
I remember as a child I would go fishing with my father
Although that time has passed I still wish I could return,
I could return to visit my father.
(The first verse, translation by Kim Woo)
It is distinctive that the music includes a lot of digital sounds created by the synthesizer. Just like “Gùxiāng
de Yǔ,” the song also utilizes the sounds of the yangqin in the introduction melody. In contrast to the soft and
gentle voice of the original singer of Sen Masao, the singer Kerris Tsai has a strong assertive voice and sings
the melody with waving like glissando.5
The third example is another Taiwanese version of the song, titled “Róngshù Xià (Under a Banyan
Tree)” sung by You Tian, but this version is written in the Mandarin language. Beyond Taiwan, this version
of the song also retained popularity in Malaysia and Singapore, especially among Chinese communities there
(anonymous, email communication, December 22, 2017). Now, the song is more like a love song expressing
20
NOSTALGIA IN MOTION: TRANSITION AND TRANSFORMATION
OF A JAPANESE ENKA SONG IN EAST AND SOUTHEAST ASIA
reminiscence of a past romance. Nevertheless, it still maintains a sense of nostalgia for someone/something
far away, as Boym says:
Nostalgia is a sentiment of loss and displacement, but it is also a romance with one’s own fantasy.
Nostalgic love can only survive in a long-distance relationship. A cinematic image of nostalgia is a
double exposure, or superimposition of two images – of home and abroad, past and present, dream
and everyday life. The moment we try to force it into a single image, it breaks the frame or burns the
surface. (2001, pp. xiii-xiv)
Nostalgia often breaks its original image of home and turns into fantasy, including fantasy of love or romance
in the distance. Musically, this version of “The Spring in a Northern Land” has a different introductory
melody from the original; it includes female chorus and the sounds of the saxophone to set the song
dramatically. Also, You Tian often sings with strong vibrato, similar to the Japanese kobushi voice, and
makes the song more grandiose.6
Moving further to Southeast Asia, I would like to introduce another version of the song from
Thailand, titled “Koy Wan Ja dai Jer (Waiting the Day We Meet Again)” by The Hot Peppers. It seems that
the song was adapted from another Chinese version, titled “Wǒ Hé Nǐ (You and Me).” Like the
aforementioned “Róngshù Xià,” it is a song telling about the love that has gone, and preserves a sense of
nostalgia for someone far away.
Passing days and months, you leave me and never come back
I still remember you in my heart, even after many years
I think of you, never forget
The past is still bright and traps me today
As I close my eyes, I see you in my mind
I’ve never seen you after we separated
Where is my heart gone? It never comes back again
I’ve never cheated you, but you didn’t listen to me
My heart is in deep sorrow.
(The first verse, translation by Kittichai Thaowan)
Musically, a group of female singers sings the song with a soft nasal voice quality that can be often heard in
Thai language conversations. The voices also include many glissando tones that make a melody smooth and
extended.7 In Thailand, I found another version of “Koy Wan Ja dai Jer” by the band Rainbow.8 In this music
video, nostalgia for a former lover is clearly depicted with images of black and white footage, depicting
memories of a past love. One of the unique features of this version is that the Rainbow utilizes a “call and
response” between male and female. It can be inferred that these modifications in voice quality and singing
styles better appeal to a local audience in Thailand.
Lastly, I will present a Vietnamese version of the song, entitled “Mùa Xuân Phương Bắc (Northern
Spring).” It is unfortunate that I could not find a recording of a singing version from Vietnam, but I found a
karaoke version of the song,9 as well as the song lyrics. The title of the song remains close to the original,
yet the lyrics tell about the love of a man missing a former girlfriend that is close to other versions of the
song telling about nostalgic love. Although it is not specified in the English translation, in Vietnamese, it can
be interpreted that the singer is a male addressing a female.
I always remember your sparkling eyes
I miss you dreadfully
My darling, you know you are always in my heart.
Because I love you, I miss you so much
As if the waves takes a boat away from the docks without knowing where to sail
When we meet next time, your feeling may have changed
(The first verse, translation by Yukihiro and Hoa Doi)
21
MASAYA SHISHIKURA
Besides this vocal version, interestingly, I found three instrumental versions of the song performed on the
bamboo flute [sáo trúc] or whistle [huýt sáo].10 The performers also modified the melody extensively, so that
it is a little hard to recognize the original melody. Yet, I find that these musical transformations manifest
local music aesthetics and preference that contest to the intrusive experiences and homogenization in the
process of globalization.
Conclusion
Around Asia, there are more examples of cover versions of the song “The Spring in a Northern Land.”
Besides the aforementioned versions, I discovered the song in several Chinese languages, Hmong,
Mongolian, Korean, Tibetan, and also an Indonesian gamelan version. I wonder why “The Spring in a
Northern Land” achieved the popularity in these many different countries and regions around Asia. The
simple anhemitonic pentatonic scale might be easily applied to lyrics of many different languages, but I also
suggest that the empathetic sense of nostalgia inscribed in the song would appeal to a variety of displaced
audiences as a result of globalization. Globalization provides us accessibility, benefits, and mobility, but it is
also intrusive and excessive. Globalization accelerates people’s experiences with others that are new,
stimulating, and exciting to some extent.
Concurrently, rapid changes and mobility also infuse a sense of unfamiliarity, loss, detachment, and
displacement. Lyrically as well as musically, I consider that the nostalgia inscribed in “The Spring in a
Northern Land” is well accommodated in the people’s sentiment of missing something/someone in a
globalizing Asia. As Boym suggests, nostalgia often breaks its original image of home and turns into
something different with one’s own romance, fantasy, and illusion. I recognize that these transformations of
images often include fantasy; the homes imagined in these songs never existed as described in the lyrics. Yet,
even they are only in imagination or fantasy, homes expressed in these songs still console the sentiments of
the people, who are facing troubles and difficulties caused by the anonymous phenomenon of globalization.
Algia (longing) is a shared sense of human beings, who seek belonging to somewhere/someone, yet in nostos
(the return home), people return to different homes. I miss home, but my home is different from yours; it is
the local politics that opposes loss and displacement entangled in the process of inevitable globalization.
Acknowledgements
As it can be inferred, many individuals were involved in the preparation of this paper. I especially thank Kim
Woo, Stephen Wild, Ricardo D. Trimillos, Deborah Wong, Made Mantle Hood, Mr. Kittichai Thaowan,
Shibuya Junichi, Yukihiro and Hoa Doi, among others.
Endnotes
1
The lyricist Idehaku (or Ide Hiromasa) says that he described his home of Shinshū, Japan, in this song (The
Nikkei, 2008).
2 Music example at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGvECzTIlCw (27 September 2018).
3 In Fall semester 2004, I lived in Hong Kong and studied at the Chinese University of Hong Kong as an
exchange student from the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa. During this period, I heard the song “Gùxiāng
de Yǔ” on Temple Street.
4 Music example at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W4Qp_P_VCpk (27 September 2018).
5 Music example at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=odFa8SZcyPk (27 September 2018).
6 Music example at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKv1WkSeQs4 (27 September 2018).
7 Music example at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dhA1d36ZjH8&start_radio=1&list=RDdhA1
d36ZjH8&t=0 (27 September 2018).
8 Music example at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zoguXQ0Sb28 (27 September 2018).
9 Music example at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sKxP23vziDU (27 September 2018).
10 Music examples at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MjQhZ-OnD-A and https://www.youtube.
com/watch?v=368TW9dhdTw (27 September 2018).
References
Boym, S. (2001). Future of nostalgia. New York, NY: Basic Books.
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NOSTALGIA IN MOTION: TRANSITION AND TRANSFORMATION
OF A JAPANESE ENKA SONG IN EAST AND SOUTHEAST ASIA
Condry, I. (2006). Hip-Hop Japan: Rap and the paths of cultural globalization. Durham, NC: Duke
University Press.
Erni, J. N., & Chua, S. K. (Eds.). (2005). Asian media studies: Politics of subjectivities. Malden, MA:
Blackwell Publishing.
Gaonkar, D. P. (2001). Alternative modernities. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.
Iwabuchi, K. (2014). De-Westernisation, inter-Asian referencing and beyond. European Journal of Cultural
Studies, 17(1), 44–57.
Koizumi, F. (小泉文夫) et al. (1984). ヒット曲、ヒット歌手をつくる. Tokyo: Kodansha.
Lie, J. (2014). K-Pop: Popular music, cultural amnesia, and economic innovation in South Korea. Oakland,
CA: University of California Press.
Mitsui, T., & Hosokawa, S. (Eds.). (1998). Karaoke around the world: Global technology, local singing.
London: Routledge.
The Nikkei. (2008, 10 December). 文化面.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
TOURISM AND PERFORMING ARTS IN LAOS:
THE LAO RAMAYANA OF LUANG PRABANG
(Lightning Paper)
Marie-Pierre Lissoir
Traditional Arts and Ethnology Centre, Lao PDR
Université Libre de Bruxelles, Belgium
In the city of Luang Prabang, former royal capital of Laos, public performances of traditional music are
scarce. One has to be lucky and pass by a private or religious event (wedding, ordination ceremony) to hear
Luang Prabang’s traditional singing or instrumental music. Formerly a cradle of performing arts in Laos, the
town now pales in comparison to the boiling capital Vientiane. One of the few performing arts easily
accessible is the sacred dance of Pralak Pralam, from which episodes or related dances are performed in the
city’s restaurants and at the “Theatre Pralak Pralam”.
In 1995, Luang Prabang was awarded by UNESCO with the World Heritage status for its
architectural heritage mixing French colonial and Laotian styles. Since then, tourism has grown fast and
Luang Prabang is now the first touristic destination in Laos. But as raised by a UNESCO study, “tourism
brings with it the potential to boost the economy of rural Lao PDR and has already contributed to a new sense
of identity and local pride in the culture and heritage of the town of Luang Prabang. Tourism brings money
and jobs but inevitably the issue of cultural change arises and must be addressed”. (UNESCO, 2004, p. 8).
Two troupes performing the Pralak Pralam will be examined in this paper. Both have different target
audiences and different approaches of the performance and its related rites. This paper is a work in progress,
the first step in the analyse of the ways intangible heritage is performed in Luang Prabang and how tourism
and UNESCO influence it, through the example of the Pralak Pralam, its production, repertoire, and
communication.
Performing Luang Prabang’s Heritage
On the official tourism website of Luang Prabang, the city surrounded by mountains and rivers is depicted
as a quiet town on which time has no hold. “Luang Prabang, timeless” is the slogan chosen by the Provincial
Department of Information Culture and Tourism to attract travellers in search of authenticity. The “things to
do” page of the website proposes the performance of the Pralak Pralam. One can also read: “Luang Prabang
prides itself on being a place where traditional ways are respected. Discover a culture that has stood the test
of time.”
The Pralak Pralam is the Lao version of the Indian epic Ramayana. Its performance, gathering
traditional orchestra, singers and masked dancers, is strongly influenced by Khmer and Siamese traditions.
The dance was traditionally performed on the royal palace ground (many of the performing arts were related
to the court and supported by it) or in temples for important diplomatic events or festivals. It was not
considered as a show but as an offering to deities.
The Pralak Pralam is divided in several episodes telling the Ramayana. Before and after these
episodes, ritualised dances are performed: the nang keo (the apsara dance), the demons dance and the
monkeys dance. These dances were part of the education of young peoples related to the court, teaching them
how to behave, dress, and move. The best performers were selected to perform the episode of the Ramayana
(Somsanith N., personal communications, 2018).
The performance of the Pralak Pralam, deeply related to the Lao royalty, was stopped with the
socialist revolution of 1975 and the dethronement of King Sisavang Vatthana. It was revived in the years
2000’s with the growing tourism and the need of local heritage to highlight.
Today, several troupes perform the Pralak Pralam during official event, for Lao New Year, and most
of all for tourists. While episodes are usually performed at the “Theatre Pralak Pralam” (in the yard of the
former royal palace), or at Mai temple during New Year celebrations, related dances such as the nang keo
can be attended daily in several restaurants of the city centre.
The Royal Ballet of Pralak Pralam
Four times a week during the tourist season, tourists visiting Luang Prabang can attend an episode of the Lao
Ramayana performed by The Royal Ballet of Pralak Pralam. The troupe, created in 2003, performs in the
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TOURISM AND PERFORMING ARTS IN LAOS: THE LAO RAMAYANA OF LUANG PRABANG
theatre next to the former royal palace, which was transformed into a national museum since the revolution.
As the ballet target tourists, a summary of the episode is written at the entrance of the building and told to
the audience in English and French before the show. The performance includes an episode of the Pralak
Pralam but also the nang keo dance, the demons dance and the monkeys dance. On the troupe’s internet page
one can read about the Pralak Pralam ballet: “After several periods of trouble, the performance of the troupes
became less frequent. However, the theatrical tradition associated with the musical art remained. And the
choreographers, the musicians and other passionate people, continued tirelessly to pass on their knowledge
to the younger generations.”
The troupe is made of about fifty members (dancers and musicians), who perform for two hours, at
the end of which the masked dancers pose for pictures in front of the audience. Most of them are young
students who are able to achieve a middle-range performance, but who ignore the ritual side of Pralak Pralam,
such as paying respect and performing rituals related to the masks, understanding the meaning of the
characters and their gestures, etc. Young performers rehearse when they have free time after school, learning
the steps from an older choreographer. While the “authentic” side of the Pralak Pralam is abundantly
promoted, the troupe proposes a version of the Lao Ramayana that could be qualified as “folklorisation”. All
the rituals and knowledge gravitating around the performance of the Pralak Pralam are ignored. The formerly
sacred dance is now proposed as a must see performance displaying an “authentic” royal tradition, a show.
Figure 1. Dancers of The Royal Ballet of Pralak Pralam at the end of the show performed in the building of the
“Theatre Pralak Pralam”.
(Source: Marie-Pierre Lissoir)
The Norphao Troupe
The norphao troupe was founded in 2009 by Nithakhong Somsanith, descendant of the line of the former
viceroys of Luang Prabang (Ouvrard, 2016, p. 18). Norphao (“coconut shoots” in Lao), is composed of young
boys and girls meeting every weekend to practice music, dance and related disciplines, such as flower
arrangement or costume sewing. The students have access to traditional musical instruments (xylophone,
fiddle, flute, drums, etc.), costumes, and a space to rehearse. They learn how to use these tools at their
disposal, mostly through the performance of nang keo dance. But most of all, they learn how to respect these
tools and take care of them. Like the pre-1975 version of the Pralak Pralam, the performance of the ballet is
the occasion to teach young people how to dance and play music, but above all how to behave: walking with
grace, dressing up, and respecting masks and musical instruments through good care and rituals.
For Nithakhong Somsanith, it is important to first master the basics. For now, the troupe focuses
therefore on the nang keo dance, as an introduction to the Pralak Pralam. The students learn all the discipline,
rituals, music and dance related to it, and transmit these values to each other. This transmission system
between students gives responsibilities to the members of the troupe taking decision and action in their own
apprenticeship under the benevolent watch and advices of Nithakhong Somsanith.
The troupe is booked by VIP tourists, and is proud to offer a performance of high quality, in which
every aspect of the tradition is promoted: music, dance, rituals,1 and respect for the masks and the figures
they embody.
25
MARIE-PIERRE LISSOIR
The approach of norphao focuses more on the ritual aspect of the Pralak Pralam, than on the show.
With this project, Nithakhong Somsanith offers first of all an inspiring setting to young people willing to
learn and share knowledge. He explains: “I trust youth and what they have in their genes. They need to be
supported. I offer them a fertile ground in which they can take root and blossom. I give them the ingredients,
and then they have to handle things themselves” (personal communication, 2018).
Complementary Approaches
With The Royal Ballet of Pralak Pralam troupe, the Pralak Pralam is staged as a show, a desacralized
recreation. While the ballet is performed on the ground of the royal palace, the difficult past of the city is
completely invisible for the visitors.2 The Norphao troupe, on the other hand, focuses not on the show but on
the sacred side of the Pralak Pralam, and all the knowledge gravitating around it. Unlike The Royal Ballet,
Norphao is based on a horizontal system of transmission, and highlights the rituals and tools that the young
performers have to grow on their own, nourished of the fertile soil provided by the troupe and its initiator.
While Norphao’s first goal is the transmission of knowledge that the performance itself, the troupes
however can be seen as complementary. They both meet the expectation of tourists looking for the
performance of a centenarian local tradition. Norphao and The Royal Ballet troupes, with their opposite
approaches, give visitors the chance to witness a version of the Pralak Pralam. Not the sacred dance that was
performed at the royal palace, but a form of it; modified, but still alive. While tourism transforms the
performance of heritage, it participates in the persistence of a certain form of it. A form however that is
depoliticized, presenting the image of a tamed and therefore harmless past (Berliner, 2012).
Conclusion
In Luang Prabang, cultural appreciation and reflections usually concern built heritage. However, with the
inscription of the music of the mouth organ khaen on the representative list of Intangible Cultural Heritage
in December 2017, Laos starts to look at its intangible heritage. It is time for Laos in general and Luang
Prabang in particular, to initiate a profound reflection on its intangible heritage (puppetry, dance, music):
how to promote and highlight it in view of growing tourism, migrations, social changes an History. Norphao
and The Royal Ballet of Pralak Pralam show two conceptions of heritage, two different ways in which it is
performed and taught in today’s Laos: as folklore, or as ritual. This growing visibility of Intangible Heritage
in Luang Prabang3 will be described an analysed in further researches. While the royal past of Luang Prabang
makes that reflection sometimes difficult, it is time to consider the continuity of intangible heritage and the
setting of structures gathering the different cultural actors in this time of growing tourism and rapid cultural
changes.
Endnotes
1 The
vai khu ritual for example is performed at the beginning of each performance as a sign of respect for
the spirits of the arts and the ancestors (Ouvrard, 2016, p. 19).
2 The town as been strongly neglected after the socialist revolution of 1975 because of its relations with the
former royal family (Berliner, 2012, p. 771).
3 The Traditional Arts and Ethnology Centre in Luang Prabang opened in September 2018 an exhibition about
traditional wind instruments of Laos.
References
Berliner, D. (2012). Multiple nostalgias: The fabric of heritage in Luang Prabang (Lao PDR). Journal of
the Royal Anthropological Institute (N.S.), 18, 769-786.
Ouvrard H. (2016). Contemporary performing arts in Laos. Luang Prabang: Pha Tad Ke Botanical Garden.
Tourism Luang Prabang website. (n. d.). Retrieved from http://tourismluangprabang.org/
UNESCO. (2004). IMPACT: The effects of tourism on culture and the environment in Asia and the Pacific:
Tourism and heritage site management in Luang Prabang, Lao PDR. Bangkok: UNESCO.
26
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
GELUNGAN IN BALINESE ARJA: PHYSICAL AND PSYCHOLOGICAL INTERACTION
BETWEEN HEADDRESS AND PERFORMER
(Lightning Paper)
Ako Mashino
Tokyo University of Arts, Japan
This paper discusses the gelungan, or headdress, of Balinese arja, a traditional theatre form consisting of
music and dance. In Balinese performing arts generally, costumes are indispensable parts of a performance,
not additional or superficial ornaments (Bandem, 1983, pp. 39). Furthermore, their materiality interacts in
multiple ways with the performer’s body in the delivery of a performance.
Gelungan Design for Stock Characters
Arja has roughly eleven stock characters who appear in nearly every performance of any story. The characters
are distinct from one another, and can be divided into complements: royalty and servants, female and male,
manis (sweet) and buduh (crazy, arrogant). These differences are represented by their visual and aural
characteristics. Costume and make-up are one of the significant indexes which distinguish each character. As
I Wayan Dibia notes, in arja, gelungan reveals a character’s gender, social status, and power (Dibia, 1992,
pp. 205–208).
All the characters wear gelungan made of leather, except the male servants, who wear an udeng,
headcloth, sometimes of leather, which basically serves the same function as gelungan. Udeng is a part of
pakaian adat, the traditional costume which Balinese men usually wear as formal attire when they attend
rituals. In the arja context, wearing udeng reflects the attendant’s male gender and lower status as
commoners.
Figure 1. (Left) Gelungan worn by Mantri Manis. (Right) Udeng worn by male attendants,
Penasar Manis (left) and Kartala (right).
(Photos by A. Mashino)
Limbur, an empress, and Galuh, a sweet queen or princess, are both female royalty and wear gelungan. But
that of Limbur includes a kendon, a round part in the back, the same as that for Mantri, a prince or king,
indicating higher status and power, with relatively short-back hair, while that for Galuh has a differentlyshaped part, called pepudakan, with a longer bunch of hair and flowers, reflecting her position as a younger
female of less power among the other royalty.
Condong, a wise and trusted attendant to the princess Galuh, also wears a gelungan which looks
similar to those of royalty with its three flower sticks, bancangan, especially when seen from the front. But
its backside is not wrapped with golden leather, but instead features a pusungan, or hair bun. This difference
reveals that she is a servant, not royalty, though of a higher status than ordinary people. The gelungan of
Desak Rai, a servant of the buduh camp, by contrast, has a definitely simpler structure, without bancangan,
reflecting her lower status, youth, and immaturity.
27
AKO MASHINO
Figure 2. (Left) Gelungan of Condong. (Right) gelungan of Desak Rai.
(Photos by A. Mashino)
Liku is a princess like Galuh, but she is a crazy princess belonging to the buduh side. The positions of her
bancangan are too far to the side. This lack of balance and her long braids of different lengths represent her
eccentric and childish character, which is most effectively depicted when the gelungan is combined with the
performer’s made-up face splashed with many white dots, a costume worn untidily, jerky body movements,
and a harsh voice.
Besides gelungan, costumes and make-up, the physicality of a performer naturally has great
importance in embodying a character, as each character has a typical appearance. For example, Condong and
Desak Rai are usually performed by females shorter than their princesses. A performer portraying Galuh
should have an egg-shaped face and slender body, to visually represent her elegance. Queen Limbur should
have a square face and strong physique to express her dignity. One’s innate physical attributes, called sesaluk,
are of great concern in casting a specific character. When sesaluk is combined with gelungan, the personality
of the stock character is visually embodied and given its life on stage. The use of stock characters appearing
in various stories is also common in other traditional Balinese theatrical forms, such as wayang kulit, shadow
puppetry, or topeng, masked dance, where the color and designs of the materials used also visually represent
the character (see Hobart, 1987, pp. 67-124; Slattum & Shraub, 1992).
Gelungan and the Performer’s Body: Sesaluk and the Partiality of Gelungan
In wayang and topeng, one performer can perform different characters, one after another, by changing
puppets or masks. The puppets of wayang kulit are full body. Topeng masks cover the face, a most essential
key to identifying a person. The materials cover the performer’s own body and face, hiding his real self
behind them, and thus enable him to act as different personalities. On the other hand, the gelungan of arja
only partially covers the head of the performer, so that the characterization depends more heavily on the
performer’s own physique. Therefore, arja performers most often appear as a specialist in one character over
their career.
The most important criterion in casting a character is whether the gelungan fits the performer’s face
and vocal quality; thus, in the past, arja performers even underwent a kind of gelungan test. Specific types
of face, body, and voice were prerequisites to starting one’s whole career as an arja performer. Today, the
gelungan test or voice check to know whether or not a candidate fits the character has become rare, but the
gelungan is still thought to be a touchstone to evaluate the aptitude of the performer, as if it chooses the
human body that will be combined with it.
As I Ketut Kodi, an established performer of arja, topeng, and wayang kulit as well as a topeng mask
carver, explains, “the human face cannot be modified as with carving a mask, while other aspects such as the
voice can be improved with training and skills, at least to some extent” (Kodi, personal communication,
March 12, 2017).
28
GELUNGAN IN BALINESE ARJA: PHYSICAL AND PSYCHOLOGICAL INTERACTION
BETWEEN HEADDRESS AND PERFORMER
Combination with the Performer’s Body
According to Kodi, the gelungan has a special power to reinforce the performer’s aura, making a small person
look bigger, and an ordinary person look like a king. It is also an armour and an amulet, which spiritually
protects the performer from invisible enemies and dangers (Kodi, personal communication, March 12, 2017).
The performer executes a small ceremony when she/he buys a new gelungan, in the hope that their
combination will bring success in performance. From that point on, it is carefully maintained, and
periodically presented offerings, because it is also believed to be a place that taksu, a spiritual power leading
to performance success, arrives and inhabits.
Arja performers often have a special affection for and psychological ties with their own gelungan.
Ni Made Astari, an arja specialist, once lent her gelungan to her student who desperately asked her for it,
although she was disinclined to do so. When Astari used it after it had been returned, the gelungan fell from
her head during a performance. According to her interpretation, this extraordinary and impermissible
happening suggested that she should not have lent her gelungan, and that doing so might have impaired the
connection between her and the gelungan. Another possibility to which she also referred was that her student
had unintentionally mistreated the gelungan (personal communication, September 5, 2017). Special ties
between the performers and their materials can also be found in topeng and wayang kulit. Masks, puppets, as
well as gelungan become parts of the performer’s body and spirit, so that they look inseparably synthesized
on the stage. Such integration gives life to the character being performed.
Conclusion
The materiality of gelungan and the human body mutually complement one another to embody a character.
It is the same in wayang kulit and topeng, which also require that the human body and voice be combined
with materials, while the significance of the bodies of the performers is more emphasized in arja, which
corresponds to the incomplete coverage of the gelungan.
References
Bandem, I. M. (1983). Ensiklopedi tari Bali. Denpasar: Akademi Seni Tari Indonesia.
Dibia, I. W. (1992). Arja: A sung dance-drama of Bali: A study of change and transformation (Doctoral
dissertation). University of California, Los Angeles.
Hobart, A. (1987). Dancing shadows of Bali. London: KPI.
Mashino, A. (2016). The body as intersection: Interaction and collaboration of voice, body, and music in
Balinese Arja. In M. A. M. Nor, & K. Stepputat (Eds.), Sounding the dance, moving the music:
Choreomusicological perspectives on maritime Southeast Asian performing arts, (pp. 96–107).
Farnham, Surrey, UK: Ashgate.
Slattum, J., & Shraub, P. (1992). Masks of Bali: Spirits of an ancient drama. San Francisco: Chronicle Books.
29
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
PERFORMANCE CONTEXTS OF BURMESE PUPPETRY:
POSTMODERN STRATEGIES IN TODAY’S MYANMAR CULTURAL TOURISM
(Lightning Paper)
Lorenzo Chiarofonte
SOAS University of London, United Kingdom
Introduction
This paper has come as a direct consequence of my experience as a tourist in Myanmar during the short visit
my family paid me in the Christmas holiday at the beginning of 2018. At that time, I had been in the field for
six months investigating the music of the nat pwes (spirit possession ceremonies) in Yangon and Mandalay
as part of my PhD fieldwork research. The experience made me realise that despite the large amounts of
performing art traditions still alive in Burma/Myanmar.1 Burmese puppetry is the only one being presented
to international guests visiting the country. This paper examines the current performance contexts of Burmese
puppetry (yokhte) in relation to Myanmar’s current tourist environment.
In her paper Burmese Marionettes: Yokthe Thay in Transition, Kathy Foley (2001) outlines the
different stages of the Burmese puppetry tradition within the last century, explaining how the 1960s-70s
revival, operated by the educated classes nostalgic for the past and encouraged by the government with a
nationalist intent, helped launch Burmese puppetry into the cultural tourism industry. Questioning the classic
dichotomy post-colonial/neo-colonial, Foley explains how these two “tropes” are actually deeply interrelated:
What we see in contemporary Burmese puppetry is a conscious move by local artists to utilize both
these systems [post- and neo-colonial] to gain a living and to preserve and develop an art. As I look
around Southeast Asia, I find that this postmodern strategy of dual development serving two
audiences – local/nationalistic and international/touristic – is the norm. Artists realize that they play
for both a national and international audience. At stake is the survival of their art.
(Foley, 2001, p. 78)
Contemporary Yokhte Performance Contexts
The creation of a shortened form of yokhte for cultural tourism (Smith, 2003) performances allowed
puppeteers to ‘gain a living’ and to ‘preserve and develop’ their art. Today, a variety of different performance
contexts can be recognised:
For international audiences: Hotels: short performance (30 mins), ‘cultural experience’; traditional
puppetry; Established theatres (Mandalay and Yangon): long performance (1-hour); ‘cultural
experience’; traditional puppetry; International festivals/workshops: exchanges with international
puppet masters; traditional and contemporary puppetry
For local audiences: Itinerant shows: private engagements (schools, pagodas) or public shows
(national festivals); traditional and contemporary puppetry
In the first context, the puppetry performance targets tourists in search of an “authentic ethnic experience.”
In the most touristic areas (Bagan, Inle) restaurants and hotels advertise puppetry as a “traditional puppet
show,” to be enjoyed alongside “traditional Burmese food”—in some cases for an exorbitantly expensive
fee.
Those visitors interested in having a deeper “cultural experience” pay a visit to marionette theatres—
Myanmar Marionette (ex-Mandalay Marionette, Mandalay), and Htwe Oo Myanmar Marionette Theatre
(Yangon). These theatres offer a traditional puppet show condensed into a 1 hour program; the dances of the
most popular and traditional puppet characters are accompanied by general explanations, and by a summary
of the history of Burmese puppetry. The theatres rely on individual travellers, promoting their activities
themselves through social media (TripAdvisor above all) and also being recommended by guidebooks (e.g.
Lonely Planet) and local tour guides.
In very recent years, Burmese puppeteers also started to be present in international contexts. By
participating in international workshops abroad2 and organising puppet festivals in Myanmar,3 Burmese
30
PERFORMANCE CONTEXTS OF BURMESE PUPPETRY:
POSTMODERN STRATEGIES IN TODAY’S MYANMAR CULTURAL TOURISM
puppeteers are not only having a cultural exchange with masters from all over the world—they are also
promoting different forms of Burmese puppetry. In these contexts, traditional and contemporary forms of
puppetry appear side by side in front of an audience of marionettes experts.
Private sponsors, pagoda trustees or schools can request a troupe to perform for a local audience.
These performances do not necessarily stick to the traditional puppet stories—Jataka tales displaying the past
lives of the Buddha with an educational intent—and often opt instead for different stories, according to the
taste of the audience. In 2018, during the Thingyan (the Water Festival celebrating the Burmese New Year
in April), a puppet show was arranged on the east side of Mandalay Royal Palace. The show was the same
as the one performed for tourists. Burmese people, with family and children, gathered around the small stage,
with phones in their hands, and took pictures and videos of the performance—very “touristy” behaviour.
Figure 1. Burmese audiences in front of a traditional yokhte pwe – Mandalay, Thingyan festival, April 2018.
(Photo by the author)
On another occasion in Mandalay, The Myanmar Marionette troupe performed a pwe for the inauguration of
a new public library. The show “Today Readers, Tomorrow Leaders” was intended for Burmese children: it
was a contemporary play with an educational purpose to encourage reading among the younger generations
and performed with contemporary marionettes. The new contemporary play is always performed after a
traditional yokhte pwe—the very same enjoyed by tourists.
Figure 2. Myanmar Marionette Theatre, “Today Readers, Tomorrow Leaders” – Mandalay, June 2018.
(Photo by the author)
Conclusion
In today’s Burmese performance practices, traditional/touristic and contemporary/local performance contexts
are at the same time separated and interrelated. Contemporary marionettes perform for local audiences
together with traditional yokhte puppets—the same that animates the cultural excursions of tourists in search
of a more authentic experience (Smith, 2003). The touristic performance, on the other hand, displays only
the scenes belonging to the tradition, and as such are also presented to international audiences. Contemporary
performances are intended for locals and not for tourists; only recently have they started to appear at national
and international festival as “experimental puppetry.”
31
LORENZO CHIAROFONTE
The recent reprise of Burmese puppetry, characterised by new marionettes and stories, must not be
considered just as a revival, but also as the result of the successful post-modern strategy as indicated by Foley
(2001). In the urban contexts of Mandalay and Yangon, the creation of a simplified/standardised form of
traditional yokhte pwe, mostly for tourist but also for local audiences, allowed puppeteers to support
themselves financially and to continue developing their tradition. As a result, in recent years the art of
Burmese puppetry has been showing signs of development: modern and contemporary plays maintain the
didactic/educational elements that characterised puppetry in the past. The art of Burmese marionettes,
through utilising its role in both traditional and contemporary has adapted itself to the new needs of modern
Burmese society.
Endnotes
1
Together with zat pwe (classical theatre) and nat pwe (spirit possession ceremonies), yokhte pwe was
performed outdoor with the support of a hsaing waing ensemble. See Bruns (2006); Ye Dway (2013, 2014).
2 For example, the ASEAN Puppets Exchange Programme (APEX): http://aseanfoundation.org/what-wedo/apex/
3 In March 2018 the Puppet Theatre Committee (a branch of the Myanmar Theatrical Association) organised
the first “Myanmar International Puppet Festival” in Yangon, with puppetry groups representing nine
different countries.
References
Bruns, A. (2006). Burmese puppetry. Bangkok: White Lotus.
Foley, K. (2001). Burmese marionettes: Yokthe Thay in transition. Asian Theatre Journal, 18(1), 69-80.
Smith, M. (2003). Issues in cultural tourism studies. New York, NY: Routledge.
Ye Dway. (2013). Marionettes of Myanmar. Myanmar: Sarpay Beikman.
Ye Dway. (2014). Myanmar dance and drama. Yangon: Today Publishing House.
32
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
CONSTRUCTING A PLACE FOR THE YOUNGEST ROYAL MUSICIAN IN THE ROYAL
CREMATION OF KING RAMA IX
(Lightning Paper)
Supeena Insee Adler
University of California Los Angeles, USA
Sattra, a Thai musician from outside of Bangkok, is the youngest royal musician to have been hand-picked
by his master to perform in the lavish state ceremony for the cremation of King Rama IX in Bangkok October,
2017. Performing an important musical role in such an event is an honour of the highest order, and Sattra
attained this position after just one year of studying in secrecy with his teacher, a highly respected master
musician who works with the Royal Princess in her palace. This paper will review the process by which
Sattra became a royal musician despite not having previously focused on the quadruple reed oboe and never
having publicly performed the repertoire before. His unprecedented appointment created tension within the
community of musicians, especially among other students of the master teacher who are widely recognised
as having superior skills, and it also implicated Sattra in the network of charisma and royal authority that
comes with being a royal musician. I will examine this case an example of how royal authority is transmitted
and established among musicians in the Thai court music tradition, and how this is integrated with traditional
Thai musical practices of guardianship, secrecy, and the relationship between teacher and student.
Introduction
Sattra Talu is the youngest musician who was selected to perform sacred bua laui repertoire for the royal
cremation of King Rama IX in Bangkok that took place in October of 2017. He obtained this opportunity
from his teacher, Khruu Boonchuay Sowat, a very highly skilled royal musician who regularly performs with
the royal princess. Many musicians regard Khruu Boonchuay as the greatest oboe player in the country, and
possessing great baaramii or personal charisma and authority. He and his family are very close to royalty
and have been performing for them for generations. While he could have conferred this authority to any of
his students or colleagues who could have easily learned this special repertoire, Boonchuay handpicked the
young Sattra to fill this role.
Sattra is from Northeast Thailand. At the time, he was studying a Master’s degree and Boonchuay
was his academic advisor. The offer from a teacher of such high status simply could not be refused. As a
result, after learning that Sattra was selected to perform for the royal funeral alongside other great musicians,
several other musicians became jealous of Sattra. Supported by the power of his teacher, Sattra tried hard to
not care what other musicians said behind his back.
Background
The musicians selected to perform in the royal cremation ceremony were from the Fine Arts Department, the
College of Dramatic Arts, the Music Divisions of the royal militaries, the musical house of Phattaya Kosol,
and Chulalongkorn University. In the early 20th century, palace musicians were formally incorporated into
the government, and the places of highest status for musicians became these institutions. Their social status
emanates not only from their musical ability but also from their affiliation, through these institutions, with
royalty and royal authority. Being selected to perform in the cremation ceremony was both a duty and a
public affirmation of their high status.
Over 3,000 performing artists participated in the performances for the cremation events, and over a
thousand more performed in the procession of the king’s urn and coffin from the royal palace to the cremation
grounds. But only four oboe players were selected for the cremation ceremony itself, and one of them was
Sattra.
The Bua Laui Ensemble and its Musicians
Just sixteen musicians were selected to perform in four bua laui ensembles, each positioned in an elevated
pavilion next to the crematorium, the closest of all musical ensembles to the body of the king. Each ensemble
consisted of four musicians: one pii chawaa (quadruple reed oboe), two klaung khaek (double-headed drums),
and one meng (small gong played with a heavy wooden beater). These four ensembles played as the
33
SUPEENA INSEE ADLER
procession of the king passed and when the cremation itself began. Although the repertoire for this ensemble
consists of a small number of fixed compositions, this music is played with elaborate improvisations that can
last up to two hours. So, the musicians selected to perform in these ensembles have to be exceptionally skilled,
which usually means elder teachers. So, the selection of Sattra was a startling exception.
Sattra Talu
After graduating from a two-year college in Northeast Thailand, Sattra moved to Bangkok to continue his
education at the royally affiliated College of Dramatic Arts. While studying in Bangkok, he had a chance to
study with a great master of oboe, Khruu Peep Konglaithong, who was also a student of Khruu Boonchuay.
In fact, Boonchuay had studied oboe with Peep’s father, who was an oboe player for King Rama VI, a lineage
of exceptional status. While Khruu Peep has many oboe students, Boonchuay has passed his skills to just
four students publicly, and one of them was Sattra.
When I asked him about his experience learning the bua laui repertoire, he said that he was shocked
when Boonchuay first told him he would learn bua laui for the King’s cremation. At that time, the king had
not yet passed and any discussion about his imminent passing was socially unacceptable. Sattra cried,
knowing the gravity of what his teacher proposed to teach him. Boonchuay reassured him, “don’t be so sad,
your job is to do your best...You will practice and perform as much as you love the king.”
Sattra studied in secret. He asked himself why his teacher had picked him to prepare this special
repertoire, but he never posed this question to his teacher because Sattra considers himself to be a humble
and obedient student who is obliged to do whatever his teacher instructs.
A Controversial Appointment
Some musicians supported Sattra, while many others were critical of his appointment to such an esteemed
role in the cremation. Sattra said that he didn’t care. He had studied the special suite with his teacher spending
up to four hours a day. He explained that his teacher not only taught him how to play pii chawaa but also
taught the reason behind each phrase of the music. Khruu Boonchuay taught repertoire that is for the king,
who has the highest merit, so he must be especially careful how he plays to show the highest respect to the
music and to the king. He taught Sattra a secret holy text to recite before performing to prevent mistakes.
Figure 1. Sattra Talu and his oboe teacher, Boonchuay Sowat, during a rehearsal for the cremation ceremony for King Rama
IX. (Photo by Sattra Talu at Sanam Luang, Bangkok, Thailand, October 20, 2017)
Traditionally, the bua laui repertoire should only be practiced in the palace or temple, but Sattra could not
practice in these places while studying in secret, so Khruu Boonchuay granted permission for him to practice
at school, assuring him that teacher spirits would watch over him. Khruu Boonchuay carefully managed all
aspects of Sattra’s training, protecting him from criticism while also boosting his confidence and his sense
of ritual obligation.
34
CONSTRUCTING A PLACE FOR THE YOUNGEST ROYAL MUSICIAN IN THE ROYAL CREMATION OF KING RAMA IX
Sattra ritually paid respect to his teacher and to the deities of music before performing in the
cremation. Typically, it should be the oldest or most highly respected teacher of the ensemble to make this
offering. However, for the royal cremation, his teacher instructed him to conduct the offering himself, even
though the other musicians were older and among the most highly regarded performers of bua laui in
Thailand. None of other older musicians in the ensemble dared to protest.
His appointment as the leader of a bua laui ensemble for the royal cremation raised many questions
for other musicians. One even asked him if he had used black magic to trick his teacher, or prepared tainted
food for him. To dismiss these jealous suspicions, Sattra recalled that his teacher had told him, “If you have
a pure heart, the sound of music that you produce will also be pure.”
Sattra was, in fact, quite naive about the social implications of his selection, and I suggested that this
contributed to Boonchuay choosing him. He was easier to manipulate, and his devotion to his teacher was
sincere. In addition, whoever Boonchuay selected would be placed in an exceptional position, and by not
choosing someone affiliated with a major institution or music house, he avoided creating conflict between
them over the selection. And he could appeal to Sattra’s sense of duty to deflect jealousy from other musicians.
While other musicians criticised Sattra, no one dared to publicly criticise Boonchuay. When I asked other
oboe players about this appointment, their body language indicated dismissal or frustration but they wouldn’t
dare to criticise in words. One musician said to me, “what can you do? The teacher’s decision was absolute
and no one could change it.” Boonchuay’s closeness to royal authority elevated him beyond criticism, and
he was now seen to confer this status on an undeserving younger musician.
35
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
KHAP SAMNEUA FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF THE MOBILITY OF SINGERS
(Lightning Paper)
Gaku Kajimaru
Kyoto University, Japan
Introduction
This paper describes the contemporary situation of the performers of khap Samneua music in Laos, focusing
on the mobility of the singers, both on a small scale and also on a much larger scale.1
It has been said that Laos has been changing since the 1990s from a landlocked “buffer state” to “a
crossroads” of the eastern Indochinese Peninsula (Pholsena & Banomyong, 2006). Along with this change,
the increasing mobility of modern Laos has had a considerable effect on the society and culture of Laos
(Bouté & Pholsena, 2017). The focus of discussions about mobility in Lao studies falls on relatively largescale mobility, including an international diaspora, internal migration and resettlement from highland to
lowland and from rural to urban, human trafficking, and labour migration to foreign countries (Molland,
2017). This large-scale mobility is indispensable for understanding the modern situation of khap Samneua,
though attention needs to be paid also to smaller scale mobility, such as daily movements throughout the
region by motorbike and car.
Khap Samneua is a kind of khap-lam style music originally sung in Huaphan province by Lao and
Tai Daeng people. Khap-lam normally denotes a genre of traditional vocal music characterized by
extemporaneous singing, usually in repartee form between a male and a female singer,2 sometimes with solo
performance as well (Chapman, 2002, pp. 55-62; Chapman, 2003, pp. 97-98). This term consists of two
parts—khap and lam. The term khap is used for folk singing styles in northern Laos, while lam is used for
southern singing styles. These two styles sound different, especially in their rhythmical features (Takahashi,
2003)—lam sounds very rhythmical, while khap sounds smoother and less rhythmical—but, generally
speaking, these two terms are treated as synonyms.
The khap performance basically involves three performers, namely, a male singer, a female singer,3
and a khaen (traditional bamboo pipes) player. Sometimes additional performers take turns at each part
(Figure 1). Performers are semi-professionals who hold down a daytime job and get extra income from taking
part in khap performances.
Figure 1. Performers and audience of khap Samneua.
(Photo by the author)
The main context of khap Samneua is its use in a Theravada Buddhist merit-sending ritual, “bun thaan” in
Lao, which is a ritual for sending merit to ancestors (normally the host’s parents or grandparents). This ritual
is held for two days (or more), with the performance of khap Samneua the whole night, from about 9 p.m. of
the first day to 6 a.m. of the second day. According to the singers, there are other situations in which it is
performed, such as wedding parties, celebrations of a new house, or suukhwan which is a ritual for praying
for good health or safe travel. They say that sometimes they sing khap Samneua for celebrating a conference.
36
KHAP SAMNEUA FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF THE MOBILITY OF SINGERS
The main purpose of singing in most of these situations is for entertainment, except for suukhwan and bun
thaan. In these last two situations, the singing has a sacred aspect to some extent.
Khap Samneua in Huaphan
In 2013 in Huaphan province, it seemed that most khap Samneua performances were seen only at bun thaan
held in and near the towns of Samneua and Viengxay, the two economically most developed towns in
Huaphan province.
One of the reasons why khap occurs most often in bun thaan seems to be that, as Rhebein (2007)
described, young people in Laos are not interested in traditional folk songs like khap-lam but are interested
in listening instead to westernized pop music from Thailand and other countries. On the other hand, because
the main people in bun thaan are usually older people or the deceased in the host’s family, hosts still invite
performers to perform khap because the old people still enjoy it.
There are two factors why khap singers are invited to perform only for rituals in and near the main
towns in Huaphan province. First, there are many (relatively) rich people who can afford to pay for
performers. In this province, a host needs to pay about 300 to 500 thousand kip (roughly about 40 USD) per
performer, which is too expensive for the rural farmers in the local villages.
Second, it is easy for performers to access the place of ritual and easy for them to gather with other
performers. Performers of khap Samneua normally contact each other by mobile phone and go to the place
of ritual by motorbike or by car. In Huaphan province, only the main roads connecting large towns are paved
well. The main road from Samneua to Viengxay is the best highway in this province, because Samneua is
the capital of Huaphan province and Viengxay is a special town for tourism and national historical memory
(see Tappe, 2011). The small-scale mobility of khap singers contributes to preserving opportunities of
keeping up the khap Samneua tradition.
Khap Samneua in a Vientiane Suburb
In 2013, I heard that many khap singers who had originally lived in Huaphan had relocated to Vientiane, the
capital of Laos. During my field trip to Vientiane in 2017, I was able to interview five singers (two males
and three females). Each singer had migrated to Vientiane at some time between 1984 and 2001.
The singers hold down various daytime jobs, but most of them said they moved to Vientiane to
pursue economic opportunities not confined to their main job but also involving khap performance. They can
earn about 3 million kips per night in Vientiane, which is six times more than in Huaphan. Their hosts in the
capital are also mainly people from Huaphan province who love to listen to khap Samneua. Sometimes the
singers also have an opportunity to travel to other provinces, such as Phongsaly and Pakse, where many
Huaphan people live. Economic factors play an important role in internal migration in Laos (Bouté, 2017),
so the country’s increasing prosperity assists both the small-scale mobility of the singers of khap Samneua
as well as the larger scale mobility of the Huaphan people in general.
Khap Samneua and the Mobility of Singers
As is common in Laos and all over the world, modernization and economic development have brought about
the decline of traditional folk performances like khap Samneua in Huaphan. But at the same time, economic
development and infrastructure improvements like paved roads, which improve the singers’ small-scale
mobility, have given a chance for khap in Huaphan to continue to exist, although under somewhat restricted
conditions.
Modernization and economic development have also accelerated the internal migration of Huaphan
people including singers. Of course, this explanation ignores politico-historical aspects (Molland, 2017),
which are also an important factor in the migration of Huaphan people. But in any case, it is apparent that
economic aspects play a significant role in the immigration of singers and their activity as singers of khap
Samneua. As recent studies suggest, mobility is one of the focal points to observe when analyzing recent Lao
society and culture. The situation of khap Samneua also can be understood from this viewpoint.
37
KAJIMARU GAKU
Endnotes
1
This research is based on three field trips of a duration of 6 months in total in 2013 in three villages in
Huaphan province and supplementary fieldwork in August 2017 in Vientiane and in March 2018 in Vang
Vieng (Vientiane province).
2 I call this kind of singing “reciprocal singing,” a style of singing that features two or more singers singing
improvised words to each other with a fixed melody in the form of conversation.
3
Singers are often called moo-khap, “singing specialists.”
References
Bouté, V. (2017). Reaching the cities: New forms of network and social differentiation in Northern Laos. In
V. Bouté & W. Pholsena (Eds.), Changing lives in Laos: Society, politics, and culture in a postsocialist state (pp. 221-247). Singapore: NUS Press.
Bouté, V. & Pholsena, V. (2017). Introduction. In V. Bouté & W. Pholsena (Eds.), Changing lives in Laos:
Society, politics, and culture in a post-socialist state (pp. 1-15). Singapore: NUS Press.
Chapman, A. (2002). Regional traditions of Lao vocal music: Lam Siphandon and Khap Ngeum (Doctoral
dissertation). Monash University, Melbourne. Retrieved from https://figshare.com/articles/Region
al_traditions_of_Lao_vocal_music_lam_siphandon_and_khap_ngeum/5466910
Chapman, A. (2003). “A crow jumps on rocks”: Indigenous approaches to composing and performing text in
Lao vocal music. Yearbook for Traditional Music, 35, 97-129.
Molland, S. (2017). Migration and mobility in Laos. In V. Bouté & W. Pholsena (Eds.), Changing lives in
Laos: Society, politics, and culture in a post-socialist state (pp. 327-349). Singapore: NUS Press.
Pholsena, V. & Banomyong, R. (2006). Laos: From buffer state to crossroads? Chiang Mai: Mekong Press.
Rhebein, B. (2007). Globalization, culture and society in Laos. New York, NY: Routledge.
Takahashi, A. (2003). Folk songs of Laos: General view of “lam / kup”. Bulletin of Chukyo Women’s
University, 37, 105-114. (in Japanese)
Tappe, O. (2011). Memory, tourism, and development: Changing sociocultural configurations and uplandlowland relations in Houaphan Province, Lao PDR. SOJOURN: Journal of Social Issues in Southeast
Asia, 26(2), 174-195.
38
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
ORAL TRANSMISSION SYSTEM OF BURMESE CLASSICAL SONGS:
OVERVIEW OF BAZAT-HSAING OR MOUTH-MUSIC
(Lightning Paper)
Sayuri Inoue
Osaka University, Japan
Introduction
This paper is an overview of Burmese classical song vocalization called bazat-hsaing or mouth-music and
an examination of its teaching method.1 Bazat-hsaing is a way of transmitting instrumental parts into words
similar to solmization in Western music.
Burmese classical songs are transmitted using written and oral methods. The written song texts are
used for singing; however, the melodies and instruments’ parts are usually transmitted orally. For instrumental
parts, musical notation have been used from the twentieth century in only a limited way. The late harpist U
Myint Maung (1937-2001) wrote a lot of notation after he met the American ethnomusicologist, Judith
Becker in 1959. He first learned the staff notation from her. After his death, his wife, Daw Khin May used
his handwritten notations when she wants to follow her husband’s arrangements or when she forgets the
songs, however she teaches orally to her pupils. In any case, musicians use bazat-hsaing for transmitting
music. “Bazat” means “mouth” and “hsaing” means “drum-circle instruments,” so “bazat-hsaing” means
“mouth drum-circle.” It can be translated as “mouth-music” (Williamson, 2000).
The only detailed study of the bazat-hsaing is that by Williamson (2000) who describes the basic
structure and the modal system through analyzing bazat-hsaing (pp. 56-73). Shoon Myaing (2004) describes
the meaning of basic bazat-hsaing words (pp. 14-18). In this paper, I will focus on how to use bazat-hsaing
for transmitting music.2
Basic Bazat-hsaing Words
There are fifteen basic bazat-hsaing words. They are tya, tei, tyo, htan, dyan, dalu, htoun/tyo, tya/htoun, ta/na,
da/ba, byaun, byo, htan, htan, and dun. For example, tya means the tonic, and tei means to play the one lower
tone of the tonic and the five lower tone of it simultaneously (see Table 1). We can see from these examples
that bazat-hsaing is defined based on the tonic.
Bazat-hsaing
tya
tei
tyo
htan
dyan
dalu
htoun/ tyo
tya htoun
ta/ na
da/ ba
byaun
byo
htan
htan:
dun
Indicate Tones and Playing Techniques
The tonic
Play two tones; the one lower tone and the five lower tone of the tonic
simultaneously.
Play the tone which is three lower tone of the tonic.
Play two tones; the tonic and the nine higher tone of the tonic simultaneously.
Play two tones; the three lower tone and the five lower tone of the tonic in turn.
Play three tones consequently such as C-E*-B*.
Play two tones; the tonic and the three lower tone of the tonic simultaneously.
Play two tones; the tonic and the four lower tone from the tonic simultaneously.
Play with the right hand or the right forefinger.
Play with the left hand or the right thumb.
Play two tones; a tone and its’ octave lower tone simultaneously.
Play two harmony tones, “meik hpet than,” simultaneously.
Play the tonic and the one higher tone of it.
Play the tonic and the two octave lower harmony tone (eleven chord).
Play the tonic and the seven higher tone of it (major seven chord).
Table 1. Basic bazat-hsaing words and their meanings.3
Bazat-hsaing can be divided into two types: one indicates a specific tone, while the other indicates which
hand or finger to play with. Most Burmese musical instruments are played by two parts, the right and left
hand for the bamboo-xylophone (pattala) and various kinds of drums. The harp is also played by two parts,
the forefinger and thumb of the right hand. The forefinger is referred to as right, while the thumb is referred
39
SAYURI INOUE
to as left. For example, “dune dune” means to alternate first with the left hand and then the right hand. “Tedu
nedu” is opposite. It indicates to play from the right hand then the left.
However, there remain tones and playing techniques that cannot be represented by bazat-hsaing.
These are indicated by appropriate words and phrases from individual players. For example, Daw Khin May
indicates them by singing the phrase or saying which strings should be played. She usually uses the pitch
names in Western music, such as C, D, E, F, G, A and B.
Bazat-Hsaing and Tuning Systems
There are four basic tuning systems (modes) for Burmese classical songs. Bazat-hsaing is based on the oldest
tuning system; hnyinloun-tuning. If the tonic is tuned as C, this tuning is C-D-E*-F-G-A-B*. The tones, E*
and B* are a little bit lower than their natural tones.
A Burmese harp consists of sixteen strings today. The Burmese scale is a seven-tone scale and makes
one octave with five strings on the harp. The tonic is called “tya” by bazat-hsaing. It is on the fourth shortest
string. One lower tone from the tonic is called “tei,” and four tones lower tones is called “tyo”. These three
tones are next to each other on the harp strings when tuned as hnyinloun-tuning. Another example, “dalu,” is
played C-E*-B* in this tuning. These three tones are also next to each other on the harp strings, though their
scale is not next to each other. In this way, bazat-hsaing is based on the specific instrument’s structure and
tuning systems.
Bazat-hsaing is more appropriate for the hnyinloun-tuning system because bazat-hsaing is originally
based on this oldest scale. The newer tuning systems such as aukpyan, pale and myinzain have different scale
structures and string constructions on the harp, so some bazat-hsaing is difficult to use for them. Hnyinlountuning’s octave consists of five strings such as C-E*FG-B*C while the pale-tuning consists of CD-FG-B*C.
For example, “dalu” is C-E*-B* which are next to each other on hnyinloun-tuning as I mentioned above.
However, in pale-tuning, it cannot be played because those three strings on pale-tunings are tuned as C-DB*.
Teaching Method for the Harp
Bazat-hsaing is sometimes the main method for transmitting music, and sometimes it is a supplementary
method. The basic teaching method of Burmese instruments is to demonstrate for pupils and have them
imitate. Pupils gradually understand bazat-hsaing as they listen to their teacher singing bazat-hsaing during
demonstration of the instrument.
Here, I will describe how my teacher, Daw Khin May teaches harp to her pupils. She usually teaches
orally, using bazat-hsaing. If she wants to follow her husband’s notations or she forgets the song, she refers
those notations, however she teaches orally to her pupils (see Figure 1).
Figure 1. Teaching harp orally, 23rd Sep. 2010.
(Photo by author)
If she finds it easier, she teaches by playing the harp by herself. The pupil learns by listening to her playing
and looking at her fingering. Skillful pupils can imitate the music just by listening.
There are no fixed methods of teaching. She teaches appropriately based on a pupil’s skill or based
40
ORAL TRANSMISSION SYSTEM OF BURMESE CLASSICAL SONGS:
OVERVIEW OF BAZAT-HSAING OR MOUTH-MUSIC
on the situation. Daw Khin May sometimes teaches only by bazat-hsaing from a distance when she is doing
household tasks.
The important thing is that bazat-hsaing is sung with melodies like singing a song. So pupils can
catch the notes and phrases from the bazat-hsaing if they do not understand the exact definition of each bazathsaing words.
Common and Personal Bazat-Hsaing
Daw Khin May uses her personal bazat-hsaing mixed with common bazat-hsaing. She said she sings bazathsaing as she likes and it is okay because her pupils understand what she indicates through her bazat-hsaing.
She also said other musicians can understand her system. From this, we can know there are common bazathsaing and personal bazat-hsaing. Bazat-hsaing represents important tones, chords, and small phrases that
occur frequently. There remain some notes that cannot be represented by bazat-hsaing. The teachers or
players indicate such parts by appropriate ways such as singing a song or using Western note names.
The common bazat-hsaing system enables musicians to understand some personal or
improvisational bazat-hsaing words. Bazat-hsaing shows the frame of the song, and other notes will be
mastered in association with common bazat-hsaing or purely through memorization.
Conclusion
Bazat-hsaing vocalization is the main method of transmitting instrumental parts of Burmese classical songs.
It can transmit almost all of the music, however there remain some notes and phrases that cannot be
transmitted by bazat-hsaing. Bazat-hsaing is complemented by singing with melodies and by musician’s
personal bazat-hsaing. Bazat-hsaing is not a complete correspondence with all notes; however, we can tell
that basic playing techniques are transmitted through bazat-hsaing, and it enables us to memorize other notes
that have no bazat-hsaing. What remains to be seen is the system that musicians can understand each other
when some bazat-hsaing is not common. This is a future subject I wish to explore.
Endnotes
1 This
research was supported by JSPS KAKENHI Grant Number JP18K01191.
This research is based on my field study at Yangon University of Culture from 1999 to 2001 and annual
field trips to Mandalay from 2007 to 2018. I have studied harp playing from Daw Khin May in Mandalay.
3 The table is based on my field work and referring to Shoon Myaing (2004)’s explanation (pp. 15-18).
2
References
Shoon Myaing, K. (2004). Mahagita Myanmar classics. Yangon: Youn Kyi Gyet Sapei.
Williamson, M. C. (2000). The Burmese harp: Its classical music, tunings, and modes. Illinois: Center for
Southeast Asian Studies, Northern Illinois University.
41
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
PICHET KLUNCHUN’S SITE-SPECIFIC MONKEYS: A METHODOLOGICAL MONOLOGUE
(Lightning Paper)
Leow Puay Tin
Sunway University, Malaysia
We love to see good performances. We enjoy it as we watch. And afterwards, we feel good. Once in a while,
we see a great performance that grabs and pulls us right in, which goes paaang inside and makes our hairs
stand shuuuk—a momentous work of art. As my friend Anis, a performance researcher, put it: “A work of
art really knocks you, it makes you think. That’s what a work of art does. It makes the audience say ‘What
on earth are you trying to do? Because you are pulling me, you know, I want to go back home but you are
pulling me.’ [But as they say this, they cannot lift their eyes away.] ‘What the fuck are you trying to say?
Shit! Shit! What is this! Oh my god, shit! It’s about… Penang! Ah…’” (Leow, 2014). Paaang! Shuuuk! I
want to see performances like that all the time. But how to make them? There is no recipe for that, I know,
but can we improve on our chances of producing performances that have that kind of magnetic effect on the
heart and mind?
In 2013 I organized a workshop for seven artist friends to learn research methods from Anis—
Professor Mohd Anis Md Nor of Universiti Malaya—from December 19th to 21st, at my university, Sunway.
He showed us how to write a research proposal which I later adapted into a creative project proposal for my
students to use, built around a core question ‘What do you want to investigate?’ It’s difficult to answer but
you need to get it clear first before you start your project or you’ll find yourself struggling with a tangle of
messy ideas. Anis used the octopus as a metaphor for this problem: “You have an octopus and you are trying
to can the octopus and you can’t can it because when you put the head in, the tentacles come out. You keep
on trying to twist the can but you can’t can it, so you kena chop it or swallow the bloody octopus like the
Koreans do. Because the idea for your project is a ‘fused’ idea” (Leow, 2014).
Anis made research seem like an adventure where you step into the unknown fascinating world of
trance and Thaipusam, of zapin being danced all through the night in a kampung in Johore, of living in a
communitas with transgender housemates. His teaching stories were thick and juicy. They became my
material for a monologue called Cakap Dapur (‘Kitchen Talk’).
Why monologue? Usually research materials are presented as academic papers. But I am a
playwright and I prefer to use the material to make a text for performance instead. Why? I want the stories
and facts to come alive and be transmitted through performance. I want them to get to people who are
interested in seeing and making performance.
In 2017, I was very lucky to get a six-month grant from the Japan Foundation Asia Center to go to
Japan to look at site-specific performances. Why site-specific? I wanted to find and learn from examples of
great performances where the research was related to pre-selected sites, to actual places where the starting
point was concrete, external and real.
On the last day of September, I saw something that was out of this world. It was the opening show
for the Festival/Tokyo 2017. A site-specific dance-drama called Toky Toki Saru1 (‘Tokyo Time Monkeys’).
It was a Saturday night and the place was packed with people.
Figure 1. Toky Toki Saru. Minami Ikebukuro Park, Tokyo, 30 September 2017.
(Photo by the author)
42
PICHET KLUNCHUN’S SITE-SPECIFIC MONKEYS: A METHODOLOGICAL MONOLOGUE
A deejay is spinning dance-inducing club music. People are relaxing on the grass around a low sprawling
stage, enjoying the music and watching 20 dancers in fantastic monkey costumes and head-masks taking
turns to showcase short performances in between fooling around off-stage with white ropes and bursting
white balloons. Kids climb onto the stage to do whatever they like and no one stops them. After a while, the
Monkey dancers manage to get people, grown-ups, to go onstage to be their partners. Oh, shaits, audience
participation! Nice, though, to see people who are game for it—like the man in a suit, a teenager, two people
in wheelchairs, an old woman in kimono, a glamorous woman, a body builder type and even a policeman! I
see him hesitating before putting away his walkie-talkie. He joins the other awkward volunteers who are kind
of ‘dance-playing’ with the Monkeys, twirling and swinging ropes and being bound with ropes by the
Monkeys and so on. Before long, the Monkeys are taking off their masks and surreptitiously putting them
onto their partners and running away! Shaits! What’s happening! More kids rush up and climb onto the stage
to have a closer look. My heart is beating faster. Some of the people onstage are confused, touching their
masks, some are groping about, but gradually the bolder ones begin to perform and show off. What is the
director doing! Is he really allowing the people to do whatever they want? It’s so exciting, messy, and
worrying. As it’s sliding into chaos, a woman in white appears. The Monkeys are called back and get their
masks put back on by the people. She gives them, the people, a white balloon each to contemplate. Looks
like order is being restored but some Monkeys don’t like it. The Monkey wearing a police costume charges
at my Policeman who has to look out for the kids onstage as he tackles the bad animal. Then, shaits, another
surprise! He begins to train the Monkey, showing him how to stand properly and salute! The others teach
their Monkeys how to sit, kneel, bow, shake hands, and so on. It’s playful and sobering at the same time, and
then the spell breaks. The people walk off, leaving their Monkeys behind, melting back into the audience as
a beautiful song comes on: “You know I can’t take away your pain/ And I know it’ll never be the same/ All
I want to do is explain/ That I wouldn’t change a thing if we did it all again…” (Breaker-Morant, 2017).
Walking on air, I introduced myself to the director Pichet Klunchun to ask for an interview. He said
ok, Monday (October 2nd), at the park café. Great! I went again to watch the next show on a hot bright Sunday
afternoon. Without lighting effects, and, despite already knowing that my Policeman and the other
‘volunteers’ were actors, I found it just as moving as the night before and went home to write a rave review
for the Arts Equator: “[B]eyond capturing the feel-good mood required of a festival opening show, the
performance was simultaneously an entertaining show for all ages, a social drama with a commentary about
society (which is as relevant to Tokyo as to other cities), a pop parable, and also a kind of public ritual to
invoke and quell the Monkeys in our midst through a rite of enactment” (Leow, 2017).
Three years ago, in Penang, we sit together at a reception dinner and he is behind me. His manager
says, “This is Pichet Klunchun.” And he looks at me and he says, “Hi, nice to meet you. I’ve heard your
name before but haven’t seen your face.”
“Yes, hi.”
Then he gives me his card and says, “I want to talk to you about my festival.”
And I say, “Yes, yes, ahuh.”
Then he starts to invite me to come to Japan. Ahuh.
“Pichet, people know you—you are about tradition—and your work, it combines tradition and the
contemporary. But I want people to see something unexpected from you. This is one of my questions:
how to change your image with this production.”
This has a big effect on me, like, wow, ahuh, it’s a very interesting idea.
Pichet said the original plan for his show involved closing the streets for a parade, after which the parade
would become a performance. Discussions took two years and finally it was decided to drop the parade and
hold the performance at a park in up-market Ikebukuro.
We [artists] are trying to talk about art. But [ordinary] people don’t understand art, and so we don’t
have [an] audience. We [stay inside] the small box, [the theatre,] just the same group of people and we do
shows and we watch one another’s shows again and again and again. [We don’t think of moving] the
performance to the people.
Pichet came from Bangkok to check out the site, to get a “feeling” of the park. “It’s a park for the
family. People take their kids here, and they are just lying down and relaxing in the park.” With this critical
information in hand, he was now ready to develop the work: “I wanted to talk about today-time Tokyo.” He
43
LEOW PUAY TIN
got a grant to stay in Tokyo for two weeks which he spent watching people walking in five parts of the city.
It was instructive to see how his observations generated a web of ideas for story, costumes, choreography,
music, stage design and so on.
My research topic is about people walking in Tokyo. Why people walk very fast and what’s the
difference in the different parts. The conventional image of people in Tokyo is the businessman and teenager.
[But the city has] disabled people, wheelchair people, people like body builders, fashion models, old men
and young. They are here because this is the city. Tokyo is a city of the old and the new combined together.
If you go to the Ueno area, you’ll see temples and people staying in houses made of wood. But if you are
here or you go to the Shibuya area, it’s very fashionable, very modern, a young generation. All this becomes
material for my work.
Tokyo is a very survival city, very developed, smart and intellectual. And I start to develop a small
concept about the Tokyo people—they have lost their self-awareness because of the city. That’s why I have
created a production about giving back self-awareness to the people in the city.
I go to the Buddhist concept of the body and mind. I use actors to represent the people of Tokyo.
[They are the real people from Tokyo, we get them from an open call.] The Monkey dancers represent the
mind of the people. The monkey is also a part of us. We are relatives. And the balloon is self-awareness.
We start the performance with the Monkeys to make the concept become more concrete. The first
30, 40 minutes is like entertainment, performance by the Monkey dancers, and fun. And later and later, oh
my god, it becomes deeper and deeper, when the Monkey dancers take the actors—they look like ordinary
people—from the audience to the stage, and put their monkey masks on them and run away. Yes, that was a
very strong moment.
I choose the choreographers based on the monkey technique, [Rady] from Cambodia, [Padung]
Thailand, [Alisa] Indonesia, and [Janet] Hongkong. [Each one has four dancers under them.] When you look
at their choreographies, you’ll see the development of the monkey technique and body, [from natural monkey
to classical monkey to pop animal and hip-hop.] It’s like Tokyo. If from Ueno you go to Shibuya, it’s like
going from the old to the new. That’s why I place the dancers on different parts of the stage to represent the
idea of the city.
Figure 2. A monkey costume.
(Photo by the author)
Piyaporn is the costume designer. For example, for the body builder [Monkey], she creates a King Kong
costume. And for the supermodel [Monkey], the costume is very beautiful with a long scarf. My request is
that she uses materials that are reflective. It should be like glass or something bling bling bling. So if people
come close to the dancers, they can see their own face on the costumes.
I am looking for a deejay. A deejay like a deejay in a club, very connected to people. Back in
Bangkok I send an email to my friend. “You know some deejay who can play this kind of music, very
44
PICHET KLUNCHUN’S SITE-SPECIFIC MONKEYS: A METHODOLOGICAL MONOLOGUE
nightclub, who can understand dance?” And he says, “OK, I have one deejay. He is doing the club scene with
dancers.”
So I go there at 11pm. Basically 11pm for me is asleep already—11pm, the club is not open yet. I
wait outside. The club is half of this café, very small. And some people come and sit in front of the club.
They look very teenager. They wear hats. They wear costumes like dancers. Like hip-hop dancers.
I go inside and have one drink. Cola. And then some of them come in and they dance a little, like
four to five minutes, and then they go out. And other dancers come and dance a little bit and they go out. And
I say, “What are they doing?” This is like an opening scene. They are showing off and they all have their
own techniques. They show off one by one, and later they come more and more and more and the club
becomes packed. And suddenly one guy just takes the mic and he does rap. He raps and he raps and he raps
in English, he raps in Thai and he raps in Italian. And then all the teenagers dance and do the show-off on
the floor. And I say, “What is this? I never know you have this. Maybe I am old now.” Rory acts like he is
very free being the deejay. And I enjoy very much, and later we start to talk.
Yes, the Japanese may not understand English but you see all the songs we use are pop songs. People
can connect to it because they hear it everywhere. It may not be as deep as it is for people who can understand
English but they can feel it.
Sometimes when you see a conceptual work, you think it is very easy to do. For example, using the
non-dancer. But, for the choreographer, do you know how many years he will try to work with that concept?
Maybe 20 years. Maybe more than 20 years.
Everything you learn from school, from university, is not you. It is just a repetition from previous
choreographers. I think I became a choreographer only the last two years. And this year, and with this
production, I call myself a ‘director’. All this time, I have called myself a dancer, a dancer, a dancer. And I
am still a dancer because I go on stage.
I feel very happy these two days. People smile, people enjoy, people have fun. Many people talk to
me. [Not like in the theatre where] people are like shut down and [their] face is like very angry sometimes,
or curious. They keep quiet. It has become a big question of mine: which group of the audience should we
connect with or develop?
Acknowledgements
Deep thanks to Pichet and Anis for allowing me to use some things they have said to make a text for
performance.
Endnote
1 https://www.artscouncil-tokyo.jp/en/events/23054/
References
Breaker-Morant, R. (2017). Toky Toki Saru OST. [SoundCloud] Retrieved from https://soundcloud.com/
rory-morant/sets/toky-toki-saru-ost-2017S
Leow, P. T. (Writer), & Chee, S. T. (Director). (2014, February 5-8). Cakap dapur: R&d stories. Live
performance in Damansara Performing Arts Centre, Petaling Jaya, Malaysia.
Leow, P. T. (2017, November 1). Tikam-tikam Japan: Site-specific monkeys by Pichet Klunchun. Arts
Equator. Retrieved from https://artsequator.com/pichet-klunchun-tokyo-monkeys/
45
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
PHLENG TANYONG: A THAI-LANGUAGE RONGGENG IDIOM DEVELOPS
IN SOUTHWEST THAILAND
Lawrence N. Ross
University of Malaya, Malaysia
This marks my third presentation on the topic of ronggeng for a PASEA symposium. The first was at our
inaugural Singapore meeting in Singapore in 2010 where I discussed extant popular Malay repertoires found
in Thailand. At our third meeting in Denpasar, four years ago, I focused on the roles of orang laut (Orak
Lawoi), also in Thailand, acting as “cultural honeybees” to pollenate ronggeng around the region. For this
paper, our fifth meeting, I look at transformations that took place after ronggeng crossed the border and
settled in Thailand. I begin with ronggeng in Penang, the largest urban settlement in the vicinity of the Thai
border.
Twentieth-century Malayan ronggeng can be understood as a fascinating mix of various elements of
music and dance. It borrowed from old and new sources; encompassed the cosmopolitan, the traditional, and
the commercial; the local and the global. Its incubators were places like Penang: the urban settlements along
the Straits of Melaka, where people of different backgrounds and nationalities mingled. Early-twentieth
century ronggeng was a popular, commercial phenomenon. I’ll call it “paradigmatic”, because it became a
model for the plethora of contemporaneous styles that popped-up around the Malay-speaking world.
Ronggeng can have several meanings: one refers to a specific dance rhythm with a medium-to-fast
two-step dance with tuplet divisions (synonymous joget). It could also refer to a ronggeng occasion, in which
a variety of dance rhythms and tunes might be played: Malay ronggeng, slow asli, and inang; Middle-Eastern
zapin and masri; ballroom fox trots; Latin American rumba, mambo, and cha-cha. Ronggeng tunes, sung by
leading bangsawan and film actors of the day. And could be heard on the radio, on gramophone discs, or at
amusement parks. A ronggeng dance might be held on a pentas ronggeng (ronggeng stage) or in a kelab
ronggeng (ronggeng club), where male patrons would enter the dance floor at the first strains of a violin
melody, and, after paying a token fee, choose a dance partner from a row of seated puteri ronggeng (female
dancers for hire). Male and female dance partners then gencok (a local idiom for “dance”), while they
berbalas pantun (exchange stanzas of lyrical poetry), using oblique poetic allusions to mask an elaborate
series of courtship inquiries. After several minutes, when the song reached its conclusion, partners then bow
briefly to each other, the men leave the floor, and the dancers would then return to their chairs to await the
next round.
The Model that Carried into Thailand
One remarkable thing about ronggeng is how it travelled widely and absorbed local features along the way.
We see this in jazz, hip-hop, and the blues; ronggeng just happens to be a more regional phenomenon. In the
case of the Andaman Coast, the local features it accrued were vestiges of earlier popular entertainments, two
specifically. Ronggeng drew repertoire and style from a localized form of makyong called makyong laut and
a Thai-language folk theater called like pa. And just as ronggeng inherited from its predecessors, we may
find vestiges of ronggeng in popular trends until today.
I just sketch out a general movement, traveling from urban to rural to rural to rural. Its story over
subsequent decades was one of a contemporary form of popular entertainment becoming a folk tradition. It
travelled like a refined product: forged from imported and domestic sources in the multi-ethnic port
settlements, and then carried into the hinterlands. In the case of southwestern Thailand that I examine here,
the phenomenon grew from Penang and migrated northward. It passed through the rice bowl of Malaya,
Kedah and Perlis, and then island-hopped the Andaman Sea Coast to Phuket. This was a well-worn path for
trade and communications, populated by Malays, orang laut “sea people,” and Siamese. The same paths that
ronggeng travelled were trail-blazed by earlier folk theatres like those mentioned earlier, and ronggeng
transformed by drawing from their melodies, dance styles, and sonic aesthetics. In the 1930s and ’40s it
localized into several discrete sub-genres:
1) In Perlis and Satun it became known as canggung, more rancak or ‘lively’ than the lembut (smooth)
Penang ronggeng.
2) Further north, ronggeng is said to have first taken root in the Malay fishing villages of Lanta Island,
beginning with the arrival of an itinerant violinist and dancers from Malaya. Soon after their arrival,
46
PHLENG TANYONG: A THAI-LANGUAGE RONGGENG IDIOM DEVELOPS IN SOUTHWEST THAILAND
stories tell of a flowering of local players, who played nightly rong ngeng sessions that became
famous around the region (note the different spelling), and who then made trips to perform on
neighbouring islands and the mainland.
3) On the mainland, they spread rong ngeng on foot, walking from village to village to play for tips,
food, and a place to sleep. As with all the previous migrations of ronggeng, locals, beginning in the
villages of the mangrove-fringed coastline, took it up, and made it theirs, creating for the first time
a Thai-language genre of ronggeng, which became known as tanyong or phleng tanyong (tanyong
song).
A Postwar Divergence between Ronggeng Styles and Repertoires in Malaya and Thailand
In the 1950s, the length of the ronggeng | changgong | rong ngeng | phleng tanyong continuum, stretching
from Penang to Phuket, experienced a heyday of sorts. Some distinctions begin to develop between Malayan
and Thailand styles and repertoires.
Urban ronggeng in Malaya, grew in tandem with bangsawan theatre prior to the war. After the war,
it continued this relationship with the film industry. Film tunes began to enter the repertoires of rural
performing groups (dance groups, wedding groups, ghazal pati). In southwest Thailand at that point,
however, there was no urban commercial form of ronggeng: no gramophone recordings were being made,
nor was there a local film industry. In addition, the flow of popular culture from Malaya, across the border
into Thailand, diminished as the post-revolutionary Thai government was more concerned with disseminating
their homogenous notions of national culture. Though these policies didn’t have much effect upon the
southwestern margins, the door between them and their Malayan neighbours became less open than
previously. Ronggeng music in Thailand became more insular, and phleng tanyong, in particular, experienced
several important changes: the number of local melodies in the repertoire grew; and imported
ronggeng/bangsawan tunes that were introduced from the islands began to sound quite different, either that
or they were not adopted widely as part of the core song repertoire.
The social roles and meanings of Andaman Coast rong ngeng in the 1940s and ’50s developed
interesting contrasts with Malayan ronggeng. Unlike in Malaya where ronggeng performers and patrons
viewed as mildly to strongly iniquitous, in Thailand rong ngeng became a rite of passage for many Muslim
girls of that era. In previous research I have documented many of their lives and careers, when they danced
and sang rong ngeng professionally, and travelled during their teenage years (i.e., prior to marriage) with
village troupes. Many subsequently married men of high status, such as government officials or men of
relative wealth.
Localizations in Phleng Tanyong
At this point, I will highlight some of the more salient localizations that have given phleng tanyong its
distinctive character. If we first compare island rong ngeng with the changgong of Perlis, the differences in
their repertoires and styles seem quite subtle. On the other hand, phleng tanyong, though it shares tunes with
island rong ngeng, is noticeably different. Its innovations can be traced to a handful of performers who had
provided a bridge between Malay- and Thai-speaking communities during the post-war heyday. Their
innovations included:
1) Incorporating melodies not found in Malayan ronggeng, but which drew from local lullabies, and
the music and dances of regional folk theatres, makyong laut and like pa. These may be characterized
as having simple melodies (typically simpler than their counterparts from Malayan popular song),
often in two even sections, with contrasting pitch levels, and the two sections having similar
contours.
2) Singing lyrics in a highly idiomatic mix of southwestern Thai and northwestern Peninsular Malay
dialects, and in a poetic form that differs from the ‘a-b-a-b’ end-rhyme scheme of ronggeng. Instead,
they developed phleng tanyong as a variation of the Thai klon, linking lines and stanzas through
internal rhymes.
3) Creating lyrical stanzas extemporaneously that could be sung to any phleng tanyong melody. They
begin by citing a name of flower or tree, and create rhymes from that name. In the process, they
weave subtle courtship inquiries.
47
LAWRENCE N. ROSS
Present Day
Skipping ahead to the present century. Ronggeng, in all its forms, began to decline in the 1960s, due to
reasons that anyone who has studied mid-twentieth century musical trends in this region would recognize:
there appeared newer, more appealing commercial styles, often transmitted through less participatory forms
of entertainment, such as radio, TV, and cinema. Islamic conservatism was also a major factor in the decline
of ronggeng, as it was with other local performing arts, as I discussed in my 2016 PASEA paper.
Things began to turn around about fifteen years ago with the revival of interest in the few remaining
rong ngeng groups that had survived. At that point, the types of groups extant could be divided into two
styles: traditional (sometimes called rong ngeng ton cabap: original text), and modern (thansamai), according
to the performers’ own classifications. Both play pretty much the same repertoires; they really just contrast
in aesthetic styles and contexts and occasions in which they perform.
Traditional revival groups, whether singing in Malay or Thai, perform it as an expression of their
Muslim and Andaman Coast Thai identity. Traditional dress is an important way they emphasize that identity.
They are older performers who generally play for cultural shows. Aesthetically, the art of ronggeng lives on
in its revival, in the traditional dress, and in the way that the repertoire has become narrowed to a few
canonical tunes and dances. However, these are staged performances, which no longer provide occasions for
social mixing and meeting partners, as they were generations ago.
To find the ronggeng that provides a social gathering for young people, one must look for the style
that is disparaged today as immoral. (Morality crept in during the 1970s. Sadly, within the same Andaman
Coast Muslim communities where ronggeng was born and became popular). The thansamai style is still
found at weddings and other occasions in villages and small towns. Aesthetically, it has adopted a great deal
from popular Thai entertainment, particularly in the sexy costumes worn by the dancers. Sometimes the live
ronggeng band alternates with a DJ, with the dancers performing as paid taxi dancers for both, and the scene
can be quite raucous.
There are many directions to take this discussion. Ronggeng provides a rich area to examine how
performing arts change as they travel. It is especially so because of the different changes that took place
within a relatively small geographical area: i.e., the coast between Penang and Phuket. In the cases of
ronggeng/rong ngeng/phleng tanyong, transformations resulted as they traversed different languages,
national borders, religious groups, and levels of development (e.g., village to town to city). The historical
evidence I have collected demonstrates the path of its movements, and thus how each station left its own
distinctive mark, not just in the northward journey from Malaya to Siam, but also in cultural gradations that
accompany the movement from sea (island) to shore (mangrove coast and beach) to riverine communities,
and over a longer diachronic period, as the region experienced modernizations and social transformations.
48
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
RONGGENG RE-INVENTED: THE EMERGENCE OF NEW REPERTOIRES
FROM SINGAPORE TO PENINSULAR MALAYSIA
Mohd Anis Md Nor
Nusantara Performing Arts Research Center, Malaysia
Prologue
Pentas ronggeng (ronggeng dance stage), amusement parks, and bangsawan (Malay opera) popular in the
1930s and 1940s, played important roles in popularising ronggeng among the urban Malays in Malaya and
Singapore. Ronggeng dance stages staffed with taxi dancers or dance hostesses became permanent fixtures
in amusement parks in Penang, Kuala Lumpur, and Singapore, whilst mobile ronggeng ensembles plied
between villages and towns to provide social dancing at weddings and other social functions. Bangsawan
theatre utilised ronggeng repertoires within the bangsawan plays or in vaudeville-like intermissions between
plays called extra-turns. Through the growing popularity of the bangsawan theatre in the 1930s-1940s, dance
choreographers in bangsawan theatres re-invented new choreographies from the ronggeng dance cycle of
asli, inang and joget tunes for bangsawan plays or extra-turns.
In the 1950s and 1960s, Malay movies and cinema networks in Malaya and Singapore presented
new dance repertoires from re-invented ronggeng derived art dances to serve new musical impressions, sung
and danced by famous movie stars and chorus lines on the silver screens. Indian movie directors from India
who introduced Indian stories and plots into Malay movies combined newly created ronggeng-derived art
dance with new musical arrangements and songs, hitherto changing the course of ronggeng from a social
dance into derivative arts dances.
Challenged by the robust film industry, ronggeng as a social dance and music genre eventually faded
away as a passé tradition with the eventual demise of amusement parks in the early 1960s. New ronggeng
derived art dance invented in the Malay movies during the 1960s became trendy amongst Malay dance
organisations in Singapore and Malaya, paving the way for the creation of specific art dance repertoires
derived from the older ronggeng social dance cycle. The trendier art dance repertoires and musical
arrangements became the foundation for the creation of “national” art dance by the National Culture Centre
(Pusat Kebudayaan Kebangsaan) after its formation in Jalan Ampang, Kuala Lumpur, in 1964. Repertoires
of newly created “national” Malay art dance from the National Cultural Centre were effectively imitated
nation-wide in the 1970s through roadshows, dance competitions, and TV shows, promoted by the Ministry
of Information and Communication (Kementerian Penerangan dan Penyiaran) and the Ministry of Culture
and Social Welfare (Kementerian Kebudayaan dan Kebajikan Sosial). Renamed as Kompleks Budaya
Negara or National Cultural Complex in 1971 and relocated to Jalan Tun Ismail in Kuala Lumpur, the
operatives of the old National Cultural Centre continued under the administration of the Ministry of Culture,
Youth and Sports to became the foremost authority on Malay dance and music, glossing over the older
ronggeng social dance cycle with ronggeng derivative “national” art dances. The 1970s marked a turning
point in Malay dance when repertories from the older ronggeng dance cycle were supplanted by new
“national” art dances with specific dance repertoires.
Ronggeng Dance Cycle
Traditional ronggeng is conventionally performed in cycles of dance repertoires, namely the asli, inang, and
joget. The three dance repertoires in each ronggeng dance cycle is accompanied by the ronggeng ensemble
consisting of the one violinist, an accordionist, two rebana drummers and a knobbed gong player, performing
the asli or senandung, inang, and tandak or joget tunes in succession.
A ronggeng dance cycle would begin with an asli dance performed to the asli or senandung tunes
(as it is known in North Sumatera, Indonesia), characterised by the curling and flexing of the fingers while
the dancers move in a slow, walking motion. The asli tune is identified by an eight-beat phrase in 4/4 time.
The dance has a fixed first four-beat phrase walking (pedestrian) pattern while the second four-beat phrase
is usually improvised by side-footsteps and bending of arms and curling-flexing fingers. The fourth and the
eighth beats are accented at the end by the knobbed gong. This repertoire may also be called senandung or
gunung sayang (love lullaby).1
The second dance in the ronggeng dance cycle is inang consisting of a variation of the 4/4 beat
pattern of walking steps in either relatively slow or fast tempo, accompanied by inang tunes, and accented
49
MOHD ANIS MD NOR
by the knobbed gong. Dancers face one another while making turns and dancing in a circular path around
each other while tracking lineal floor plan within single lines of male and female dancers.2
The third and final dance of the ronggeng dance cycle is the tandak or joget, which is also known as
lagu dua in northern Sumatera and southwest Thailand. It is performed to a relatively fast-paced joget or lagu
dua tune, danced in duple or triple beat. In contrast to the inang walking motions, the joget consist of quick
steps interspersed with successive skips and hops with dancers dancing opposite each other flirtatiously but
never touching one another.3
Today, pockets of ronggeng groups performing the ronggeng dance cycle are still found in Kedah,
Penang, and Malacca entertaining visitors at weddings and other feasts.
At these gatherings the ronggeng female entertainers dance with the male guests, and the music is
provided by the ronggeng ensemble. Singing is done by special singers and not by the dancers
themselves. Today, the ronggeng tunes such as the asli, inang and joget are also performed by pop
bands, the orchestra of Radio and Television Malaysia (RTM) and by symphony orchestra. (Matusky
& Tan, 2017, p. 300)
The following chart shows the list of some of the ronggeng tunes played today.
Asli/Senandung
1. Makan Sireh
2. Tudung Periuk
3. Mas Merah
4. Seri Mersing
5. Kuala Deli
6. Bunga Tanjung
7. Sayang Musalmah
8. Siti Payung
9. Pasir Roboh
10. Seri Banang
11. Seri Sarawak
12. Seri Siantan
13. Tudung Saji
14. Damak
(Mawarku, 2018)
Inang
1. Sambut Kasih
2. Mak Inang Pulau Kampai
3. Mak Inang Kayangan
4. Pak Malau
5. Dodoi di Dodoi
6. Cik Minah Sayang
7. Pucuk Pisang
8. Lengang Kangkung
9. Timang Burung
10. Canggung
Joget/Lagu Dua
1. Serampang Laut
2. Johor Sport Club
3. Joget Pahang
4. Rentak Seratus Enam
5. Tanjung Katong
6. Hitam Manis
7. Jingkling Nona
8. Selayang Pandang
Pentas Ronggeng (Ronggeng Dance Stage) in Malaya and Singapore (1930s-1940s)
Urban amusement parks in the 1930s-1940s became venues for the commercialisation of Malay social
dances, advocating ronggeng dance performed by patron-dancers who purchased tickets or coupons in order
to dance with one or several dance hostesses or taxi dancers. Social dancing between male patrons and female
taxi dancers contributed to the processes of change in Malay social dances when ronggeng developed newer
or trendier performance styles in urban centres.
Amusement parks were first established in Singapore in the early 1930s. The three major
entertainment parks in Singapore—the Happy World, the Great World, and the New World—were owned
by local Chinese investors. Amusement parks offered food stalls, bangsawan stages, Chinese operas,
cinemas, magic shows, gambling stalls, cabarets, and ronggeng dance stages—the last two being available
in every park. The amusement parks occupied fairly large tracts of land in order to house all the different
forms of public entertainment. They were open in the evenings and attracted large numbers of urban workers.
The amusement parks charged patrons basic entrance fees at the main gates and solicited rental fees from all
the stall owners and entertainment companies which provided services in the parks. The success of the three
amusement parks in Singapore led to the opening of entertainment parks in the Malay Peninsula such as the
Fun and Frolic Amusement Park, the Wembley, and the New World in Penang; while Kuala Lumpur had the
Great Eastern Ltd., Hollywood Park, and the Bukit Bintang Park; Malacca had the City Park; and Ipoh had
the Grand Jubilee Park.4
Ronggeng taxi dancers or penari ronggeng (ronggeng dancers) were paid fixed monthly salaries by
their respective employers. The dancers also received a certain percentage from the sale of dance coupons.5
50
RONGGENG RE-INVENTED: THE EMERGENCE OF NEW REPERTOIRES
FROM SINGAPORE TO PENINSULAR MALAYSIA
The popularity of each dancer on stage determined the amount of money that she earned each night. Being
professional dancers, they were expected to be well groomed, to dress beautifully, and to wear attractive
facial make-up.6 Katherine Sim, the wife of a British expatriate, described the appearance of the ronggeng
dancers:
The four dancing girls, their full lips scarlet, their faces pale powdered masks and their eyes
enormous with kohl were already doing the first slow steps of the dance. They each wore long heavy
silk jackets fitting to the waist and outlining the hips, over flowered sarongs; gold necklaces over
their high stiff collars and gold anklets round their bare ankles. Their black hair was done in a large
knot at the back of the head, encircled with heavily scented white flowers, while each wore a single
pink flower tucked coquettishly behind one ear. The colours of their clothes were apple green,
magenta pink and orange. (Sim, 1946, p. 52)
In spite of their appearance on stage and their willingness to dance with any men who had purchased coupons,
the taxi dancers were forbidden to touch or be touched by their patron-dancers. The men had to execute their
steps with the dance hostesses within the ronggeng dance cycles of asli/senandung, inang, and
joget/tandak/lagu dua. The ethics of Malay social dancing were upheld by the avoidance of body contact
between men and women. The holding of hands, permissible in Western ballroom dancing, was considered
improper. Ronggeng dancers and the patron-dancers were, however, allowed to dance close to one another,
occasionally ‘cutting out’ back and forth in weaving pattern:
The steps of the Ronggeng dancer are little more than a rhythmic shuffle which becomes more
difficult and intricate as the music grows faster. There is a system of ‘cutting out’ the men which
gives an appearance of the girls’ line weaving through the men’s line, each always taking great care
not to touch the other. (Sim, 1946, p. 53)
The ronggeng dance stage also served as the appropriate place for the patron-dancers to carry on long
conversations with their favourite dance hostess as they would usually purchase wads of dance coupons to
enable them to dance several rounds together, uninterrupted by other patron-dancers.
The establishment of pentas ronggeng (ronggeng dance stage), cabarets, and dance halls and the
employment of taxi dancers in these establishments in the urban amusement parks not only facilitated public
dancing but also established new trends of performing the ronggeng dance tradition. Taxi dancers and their
instructors created new dance formations with new motifs and styles in order to ensure continued interest
from patron-dancers, eventually creating larger repertoires within the ronggeng dance cycle.
Ronggeng in Bangsawan and Malay Movies (1950s-1960s)
The growing popularity of the bangsawan theatre after the Second World War led to the demand for better
dance performances in the main stories and intervals between plays known as extra-turns. Rising musicians
and dancers, and experienced and well-known bangsawan performers took part in the extra-turns. The extraturns were as important as the main bangsawan drama and musicals in attracting and ensuring continuing
patronage of the bangsawan theatre. The need for more varied dance repertoires in the bangsawan theatre
forced dance choreographers to seek new ideas and create new dances to accompany the stories. The dances
choreographed for the bangsawan had to add visual impact to the glamour and drama of the bangsawan story.
Bangsawan dancers and choreographers such as Osman Gumanti, Normadiah, Minah Yem, Minah B., Ainon
Chik, Zaharah Agus, and husband-and-wife ronggeng teams used ronggeng repertoires as their creative base
to create new dance choreographies.7 Repertoires from asli, inang, and joget in the ronggeng dance cycle
were re-invented with dance properties with new names associated with the dance props used. Scarfs (sapu
tangan), saucers (piring), umbrellas (payung), food covers (tudung saji), and head covers (terendak), were
respectively named for the new dances: tari saputangan (scarf dance with asli and inang tunes), tari piring
(saucer dance with asli and inang tunes), tari payung (umbrella dance with inang and joget tunes), and new
dances combining a series of three tunes (tiga serangkai).
These choreographies migrated into the Malay movies in the 1950s and 1960s when Malay films
retained all the elements of the bangsawan theatre tradition—music, dances, songs, dialogue, and comedy—
except for the extra-turns. Extra-turns were not required in film-making since it was not necessary to provide
entertainment during set changes. Dances from the extra-turns, however, were incorporated into movies as
51
MOHD ANIS MD NOR
part of the song-and-dance sequences. The inclusion of songs and dances between pieces of dialogue in the
Malay movies were due to the influence of Hindustani movies. The production of Malay movies and, in
particular, film-making techniques themselves had a significant impact on ronggeng. Cutting and editing of
dance scenes in film-making required producers to use many different camera angles to produce multiperspective shots of dance performances during songs resulting in the splicing the different camera takes of
a single dance repertoire into a collage of dance motives that dazzled movie-goers. Fascination with Malay
art dances from ronggeng repertoires in the early years of Malay film-making laid the foundations for a
growing awareness in Malay society of the versatility of ronggeng in creating new dances.
The 1950s and 1960s also saw an abundance of popular periodicals on Malay movies, fashion, and
other public entertainment. Movie stars and singers were the focus of the news media. Songs and dances
performed by movie stars and singers in the Malay movies were replicated in school concerts and talent
shows all over the country. New dance crazes, which developed at the night spots of the bigger cities such as
Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, and Penang became popular with the public. This was the period when the new
art dance derived from ronggeng became nationally known and performed throughout Malaya and
Singapore.8
The transfer of ronggeng and new art dances from the amusement parks to Malay movies were
seamless since film companies owned some of the amusement parks. Malay Film Arts Production (MFP)
operated by Shaw Brothers Company, owned the three major entertainment parks in Singapore and several
others in Malaya.9 Following the success of MFP, two Chinese entrepreneurs, Ho Ah Loke and Loke Wan
Tho, set up Cathay Kris Film Production in 1951 to produce more Malay films for the Malay-SingaporeIndonesia market. Ho Ah Loke, who owned Rimau Film Production, and Loke Wan Tho, the millionaire
owner of Cathay Company, already owned cinemas in almost all the big towns in Malaya and Singapore.10
Cathay Kris went into full operation at the East Coast Road studio in Singapore. By 1952, Shaw Brothers’
MFP and Cathay Kris were the only film companies in Singapore that were financially successful. They had
a monopoly over Malay movie production in Malaya and Singapore. The new ronggeng and art dances
introduced in the Malay film industry spread far and wide in Malaya, Singapore, Indonesia, Southern
Thailand, and Brunei.
To ensure continuous success in the production of Malay movies, MFP and Cathay Kris recruited
film directors from India while almost all technical crews were recruited from Hong Kong. Indian movie
directors who made Malay movies in Singapore, such as B. S. Rajhan, B. N. Rau, Phani Majumdar, L.
Krishnan, V. Girimajy, Diresh Gosh, S. Ramanathan, and K. R. S. Sastry were all familiar with the techniques
and performance styles of movie-making in India, and utilised the same approach in directing Malay
movies.11
The technical capabilities of film-making and in particular the use of multi-camera shots enabled
separate dance sequences to be choreographed for different cameras at different times. Thus, a dance piece
was choreographed in several sections which were performed at different times by either the same or different
groups of dancers according to the filming schedules.12 The breaking of dance sequences into sections
allowed choreographers more flexibility in making changes and innovations whenever these were required
by the directors. Film-making also allowed a single dance to be shot several times. Although this was
convenient for film editing and for the choreographers, it was hard on the dancers. When a single dance had
to be performed several times on camera, the pressure to sustain a lively performance throughout the entire
filming session often caused dancers to fatigue. However, this could be avoided by scheduling the shootings
at different times to allow the dancers time to recuperate.
Newly created art dance from the ronggeng repertoire often served as chorus dance sequences in
Malay movies. The prima donna, who was either the movie heroine or the lead dancer, would perform
separate dance motifs at specific intervals during the chorus. This not only enabled the prima donna to
disengage herself from the chorus line when she had to sing the song to which the dance was an
accompaniment, but it also provided a multiple perspective of the dance performance. Therefore, it was
possible for the choreographers to teach different sets of asli or senandung, inang, and joget/lagu dua dance
motives to the prima donna and the chorus line, and yet have them performed together during a single camera
shot or at different camera angles.
An advantage of performing ronggeng dances on camera was the abandonment of the restrictive
linear dance formations imposed by the ronggeng stage. Dancers were able to perform the new art dances in
numerous dance formations. This technical advance allowed the dances to be viewed from several angles.
Dances were also filmed from above, a technique which revealed numerous floor formations which were not
visible when the dance was viewed at ground level.13 The availability of a bird’s eye view encouraged dance
52
RONGGENG RE-INVENTED: THE EMERGENCE OF NEW REPERTOIRES
FROM SINGAPORE TO PENINSULAR MALAYSIA
instructors and choreographers to innovate and create new dance motives and floor plans. Choreographies
became more interesting when choreographers created new art dances with ideas borrowed from the
ronggeng dance repertoires.
Epilogue: Ronggeng and Malay Art Dance in 1970s-1980s
Growing awareness of art dance invented from Malay movies in the 1960s laid the foundations for
competitive art dance that became widespread in Singapore and Malaya. Competing teams performed dances
re-invented from the three ronggeng dance cycles of asli-senandung, inang, and joget/lagu dua before a
common group of judges. The music used in the ronggeng-derived art dance routines was adapted from
commercially available dance tunes consisting of the asli-inang-joget repertoires. The judges scored the
performances based on ronggeng dance techniques specific to the asli-inang-joget but with newer
choreographies. A combination of the ronggeng three-dance cycles, which was referred to as tiga serangkai
(series-of-three), were most often performed with dance properties in the new competitive art dance setting.
The winning numbers were then imitated and enhanced by other groups, often changing hands from one
group to the other, re-embellished and renamed after the dance properties, such as the handkerchief dance
(tari saputangan), the umbrella dance (tari payung), the saucer and candle dance (tari lilin), the shawl dance
(tari selendang), and many more using existing and new ronggeng music repertoires.
From 1964 to 1971, new dance repertoires and musical arrangements from state-wide dance
competitions became the foundation for new art dance created for Malaysia’s National Dance Troupe, and
were considered as new “national” dances under the Ministry of Information and Communication
(Kementerian Penerangan dan Penyiaran) and the Ministry of Culture and Social Welfare (Kementerian
Kebudayaan dan Kebajikan Sosial). In 1971, the National Dance Troupe, under the administration Kompleks
Budaya Negara (National Cultural Complex) of the Ministry of Culture, Youth and Sports, became the
official bearer of “traditional” Malay art dance. By the late 1970s, ronggeng derived art dance from the 1950s
had morphed from being “national” art dance in the late 1960s to “traditional” dances of Malaysia. New
dance compositions and choreographies from ronggeng derived art dance became Malay “traditional” dances
of the National Cultural Complex that was taught, propagated, and funded by the state departments for
Culture, Youth and Sports to schools and cultural groups and organisations nationwide. The invention of art
dances derived from the ronggeng dance cycle continued under new ministries in charge of culture, heritage
and tourism in the 1980s to the present.14
Embellished by diachronic and synchronic changes in dance properties and new tunes over the
period of several decades from the first quarter of the twentieth century to the present time, ronggeng had
metamorphosed from a single genre with cyclic asli-inang-joget repertoires into multiple re-invented genres
of Malay art dance with new identities and aesthetics. Amidst regional popularity, public consumption, and
the formation of new productions of local popular dance and music genres, ronggeng has been redefined and
re-labelled to fit into mainstream performance traditions in Malaysia.
Endnotes
1 For
more information on asli dance see Nor (2017), pp. 52-53.
more information on inang dance see Nor (2017), pp. 51-52.
3 For more information on tandak and joget see Nor (2017), pp. 48-50.
4 See Nor (1993), p. 42.
5 See Kadir (1988), pp. 133-134.
6 See Nor, (1993), pp. 42-43.
7 Bangsawan choreographers interviewed in 1989 were the husband-and-wife team Pak Halim Osman and
his wife from Orkes Aslirama of Singapore, and Pak Hashim Shukor and his wife from the ronggeng group
in Muar, Johor.
8 Books on how to dance the new ronggeng or joget and inang began to emerge. An example is the book
Cara Menari Ronggeng dan Mak Inang by Daud Hamzah, which provided the names of dance motifs, graphic
dance steps and use of dance properties. See Hamzah (1965).
9 These were the Happy World, the New World, and the Great World amusement parks in Singapore.
10 See Ariffin & Arshad (1980), pp. 10-11.
11
Ariffin & Arshad (1980), pp. 24-25.
12 Personal interview with Rahmah Rahmat in Singapore, August 1989.
2 For
53
MOHD ANIS MD NOR
13
This was one of the techniques employed by the camera crew to record the aerial view of dancers in circular
and arabesque floor formation. Personal interview with Dato L. Krishnan, August 1989.
14
Refer to Nor (2001), pp. 65-68, for more information on the changes and adaptations of old dance styles to
new representations in Malay folk dance.
References
Ariffin, S. Z. H. M., & Arshad, H. T. (1980). Sejarah filem Melayu. Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia: Penerbitan
Sri Sharifah.
Hamzah, D. (1965). Cara menari Ronggeng dan Mak Inang. Singapore & Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia:
Penerbit Federal Berhad.
Kadir, W. A. (1988). Budaya popular dalam masyarakat Melayu bandaran. Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia:
Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka.
Matusky, P., & Tan, S. B. (2017). The music of Malaysia: The classical, folk, and syncretic traditions.
London, UK: SOAS Musicology Series, Routledge.
Mawarku (Pertubuhan Warisan Seni Tari dan Muzik Melayu). (2018). Projek revitalisasi tari dan muzik
pergaulan Melayu. Laporan Biro Muzik Mawarku, Kuala Lumpur (unpublished report).
Nor, M. A. M., & Burridge, S. (2017). Sharing identities: Celebrating dance in Malaysia. India & UK:
Routledge.
Nor, M. A. M. (2001). Blurring images, glowing likenesses: Old and new styles in traditional dances of
Malaysia. Yearbook for Traditional Music, 33, 65-71.
Nor, M. A. M. (1993). Zapin: Folk dance of the Malay world. Singapore: Oxford University Press.
Sim, K. (1946). Malayan landscape. London, UK: Michael Joseph.
54
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
BUUT AND PANGAKO: INTERIORITY AND PERFORMATIVITY IN THE
SAYAW TRADITION IN TUBUNGAN, ILOILO
(Lightning Paper)
Jose R. Taton Jr.
University of the Philippines Visayas, Philippines
Introduction
In this paper, I attempt to explore the connection of indigenous psychology and practice exemplified in the
performance of sayaw, a music-dance processional ritual enacted by the indigenous Tubungan Bukidnon. I
look at the notion of pledges called pangako as a link between psychological interiority called buut and social
action. In turn, I consider how the symbolic pledge facilitates the construction, maintenance, and enactment
of the Tubungan Bukidnon’s social realities.
The Tubungan Bukidnon is a group of Kiniray-a-speaking communities spread across the highland
areas of Southern Iloilo in Panay Island, Philippines. Pockets of settlements are located along the banks of
the Jar-ao River which have adapted to upland agriculture. Besides farming, the area is a bustling cultural
hearth of babaylan culture being considered as one of the four pillars of their spiritual world (Magos, 1992).
Also, the site hosts periodic ritual congregations facilitated by spirit mediums across the Visayan archipelago.
Pangako as Social Contract
The villages’ geographic orientation, with settlements located at least five to fifteen kilometres away from
each other, poses communication challenges. Locals rely heavily on verbal transactions which are most often
sealed in oral social contracts, referred to as pangako. In Visayan lexicon, pangákò can be understood as “to
be able to undertake a work and its responsibility” (Kaufmann, 1934, p. 374). This commitment is explicitly
elicited in many personal and communal social contracts such as offering of service related to farming
activities, funeral preparations, and wedding celebrations.
During marital rites, a special kind of pangako is enjoined by some Bukidnon. Besides making
provisions for meal sets, entourage garbs, and religious services, the locals, if viable, secure sayaw
performances at marriage processions. The sayaw is thought to clear the path of evil omens and from
malevolent spirits which ensures a comfortable and happy marital life. The performance involves two male
dancers who do a mock a combat displaying a highly technical sword play. The dance is escorted by a banda,
a string and percussion ensemble. The banda is composed of different stringed lutes such as the banjo,
banjolina, gitara, and bayulin together with percussion instruments like the bombo (bass drum), barangbang
(snare drum) and the mang-mang (hand-held cymbals).
Although the performance of the sayaw can be formally asked by the parents of the bride from the
parents of the groom as pangayu (request), it is given as a pangako by relatives or friends in most cases. For
instance, Rolly Tambaroc started his vocation as an expert sayaw dancer when he nonchalantly expressed a
pangako to perform for his friend’s wedding. Thinking of it as a casual conversation, never did he expect
that his friend will make him perform it. Although he tried to reason out that he is not a skilled dancer and
that he can get people from a nearby community to dance, his friend disapproved. Feeling with a sense of
huya (losing face), he fulfilled his pledge as he made preparations for the performance by looking for a dance
partner and some musicians. A similar situation happened to Porcino Paniza in 2001. To appease the bride’s
feelings, he was left with no choice but to dance the promised sayaw lest he face a shameful situation of not
being able to honour his word.
55
JOSE R. TATON JR.
Figure 1. A sayaw ritual in 2015.
(Photo by the author)
Pangako and Buut
The Tubungan Bukidnon feel obliged to act, if not compelled to keep one’s promise. They turn to an
indigenous psychology referred to as buut1 which compels them to get animated. Buut is defined as an internal
state of being central in the psycho-social dimension of personhood among the Visayans (Villan, 2013). It
encompasses a wide range of meanings. Psychologically, buut communicates the will and aspirations of the
people motivating them to act. Socio-culturally, buut bolsters community relationships. Its fundamental
significance in the life of the locals is evident in almost all aspects of life from the performance of songs,
recitation of literature, and the settlement of disputes which often involve the appeasement of buut.
Buut navigates on value dimensions of balatyagon (feeling), utang na kabalaslan (debt of honour)
and huya (propriety) (Villan, 2003). This tripartite scheme is the basis of relationality (Enriquez, 1987). The
anecdotes above exemplify the importance of healthy interpersonal interactions as the buut of the dancer tries
to pacify the buut of the person who has been given the pledge. The sensitivity and receptiveness of the locals
to these values have a huge tendency to direct actions with the aim of creating a harmonious social life. The
pangako in the practice of sayaw in other words acts as a catalyst in manifesting internal states of thinking.
Figure 2. Sayaw musicians.
(Photo by the author)
Pangako as Performative Practice
To discuss the centrality of pledges as a link between psychology and praxis, I draw inspiration from speech
act theory of Austen (1962) and Searle (1969). For Austin, a “performative utterance,” like pangako, is a
speech act that creates events or relations in the world. In analysis, pledges (locution) potentially create a
space of action (illocution) which is regulated by the confrontational response of the listener to the
interlocutor (perlocution). Although several rules govern speech acts, it is still acknowledged that utterances,
as a kind of performance, do not immediately become performative. These need “formative forces” (social
values and conventions) and a consideration of the nature of obligation, power, and intentionality to be
functionally performative. I believe that in sayaw, buut is the agent of action; the values embedded in it fully
56
BUUT AND PANGAKO: INTERIORITY AND PERFORMATIVITY IN THE
SAYAW TRADITION IN TUBUNGAN, ILOILO
justify the action. Thus, the rational obligation or compulsion to perform which pangako permits manifests
the local’s “collective intentionality” to engage in behaviours that seek to negotiate and maintain positive
interpersonal affairs (Searle, 1990).
These intentions to act mobilised within a space of action in which musical, kinaesthetic, and
spiritual idioms are expressed. Locals can execute either one of the two sayaw styles which differ in musical
and movement patterns. In the older style, dinuma-an, the sword-play exhibits martial movements similar to
the arnis accompanied by a minor mode danza, common in many Visayan traditional airs (Cainglet, 1981).
On the other hand, in the contemporary style, binag-o, the sword-play is mixed with kneels, jumps and rolls
accompanied by a major mode danza. The practice also involves spiritual grounding as dancers in babaylan
garbs conduct rituals of protection such as marking an X on the ground and smearing their soles with dirt.
Also, a pair of banana stalks and a bamboo tube filled with water are cut with the belief of providing
additional comfort and vigour in the lives of the newly-wed.
Maintaining Social Order: Between Psychology and Praxis
The elocution of pangako functions as a strategic mechanism that links psychology and praxis. It mediates
interiority with social action presenting itself as a gesture of social responsibility and at the same time a
device in establishing social order (Villan, 2013). In this study, I see that social action captured in the sayaw
predicates to a performativity of the inner self. Through this understanding of interiority and performativity
can we see how people like the Tubungan Bukidnon construct, maintain and perform their social realities.
Endnote
1
Buut is the Visayan counterpart of loob (inner self) (Mercado, 1972). On one hand, Kaufmann (1934) defines
it as “will, intention, mind, reason, understanding, intelligence; to will, want, desire, intend, and do as one
pleases” (p. 90).
References
Austin, J. L. (1962). How to do things with words. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Cainglet, E. C. (1981). Hispanic influences on the West Visayan folk song tradition of the Philippines
(Unpublished doctoral dissertation). University of Adelaide, Australia.
Doromal, G. (1988). The traditional music of Iloilo. UP Visayas Studies Program, Iloilo City.
Enriquez, V. G. (1976). Sikolohiyang Pilipino: Batayan sa kasaysayan, perspektiba, mga konsepto, at
bibliograpiya. Quezon City, Philippines: UP Department of Psychology.
Enriquez, V. G. (1978). Kapwa: A core concept in Filipino social psychology. Philippine Social Sciences
and Humanities Review, 42(1-4), 100-108.
Kaufmann, J. (1934). Visayan-English Dictionary (Kapulungan Binisaya-Ininglis). Iloilo, Philippines: La
Editorial.
Magos, A. (1992). The enduring ma-aram tradition: An ethnography of a Kinaray-a village in Antique.
Quezon City, Philippines: New Day.
Mercado, L. N. (1972). Reflections on buut-loob-nakem. Philippine Studies, 20(4), 577-602.
Searle, J. R. (1969). Speech acts: An essay in the philosophy of language. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge
University Press.
Searle, J. R. (1990). Collective intentions and actions. In J. M. Cohen, & Pollack, M. (Eds.), Intentions in
communication (pp. 401-419). Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press.
Villan, V. C. (2013, November). Ilub, Unong, at Amok: Pag-unawa sa Katatagan ng Buut ng mga Bayani sa
Himagsikang Pilipino sa Panay, 1896-1898. DIWA E-Journal, 1(1), 58-92.
57
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
SONIC FRAMEWORK: RE-INVENTING PHILIPPINE CINEMA SOUNDTRACK
(Lightning Paper)
Crisancti L. Macazo
University of the Philippines Diliman, Philippines
Brief Background of the Study
The argument in this lightning paper is the central thesis of my dissertation which is currently a work in
progress. I posit that every music cue in the soundtrack suite of a film must be scrutinized to unravel possible
subliminal messages. Selected films are examined to prove music as a framework in creating films. This
study involves manual transcription of the entire music score of the chosen films, and analyses with regard
sound and picture relationship. Objectives include, deeper comprehension of Filipino films through
deciphering coded messages nestled in the diegeses; unravelling local identity projected through the mediated
music cues alongside moving pictures and texts (dialogues); and to emphasize the importance of short music
cues in socio-cultural context. To date, favourable outcomes are unfolding toward a solid thesis.
The Emergence of Filipino Films
The arrival of Hollywood’s Syncopation (1929) to the Philippines marked the advent of “talkies” in spite of
the fact that the sound of the film emanated from a phonograph record. The same method was previously
employed by Jose Nepomuceno to accompany scenes requiring singing but failed due to synchronicity issues
(Pareja, 1991, pp. 18-19). Sarsuwelas1 kept films from attaining speedy success as live music and acting on
stage were far more appealing to viewers at that time. Sound films began to attract more patrons when film
musicals began to arrive in theatres on a regular basis. Filmmakers migrated local stage sarsuwelas to films
which sent audiences to movie theatres (Tiongson, 1992, p. 32). Philippine sound cinema flourished as
audiences identified with the characters and their music (Deocampo, 2017, p. 401). Local filmmakers studied
in Hollywood to further their knowledge in the craft such as Vicente Salumbides who re-established his film
business afterwards (Salumbides, 1952, p. 8). Local filmmakers also learned to mimic2 Hollywood films,
however, they adeptly produced films to localize what is foreign resulting in hybridity and syncretism.
Music Cues: Bearers of Coded Messages
Film scorers code their compositions for viewers’ comprehension of the film’s diegeses. In 1941, Manuel
Conde3 directed Ibong Adarna (Adarna Bird), scored and arranged by Francisco Buencamino Sr. and Jr.,
respectively. Adarna is an enchanted bird with a beautiful voice that could put a would-be catcher to sleep
and later into stone. It also heals an individual stricken with a deadly malaise. The bird sings its aria thrice
on different occasions in the film. In the first instance, an unscrupulous prince turns into stone. Second, the
bird tries to put the good prince, Juan, to sleep but he catches the former. Third, the bird heals the king. The
aria of Adarna is comprised of three coded instruments: (1) coloratura soprano voice, a sonic metaphor for a
mother’s lullaby; (2) flute, mimicry for the mythical bird; and (3) celesta, indexing a ‘music box.’ These
create a deadly lullaby. However, the absent sound of the music box sonically reverses the effect of the bird’s
singing resulting to the king’s recuperation.
58
SONIC FRAMEWORK: RE-INVENTING PHILIPPINE CINEMA SOUNDTRACK
In Prinsipe Teñoso (Prince Teñoso), 1954, director Gregorio Fernandez and composer Lt. Col. Antonino
Buenaventura, AFP created a four-fold fanfare played by four trumpeters symbolizing the four corners of the
world. Additionally, a solo contrabass melody underscores the conversation of the prince and the giant. The
deep massive sound of the solo instrument represents the giant while the chromatic melody stresses its
emotion.
59
CRISANCTI L. MACAZO
Pilipino Kostum, No Touch (Filipino Custom, No Touch), 1955 by director Manuel Conde and music scorers
F. Buencamino Jr., R. Umali, and N. Ragas is a dialectic opposition between old traditions and modernity.
During the pamamanhikan sequence or asking permission from the parents of a woman for marriage, the
respective parties of the man and the woman engage in a debate juxtaposing their ideologies toward customs
and traditions mimicked by the music and dances. The score is an alternation between folk tunes played by
a rondalla group and modern American music by a big band (Tiongson, 2008, pp. 94-95). The diegesis
resolves by merging both ideologies and practices witnessed through hybrid music and dances.
Sonic Framework: Filmmakers’ Conveyor of Social identity
A film composer is an implied author of the diegesis by way of manipulating sound as an invisible actant
freely crossing borders. From the earlier examples, the soprano’s voice acting as a metaphor for a lullaby
would be further attributed to Filipinos’ concept of familism4 or family ties. In another diegesis, the solo
contrabass chromatic melody creeping in the background acts as the inner voice of the giant enfeebling at the
loss of its power. In the juxtaposed customaries, the coalescence of the diegetic dance and music cues of the
clashing ideologies sonically focalizes the resolution of differing principles.
The director of a motion picture is also an implied author. He directs the actors, the camera work
and lighting according to his own interpretation of the script. He decides whether the interpretation of the
film music composer and scorer concurs with his. H. Porter Abbot (2002) posits that, “the implied author is
also, like the narrative itself, a kind of construct that among other things serves to anchor the narrative. We
in our turn, as we read, develop our own idea of this implied sensibility behind the narrative” (pp. 77-78).
For this reason, the implied authors’ efficiency lies in the uniformity of the audiences’ comprehension of the
motion picture.
The significance of thematic relationships can be imputed to the need to create a tightly woven,
cohesive sonic tapestry to sustain the impression of the coherence and interconnectedness of the
world inhabited by the characters, and sense of their evolving perspective on it” (Biancorosso, 2016,
p. 157).
I posit that apart from thematic materials and leitmotifs, other musical phrases such as quotations and stingers
may also contain coded meanings needing interpretations.
Music scoring for Filipino cinema is a daunting task due to dominant cultures. Consequently, Nick
Deocampo (2017) asserts that, “[i]n terms of inspiration, form, and musicality, it has become a site for cultural
negotiation, resulting in…’trialectical’ relationship” (p. 401). Therefore, in order to penetrate the audience,
filmmakers resort to hybridization and syncretism. Coding music cues means injecting messages where the
audiences can identify themselves morally, culturally and socially. In spite of the fact that Filipino film
scorers’ early beginnings are a mimicry of Hollywood, differing layers of cultural identities diachronically
tailor their compositions for their audiences, thus, musical cues are traceable to Spanish, American, and other
minor influences resulting in syncretism and viewed as “local.” This mediating process is essential in the
construction of a film narrative’s framework, a shared task between filmmakers but generally dictated by
film directors.
Endnotes
1
See Deocampo (2017) on the role of sarsuwelas in early Filipino cinema (p. 395).
See Mambrol (2016), on notes about mimicry.
3 Tiongson (2008), noted that Ibong Adarna was directed by Manuel Conde under the name Vicente
Salumbides (p. 29).
4 See Alampay (2011) for a deeper insight on Filipino familism.
2
References
Abbott, H. P. (2002). The Cambridge introduction to narrative. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Alampay, L. & Jocson, R. (2011, July 29). Attributions and attitudes of mothers and fathers in the
Philippines. Retrieved from https://goo.gl/rG3Pn3
60
SONIC FRAMEWORK: RE-INVENTING PHILIPPINE CINEMA SOUNDTRACK
Biancorosso, Giorgio. (2016). Situated listening: The sound absorption in classical cinema. New York, NY:
Oxford University Press.
De Leon, N. (Executive Producer), & Conde, M. (Director). (1955). Pilipino kostum, no touch (Filipino
Custom, No Touch) [Motion Picture]. Philippines: LVN Pictures Inc.
De Leon, N. (Executive Producer), & Fernandez, G. (Director). (1954). Prinsipe Teñoso (Prince Teñoso)
[Motion Picture]. Philippines: LVN Pictures Inc.
De Leon, N. (Executive Producer), & Salumbides, V. (Director). (1941). Ibong Adarna (Adarna Bird)
[Motion Picture]. Philippines: LVN Pictures Inc.
Deocampo, N. (2017). Music and early cinema in the Philippines. In J. Buenconsejo (Ed.), Philippine
modernities: Music, performing arts, and language, 1880 to 1941 (pp. 389-402). Quezon City:
University of the Philippines Press.
Mambrol, N. (2016, April 10). Mimicry in postcolonial theory. Literary Theory and Criticism Notes.
Retrieved from https://goo.gl/vedpsb
Pareja, Lena S. (1991). Philippine cinema: The advent of “talkies:” 1927 - 1933. In B. Lumbera (Ed.),
Kultura: A quarterly forum for artist, critic and audience, Vol. 4, No. 2 (pp. 14-23). Pasay City:
Cultural Center of the Philippines.
Salumbides, V. (1952). Motion pictures in the Philippines. Manila: Vicente Salumbides.
Tiongson, N. G. (1992). Dulaan: An essay on the Spanish influence on Philippine theater. Pasay City:
Cultural Center of the Philippines.
Tiongson, N. G. (2008). The cinema of Manuel Conde. Manila: University of Santo Tomas Publishing House.
61
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
MUSIC IN DAILY LIFE: PERFORMANCE LOCATION, MUSIC SOURCE,
AND SOCIAL FUNCTION OF KARAOKE ACTIVITIES IN
CHINESE-INDONESIAN COMMUNITY JAVA
Tsai, Tsung-Te
Tainan National University of the Arts, Taiwan
Preface
Scholars both at home in Indonesia and abroad have been focusing on the study of the culture of Indonesian
music, mainly covering Indonesian gamelan, angklung, wayang kulit, music for the royal dance bedhaya,
street music keroncong, local popular music dangdut, and various Islamic religious music. Chinese
Indonesian music receives relatively less attention. Since 2000, despite the abolishment of all the
discriminatory laws against Chinese Indonesians during Wahid’s tenure as the president of Indonesia, as well
as the increasing attention on Chinese performing art forms (Sumarsam, 1995; Kartomi, 2000), the study on
Chinese Indonesian music still remains minimal. Apart from the brief introduction to the overall development
of Chinese Indonesian music, only a few performing art forms have gained attention, such as barongsai,
wayang potehi (Tsai, 2015), and wayang cina-jawa (Tsai, 2017); while other art forms like the marionettes,
Chinese music, nanyin (南音), bayin (八音), and Chinese pop songs and so forth have been mentioned less
in academic articles. Popular karaoke Chinese pop songs performed amongst Chinese Indonesians is not only
entertainment, but also has an extremely significant social function in that it plays a role in the social structure
construction as well as cultural identity realization. Be that as it may, the development of karaoke activities
among Chinese Indonesians is not given due weight, which constitutes the very center of this paper.
The Development of Chinese Pop Songs Karaoke in Java
In Java, the popularity of Chinese pop songs karaoke is closely related to the Indonesian government’s
policies. The series of anti-Chinese policies enacted by President Suharto during his reign accounted halt of
Chinese songs for the 30 years in Indonesia (1965–1998). Since the enactment of the New Order Policy, an
anti-Chinese law in 1965, all Chinese arts took serious hits as there was a prohibition of the Chinese religious
faith, Chinese language, Chinese characters, and Chinese art forms, and Chinese language schools were
closed. This had a detrimental effect on the Chinese and on Chinese cultural identity, making young
generations of Chinese Indonesians unfamiliar with Chinese language, therefore causing difficulty in
popularising Chinese pop songs in Indonesia. Therefore, instead of singing Chinese pop songs karaoke in
public, the Chinese Indonesians only do it privately.
The Chinese Indonesians did not hold Chinese karaoke competition in Java until 1990, late in
President Suharto’s tenure. In 1998, President Habibie cancelled the restriction that prohibited the speaking
Chinese language publicly. In 2000, President Wahid allowed the promotion of Chinese cultures and religions
in public spaces. In 2002, President Megawati proclaimed Imlek (Chinese Spring Festival) as a statutory
holiday, and then in 2006, President Susilo admitted the legitimacy of Confucianism in Indonesia. Since then,
Chinese Indonesian culture has gained many opportunities for development—Chinese schools can be set up;
people have been allowed to sing and spread Chinese pop songs in public, thus promoting the development
of the Chinese pop song karaoke industry. Therefore, Chinese pop song karaoke competitions have been held
by Chinese Indonesian communities, institutions, and groups.
Performance Locations of Chinese Pop Songs Karaoke-Singing in Java
Chinese pop song karaoke, a pervasive recreational activity among Chinese Indonesians, is very popular
whenever there are parties among them. Chinese pop song karaoke is performed at family gatherings, native
associations, clansmen associations, as dining and entertainment for weddings, festivals, karaoke
competitions, and for night street karaoke.
Family Gathering
As previously mentioned, Chinese Indonesians who come mostly from Fujian, Guangdong, Hainan, and other
coastal areas in China, have their own businesses and live in cities such as Yogyakarta, Semarang, Malang,
62
MUSIC IN DAILY LIFE: PERFORMANCE LOCATION, MUSIC SOURCE, AND SOCIAL FUNCTION
OF KARAOKE ACTIVITIES IN CHINESE-INDONESIAN COMMUNITY JAVA
Surabaya, and Djakarta. Chinese Indonesians who possess a set of karaoke equipment in their home are
bosses with certain influence and economic capabilities, running shops, private companies, or enterprises.
Therefore, singing karaoke, one of the main ways for Chinese Indonesians to amuse themselves and establish
social contact, is sometimes looked upon as entertainment for the rich by Indonesians.
Native Associations, Clansmen Associations and Social Gatherings
Native associations, clansmen associations, and Chinese Indonesian communities are three common social
groups among Chinese Indonesians. In Java, Fuqing, Zhangzhou, Quanzhou, Chaozhou, and Kejia
Associations are most common, and constitute the main organizations for Chinese Indonesians to establish
social contact and show mutual support. In these native and clansmen associations, singing Chinese pop
songs at karaoke is one of the important activities for Chinese Indonesians in Java that exchange ideas and
enhance relationships. Even many Chinese Indonesians often conduct business and cooperation via karaoke.
Dining and Entertainment
Apart from the above-mentioned two settings where karaoke occurs, many Chinese restaurants in Java are
also equipped with karaoke equipment. People do not have to pay for karaoke-singing so long as they order
meals in these restaurants (Figure 1).
Figure 1. Karaoke in a Chinese Restaurant, Yogyakarta
(Photo by the author)
Wedding and Festival Activities
Whenever there are weddings or festivals, especially Chinese festivals, the Chinese Indonesians in Java
would hold ridotto and sing Chinese pop songs karaoke. These karaoke events occurring during the Chinese
spring festival and other celebration activities, would be held in almost all the cities with Chinese
Indonesians, including Djakarta in west Java, Semarang and Yogyakarta in Central Java, Surabaya in East
Java and Medan on the island of Sumatra, and so on.
Karaoke Competition
Karaoke competitions in Surabaya and Djakarta, Java were started in 1990, initiated by Mr. Haitao from
Surabaya. Since then, large-scale Chinese karaoke competitions would be held in cities with a large number
of Chinese Indonesians.
Night Market Karaoke
It costs about 2000 rupiah per song if you go to the night market karaoke. Customers going to the night
market karaoke mostly are Chinese Indonesians, and sometimes some native Javanese will also be there. The
affordable night market karaoke attracts many people to indulge themselves with singing and chatting with
their friends (Figure 2).
63
TSAI, TSUNG-TE
Figure 2. Karaoke in the Night Market, Semarang.
(Photo by the author)
The Sources of Popular Chinese Karaoke Songs in Java
Since the majority of Chinese Indonesians in Java are from the southern Fujian and Guangdong provinces in
China, Chinese pop songs and southern Fujian dialect pop songs are very popular. Most of the Chinese pop
songs, spread to Java from Hong Kong, Taiwan and the mainland of China via modern and digital mediums
like TVs and computers, deeply influence the Chinese Indonesians. While compared with the popularity of
Chinese songs in Malaysia, Indonesia had a poorly developed Chinese song industry due to the anti-Chinese
policy of the country. While the Indonesian government banned the speaking of Chinese publicly for more
than 30 years, Malaysia witnessed a continuous upward trend of Chinese pop songs. Therefore, the Chinese
pop song industry in Malaysia developed relatively better than in Indonesia.
In Java, almost all the Chinese pop songs (including songs in Chinese language, southern Fujian
dialect and Cantonese) sung for leisure and entertainment or karaoke competition are mainly from Taiwan,
mainland China, Hong Kong, Singapore and Malaysia. Of course, there are also very few Chinese songs
which are translated and written based on Indonesian folk songs, for example, “Sing Sing So”.
Taiwan has always been the place of great importance for Chinese pop songs in that it has relatively
integral production and marketing system and possesses numerous singer-songwriters. In addition, from the
1970s to 1990s, with the development of Taiwan’s economy, many Taiwanese celebrities went on tour in
Southeast Asia, which not only enhanced their own visibility, but also boosted the popularity of Taiwanese
songs among Chinese communities in Southeast Asia. Therefore, most of Taiwan’s pop songs widely sung
in Indonesia today are mainly songs written during 1970s-2000s. Teresa Teng’s songs are an example. Some
southern Fujian dialect pop songs also gained favour among Chinese Indonesians from the southern Fujian
province, for example, “Ai Pian Cia Eh Yian” by singer Ye Chitian.
The political environment accounted for the mainland China’s making light of pop music. However,
with the rapid reform and the opening-up of the economy, a vast body of Hong Kong Taiwanese pop songs
swarmed into mainland China. For the past few years, the rapid development of mainland China’s media
industry, especially the CCTV-Music channel made it possible for Chinese Indonesians to get access to
Chinese pop songs. Songs from the mainland China were mainly songs after the 1990s, and express feelings
such as carrying forward Chinese culture, praising mainland China, deepening national identity and singing
about family affection. Typical popular songs are “Face Changing” by Chen Xiaotao, “Way to the Paradise”
by Han Hong, “Go Home Often” by Chen Hong and “Father” by Liu Hegang.
Since there is no limit for Chinese language in Malaysia and Singapore, Chinese language is
commonly used in the Chinese communities of the two countries. The frequent interaction between pop
singers from Malaysia, Singapore, and the Taiwanese pop music industry led to the rapid development of
Chinese pop music in Malaysia and Singapore. All of these factors make it possible to promote and popularize
Chinese pop songs from Malaysia and Singapore in Chinese Indonesian communities.
Functions and Meanings of Chinese Karaoke among Chinese Indonesian Communities in Java
Singing Chinese karaoke, which is modern entertainment for the Taiwanese and mainland Chinese, has
different meanings for Chinese Indonesians in that it is not only done for leisure and recreation, but also helps
64
MUSIC IN DAILY LIFE: PERFORMANCE LOCATION, MUSIC SOURCE, AND SOCIAL FUNCTION
OF KARAOKE ACTIVITIES IN CHINESE-INDONESIAN COMMUNITY JAVA
establish social contact with others, economic exchange, and provides a personal sense of accomplishment.
More importantly, one of the significant reasons why Chinese Indonesians learn Chinese pop songs is to learn
Chinese language, and therefore realizing their own identities.
Leisure and Entertainment as well as Expression of Feelings
As a recreational way for amusing oneself, there is no big difference between Chinese karaoke in Java and
in other areas. Karaoke livens things up whenever there are family parties or gatherings with friends.
The Establishment of Social Contact among Chinese Indonesians
To most Chinese Indonesians, singing karaoke strengthens their emotional connection with each other, rather
than simply for leisure and entertainment. Moreover, numerous Chinese Indonesians would hold Chinese
karaoke events to enhance their personal status, and thus gradually becoming leaders in their Chinese
Indonesian communities.
The Exchange of Economic Benefits
Since most of Chinese Indonesians in Java do business mainly, holding karaoke events helps them gain social
status, and therefore making possible the exchange economic benefits. The closing of business deals during
karaoke-singing is similar to doing business on the golf course. Therefore, singing karaoke constitutes a way
to connect with one another.
Personal Pursuit Realization
Over the years, the Chinese karaoke competitions in Java have gained popularity with many Southeast Asian
Chinese also taking part in the competitions. Therefore, Chinese Indonesians as well as Javanese would take
part in the competitions in hopes of fame, realizing their dreams and gaining self-approval.
The Recognition of Chinese Cultural Identity
In Indonesia’s special political environment, Chinese language has long been the symbol of Chinese culture.
Since the 2000s, the Indonesian government started to encourage and promote the learning Chinese language.
Subsequently, making Chinese pop songs, one of the major ways to maintain Chinese cultural identity under
such a multi-language environment in Indonesia, was brought back to the life among the Chinese Indonesian
communities.
Conclusion
On the whole, although Chinese pop songs karaoke is a part of the Chinese communities in Indonesia, its
development has been closely related to the political attitude the Indonesian government has towards Chinese
Indonesians, Chinese cultural identity, as well as the growth and decline of the economic environment and
media transmission both in Taiwan and mainland China. In 1998, President Habibie cancelled the restriction
of Chinese language being spoken in public spaces. And later in 2000, President Wahid allowed the
promotion of Chinese culture and religion in public, which boosted the development of Chinese culture
rapidly. Since then, festival karaoke, wedding karaoke, singing karaoke in restaurants, and various karaokesinging competitions sprung up like mushrooms. In addition, as mainland China developed in terms of both
economy and diplomacy, Chinese language learning has become a trend important for Chinese Indonesians
in realizing their self-identification. Yun Yaochang (2012), a famous scholar who expressed his opinion on
the Chinese Indonesian social gatherings in Jakarta, stating that, “Songs, clothes, language, Chinese
language, Chinese dialects and Indonesian language mixed with Chinese language and Jakarta dialects are
all part of Chinese Indonesians’ self-expression and self-preservation” (p. 76). Of course, it also makes
Chinese karaoke singing a significant medium for Chinese Indonesians to express themselves and establish
cultural identity.
65
TSAI, TSUNG-TE
References
Hoon, C. (2012). Dangdai Yinni Huaren De Rentong (Chinese identity in Post-Suharto Indonesia: Culture,
politics and media). Translated by Qiu Xuan Yuan, He Jing-Rong, Chen Zong-Yuan, Lin Yu-Jian.
Taipei: Guojia Jiaoyu Yanjiuyuan, Qunxue Chuban Youxian Gongsi.
Lum, C. M. K. (1998). The karaoke dilemma: On the interaction between collectivism and individualism. In
T. Mitsui, & S. Hosokawa (Eds.), The karaoke space, karaoke around the world: Global technology,
local singing. New York, NY: Routledge.
Sumarsam. (1995). Gamelan: Cultural interaction and musical development in Central Java. Chicago, IL:
University of Chicago Press.
Tsai, Tsung-Te (2017). Moluo Yu Zaisheng: Yindunixiya Zhuawa Huaren Piyingxi De Fazhan Zhuangkuang
(Decline and rebirth: The development of Wayang Cina Jawa in Indonesia). Zhongyang Yinyue
Xueyuan Xuebao (Journal of the Central Conservatory of Music), 146, 47-64.
Tsai, T. (2015). Yindunixiya Huaren Budaixi De Lishi.Yanchu Xingtai Yinyue (History, performing
morphology, and music of Chinese-Indonesian Wayang Potehi), Zhongyang Yinyue Xueyuan
Xuebao (Journal of the Central Conservatory of Music),139, 69-88.
66
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
CHANGING NAMES AND MEANINGS IN THE POUNDING PESTLES RITE
OF THE THAU PEOPLE: A LITERATURE SURVEY ON PAST RESEARCHES
(Lightning Paper)
Darrell Hung-Ren Tong
National Taiwan University, Taiwan
Background
According to records and many historical photos, the Thau people were much more waterborne than they are
now. They used to be known as travelling on their canoes across the entire Sun-Moon Lake region. Although
they had been gradually losing their land and territory to settlers for a long time, a drastic loss of land took
place in 1931-1934 when Japanese rulers built a hydroelectric dam (1931-1934) which caused the water level
to rise significantly when it was in operation. After WWII, Japan surrendered and returned the island to the
Republic of China (R.O.C). The next impact took place when the R.O.C. government took the last piece of
agricultural land with compulsory purchase in 1967.
In 1999, the Chi-Chi earthquake struck central Taiwan. The epicentre was very close to the SunMoon Lake area, resulting in loss of home for most of the Thau people residing around the lake. The aftermath
attracted much aid from outside, and with the help of many people including scholars and indigenous right
advocates, the Thau people were officially recognized as the 10th aboriginal group. This recognition was
monumental because it was the first to break the 9-group-classification of aboriginal people in R.O.C. since
1954.
Based on the above information, I divide the recent history of the Thau people into four periods for
the purpose of this paper:
1st Period: Pre-hydroelectric dam ~1934
2nd Period: Pre-landlessness 1934-1967
3rd Period: Pre-Chi Chi Earthquake 1967-1999
4th Period: Post-Chi Chi Earthquake 1999~
Names and Labels in Past Literatures
In the past, researchers of anthropology or ethnomusicology went to the field and brought back what they
collected. Naturally, labels were put on these collections, published or not, and then archived. However, a
shifting of paradigm is observable as follows:
Signifiers/
Literature
Referencing
Matlhakan
1st
Period
2nd
Period
3rd Period
4th Period
n/a
n/a
n/a
2003 (ritual husking)
Mashbabiar
n/a
n/a
1992(all)
Mashtatun
n/a
n/a
n/a
2003 (current form of
Matlhakan)
2005 (for outsider)
2007 (=Matlhakan)
2011 (=Mashbabiar)
The pestle as a tool for food production exists in many cultures, and the use of one’s own language to refer
to that of others is inevitable. In the case of the Thau people, most of the literature about them was written in
Chinese or Japanese. Since the writing systems of these two languages are deeply related, labelling is often
shared.
How do the Thau people call this activity (the pounding pestles rites) themselves? An important
point of this paper is to address the complexity of this question. First of all, it is clear that this activity of
using the pestle was originally a part of food processing. It only became a performance when there was no
food to be processed yet pounding continued. Secondly, if it was a performance, to whom was it being
performed? The two conditions above laid out the dimension in answering the question:
67
DARRELL HUNG-REN TONG
Conditions
For insiders (ritual)
For outsiders (performative)
Food present
Matlhakan
n/a
Food not present
Mashtatun
Mashbabiar
Discussion
Because we have no documentation for the signifier(s) in the early periods, let us assume that there was only
one signifier for the ritual of pounding pestles early on.
Toward the end of 1st period, the Thau had already developed an economy in which performance for
outsiders became a part of that economy (Zhang, 1922). Hence, the signified meaning of mashbabiar was
only introduced as one connotation of its signifier sometime during the 1st period. This connotation would be
further strengthened when the dam was being constructed.
The trend of strengthening and weakening of these signified meanings continued throughout the 2nd
period as the Sun-Moon Lake area was even more publicly accessible to tourists. The 3rd period did not
change the continuing trend from the 2nd period, and by losing the last piece of farming land, agriculture
relevance to everyday life diminished. From then on, in many rituals of the Thau people, though the
ceremonial practice continued to exist, the connection of the rituals to daily life weakened year by year.
For the duration of the 3rd period, the signified of mashbabiar continued to strengthen as the
agricultural relevance was almost ‘out of the door’, i.e. the signified of matlhakan was under siege the entire
time. Other rituals were withering as well before the earthquake.
The catastrophic earthquake in 1999, which marked the beginning of the 4th period, changed or
reversed part of the trend in many ways. The feeling of insecurity magnified with all the fear and sense of
injustice; the Thau people realized that if they did not take action to defend themselves at that time, they
might not get another chance. Thus, they started to revitalize their language, culture, and ritual life. Since
they were revitalizing their ritual life, the line that separated themselves and the outsiders would be blurred
if the signifier for the activity stayed the same, that is, if the signified of mashbabiar was going to be mixed
up with the signified of mashtatun.
SIGNIFIERS/
SIGNIFIED
Matlhakan
Mashbabiar
Mashtatun
1st Period
2nd Period
3rd Period
4th Period
Husking
Ritual
Perform
=Mashbabiar
X
X
Ritual
Summary
From my analysis on the process of signification for the activity of pounding pestles, I postulate that this
activity is the only referent, then based on three available signifiers namely matlhakan, mashbabiar and
mashtatun and what they currently signified, it suffices to say that the division of the three signified were
driven by historic and social-economic contexts. Thus, three signifiers were selected to meet the demand.
Even though the music of the pounding pestles has not changed much from a hundred years ago, the naming
and the meaning behind the ritual has probably gone through many different stages. We can observe here
how a movement of cultural revitalization can not only change their own sense of identity but also shift the
paradigm of research writing.
The Survey
Year
Title
Author(s)
1922
水社化蕃社杵の音と歌謠(ABWV’s Sound
of Pounding Pestles and Songs)
第 一 音 楽 紀 行(The First Travelogue of
Music)
張福興(Zhang, FuXing)
田邊尚雄(Tanabe,
Hisao)
1923
68
Labelling of the
activity
JAPANESE
JAPANESE
CHANGING NAMES AND MEANINGS IN THE POUNDING PESTLES RITE
OF THE THAU PEOPLE: A LITERATURE SURVEY ON PAST RESEARCHES
1956
臺灣蕃界展望(The Outlook of the Barbaric
Realm of Taiwan)
邵語記略(Notes on Thao Language)
1957
邵族的經濟生活(Economic Life of Thao)
1969
臺灣民謠 二(Taiwan Folk Song II)
1973
台湾高砂族の音楽(The Music of Takasago
Tribe in Formosa)
1982
台灣土著族音樂(Music of Native Formosan)
1992
邵族音樂研究(A Study on the Music of Thao)
1993
台灣先住民腳 印(Taiwan Early Inhabitants'
Foodstep)
邵語參考語法(Thao: Basic Grammar)
1935
2000
2000
臺灣原住民史.邵族史篇(The History of
Formosan Aborigines: Shao)
2001
邵族儀式音樂體系之研究(A Study of the
Ritual Music System of Thao)
日 月 潭 邵 族 的 非 祭 儀 性 歌 謠(Non-Ritual
Songs of Thao people)
2002
2003
2003
2004
拜公媽–邵族家庭的通婚與繼嗣的民族學意
義(Ancestor Worship—A Ethnologic Meaning
of Thao Family Intermarriage and Succeed)
Thao dictionary
宗教音樂是建構族群認同的工具—以日月
潭邵族的 mulalu 儀式音樂為例
2004
2004
2005
邵族服裝之形制溯源研究(The Study of the
form and history of Traditional Thao Clothing)
重讀水沙連 : 從水域文化之保育理述邵族
生 存 抗 爭(Rereading the Swei-Sa-Lien ;
theorizing the survival struggles of the Thao
people and the roles of their ritual practices in
the conservation of their lake-culture)
邵族換年祭及其音樂(The New Year Festival
and its Music of Thao)
鈴 木 秀 夫(Suzuki, JAPANESE
Hideo) ed.
李 方 桂(Li Fang- None of the 3 words
Kwei), 陳 奇 祿 were documented.
(Chen, Chi-Lu), 唐
美 君(Tang, MeiChün)
李 亦 園(Li, Yih- CHINESE
Yüan)
顏文雄(Yen, Wen- CHINESE
Hsiung)
黑 澤 隆 朝 JAPANESE タカン
(Kurosawa,
(Takan)*
Takatomo)
呂 炳 川(Lü, Bing- CHINESE
Chuan)
洪 汶 溶(Hong, Mashu ba bia
Wen-Rong)
洪 英 聖(Hung, CHINESE
Ying-Sheng)
黃 美 金(Huang, None of the 3 words
were documented.
Mei-Ching)
鄧 相 揚(Deng, Masbabiar
Shian-Yang), 許木
柱(Hsu, Mutsu)
魏 心 怡(Wei, Xin- Mashbabiar
Yi)
李 壬 癸(Li, Paul CHINESE
Jen-kui), 吳 榮 順
(Wu, Rung-shun)
王鈺婷(Wang, YuTing)
Blust, Robert(白樂
思)
CHINESE
Mashbabiar
Matlhakan
No
entry
Mashtatun
of
吳榮順(Wu, Rung- Mashbabiar
shun), 魏 心 怡
(Wei, Xin-Yi)
李昭鈺(Lee, Chao- CHINESE
Yu)
陳 永 龍(Chen, CHINESE
N.B.: This is not a
Yung-Lung)
ethnographic
research.
洪 國 勝(Hung, Malhakan is for the
Kuo-Sheng), 錢 善 ritual Mashbabiar is
華(Chien, Shan- mentioned for the
show
69
DARRELL HUNG-REN TONG
2005
2005
2006
CHINESE
N.B.: This is not a
ethnographic
research.
洪 淑 玲(Hung, Masbabiar
Shu-Ling)
masbabiar
洪 國 勝(Hung, Both
(p.29)
and
malhakan
Kuo-Sheng), 石 森
(p.74)
are
used for
櫻(Shih, Sen-Ying)
the ritual
賴靈恩(Lai, Ling- Malagan is for the
ritual
En)
Mashbabia is for
outsiders
Masbabiar
蔡 岡 廷(Tsai,
Kang-Ting), 周 秀
雯(Chou,
HsiuWen)
簡史朗(Jean, Shih- Matlhakan has been
used for the ritual for
Lang)
a long time, but
mashtatun should be
the traditional word.
Mashbabiar is a
performance
for
outsiders.
滿 田 彌 生 Mashtatun for the
ritual
(Mitsuda, Yayoi)
Mashbabiyar
for
performance
林芳慈(Lin, Fang- Mazbabiar
Tzu)
2006
邵族杵音與歌謠複音現象之關係–以 lus’an
祭儀為例(The Polyphony of Stamping Pestle
and Vocal Music of Thao)
2006
邵族部落文化音景意涵之研究(What is the
meaning of culture soundscape in the Thao
Tribe)
2007
Mintháw ya minshpút? ( 做 番 抑 是 做
人?)──邵族的祭祀體系與民族邊界(To
be a Thao or a Chinese—the Ritual System and
Ethnic Border of Thao)
2009
The Survival Strategies of the Thao: Ethnicity,
Politics and Subalternity
2011
邵族逐鹿市集歌舞表演團之當代音樂表演
形 式 研 究(A study on the form of
contemporary music performance of the
Thao )
2011
邵族傳說歌謠集(Thao Texts and Songs)
李 壬 癸(Li, Paul
Jen-Kuei)
2016
文化的「增值」與「減值」-論邵族 Lus’an 祖
靈祭中 Shmayla 祭典歌謠的文化堅持與遞
變(Cultural Augmentation and Diminution :
On the Persistence and Transformation of the
Thao Lus’an Ceremonies Through a Study of
the Thao Shmayla Ritual Music)
以邵族歌謠為例探討原住民音樂採集方式
及其可能衍生的問題(To Illustrate the Way of
Music Collection for Aboriginal Songs and Its
Potential Problems by the example of Shào zú
Songs)
林詩怡(Lin, ShihYi)
2014
70
「邵族」與「鄒族」:日治時期對日月潭地
區 原 住 民 的 知 識 建 構(‘Thao’ and ‘Tsou’:
Establishing the knowledge of the Sun-Moon
Lake aborigines during the period of Japanese
rule)
邵族歌舞文化之研究(The Study of Dance
Culture of Thao Tribe)
臺 灣 原 住 民 族 邵 族 樂 舞 教 材(Teaching
Materials of Music and Dance of Thao People,
Formosan Aborigines)
Hua)
陳計堯(Chan, KaiYiu)
林 幗 貞(Lin, KuoChen) , 簡 史 朗
(Jean, Shih-Lang)
Mashtatun
=
Mashbabiar
Matlhakan
for
husking, though the
context of the sample
sentence is actually
denoting the ritual
Either matlhaqan or
malhtatun can be
used for the ritual
Mashbabiar is for
performance
Matɬakan is for the
ritual
CHANGING NAMES AND MEANINGS IN THE POUNDING PESTLES RITE
OF THE THAU PEOPLE: A LITERATURE SURVEY ON PAST RESEARCHES
2017
2017
聲響的政治:從殖民現代性看日治時期聲
音地景(Politics of Sounds: Soundscape in the
Japanese-Ruled Period from the Perspective of
Colonial Modernity)
永遠的「化蕃」、永遠的「他者」:日治時
期 殖 民 政 策 與 日 月 潭 觀 光(The Eternally
“Half-Civilized” Barbarians, the Eternal
Others: Colonial Policies during the Japanese
Period and the Tourism Industry at Sun Moon
Lake)
蕭 伊 伶(Hsiao, ILing), 吳雅婷(Wu,
Ya-Ting)
滿 田 彌 生
(Mitsuda, Yayoi)
CHINESE
N.B.: This is not a
ethnographic
research.
Mashtatun is for the
ritual
Mashbabiar is for
performance
References
Thwaites, T., Davis, L., & Mules, W. (2002). Introducing cultural and media studies: A semiotic approach.
Basingstoke: Palgrave.
71
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
AJAT INDU: FROM RUAI TO PROSCENIUM STAGE OF
SARAWAK CULTURAL VILLAGE (SCV)
(Lightning Paper)
Andrew Igai Jamu
Nusantara Performing Arts Research Center, Malaysia
Introduction
Ajat Indu is exclusively performed by female dancers of the Sea Dayak (Iban) community which is the largest
indigenous group in the east Malaysian state of Sarawak. Ajat means ‘dance’ in the local language while
Ngajat is defined as ‘to dance’. This paper discusses the performance of ‘Ajat Indu’ as a representation of
the Sea Dayak (Iban) community from the social-communal space, ruai of the Iban longhouses to the
Sarawak Cultural Village (SCV), a major tourist site in Kuching, Sarawak. This paper will compare the Ajat
Indu performed in longhouses in Pakan, Sarawak as the ‘presentation’ to the performance in SCV as its
‘representation’. Referring to Patricia Matusky and Tan Sooi Beng (2012), Ajat Indu performance is normally
accompanied by the musical ensemble called taboh which includes the engkerumong (gong-row), the
bebendai (knobbed gong), the tawak (knobbed gong), the ketebong (cylindrical drum) and dumbak (barrel
drum). In Ajat, the engkerumong ensemble will also play several melodies through interlocking beats of the
gongs and drums. Basically, the movements of Ajat Indu depict the regal motions of birds from Iban
cosmology.1 Both the musical instruments and the dance for Ajat Indu in longhouses are less exposed to
outside influences and therefore have retained much of their original form and style within the highly
protective Iban communities of longhouses in the interior watersheds and rivers of Sarawak.
Commodification of Ajat Indu in Sarawak Cultural Village (SCV)
The representational Ajat Indu is showcased at the Sarawak Cultural Village (SCV) or “the living museum,”
which was founded in 1990 by the Sarawak Economic Development Corporation (SEDC). Other than the
Iban longhouse, SCV took shape with a Bidayuh, Orang Ulu and Melanau longhouse, a Penan hut, a Malay
village house and a Chinese farmhouse. The performance of SCV aims to represent the heritage of the major
racial groups in Sarawak as tourist attractions. Ajat Indu in SCV was brought by the master teacher, Mary
anak Liben, member of the Serakup Indu Dayak Sarawak (SIDS-Sarawak Dayak Women Association) from
Kampung Siol Kandis, Sarawak.
Presentation of Ajat Indu in Ruai of the Iban Longhouses in Pakan, Sarawak
Ruai, an unpartitioned gallery of the longhouse, represents the entire longhouse even though there are many
bilek (apartments). Therefore, performing Ajat Indu in the ruai involves all members of the longhouse
community and can be a play-performance participated by everyone within the performative space called
bebuti. In the ruai, Ajat Indu, which includes the musical pieces2 and the dance itself (Ajat Indu), is normally
performed for non-ritual performance as well as for specific rituals in Gawai ceremonies, ruai being a socialcommunal space and multifunction open gallery for ritual, festival and ceremony.
According to Mohd Anis Md Nor (1998), the basic contrastive units of kinemes3 of the Ajat Indu are
in the body sway, shoulder tilts, pelvic movements and transfer of body weight. These kinemic units are
combined to become gerak or langkah, morphokines that imitate the movements of birds, the kenyalang or
hornbills. In his study, Mohd Anis Md Nor observed that the dance motifs4 in the Ajat Indu are metaphorically
identified with specific stylized movements, which are described as follows:
72
Bungai ajat (petals of dance)
Ngauk ai (scooping or bailing water from the surface of a stream river)
Pusin ke baruh (turning the body while doing a low pivot turn on one leg and tilting the pelvis on
the gestured leg)
Pusin tinggi (middle level body turns with technique as pusin ke baruh)
Titi papan (Stepping sideways as in walking on a piece of wooden plank)
Titi tiung (stepping sideways and forward like a prodding bird)
Titi batang (stepping forward in the manner of stepping on top of the fallen tree trunk)
AJAT INDU: FROM RUAI TO PROSCENIUM STAGE OF SARAWAK CULTURAL VILLAGE (SCV)
The fundamental movement of Ajat Indu imitates the movement of the bird such as burung terebai depicted
by outstretched arms, torso bending and feet crossing like the birds sweeping the sky. Titi papan and titi tiong
are side stepping motions of the feet with arms bending and folding while rotating the wrists. This gesture
imitates bird moving delicately on twigs and branches of the trees in the rainforest. Pusin ke baruh or pusin
tinggi are the turns performed on one supporting leg with the other leg gesturing towards the floor while
circulating around the supporting leg. In an interview with Jabah anak Layau and Libau anak Matu, dance
practitioners from Rumah Tutum, Pakan, I found some of the dance movements named according to the
proverbs (jaku silup) of the Iban that depict the image of the movements described as follows:
Entepa, Nelentangka Tapa Jari Lima Berasuk Belulin Tinchin Temaga (opened hands movement
middle level with palm face front)
Engkepai, Nunda Tajai Terebai Nyerumba Nyang Panas Lemai (elbows to the side low level with
wrist twist repeatedly)
Bungai Sembah, Kena Masa Kita Ka Bekedunga Duduk Semuka (the opening and the closing
salutation of the dance)
At several longhouses in the district of Pakan, Sarawak, I observed the female dancers performing Ajat Indu
with their grand silver regalia and perfectly-woven kain kebat5 to entertain and honour the guests (pengabang)
during Gawai Dayak Festival. During the rituals of Gawai Antu and Gawai Batu, the dances are performed
by Iban maidens to welcome spirits (Ngalu Antu and Ngalu Petara). Ajat Indu is normally performed with
entirely different purposes from the commoditized performance in SCV. Ajat Indu is traditionally performed
without using any assigned dance sequence and the dancers freely perform the dance motifs and improvise
according to the music of taboh to flaunt their skills, particularly in balancing themselves while wearing the
7-10 kilograms Ngepan, the traditional costume that allows limited movement of the head as the body tilts
slowly from side to side, thus ensuring extremely graceful movements and bearings. Usually, Ajat Indu is
performed according to the beats of bebendai and phrase of engkerumong which is played at a 16 beat
circulation of ‘ascending-descending’ phrase for the transition of the each dance motif.
Representation of Ajat Indu in SCV
Ajat Indu is performed for tourist entertainment on the proscenium6 stage in SCV which is only seen by the
audiences. The representation of the dance is the act of performing an artistic likeness or image of Ajat Indu
but with a different purpose. Performing representational of Ajat Indu by SCV is a form of formal statement
which is the substitution of traditions by new inventions necessitated by the need for tourist entertainment.
The representations of Ajat Indu in SCV are therefore product-oriented, designated for public showcases.
The purposes of performing representational Ajat Indu in SCV include: showcasing cultures; entertaining
tourists; constructing messages of regional and national identities; and providing experiential opportunities
for tourists. To achieve these purposes, the dancers are therefore ‘well-trained’ in comparison to the dancers
of presentational Ajat Indu in the longhouses. Even though the master teachers are from the Iban community,
the dancers who are selected to represent the Iban community are not necessarily of Iban descent but are also
taken from different ethnic or multiracial backgrounds. Such is the result from time frame for each
performance in SCV with 45 minutes to showcase all performances from all ethnic groups in Sarawak, Ajat
Indu is normally combined with Ajat Laki. The movements of the representational Ajat Indu are wellstructured, counted and the sequences of Ajat Indu are arranged according to the performed repertoire in
which the movements are shortened according to 4 beats or/and 8 beats. As a result, the movements of the
representational Ajat Indu are faster and the costume is simplified. Some of the stage crafts related to Iban
daily life have been inserted in the repertoire of representational Ajat Indu such as pua kumbu,7 buah genuk8
and the kenyalang wooden sculpture to highlight the ‘Ibanness’ in the representational Ajat Indu in SCV.
Conclusion
Culture specific elements and ethnocentric styles of dance will continue to contest the act of defining Ajat
Indu performatively as Iban’s intangible cultural heritage. These will not only give Ajat Indu its own identity
but will also offer plausible means of appropriating dance as an integral part of the Iban identity.
Presentational Ajat Indu in the Iban’s longhouses and representational Ajat Indu in SCV continue to become
73
ANDREW IGAI JAMU
the benchmark for local choreographers, dance educators and dancers. Both presentational and
representational Ajat Indu continue to be relevant for the culture and identity of the Iban.
Endnotes
1
Mohd Anis Md Nor (1998). In The Dances of ASEAN (Vol. 2). ASEAN Committee on Culture and
Information.
2
Divided into two tempos which are slow and fast. The slow tempo usually played for the Ajat Indu is called
Ayun Lundai (The Elegance Sway), Ai Anyut (The Flow of the Stream / River), and Sinu Ngenang (The
Sombre Memories) while the fast tempo is known as Tanjak Ai (Sip the River Flow).
3
Significant movements of a language that have no meaning in the structure of a language; they have no
meaning in themselves as basic units of a language.
4
Frequently occurring combination of morphokines that form a short entity. Motifs choreographed
association with meaningful imagery form, having meaning for dancers and the dance system. Put together
through repetition, variation, or grouping to form.
5 Woven skirt with the flora and fauna motives. Laced with silver bell and silver coin of the Strait Settlement
known as Ringgit Tungkat.
6 The frame is the Proscenium; the wings are spaces on either side, extending off-stage. Scenery can surround
the acting area on all sides except side towards audience, who watch the play through the picture frame
opening.
7 Pua kumbu is a traditional patterned multi-coloured ceremonial woven cotton cloth used by the Iban.
8 Dry gourds to bring water from the stream
References
Dalfovo, A. T. (1999). Development in sub-saharan Africa: The state and the people. Social Reconstruction
in Africa, 4(2), 11-27).
Mohd Anis Md Nor. (2007). Structural constructs in indigenous dances in Malaysia. In A. L. Kaeppler, & E.
I. Dunin (Eds.), Dance structures: Perspectives on the analysis of human movement (pp. 357-362).
Budapest, Hungary: Akadémiai Kiadó.
Mohd Anis Md Nor. (1998). Malaysia. In The Dances of ASEAN (Vol. 2). ASEAN Committee on Culture
and Information.
Matusky, P., & Sooi Beng, T. (2012). Muzik Malaysia tradisi klasik, rakyat dan sinkretik. Kuala Lumpur:
Universiti of Malaya Press.
Royce, A. P. (2002). The anthropology of dance. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Sandin, B. (1980). Iban adat and augury. Penang: Penerbit Universiti Sains Malaysia, School of Comparative
Social Sciences.
74
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
THE INVENTION AND CONSTRUCTION OF ZAPIN SEBAT: ACROSS SARAWAK-SAMBAS
(EAST MALAYSIA-WEST KALIMANTAN)
(Lightning Paper)
Mohd Hafzal bin Aziz
Nusantara Performing Arts Research Center, Malaysia
Introduction
Zapin Sebat was created by the late Pak Haji Baiee bin Drahman, who was born in 1921 in Kampung Sebat
Melayu located in the sub-district of Sematan, Sarawak. Sematan is a small village located at the western tip
of Sarawak facing the South China Sea and also a short distance from Sarawak (East Malaysia) to the border
of West Kalimantan Indonesia (also known as Kalbar). Zapin Sebat is named after the village of Haji Baiee
and has its own distinctive features in terms of style, structure and dance motifs. Pak Haji Baiee invented the
dance motifs that signify the metaphorical meaning depicted in the particular motifs enacting the movement
of rowing the schooner (Aziz, 2017). He also constructed the structure of Zapin Sebat through the idea of the
honey1 traders crossing from Sambas to Sematan as the particular subject to represent the identity of Zapin
Sebat. Pak Haji Baiee learned Zapin dance from Wan Ismail, a Zapin master-teacher who came from Sambas
and settled down in Kampung Sebat Melayu, Sematan.
The Invention of Zapin Sebat
Pak Haji Baiee learned the form of zapin dance from Wan Ismail who came from Sambas and settled down
in Sematan. Wan Ismail is believed to learned the Jepin Lembut of West Kalimantan which existed after the
spread of Islam to the Sultanate of Sambas ruled by Raja Tengah in the 16th century.2 In addition, the first
emergence of Zapin in the court was in Sumatera and Kalimantan (Mohd Anis Md Nor, 1993). Meanwhile,
the invention of Zapin Sebat happened in the 1940s when Pak Haji Baiee was about 20 years old and was
inspired by the dance movements in Jepin Lembut. Jepin Lembut is characterized by the four major dance
motifs which are nyiur melambai (waving palm leaves), mendayung (rowing), langkah susun sirih (stacking
the betel leaves) and sembada’ (beach bug).
Pak Haji Baiee was inspired by the mendayung movement, one motif out of the four major dance
motifs of Jepin Lembut in inventing Zapin Sebat and expanded the motifs into a few minor motifs. The dance
motifs invented by Pak Haji Baiee are tumpah madu (spill of the honey), bermain gelombang (playing with
the sea waves), kaut (scooping), nait layar (ascending the sail), hulur laboh (releasing the anchor), meniti
(walking). Somehow he also appropriated some of the movements from Jepin Lembut such as mendayung
(rowing) and sembada’ (beach bugs). Two major dance motifs invented in Zapin Sebat are bermain
gelombang (playing with the sea waves) and tumpah madu (spill of the honey).
In the Jepin Lembut of Sambas, the body style of the dancers are always in a crouching position, the
arms are lower while pushing the elbow sideways, then brought to the middle and moving forward. The
specific meaning on gesturing the arms is adapted from nature phenomenon at the seaside and the movements
of the palm leaves blown by the wind (nyiur melambai). The body styles and carriage of Jepin Lembut are
represented in the movements of Zapin Sebat that portray traders sailing on a schooner hit by the sea waves.
To control and to balance the body in that situation demanded that the traders keep bending the knees with
the body forward while moving. Thus, the body style enacted is based on that situation while dancing the
motives in Zapin Sebat. The arm movements and gestures also have specific meaning where the arm
movements in Zapin Sebat portray the movements of mendayung (pedalling the schooner). The appropriation
occurred in Zapin Sebat as Haji Baiee appropriated some of the movements in Jepin Lembut, or it might also
be the same langkah in the other Zapin forms.
The Construction of Zapin Sebat
Pak Haji Baiee constructed the structure of Zapin Sebat based on the particular journey of the honey traders
who sail from Sambas, where it began at the seaside, going into the schooner and ending up at Sematan (Aziz,
2017). The minor motives in Zapin Sebat are constructed based on the act of rowing a schooner by using
terms such as mansang (forward), undur (backward), pusing (turn) and silang mansang (moving forward
with crossing of the legs). All of the terms are used in rowing a schooner. The structure and dance motives
75
MOHD HAFZAL BIN AZIZ
of Zapin Sebat that were invented and constructed by Pak Haji Baiee portray another form of Zapin that
became identified with the Malays in Sarawak especially in Sematan.
New Conceptualization of Performing Zapin Sebat
The invention of Zapin Sebat is a new, invented tradition with its own distinctive features in terms of style
and structure that were constructed by the pioneer, Pak Haji Baiee, constructed based on the particular
journey of the honey traders who sail from Sambas to Sematan. The connection between Jepin Lembut of
Sambas and Zapin Sebat of Sematan has shown that the spread of Zapin has crossed beyond cultural borders
and geographical borders in the world of performing arts. The invention and construction of Zapin Sebat has
led the dance to a new conceptualization of Zapin dance form and is accepted by the community representing
distinct meanings quite unlike other Zapins, especially in Malaysia.
Endnotes
1 Honey
is synonymous with Sambas as it is one of their sources of income.
to A. Muin Ikram, Jepin in West Kalimantan was introduced by Arab traders and settlers together
with the spread of Islam in the 16th century.
2 According
References
Aziz, M. H. (2017). Zapin Sebat Sarawak: The stylistic and structural differences of Kompleks Pembangunan
Sosial & Urbanisasi (KPSU) and KESUMA (Unpublished thesis). University of Malaya, Kuala
Lumpur.
Mohd Anis Md Nor. (1993). Zapin: Folk dance of the Malay World. Singapore: Oxford University Press.
Mohd Anis Md Nor. (2000). Zapin Melayu di Nusantara. Johor Bharu: Yayasan Warisan Johor.
76
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
BABA NYONYA DANCE: A PRELIMINARY SURVEY ON THE
SOCIAL HISTORY OF PERANAKAN DANCE GROUPS IN MELAKA
(Lightning Paper)
Rachel Ong
University of Malaya, Malaysia
Introduction
The Peranakan1 dance, known as ‘Baba Nyonya Dance,’ emerged in the 1980s in cultural shows organized
by the Melaka (Malacca) State Government as part of the national cultural policy to create the image of multiethnic tolerance and national unity. This, in effect, led the Peranakan community to form one-off dance
groups, which later saw the formation of an association acting as a cultural body solely to perform and
showcase Peranakan culture for State functions and tourism events. However, this representation of
Peranakan identity through dance was only adopted by one association. This is because the Peranakan
community in Melaka is partially segregated across demographics and association affiliations with different
ideas of representing their cultural heritage and identity. After the declaration of Melaka as a UNESCO
Heritage Site, Peranakan culture received promotion through tourism and more State-sanctioned activities.
Such publicity on Peranakan culture then led the community at large to adopt dance performance as a way
to publicly represent their culture and identity.
The growing economics of tourism have largely influenced the development of cultural
performances. In order to attract tourists, Asian countries use various manifestations of cultural heritages to
present images of themselves to outsiders (Cunningham, 1998). In her article, Sarkissian (2008) explored
how cultural shows became a site for creative cultural production by doing a case study on Melaka. She
demonstrated how the government uses cultural shows to display ethnic diversity whereas ethnic minorities
use them to express and maintain their identity. Expanding on her case study, this paper traces the formation
of Peranakan dance groups and discusses how dance became a way for the Peranakan community in Melaka
to represent their cultural identity.
The Peranakan Community in Melaka
The Peranakan community is a culturally syncretic minority group, resulting from the marriage of southernChina Hokkien migrants and local women in the Straits Settlements. Their negotiation of multiple identities
is evident in their eclectic material culture, custom and practices, drawing from Chinese, Malay, Dutch, and
British influences (Tan, 2016). One of markers of the identity is their trademark costume called the “kebaya
Nyonya,” and it is worn by the female member of the community. The Peranakan are known by many terms
such as Straits-Chinese, or Straits-born Chinese, but for the purpose of this paper, I choose the term
‘Peranakan’ and ‘Baba Nyonya’ because these are the two terms used by the Peranakan in Melaka. The term
nyonya, and baba are also respectively referred to the female and male community member.
Peranakan Dance
What is known as ‘Peranakan dance,’ or in Malay ‘Tarian Baba Nyonya,’ is an all-female dance group,
usually with 8-10 dancers. The dancers are dressed in their trademark costume the colourful sarong kebaya,
flowers in bun-fashioned hairdo, completing the look with beaded slippers. Although different songs
accompany the dance, the performance is generally known as ‘Tarian Baba Nyonya.’ The dances usually
incorporate either handkerchiefs, bakul siah (Chinese auspicious basket) and handheld fans. This image of
women dancing in sarong kebaya raises a few implications. However, what I’ll be addressing in this paper
is how Peranakan dance groups, formed with the encouragement by the government, were adopted as cultural
markers for the Peranakan community in Melaka.
The interview sessions with community members informed me that there were a few one-off dance
groups in the 1980s, mostly to perform for Peranakan events and some government events. The
choreography was taught by community members who learned dance from their school days such as basic
joget (a type of traditional Malay dance) and cha-cha steps. The dance groups comprised only female dancers.
77
RACHEL ONG
Formation of Dance Groups
In 1987, an association called the Persatuan Peranakan Cina SeMalaysia (Peranakan Chinese Association
of Malaysia) was formed with the intention to represent the whole Peranakan community in Malaysia. The
two leaders were Koh Her Chiewnh and Koh Kim Bok, where Koh Kim Bok was in charge of the “cultural
section”. However, due to differences of ideas on how to “promote” and sustain the Peranakan culture, Koh
Kim Bok left the association and started his own association in 1995 called the Badan Kesenian Baba dan
Nyonya Melaka (KEBAYA, or The Cultural Association of Baba Nyonya), based at his home in Bukit
Rambai, Melaka. Due to his profession as a school teacher and his reputation as a “raja gasing” (top-spinning
king), Koh Kim Bok had a professional relationship with the Melaka State government which promoted his
cultural group, KEBAYA, to receive invitations to perform for Melaka State cultural shows or tourism
promotion events such as the Pesta Sungai Melaka (Melaka River festival) and the National Day celebration
held in Independence Square in Kuala Lumpur. In fact, his association only performs for governmentsanctioned events (see Figure 1).
Figure 1. KEBAYA performing at Melaka State Government cultural promotion event.
(Photo by dancer Julie Wee; used by permission)
The KEBAYA dance group became a public face for the Peranakan community in Melaka. They showcase
dances dressed in their sarong kebaya representing Peranakan identity. The dance choreography of
KEBAYA is taught by a dance teacher from the National Arts and Culture Department (Jabatan Kebudayaan
dan Kesenian Negara). These dance practice sessions take place at Koh Kim Bok’s home in Bukit Rambai,
Melaka. Mr Koh also noted that he would request to exclude or include certain dance moves which would
seem more “Peranakan”.
When KEBAYA was actively performing, none of the other two Peranakan associations, Persatuan
Peranakan Cina Melaka (PPCMelaka, the Association of Chinese Peranakan in Melaka) and Persatuan
Peranakan Cina Malaysia (PPCMalaysia, the Association of Chinese Peranakan in Malaysia) identified
themselves with this way of cultural representation. Through interview sessions in this research, it was found
that nyonyas (the females) considered it to be beneath their personal status to dance in public. For the longest
time, KEBAYA was looked down upon by the other two Peranakan associations. The reason being, as the
association is based in the suburban of Bukit Rambai in the outskirts of Melaka town, the members of
KEBAYA were looked upon as simple minded and “kampong” (village) folk. Whereas, the other two
associations are based in areas which were once considered core Peranakan centres. Members of the other
two associations are mostly city folks and come from lineages of wealthy Peranakan families.
Since the declaration of Melaka as a UNESCO Heritage Site in 2008, the Melaka State Government
has actively promoted “cultural tourism” in Melaka, emphasizing the three ethnic minorities in Melaka, one
of them being the Peranakan. Over the past few years, PPCMalaysia also started their dance groups, but only
performing at PPCMalaysia events once or twice a year. Their dance choreography is mostly taken from linedancing. Then, in 2016, Bunga Rampay dance group was formed in PPCMelaka.
The coordinator of Bunga Rampay is Julie Wee. Previously, she was an active member for 10 years
in KEBAYA. Her switch from KEBAYA to PPCMelaka was because she followed her husband who is an
active member in PPCMelaka. The formation of this group was encouraged by the previous president with
the motivation that PPCMelaka can be represented with a dance group. Since Julie Wee has “background”
78
BABA NYONYA DANCE: A PRELIMINARY SURVEY ON THE SOCIAL HISTORY
OF PERANAKAN DANCE GROUPS IN MELAKA
in dance from her years in KEBAYA, she was naturally chosen with consensus to lead the Bunga Rampay
group. The dance choreography is mostly influenced by the dance that she learned during her time in
KEBAYA (which was taught by JKKN, noted above). The song repertoire was also taken from KEBAYA.
Bunga Rampay dance group has since performed for PPCMelaka events and in collaboration with the
Peranakan Museum in Melaka.
Conclusion
The change of perception toward nyonya dancing in the Peranakan community was probably due to a
response to the indirect peer pressure from the other two existing Peranakan associations. Secondly, in light
of the heritage-tourism promotion by the Melaka State government for UNESCO, the community is finding
new ways to be visible and represent their cultural identity. Thirdly, it is seen, as Sarkissian (2008) has noted,
[a]“…response to a growing urban domestic market, which has come to view “culture” as something that is
displayed and the material performed as ‘traditional’.”
Cultural shows, directed toward outsiders (tourists, visiting dignitaries, and so on), were organized
by the government to forge national unity, bringing multi-ethnic communities together as an ‘imagined
community.’ However, as demonstrated in this paper, the formations of such dance groups clearly has
impacted the way ‘insiders’ (minority groups) see themselves in performing their culture. ‘Baba Nyonya
Dance’ has since been adopted as a way for the Peranakan to promote and publicly represent their cultural
identity.
Endnote
1
‘Peranakan’ is a Malay word which stems from the root word ‘anak’, meaning ‘child’. ‘Peranakan’
generally refers to descendants from the union of migrants and local women. Among the Peranakan Straits
Chinese the term baba refers to men, and the term nonya refers to women.
References
Cunningham, C. E. (1998). The interaction of cultural performances, tourism, and ethnicity: An introduction.
Journal of Musicological Research, 17(2), 81-85.
Sarkissian, M. (2008). Tradition, tourism, and the cultural show: Malaysia’s diversity on display. Journal of
Musicological Research, 17(2), 87-112.
Tan, S. B. (2016). Cosmopolitan identities: Evolving musical cultures of the Straits-born Chinese of preWorld War II Malaya. Ethnomusicology Forum, 25(1), 35-57.
79
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
SUBCULTURE AS PERFORMING ARTS CASE STUDY: OYOT GODHONG CABARET CAFÉ
(Lightning Paper)
Gigih Alfajar
Institut Seni Indonesia, Indonesia
Background
The cabaret show in Oyot Godhong is a parody which involves both music and dance. The performing talents
are all males who appear as females, resembling female in every detail—as supple as females. Their
performances in oyot godhong mimic costumes, styles, and artistic features of the most popular celebrities,
local or international. In their play, the cabaret artists are not only imitating the appearances of those
celebrities, but also adapting their own characters with the ones imitated, such as face shape and posture
supporting their image and role on the stage.
A cabaret show is more than just entertainment. It also functions as a space for performers to express
their creativity for LGBT audienes. Cabaret Oyot Godhong is located in the third floor of Mirota Batik (now
Hamzah Batik), in Malioboro street, Yogyakarta. The venue, which is in the city’s shopping centre, makes
this show its own tourism attraction for local and overseas tourists. The performers use lip-synch technique,
in which they do lip motions and seeming as if they are singing live. Exaggerated lip motions and silly
gestures do look like they are ridiculing the real characters they play.
Identification and Subject Restriction
Besides entertainment, the presence of the cabaret show oyot godhong is intentionally a space for the LGBT
community to develop their collective identity. What is interesting to them is the use of lip-sync technique in
the parody, believed to undoubtedly have a specific reason related to a constructed identity that they build.
The process of constructing their collective identity is considered as a picture of an effort to maintain their
values distinct from society’s pressure which is generally different.
This research tries to raise a topic associated with this phenomenon and embodiment, which focuses
on correlating an entertaining show as a media, to establish collective identity and subcultural discourse.
Outline of the Problem
The presence of cabaret shows, besides than being an entertainment media, is also assumed as a space to
develop subcultural identity maintained by each performer due to gender proximity, because according to the
majority of society, their gender is negatively considered as a diversion.
The performing art in this research is an entertaining show (parody) using lip-sync technique in its
musical dimension. This study aims to understand the correlation between a performing art as a media to set
up collective identity and subcultural discourse. Therefore, here are some research questions and the results.
Research questions:
Why does lip-synch technique dominate parody of cabaret show in oyot godhong cafe?
What factors encourage performers to maintain cabaret shows?
How do cabaret performers set up a subculture through cabaret shows?
Analysis
Technical Ability
Based on the writer’s point of view, the performers who use lip-sync method in their shows do not give a
significant impact to the audience. It means that writer does not find any negative effects on the audience’s
interest while watching the performance.
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SUBCULTURE AS PERFORMING ART CASE STUDY: OYOT GODHONG CABARET CAFÉ
Figure 1. Photo of a talent lip-sync.
(Kabaret OG, 2017)
Using lip-sync in Cabaret functions as a convenience for performers to do the show on the stage. If this show
is performed by live-singing talents, it needs an intensive practice and performers would need to be physically
fit. It is helpful for those who do acrobatics and dance in order to perform a parody. From the research, the
writer notes that interviews conducted show that answer as well and that it is related to the cost and to use
time efficiently.
The reason why the show uses lip-sync is that performers sing as a woman. It is quite difficult to
imitate a woman’s voice because male performers commonly have lower tones. Banoe (2003) divided men’s
vocal range as an octave lower than women, bass for men and soprano for women. In falsetto technique, a
man is only able to reach the alto tone which is the lowest tone that a woman has.
In the analysis above, it is clear that lip-syncing makes it easier for performers doing stage
attractions, as well as other considerations. Furthermore, lip-sync is to sing and accentuate their image as a
woman. Most performers are men who appear as women- which actually have lower vocal tones than real
women.
Factors from Performers
Referring to the element of subculture concept above, the writer understands the performers’ reasons for
performing through its element that is shared identity. Shared identity by Haenfler (2014) would rather be a
solidarity from each performer who has a different identity from mainstream society.
Based on the interview, it is concluded that a background factor for performers to keep the cabaret
running is the freedom to express themselves, a feeling of solidarity and the hope to be accepted, because
they are marginalized. If we take Haenfler’s point of view, we note that shared identity and being
marginalized are factors that are emphasized by performers as a strategy to shield the cabaret from negative
labels given by dominant society.
Subcultural Identity
Each performer in Cabaret Oyot Godhong appears as a woman. According to Hebdige (1979), the style is a
practice of significance through significant difference. The style forms a collective identity. Symbolically,
subculture is expressed in a form of creating style, and not only as a resistance to hegemony or as a way out
of a social gap.
81
GIGIH ALFAJAR
Figure 2. Photo of all performers.
(Kabaret OG, 2017)
In practice, the performers do female impersonations on the stage, such as mimicking female charm, acting
as a woman, wearing make-up and also singing by lip-syncing. While performing, they wear furry costumes,
mascara and high heels, as well as other items attributed to females. Moreover, the costume is adapted from
the song performed. As a whole, the performers use a parody concept.
Conclusion
Lip-sync usage in cabaret show is due to considerations of economics, cost and utility. From the production
perspective, using lip-sync is efficient to save more money and time. This usage of lip-sync is intended to
imitate singing gestures and to accentuate female images, which in Cabaret Oyot Godhong is mostly
dominated by males who appear as female, and in fact have lower voices than real females. In addition, lipsync makes it easier for performers to do stage performances as well.
Factors that cause the performers to maintain this cabaret are the freedom to express, solidarity, and
a hope to be accepted despite their marginalized condition by dominant society. Togetherness and a feeling
of marginalization are the basis that is emphasized by performers to maintain cabaret of negative images
labelled by the dominant society.
Cabaret is a means to develop subcultural identity by performers- to become a female impersonator,
appearing as a female with a parody concept on a stage. Performers wear accessories or attributes similar to
real female singers singing songs via lip-syncing. This cabaret show has a managerial structure on the
backstage. Moreover, cabaret as a subculture is collectively developed.
References
Banoe, P. (2003). Kamus musik. Yogyakarta: Kanisius.
Barker, C. (2011). Cultural studies: Teori dan praktek. Bantul: Kreasi Wacana.
Boellstorff, T. (2005). The gay archipelago: Seksualitas dan bangsa Indonesia. New Jersey, NJ: Princeton
University Press.
Fierro, A. (1996). Histoire et Dictionnaire de Paris. Perancis: Bouqins.
Haenfler, R. (2014). Subcultures: The basics. New York, NY: Taylor and Francis Books.
Hebdige, D. (1979). The meaning of Style. New York. NY: Taylor and Francis Group.
Inglis, I. (2006). Performance and popular music: History, place and time. England: Ashgate Publishing.
Jelavich, P. (1993). Berlin cabaret. London: Harvard University Press.
Melucci, A. (1996). Challenging codes: Collective action in information age. New York, NY: University of
Cambridge.
Nendia and Mu’min. (2015). Auto lop-sync pada karakter virtual 3 dimensi menggunakan blendshape. Jurnal
Rekam. 11(2), 137-144.
Piliang, Y. A. (2003). Hipersemiotika: Tafsir cultural studies atas matinya makna. Yogyakarta: Jalasutra.
Siswantari, H. (2015). Ekspresi estetis penari cross gender dalam cabaret show di Oyot Godhong Mirota
Batik Yogyakarta (Unpublished masters thesis). Universitas Gadjah Mada, Yogyakarta, Indonesia.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
THE SULTAN OF LINGGA’S BRASS BAND
Anthea Skinner
Monash University, Australia
This paper discusses the Sultan of Lingga’s Brass Band, locally known as Korps Musik, operating in what is
now Indonesia’s Riau Islands province in the 19th and early-20th centuries.1 It focuses on the symbolic role
the band played in the power struggle between the Malay Sultan, his Bugis-Malay Yang Dipertuan Muda
(YDM) or Viceroy, and the Dutch Resident.
Military music came to Riau-Lingga2 in the 1820s (Ali Haji, 1982, p. 221), but the Sultan of Lingga’s
Brass Band, based on Penyengat island, came to real prominence from the 1880s until the last Sultan was
deposed in 1911. It is easy to see the introduction of Western-style military bands as a colonialist power-play
and assume that all such bands in Indonesia belonged to the Portuguese, Dutch, or English, but bands such
as this one, owned by the Sultan of Riau-Lingga and recruited by his YDM, show that it was not always so
simple.
The Sultan of Lingga’s Brass Band is not an isolated case. Nepal was never colonised but was so
heavily influenced by British bands stationed in India that Rob Boonzajer Flaes states that, “right from the
start, Nepalese modern military music has been a direct copy of the standard European model” (Boonzajer
Flaes, 2000, pp. 90-91). Similarly, closer to Riau-Lingga, the army regiment of the Sultan on Yogyakarta
featured European-style drummers from at least the end of the 19th century (Roojen, 1996, p. 33).
Rulers in Asia formed their own European-style military bands for many reasons. Ensembles
described as “European-Style” actually originated in the Janissary bands of the Ottoman Empire and so for
many Asian rulers, they were not an entirely foreign concept. Moreover, many communities with a royal or
courtly class already had musical ensembles designed to display the power and authority of that class, some
of which show links with Ottoman bands. Such was the case in Riau-Lingga, which featured a nobat orchestra
which played at all ceremonial events involving the royal family, including weddings, circumcisions, and
religious festivals. Indeed, the nobat orchestra was so culturally important that it was impossible to install a
new Sultan without one (Kartomi, forthcoming). Nobat instruments, the nafiri, sarunai, negara, and kopakkopak are of Perso-Arabic origin (Kartomi, forthcoming) and show a definite resemblance to the trumpets,
oboes, timpani, and cymbals of military bands. Space does not allow a detailed discussion of the historical
and organological links between the ensembles, for the purposes of this paper it is enough to note that the
instruments in military bands would be broadly recognisable to anyone familiar with nobat orchestras.
Another reason military bands were so widely adopted is that they are extraordinarily fit-for-purpose
for ceremonial music. Resplendent in decorated uniforms with the playing shiny instruments, military bands
are impressive before they even start to play. They are perfect for playing on the march, making them a vital
addition to any parade. By the late 19th century, the valve for brass instruments had been perfected allowing
them to be played chromatically, and Adolf Sax had invented both saxophones and saxhorns (Montagu, 1981,
pp. 59, 95). These ground-breaking instruments were available in a range of sizes and designed to have
interchangeable fingering systems, allowing musicians to move easily from a soprano instrument, down to
contra-bass with only a change in embouchure. This was perfect for soldiers who were only part-time
musicians and could be redeployed at any time. The bands were also loud; a military band is a symbol of
power that can be heard for miles around, especially in the quieter pre-industrial era.
The pre-modern Malay world was familiar with the power of sound (Andaya, 2001). The sounds of
drums and cannons were seen as echoing the elemental forces and used to provide social cohesion to
populations who were within earshot but not close enough for face-to-face interaction (Andaya, 2001, p. 20).
In areas with rugged landscapes making placement of borders difficult, a kingdom’s size could be denoted
by the distance at which the royal drums were audible (Andaya, 2001, p. 24). Such was the case with RiauLingga. Based around a group of islands with sea-borders, anyone close enough to hear the nobat drums from
the palace was considered to be within the Sultanate (Kartomi, forthcoming). In this situation, an ensemble
as loud as a military band could play an important part in power relations.
Balance of Power
Three sides vied for control of 19th-century Riau-Lingga: The Malay Sultan; his YDM, a descendant of Bugis
mercenaries given the position after providing military aid to the sultanate; and the Dutch Resident. The
Sultan’s main palace was in Daik, on the island of Lingga. The Dutch Resident was located in a fort on
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ANTHEA SKINNER
Tanjung Pinang, a day’s sail from Daik (Ali Haji, 1995, p. 2). Between them was the YDM’s residence,
technically the palace of the Sultan’s wife Queen Hamidah, on the island of Penyengat. The central position
of the YDM’s palace gradually led to a change in the balance of power, and from 1820 onwards the Dutch
played divide and conquer between the Sultan and the YDM (Ali Haji, 1995, p. 2).
In a Sultanate traditionally defined by the distance the sound of the nobat orchestra covered,
Penyengat’s centralised location gave it the potential to maintain a level of sonic control over the other
islands. However, the YDM did not have a nobat orchestra, relying on the Sultan bringing it from Lingga for
ceremonial occasions (Kartomi, forthcoming). Unable to gain access to the Sultanate’s most sacred symbol
of power, I argue that the YDM instead turned to the musical symbol of power of the Dutch, and so the sixth
YDM, Raja Jaafar ibni Raja Haji Fisabillah (r.1806–1832), commissioned the first military musicians in the
sultanate, sending four young men from Penyengat to Malacca to study military music (Syahri, 2017a).
The court of Riau-Lingga saw cultural equivalencies between nobat and Dutch military bands. When
the audience hall on Penyengat was completed in 1823 it featured room for both a nobat and a band (Kartomi,
forthcoming). Likewise, the nobat orchestra and the local Dutch military band provided equivalent marks of
respect to leaders of both sides. A decree released in 1897 outlines both the required signals of respect to be
played by Dutch military bands when the Sultan visited the Dutch Resident and the signals to be played by
the nobat when the Resident visited the Sultan (Syahri, 2017b). As a result, the acquisition of a military band
by the YDM gave his official residence a level of musical prestige that it had not previously enjoyed.
I have uncovered few details about the early decades of the band. We have no information about any
specific ceremonies, repertoire or instrumentation in these early years. It may have even folded and re-formed
with new members. However, it is likely that it would either have had similar instrumentation to Dutch bands
of the time, or a mixture of European and local wind instruments similar to the bands of the Sultan of
Yogyakarta (Kunst, 1973, p. 293).
Over the next few decades, relations between the Malay Sultan and his Bugis YDM slowly
deteriorated. In 1857, Mahmud IV Muzaffar Shah was deposed at the behest of a Dutch-Bugis coalition and
replaced by the Sultan’s more docile relative, Sulaiman Badrul Alamsyah (Ali Haji, 1995, p. 3). In 1858,
Dutch authorities stated that although the Sultan was the figure head, the YDM was “de facto the absolute
ruler’ (Ali Haji, 1995, p. 138). On the death of Sultan Sulaiman in 1883, the slow take over was complete
and the newly installed Sultan would be the son of the former YDM of mixed Bugis-Malay descent (Ali Haji
1995, p. 2; Kartomi, forthcoming).
The Sultan of Lingga’s Brass Band, as it was dubbed by the Singapore press (Syahri, 2017d), became
more prominent during the reign of Sultan Abdulrahman Mu’azamsyah (Syahri, 2013). There was also an
increased influence of European culture in the new Sultan’s court and in 1900 the Sultan moved his capital
to the band’s home island of Penyengat (Kartomi, forthcoming). By the 1880s, the band had grown from the
five members sent to Malacca in the 1820s to 27 (Syahri, 2013). Sultan Abdulrahman increased the funding
to the band and its use and prominence during his reign. He hired a European bandmaster, Austrian Herr
Gunter, and the band wore Western-style uniforms with an instrumentation fairly typical of Dutch military
bands at the time (Syahri, 2013). It was a wind band, rather than a true brass band, featuring woodwind, brass,
and percussion. Woodwinds include flutes, clarinets and saxophones, brass are a mixture of upright horns,
trombones, and helicons with snare and bass drums. The Sultan of Lingga’s Brass Band was in
instrumentation a completely modern Dutch-style military band of the 1880s. Photos show the instruments
are modern with no sign that they are second-hand, colonial cast offs (Syahri, 2013). Indeed, saxophones
would not become a standard part of British military bands for another 20 years (Farmer, 1950, p. 62).
The band performed at Sultan Abdulrahman’s installation which took place in a marquee on
Penyengat with the nobat musicians on one side and the band on the other (Kartomi, forthcoming). While
the nobat played most of the ceremonial music, as the Sultan arrived at the foot of the marquee, he was
greeted by a European-style trumpet fanfare (Kartomi, forthcoming). Although the band was owned by the
Sultan, there were other, more disturbing signs of European intrusion into the ceremony, including the fact
that the Dutch Resident mounted the steps of the marquee with the incoming Sultan, and remained seated at
the same height as him during the entire ceremony, rather than sitting at a lower level as the Sultan’s subjects
did (Kartomi, forthcoming).
After the installation, the Sultan of Lingga’s Brass Band maintained an important role in courtly life.
Like most military bands it held dual functions, performing both in ceremonial events and to provide
entertainment. Ceremonial performances included day-to-day events such as the daily displays by the
Sultan’s regiment on the parade ground at Penyengat (Syahri, 2013). For more special events such as the
aforementioned installation, the band usually played a secondary role to the nobat orchestra (Kartomi,
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THE SULTAN OF LINGGA’S BRASS BAND
forthcoming). The band also provided entertainment for guests, especially European ones, at the palace on
Penyengat (Syahri, 2013).
The increased use of the band during the reign of Sultan Abdulrahman came to be seen as part of a
broader pattern of support for European culture. He regularly visited Singapore, attending European-style
musical events at the elite German/Singaporean Teutonia Club, and invited members to European-style
concerts held on Penyengat (Syahri 2017c). Although around the turn of the century, Sultan Abulrahman
summoned his emirs to discuss ways to limit the colonial power of the Dutch (Andaya, 1977), in 1905 he
was forced to sign a document curtailing his powers in Dutch favour (Kartomi, forthcoming). In 1911, the
Dutch attempted to arrest the Sultan on a spurious charge, and he fled to Singapore (Kartomi, forthcoming).
Once the Sultan was deposed, the band members, who had been in his employ found themselves
unemployed. There is no indication that Dutch authorities ever re-established a military band of their own in
their area. Some of the instruments from the Sultan of Lingga’s Brass Band were saved and are now on
display in the Museum Kandil Riau in Tanjung Pinang (M. Kartomi, personal communication, 2018).
The Sultan of Lingga’s Brass Band served as a symbol of the Sultan’s military power, despite the
fact that such bands usually represented colonial interests. Between them, the nobat and the military band
provided the Sultanate of Riau-Lingga with musical representations of power that were easily recognisable
to Malays, Bugis, and Dutch alike. The band was originally formed by the YDM and served to provide a new
level of sonic power to his palace as he attempted to secure the support of the Dutch against the Sultan. Once
the last Sultan of Riau-Lingga ascended the throne the band increased its prominence as European culture
became a larger part of the courtly life in Riau-Lingga. However, once the Sultanate fell and the Dutch
Resident took effective control of the area the band folded and Penyengat’s history of military band music
fell silent and was all but forgotten.
Endnotes
1I
would like to thank Margaret Kartomi for allowing me to use her fieldwork findings when researching this
paper (Kartomi, forthcoming) and Mitchell Mollison for his assistance with translations.
2 The sultanate went through a number of name changes during the period discussed. For clarity’s sake I use
the term Riau-Lingga throughout this paper. For more information on name changes see Kartomi
(forthcoming).
References
Ali Haji, R. (1995). Di dalam berkekalan persahabatan ‘in everlasting friendship’: Letters from Raja Ali
Haji. J. Van Der Putten, & A. Azhar (trans). University of Leiden: Leiden.
Ali Haji, R. (1982). The precious gift - Tuhfat al-nafis. V. Matheson & B. W. Andaya (trans). Kuala Lumpur:
Oxford University Press.
Andaya, B. W. (2001). Distant drums and thunderous cannon: Sounding authority in traditional Malay
Society. International Journal of Asia Pacific Studies, 7(2), 17-34.
Andaya, B. W. (1977). From rum to Tokyo: The search for anticolonial allies by the rulers of Riau, 18991914. Indonesia, 24, 123-156.
Boonzajer Flaes, R. (2000). Brass unbound. The Netherlands: Royal Tropical Institute.
Byl, J. (2014). Antiphonal histories: Resonant pasts in the Toba Batak musical present. Middletown, CT:
Wesleyan University Press.
Farmer, H. G. (1950). Military music. London: World of Music.
Kartomi, M. (forthcoming). The royal Nobat ensemble, its colonial-era demise, and its recent sonic reinvention. In M. Kartomi (Ed.), Performing the arts of Indonesia: Malay identity and politics in the
music, dance and theatre of the Riau sslands. Copenhagen: NIAS Press.
Kunst, J. (1973). Music in Java. The Hague: Martinus Hijhoff.
Montagu, J. (1981). The world of romantic & modern musical instruments. Milton, Queensland: Jacaranda
Press.
Roojen, P. van (1996). Batik design. Amsterdam: Pepin Press.
Syahri, A. (2017a, March 9). Gemerlap blantika musik Pulau Penyengat abad 19 (1): Rakja Jakfar yang gaul
mengirim 4 seniman muda ke Malaka. Jantung Melayu. Retrieved from http://jantungmelayu.com/
2017/03/gemerlap-blantika-musik-pulau-penyengat-abad-19-1-rakja-jakfar-yang-gaul-mengirim-4seniman-muda-ke-malaka/
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Syahri, A. (2017b, March 9). Gemerlap blantika musik Pulau Penyengat Abad 19 (4): Kala protokoler
melebur nafiri Melayu dengan tambur Eropa. Jantung Melayu. Retrieved from http://jantungmelayu.
com/2017/03/gemerlap-blantika-musik-pulau-penyengat-abad-19-4-kala-protokoler-melebur-nafiri
-melayu-dengan-tambur-eropa/
Syahri, A. (2017c, March 9). Gemerlap blantika musik Pulau Penyengat abad 19 (5): Dahsyat! Menjamu
tamu Jerman, Sutan putar musik dari tombol kursinya. Jantung Melayu. Retrieved from
http://jantungmelayu.com/2017/03/gemerlap-blantika-musik-pulau-penyengat-abad-19-5-dahsyamenjamu-tamu-jerman-sultan-putar-musik-eropa-dari-tombol-kursinya/
Syahri, A. (2017d, March 9). Gemerlap blantika musik Pulau Penyengat Abad 19 (6): “Brass band,” begitu
media Singapura menamai band pertama dalam sejarah musik Kepri itu. Jantung Melayu. Retrieved
from http://jantungmelayu.com/2017/03/gemerlap-blantika-musik-pulau-penyengat-abad-19-6-bra
ss-band-begitu-media-singapura-menamai-band-pertama-dalam-sejarah-musik-kepri-itu/
Syahri, A. (2013, January 19). Muzik cara Holanda dan istana Riau-Lingga 1805-1911. Jantung Melayu.
Retrieved from http://www.tanjungpinangpos.co.id/muzik-cara-holanda-dan-istana-riau-lingga-18
05-1911/
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
THE SIGNIFICANT ROLE OF THE ARRANGER IN POP SUNDA
(Lightning Paper)
Indra Ridwan
Indonesian Institute of Arts and Culture, Indonesia
Introduction
In this essay, I discuss the significant role of the arranger in pop Sunda. Pop Sunda is modern commercial
popular music in the Sundanese language accompanied by primarily Western instruments, and that blends
traditional Sundanese and Western musical elements. The main job of the arranger is to transform a composer’s
melody and musical ideas into a musical work. However, the arranger is also much more: he composes songs
and chooses the instruments and electronic sound timbres; he creates the rhythms and instrumental parts; he
determines the tempo and harmonic foundation of a piece; he determines the structure of the music; moreover,
he coordinates the recording session; he recruits and teaches musicians and singers, and he helps the composer,
singers, and musicians understand the tastes of the audience. In short, according to well-known composer (and
my teacher) Nano S., arrangers “make music listenable.”
This article provides a new way of understanding Sundanese popular music production through the
arranger and his arrangements. Only two theses about pop Sunda have been written in the Indonesian
language (Kusumawaty, 1998; Ridwan, 2004) and only a few articles have been written in English (Williams,
1990; Jurriëns, 2001; Spiller, 2007; Van Zanten, 2014). This paucity of research supports the significance of
my article as a tool that provides valuable insights into pop Sunda. As a form of ethnic regional music in
Indonesia, pop Sunda is important for the modern social and cultural history of West Java and the broader
history of Indonesian popular music.
In order to demonstrate the central role of the arranger in Sundanese music, I describe the role of pop
Sunda arranger Mohammad Jassin, who “made music listenable” and modern in the 1960s. Two factors
encouraged him to develop his unique style, including (1) President Soekarno’s instruction to feature
Indonesian characteristics in music during the Guided Democracy period (1959-1965), and (2) the use of
children’s songs as the main basis of the repertoire. I argue that those two factors marked the beginning of
arranging Sundanese songs accompanied by bands that were then recorded and distributed nationally.
Further, I will show how Jassin created unique musical arrangements.
Mohammad Jassin and Arranging Music of Pop Sunda
Mohammad Jassin, also known as Jassin, was born on November 15, 1938, in the rural Ciamis Regency
located in southern West Java. As a child, Jassin and his friends sang kakawihan urang lembur (Sundanese
children’s songs), which he would later arrange into pop Sunda. As an engineering student at the Bandung
Institute of Technology (ITB), he often listened to music programs broadcast by the radio station called RRI
Bandung, which included Indonesian popular music and Western popular music styles such as calypso, rock
‘n’ roll, rumba, and cha-cha.
In mid-1959, Jassin formed a band with the English title “Golden String.” He recruited his brothers
as members of the band. Jassin intentionally included his relatives in order to make it easier to manage the
band. The main musicians comprised five players in which each musician plays guitar, drum set, bongo, or
tam tam, and either contrabass or electric bass guitar. In late 1959, he decided to change the name of the band
to Nada Kentjana [nada refers to “tone (s),” and Kentjana refers to “golden.”]. From 1961 to 1965, Nada
Kentjana produced seven recordings comprising fifty-two songs. These songs include thirty-one Sundanese
children’s songs, approximately 60% of the band’s repertoire.
In developing popular Sundanese music, Jassin was greatly influenced by the political spirit of
Guided Democracy (1959-65). In a gathering conducted at Padjadjaran University in Bandung in early
October 1959, President Sukarno claimed that the formation of a good and prosperous society was based on
“our own identity.” On October 28, 1959, at the national commemoration ceremony of the Sumpah Pemuda
(The Pledge of Indonesian Youth) in Surabaya, Soekarno spoke out against Indonesian youth listening to and
dancing to Western popular music. Such popular music included rock ‘n’ roll, mambo, cha-cha, and calypso
(Suadi, 2003, p. 6). He also denigrated Western popular music as “noisy and grating” or “ngak ngik ngék”
(Printono, 1960, p. 136). Therefore, he called on artists to feature Indonesian identity in every Indonesian art
form. Sukarno’s statement about “our own identity” encouraged Jassin to develop Sundanese popular music.
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INDRA RIDWAN
Jassin’s process of arrangement began with the selection of songs. Normally, producers chose the
songs to be included on a recording. However, Jassin preferred not to rely on producers for source material;
he tended to select songs by himself. He selected songs according to his own values and based on suggestions
by friends or the members of his band. Jassin decided to incorporate children’s songs as the main repertoire
of Nada Kentjana. He chose children’s songs for the following reasons: (1) compared to other kinds of
traditional Sundanese songs, children’s songs were easier to arrange and to accompany with Western musical
instruments, (2) the songs consisted of traditional values and made references to local identity, (3) other
groups were not using children’s songs, and Nada Kentjana wanted to be different from other groups, and (4)
children’s songs were already popular; therefore, these songs were already known by Sundanese audiences.
To develop a new melody from a pre-existing one, Jassin would change it (dirobih) or add to it (ditambih).
Jassin changed the rhythmic value of pitches (from eighth notes into sixteenth notes) to make the song more
lively and upbeat (or “moderen”). Furthermore, concerning lyrics and melody, Jassin created new melodic
material to suit the additional lyrics. In terms of adding a new section (ditambih), new melodic phrases could
be created (as seen on a rectangle in Figure 2).
Figure 1. Children's song version of “Eundeuk-eundeukan” [“Shaking”] (Soepandi & Umsari, 1985, p. 153)
Figure 2. “Eundeuk-eundeukan” [“Shaking”] arranged by Jassin (Lokananta, ARI-115, SRL. 282 LK)
Conclusion
In the 1960s, arrangers used ideas from Western music and combined them with ideas from traditional
Sundanese music to generate new forms of music. Pop Sunda made Sundanese people feel keren (up to date)
as opposed to kampungan (old-fashioned). Pop Sunda bridged the generations, as it evoked nostalgia but also
offered a new experience for listeners.
Pop Sunda retained traditional Sundanese elements as well as social values embedded in older
Sundanese songs, especially those from children’s songs. The children’s song (lagu buhun) repertoire and
the vocal group format represent Jassin’s unique style as an arranger.
Of course, Jassin encountered opposition from some of his contemporaries who argued for cultural
preservation rather than modernization and change. However, Jassin claimed that pop Sunda actually helped
to preserve and re-popularize traditional Sundanese elements in modern times. Jassin said that the lagu buhun
must be handed down to the next generation because they contained useful Sundanese values and history,
and the way to teach those values to the next generation was to transform those songs into a modern pop
style. Therefore, making Sundanese songs modern and listenable was necessary to preserve the lagu buhun
and to attract modern audiences to listen to those older Sundanese values. By modernizing music, Jassin
brought Sundanese music to a new generation.
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THE SIGNIFICANT ROLE OF THE ARRANGER IN POP SUNDA
References
Jurriëns, E. C. M. (2001). Cultural travel and migrancy: The artistic (re) presentation of globalization in the
electronic media of West Java (Unpublished doctoral dissertation). Leiden University, Leiden, the
Netherlands.
Kusumawaty, E. (1998). Pop Sunda karya Doel Sumbang (Unpublished master’s thesis). Jurusan Karawitan,
STSI Bandung, Indonesia.
Printono. (1960). Usdek intisari Manipol. Bandung: C.V. DUA-R.
Ridwan, I. (2004). Pop Sunda, sebuah kajian terhadap bentuk musik pop Sunda di Jawa Barat (Unpublished
master’s thesis). Program Studi Magister Penciptaan dan Pengkajian Seni, ISI Yogyakarta, Indonesia.
Soepandi, A. & Umsari, O. S. (1985). Kakawihan barudak, nyanyian anak-anak Sunda. Bandung:
Departemen Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan Direktorat Jenderal Kebudayaan, Proyek Penelitian dan
Pengkajian Kebudayaan Nusantara.
Spiller, H. (2007). Negotiating masculinity in an Indonesian pop song: Doel Sumbang’s ‘Ronggeng. In F.
Jarman-Ivens (Ed.), Oh boy! Masculinities and popular music (pp. 39-57). New York, NY:
Routledge.
Suadi, H. (2003). Bung karno dan musik pop Indonesia (1930-1965). Bandung: Unpublished personal
collection.
Williams, S. (1990). Current developments in Sundanese popular music. Asian Music, 21(1), 105-136.
Zanten, W. V. (2014). Musical aspects of popular music and pop Sunda in West Java. In B. Barendregt (Ed.),
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89
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
TOURING SPIRITS, JAVANESE TRANCE DANCE IN IMMIGRANT COMMUNITIES:
ADAPTIVE STRATEGIES AND TRANSFORMATIONS OF MEANING
(Lightning Paper)
Eva Rapoport
Mahidol University, Thailand
Kuda kepang or Javanese horse dance is a unique cultural phenomenon combining dance, music and altered
states of consciousness in a form of spectacular and awesome performance. It is described as a horse dance
as flat horse effigies made of woven bamboo are the hallmark props of the performance, but what makes it
even more remarkable is the state of trance achieved through the dance and the following demonstration of
various feats based on physical invulnerability, that are believed to become possible because the dancers are
possessed by spirits (for more detailed analysis of spirit possession and spirit beliefs (see Rapoport, 2018).
Unlike widely advertised art forms perceived as manifestations of the higher Javanese culture (such as
gamelan orchestra and wayang kulit (shadow puppet theatre), the horse dance remains almost unknown on
the global scale, and foreign tourists paying Java a short visit would hardly hear about it. However, kuda
kepang is extremely popular amongst Javanese villagers and lower-income urbanites, and constitutes an
essential part of many traditional communal celebrations (such as marriages, circumcisions, individual
birthdays and annual village purification ceremonies).
Horse trance dances are widespread all over the island of Java, but can also be found almost in any
area where Javanese immigrants are present—on other Indonesian islands, in neighbouring Malaysia and
Singapore, even in South American Suriname, where over thirteen percent of its population is Javanese (The
World Factbook, 2018).
The issue of ‘touring spirits’ is some sort of a marginalia on the side of my major research, which is
primarily focused on the version of the horse dance found in Yogyakarta region, where it is known by the
name of jathilan. However, analysing the existence and persistence of the phenomenon in question in the
immigrant communities contributes to better understanding of the entire practice, especially of its remarkable
viability. The objective of this paper is to provide a brief glance (based on two cases, from Singapore and
Malaysia) of how the practice in question, rooted in the archaic Javanese animistic beliefs and practices of
spirit worship, can be adapted to other cultural contexts.
According to Iswandiarjo bin Wismodiargo, also known as Wandi (personal communication, 2018),
who is a pawang (trance master) in kuda kepang and a president of an unofficial association Kuda Kepang
Singapura that he founded, the dance was brought to Singapore from Java in 1948 and has been rather popular
ever since. However, during the past few years it has become a target of fierce criticism, as an unruly practice
disrupting public order, leading to destruction of public property and, obviously, not compatible with the
norms of Islam. This change has occurred after the closing down of Kampung Melayu (lit. Malay Village,
sort of a cultural park depicting life in the area before the redevelopment of 1960s), where most of the
performances used to take place.
Figure 1. Entranced dancer with two hobby horses performing at Goa Selarong cultural festival.
Bantul, Special Region of Yogyakarta, Indonesia.
(Photo Credit: Eva Rapoport, 2017)
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TOURING SPIRITS, JAVANESE TRANCE DANCE IN IMMIGRANT COMMUNITIES:
ADAPTIVE STRATEGIES AND TRANSFORMATIONS OF MEANING
Wandi, although a devout Muslim himself, is committed to preservation of kuda kepang as a unique cultural
practice. And his solution is rather remarkable. However, the feats of physical invulnerability are traditionally
attributed to the spirits and mastering of kebatinan (an ‘inner science’, esoteric Javanese practice) by pawang
and the dancers, Wandi claims that same can be possible with keyakinan (self-confidence), just due to a
rigorous training instead of relying on mystical knowledge and forces (see also Hardwick, 2014).
Interestingly, he doesn’t doubt the efficiency of true kebatinan, but agrees that in Singaporean religious and
cultural context its practice isn’t really possible. Wandi not merely promotes keyakinan in his own group’s
performances, public talks and private conversations but willingly exposes the mechanics of the feats
characteristic to kuda kepang (e.g., what kinds of glass can be used and how prepared that the performer can
chew and swallow it or jump on it with the bare feet). Wandi believes, that devoid of magic, but not of the
feats that used to be seen as the displays of it, kuda kepang can survive and endure in Singapore.
No less controversy surrounds the practice of spirit possession in Malaysia. Kuda kepang is one of
the symbols of the state of Johor (souvenirs featuring hobby horse image can be found right in Johor Bahru
airport), but there is a ban on trance issued by the Johor Fatwa Council in 2009 (Ahmad, 2017). There are
still reported to be the groups performing it (Ibid.) but they have to do it in rather discreet ways. However,
what seems the most exemplary in the Malaysian case is not this relatively quiet resistance but an intellectual
attempt to ascribe kuda kepang more respectable origins. Thus, in the analysis of the dance provided by a
Malaysian scholar even two decades prior to the ban the following origin story is being told:
The Islamized version of the kuda kepang talks of a Javanese who visited Arabia many centuries
ago. … [T]his particular Javanese had visited the country and witnessed the manner in which the
soldiers of Syedina Ali, the Islamic warrior, worked themselves up into a trance-like state called
naik sheh prior to a battle. Fighting like men possessed, they easily defeated their enemies and
afterwards returned to their normal selves. The fascinated Javanese left Arabia for Java where [he
established] a group known as the kuda kepang. … Gradually, hobby horses made from bamboo
were substituted for real horses. (Nasuruddin, 1990, author’s emphasis)
This exact passage containing the Islamized version of the origin story is preceded by the other one attributing
creation of the dance to Wali Songo (the Nine Saints who are believed to have brought Islam to Java) and
assuming its instrumental role in the spread of Islam; it is succeeded by the description of a hypothesis
connecting kuda kepang to Pre-Islamic animistic rituals (ibid.). But unlike two other passages, the one in
question contains absolutely no references to personal communication with kuda kepang practitioners or any
literary sources. It is difficult (and perhaps unnecessary) to try to infer what exactly might have inspired this
version, but important is the fact that it obviously doesn’t have any analogues in Java (nor there were ever
any accounts of live horses involved in kuda kepang).
However, there is actually no single origin story for the roots of kuda kepang, it is most commonly
connected to different folk tales and epics surrounding ancient Javanese kingdoms. Interestingly, the
aforementioned Wandi from Singapore, who appears to be a seriously religious person, while being familiar
with Nasuruddin’s writings, expressed a strong (and rather emotional) disagreement with his interpretation.
Still, the work of Malaysian scholar can be perceived as another way of justifying something that already
exists and cannot be easily banished, no matter the religious leaders’ condemn or police and town councils’
restrictions.
Conclusion
While the Malaysian case is of a purely religious nature, all the practitioners committed to their tradition have
to do is to continue it in some distant areas far away from the eyes of any officials; in Singapore it seems to
be more of a case of the ‘right to the city’ (Harvey, 2008) where the dance started to cause serious controversy
only after it has lost an essential environment where it used to be performed. As kuda kepang is not inherently
an urban practice, it requires some empty unused space where the performers can dance and the spectators
can gather—something that Indonesian or Malay villages have in abundance. Thus, the controversy
surrounding kuda kepang in modern Singapore, known for its remarkable for a Southeast Asian metropolis
urban planning, lively contemporary art scene and luxurious shopping, vividly indicates how the city-state
doesn’t leave much space (in the most literal sense) for those who prefer folk and community-based forms
of entertainment to all the aforementioned attractions. People, like Wandi, who consider kuda kepang relevant
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EVA RAPOPORT
for their sense of identity are ready to search for the ways to preserve the dance, even if not in the entirely
original and unchanged form.
Acknowledgements
I am grateful to Patricia Ann Hardwick for introducing me to Iswandiarjo bin Wismodiargo, as well as for
many fruitful discussions on the topic.
References
Ahmad, S. I. (2017). The practice of “Kejawen” in kuda kepang dance. In Proceedings of the 4th Symposium:
The ICTM Study Group on Performing Arts of Southeast Asia (pp. 160-164). Malaysia: School of
the Arts, Universiti Sains Malaysia.
Hardwick, P. A. (2014). Horsing around Melayu: Kuda kepang, Islamic piety and identity politics at play in
Singapore’s Malay community. Journal of the Malaysian Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society,
87(306), 1-19.
Harvey, D. (2008). The right to the city. New Left Review. 2(53), 23–40.
Nasuruddin, M. G. (1990). Dancing to ecstasy on a hobby horse. In emotions of culture: A Malay perspective
(pp. 142-158). Singapore: Oxford University Press.
Rapoport, E. (2018). Jathilan horse dance: Spirit possession beliefs and practices in present-day Java. IKAT:
The Indonesian Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, 2(1), 1-17.
Suriname. (2018). The world factbook. Retrieved from https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-worldfactbook/geos/ns.html
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
“IT IS LIKE A FLOWER”: UNDERSTANDINGS IN PANGALAY MOVEMENT
(Lightning Paper)
Desiree A. Quintero
Independent Scholar, Hawaiʻi
Dwight Conquergood (2002) challenges “the hegemony of textualism” where text is considered a form of
privilege of the educated, objective ethnographer and that prioritizes the embedded notion of supremacy of
Western knowledge systems (p.147). Countering this notion, Conquergood (2002) encourages other ways of
knowing that are “grounded in active, intimate, hands-on participation and personal connection: ‘knowing
how,’ and ‘knowing who’” (p. 146). This paper on pangalay dancing as performed by the Suluk people, one
of over fifty officially designated ethnic groups in Sabah, Malaysia, deals with the ways in which Suluk
people primarily understand pangalay as a kinaesthetic experience relying on sensorial knowledge. Fixed
ideas of movements or “steps” as verbal textual references that are arranged in order to create “dances”
involve a different process of learning that is not necessarily Suluk.
Two primary questions are briefly addressed in this paper coming from the perspective of this author
who writes about and researches pangalay: (1) In what ways do writing or talking, fix pangalay as goaloriented or finalized steps; and (2) how do Suluk perceive what it is they do while they mangalay or watch
others mangalay? “Languaging” that describes movements as the literal imitation of phenomena such as
ocean waves, trees or animals is used to explicate from the spectator point of view, the visuality of the
dancer’s movements. This paper explores the ways in which “talking about” dance as a literalism has come
to define it as primarily an external experience that is guided by goal-oriented steps. This is juxtaposed to
Suluk/Tausug practitioners’ articulations of dancing as an internal process of interpretation. It is proffered
that in pangalay dancing the Suluk aesthetic is manifested through bodily understandings.
The following anecdote that was included in my doctoral thesis describes a correspondence from
2015, that prompted questions pertaining to differences between learning from “steps” and learning from
other bodily processes that were more familiar to me as a dancer. Sometime during the writing of my thesis
in 2015, an acquaintance living on the island of Maui in the state of Hawaiʻi, USA, contacted my partner to
inquire about us possibly teaching the dance pangalay to a youth group for the annual Philippine-American
festival called Philippine Barrio Fiesta. As part of this festival, different celebratory activities occur,
including the performance of dances and music that are promoted as “Filipino”. In response to this male
acquaintance’s inquiry, we asked for further elaboration. He responded, asking whether or not I had the
“steps” of pangalay written down and if so, would I be able to send the “steps” to him. This acquaintance
wanted us to email “steps” that involve the fixing of movements textually represented, so that the dance
pangalay could be re-created from words on the page to the body. I thought about what that process entails
and what could possibly be the outcomes of the performance of such steps without having movement
references for such “steps”, nor having prior knowledge of the purposes by which Suluk people perform
pangalay. I also thought about how this request for learning from written text is different from body to body
transmission that I had always been used to as a dancer—where movement is a way of knowing with my
body and the repetition of such movement is a way of bodily remembering (Quintero, 2016). Writing the
“dance” involves a sort of “encasement” that defines dance through words, as opposed to the way in which
dance is understood through sensate knowledge.
Pangalay in a non-linguistic, yet popular rendering refers to “dancing with the hands” (Quintero,
2016) and is performed primarily as part of paglami-lami, the events that are associated with festive occasions
such as weddings. The Suluk, an ethnolinguistic group characterized by proclaimed origination from the
Philippine Sulu archipelago and particularly from the island of Jolo, speaking Bahasa Sug (Suluk/Tausug
language), are also known as the Tausug in the southern Philippines. The Suluk historically navigated the
maritime area of the Sulu archipelago and Sabah, Malaysia where I conducted my research between 20132015. The act of writing and talking are linked as both acts through language- written or spoken- shape and
define that which the written and spoken word attempts to describe, in this case the dancing called pangalay.
I suggest that in writing “the dance” pangalay as bodily inscribed steps is a reconstruction that relies heavily
on the visual sense within word-image meanings that focus on external, visual observation. For example,
making a correlation between the “wave” or alun and pangalay has often been made in descriptions of
pangalay. Many dancers might speak about being inspired by the image of the wave or other natural
phenomenon—the “wave” conjuring a poetic mind-image that may influence the way in which one moves
as flowing and graceful. However, in the written and verbal repeated use of such descriptors, pangalay in
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DESIREE A. QUINTERO
such rhetoric becomes dance that imitates waves. The word-image descriptors initiate movement qualities
for “readers” of pangalay. Although Sulu practitioners may mention such a relationship between the
imagined and movement, pangalay is not the literal imitation of waves, which can be any range of movements
that are not necessarily pangalay. What dominates discussions of pangalay by Suluk practitioners is the
kinaesthetic experience of kulintangan music within festive occasions, where pangalay is devised moving
inspired by observations of other dancers and the performative interpretation of kulintangan instrumentation.
Of the many issues brought up is the relationship between dance, that involves bodily understandings
recognized by doers and beholders as “dance”, and writing/speaking, that acts as its own contained
transmitter of knowledge. In pangalay, inspiration may derive from the environs filled with flora, fauna, and
the natural world. However, movement terms generally refer to what is done by the human body. For
example, limbay (swinging of the arms) and saysig (movement in any direction, particularly the feet), conjure
movement references that unless a casual observer has seen or done the movement, the observer does not
know what the movement is in pangalay dancing. To refer again to the story of the acquaintance who wanted
the “text” of “steps” in order to recreate “the dance” on bodies, the use of “words” becomes the reference for
learning or speaking the dance, rather than other bodies or the kulintangan music.
In performing pangalay within Suluk festive occasions, bodily senses play a role in learning. For
example, honing one’s aural skills in a way determines how one dances. Pangalay involves idiosyncratic
ways of dancing, often integrating spontaneity and imagination and that is grounded in bodily curvilinearity
through bound and slow movement and a listening that initiates a “hearing” of sounds through the body. The
contingent relationship between the sounding kulintangan and dancing was often mentioned by Suluk
dancers, where the playing of kulintangan music often determines the quality of one’s dancing. A kulintangan
ensemble that plays well, meaning where all instruments “connect” with each other in ensemble playing,
creates an environment of sounds that affects the dancers in physically manifested ways—such as having
goose bumps and other visceral reactions that prompts dancing in the fluttering of fingers and the sudden trill
of the shoulders (kignut). This physicality of embodied listening is described by Suluk people as having
“spirit” while dancing, where one is no longer aware of the technicality of steps as a way of having a
kinaesthetic experience with sound (Quintero, 2016).
The term bunga lima in Suluk language that literally translates as “fruit of the hand” is a referent for
hand motions that ornament and embellish the dancers’ kinesphere, interlocking with other movements in
continuous motion. If taken literally, bunga lima becomes movements that gesture—hand motions that are
flowers, birds, waves, etc. However, bunga lima are not verbatim hand movements, but poetic abstractions.
During fieldwork, a Suluk dancer demonstrated one of her mother’s signature movements, moving her hands
and said, “It is like a flower”. As this Suluk dancer demonstrated, the motif did not “mean” to be a flower,
but the term bunga lima was a figurative reference for motions made by her hands. Bunga lima at its core is
abstraction—devised moving in a non-literal yet expressive way. Movements described through written
descriptions with words, notated descriptions such as through Motif Notation, and the physical motion of
performing bunga lima involve three different ways of knowing movement, with the latter being a sensorial
way of knowing by Suluk people.
As mentioned earlier in this paper, the role of “steps” or terminologies as pangalay is a way of fixing
and defining what pangalay is and that prioritizes and privileges written and verbal language as an example
of textocentrism (Conquergood, 2002). Pangalay involves bodily understanding and deeply rooted knowing
where there is an interdependent process of knowledge acquisition that involves the senses in body to body
transfer. Therefore, dance cannot be studied or talked about segregated from the bodies that manifest
movement. Although language is needed to write or speak about pangalay, this tool can be used in different
ways to talk about how Suluk practitioners describe their own individual and communal experiences of
dancing as an internal process of interpretation relying on bodily understandings of Suluk aesthetics.
Pangalay with kulintangan is transmitted in the kinaesthetic process of learning between Suluk people in
community through sensorial knowledge within paglami-lami occasions.
References
Conquergood, D. (2002). Performance studies: Interventions and radical research. The Drama Review, 46(2),
145-156. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/1146965
Quintero, D. (2016). Inhabiting pangalay ha kulintangan as Suluk in Sabah, Malaysia (Unpublished
doctoral dissertation). University of Malaya, Cultural Centre, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
THE SOGNA AND ULLALIM SONGS OF THE MADUKAYAN KALINGA PEOPLE
OF NORTHERN PHILIPPINES
Felistina B. Pangsiw
Philippine Women’s University, Philippines
Introduction
I grew up hearing sogna singing from elders during weddings, reunions, and other festive occasions in Tabuk,
Kalinga. I also learned to sing sogna by rote method from my Madukayan father and uncle at the School of
Living Tradition in Tabuk (see Figure 1). The Madukayan people belong to the Kalinga ethnolinguistic group.
Many of them now reside in Tabuk like my father and his family. The village of Maducayan is located along
the boundary of Natonin, Mountain Province and Tanudan, Kalinga.
There is a wide range of opinions and understandings about Kalinga vocal genres. For example, the
view among scholars and Kalingas themselves on ullallim are intertwining and contrasting. The coexistence
of indigenous and modern Kalinga culture adds to the complexity in distinguishing the ullalim and sogna
which is also referred to as sogsogna. My presentation aims to define and clarify the Madukayan sogna and
ullalim songs. Sogna is a song for self-expression while ullalim is for story telling about local heroes. These
two oral traditions are rendered extemporaneously in a cappella by a solo singer for various occasions and
gatherings. Sogna and ullalim are basically distinguishable genres because of their lyrics but are intrinsically
related through its melody called sagayyuwok.
I am guided by the concept that singing is intrapersonal and interpersonal communication whereby
the performer conveys messages, meanings, and symbols during performance. Intrapersonal occurs within
the individual mind or self while interpersonal involves relationships among people. Singing is a physical
activity and can be regarded as a social, political, cultural, and emotional act. It is communication embedded
with power because the singing text itself is the license that allows musicians to say something special beyond
ordinary speech.
Figure 1. Brothers Fred and Jose Pangsiw at the School of Living Tradition.
(Photo by the author)
Defining Sogna
Sogna is intrapersonal communication when the singer reminisces and reflects on past events or in solitude
called linnawa. The sogna singer comforts himself when spontaneously expressing his emotional state and
random thoughts. The singer also renders sogna linnawa to evaluate decisions or create solutions to everyday
challenges. Regardless of people around him, sogna linnawa is clearly intended for self. Thus, the singer
does not expect any response from those who listen. Moreover, sogna is interpersonal communication when
it deals with social interaction among people. It takes place especially during festive occasions such as
weddings (barugway), prestige feasts (ammong), peace-pacts (pudon) and to welcome guests (padatong).
Sogna may be rendered with a serious topic or with an affectionate mood called sow-ay. The serious sogna
may be a narration, exposition, description, and argumentation which may or may not need a reply depending
on the singer’s intention. Sow-ay is a form of singing for courtship and promoting camaraderie with an
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FELISTINA B. PANGSIW
individual or group that needs a reply. The sogna sow-ay type naturally seeks feedback from the listeners to
whom the song is communicated in the form of another sogna. For example, a reply may come from a peacepact holder, a representative from the host community, and participants in an event. Here is an example of
sogna as my greeting song.
Sogna text:
Translation:
Amod naoy dinuma
Pasig taku sasana
Kota Kinabalua
Ta (u)moy taku inila
tagos naduma-duma
How nice
we are all here
in Kota Kinabalu
We are able to meet
different people
Defining Ullalim
Ullalim is a sung narrative indigenous to the Kalinga-speaking people from the municipalities of Tanudan,
Tinglayan, and Lubuagan with the inclusion of the Maducayan of Mountain Province. It is an oral tradition
which narrates the life of culture heroes and their romantic love affairs, grand marriage celebrations, and
headhunting exploits. In this respect, ullalim portrays an idealized and imagined Madukayan community.
Mythical characters such as Banna, Julliyao, and Laggunawa exude remarkable beauty, unparalleled physical
strength, and exemplary morals that portray a perfect picture of Kalinga society. An ullalim singer performs
solo who may be either male or female. Furthermore, an ullalim singer is usually a medium (mamvuvuni) or
an elder with a wealth of experience in life; he is knowledgeable about events contained in the ullalim which
also provides life lessons to the listeners.
The ullalim is performed while seated in the day time to entertain the community in gatherings, over
meal time, and at night inside the house for socializing and leisure. The singer can also render an ullalim
while standing or mobile during harvesting season or while separating the corn from the cob in swidden
farms. It is rendered when the community feels contented and not bothered by fear of tribal war or saddened
due to death. An excellent ullalim singer is one who delivers the lyrics with clarity and with vocal prowess.
However, ullalim singing is seldom performed today. Young singers are difficult to find perhaps due to a
lack of interest and the changing times dominated by new modes of entertainment such as radio, television,
and the internet. Here is an excerpt of ullalim sung by my father Jose Pangsiw.
96
Ullalim text:
Translation:
manggagait as buwa
iyab-abot na gaya
se kuwa nat ukgiya
ngan pay ngadan da sana
se bubais mandiga
dawatum ud di mumma
ta manlappuwan at ginga
kanan iDurawona
nataag e nammotwa
kat ad Ginnanayana
kog-ogyat di ganawa
guman pay gay inila
nganin nanlibatana
kanan kanu Ginnanayan
dividing the betel nut
he greets them with
his laughter
what is her name
this lady
please accept my betel chew
that we may start a conversation
said Julliyao from Jurawon
surprised
is Ginnanayan
how wonderful is this gentleman
how come I have not seen
where he comes from
said Ginnanayan
THE SOGNA AND ULLALIM SONGS OF THE MADUKAYAN KALINGA PEOPLE OF NORTHERN PHILIPPINES
Figure 2. Interrelationship of Sogna and Ullalim
Summary
Sogna and ullalim are performed by the Madukayan people who belong to the Kalinga ethnolinguistic group.
Sogna and ullalim are vocal genres that share the same melody called sagayyuwok. Both generally use sevensyllable verses as a guide. Likewise, both songs use similar compositional techniques such as adding vowels,
word extension, elision, and repetition to fit the melody. A distinguishing vocal technique of sogna and
ullalim is the application of heavy tremolo on low notes called goyongon. Breathing techniques like a short
pause is used to separate verse lines. Grouping of verse lines is marked with prolonged high notes for opening
while a long pause signals the end. Although they differ in lyrics, performance duration, and function, both
songs are forms of expression that reaches out to their intended audience. In both rendering of sogna and
ullalim, singers communicate their culture orally as well as affirm Madukayan identity.
References
Billiet, F. & Lambrecht, F. (1970). Kalinga ullalim &Ifugaw orthography. Baguio City: The Catholic School
Press.
Billiet, F. & Lambrecht, F. (1974). The Kalinga ullalim II. Baguio City: Igorot Culture Research Studies.
Majukayong Tribe. (2011). Orak. California: Pilgrimage Homecoming Reunion Organization.
Prudente, F. A. (1984). Musical process in the gasumbi epic of the Buwaya, Kalingga people of northern
Philippines (Doctoral dissertation). University of Michigan, USA.
Prudente, F. A. (2002). Weaving voices of the highland peoples in northern Philippines. In Symposium: The
International Forum of Ethnomusicology (pp. 238-246) Taipei, Republic of China: National Center
of Traditional Arts.
Saboy, S. M. (2012). Voicing ethnicity: Traditional referentiality, the ullalim, and Kalinga ethnopop. The
Cordillera Review, 4(2), 37-64.
Scott, W. H. (1969). On the Cordillera: A look at the peoples & cultures of the mountain province. Manila:
MCS Enterprises.
Stallsmith, G. R. (2007). The music of a Kalinga peace-pact celebration: Making place through the
soundscape (Master’s thesis). Bethel University, USA.
Walcott, R. H. (1987). The mountains ring out their joy: Christian music from the Cordilleras of northern
Philippines. Manila: Asian Institute for Liturgy and Music.
Welch, G. F. (2005). Singing as communication. In D. Miell (Ed.), Musical communication (pp. 239-259).
Oxford: Oxford University Press.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
EMBODIMENT OF MOVEMENT IN DANCE AS ENCULTURATION:
KIANGAN, IFUGAO PROVINCE, CORDILLERA ADMINISTRATIVE REGION,
NORTHERN PHILIPPINES
Wayland Quintero
Independent Scholar, Hawaiʻi
Introduction
This paper comes out of my July 2017 and November 2016 fieldwork in the Northern Philippine highlands,
in the municipality of Kiangan, Ifugao province. At an elevation of 703 meters, Kiangan is 349 kilometres
from the Philippine metropolitan capital of Manila and is part of a landlocked area designated as the
Cordillera Administrative Region (CAR). The modern spelling of Kiangan is derived from an ancient village
called Kiyyangan in Ifugao orature believed to be the dwelling place of the mythological ancestors of the
Ifugao people, Wigan and Bugan. Kiangan is one of several municipalities within Ifugao province where
dances with flat gongs or gangha, and other instruments have ritual origins and are today performed at
festivals, other public events and for private, family and close kin ceremonies that take place in rice terraces.
The people call themselves Ipugo, meaning “from the earth”. Colonial Spaniards had changed the name to
“Ifugaw” followed by American colonials who revised the spelling to “Ifugao” with an “o”. Nevertheless,
people throughout the province of Ifugao express pride in not succumbing to colonial subjugation,
enthusiastically sustain their performative arts on their own terms, and are beginning to take notice of
metropolitan representations of Ifugao. This paper is an opening discussion using an Ethnochoreological and
Critical Performance Studies approach in considering embodiment of movement in dance as enculturated
performance.
Ifugao People Gaze Metropolitan Groups via YouTube
Over the years while viewing Philippine dance on the social media site YouTube, I began noting
commentators’ responses to videos of metropolitan dance troupes in the Philippines and the United States
that display what are labelled as, “Ifugao dances”. In the past, performances of so-called Ifugao dances have
been out of the purview of practitioners in Ifugao province. Metropolitan dance troupes’ videos on social
media are representative of what urban-based artists display and have begun garnering robust responses by
social media commentators who self-identify as Ifugao. In one video example that as of this writing has
attracted 107,418 views, a Manila-based group performs what is titled as “Bumayah – ifugao suite,” and that
has generated many terse responses. The following comments are a few of many examples by commentators
to the “Bumayah – ifugao suite” video posted on YouTube (“Bumayah - ifugao suite”.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkN_S0fbVFQ&list=PL0MgqHB-KbMGjkbtPdGei7ecegCFrum3C).
to whoever dancing this, never ever destroy the natural dance of Ifugao! we as Ifugao never give any
permission to re invent our dance into something like this! (Leny Gano)
NGEK!!!! This is not an ifugao dance!! (Jarold Martinez)
is this the ifugao dance? is this the fuckin modern dance of ifugaos like me? this is a disrespect for
us and our unique culture. respect the culture and traditional dance of ifugaos men PEACE (Mark
aki)
In another YouTube example, the Los Angeles, California Philippine dance group called Kayamanan Ng
Lahi performs what the group calls “Uyaoy” (“Uyaoy Ifugao Dance by Kayamanan ng Lahi”.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z3kGfTVJV6o). Uyaoy is a term that Ifugao people use to refer to a
prestige rite and that also refers to a dance that is part of the rite. However, a number of metropolitan dance
groups have appropriated the term Uyaoy for their choreographies. The following three sample comments to
the video featuring the Los Angeles group on YouTube posted by commentators who self-identify as Ifugao,
reflect an overall sentiment to a plethora of uploaded videos featuring metropolitan groups.
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EMBODIMENT OF MOVEMENT IN DANCE AS ENCULTURATION:
KIANGAN, IFUGAO PROVINCE, CORDILLERA ADMINISTRATIVE REGION, NORTHERN PHILIPPINES
They take our native dance culture and bastardize it before presenting it to the world that it was our
native ifugao dance.........fuckin' disrespecful and annoying. (Toby Namonne)
yuck, please remove the title "ifugao dance" and change your attires and call your dance something
else totally different. thank you for your understanding. (The Dreamer1)
What the hell!!!! That's not an uyauy dance... (kring kring)
During my fieldwork in Kiangan municipality, I visited the Ifugao Heritage Center and met with Marlon
Martin, an Ifugao community leader and prolific cultural advocate. Martin made comments in response to
the videos mentioned above along with videos of other groups on YouTube. Compared to what he viewed in
the YouTube videos that Martin described as “ugly” and “terrible”, Martin spoke of how Ifugao people dance
by mentioning qualities such as “noble” and “with grace.” While viewing the metropolitan dance group
videos, Martin shook his head disapprovingly and restrained himself from perhaps more explicit verbal
expressions of dismay at the way metropolitan performers dance what is billed as “Ifugao”. Martin’s aversion
to the ways metropolitan artists dance inspired him to then give a demonstration of Ifugao dancing that are
discussed further below.
Enculturation, Indigenous Knowledge, and Movement: A Brief Discussion
Enculturation refers to, “the gradual acquisition of the characteristics and norms of a culture or group”
(https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/us/enculturation, n. d.) and that I furthermore add, can be
revealed and are expressed competently through the dancing body. Indigenous Knowledge or IK can be
described as, an indigenous knowledge system constituted by parts of a complex whole that is comprised of
ways of knowing and knowledge making, living, and behaving including dancing. IK is also a burgeoning
area of research and advocacy privileging the agency of IPs or Indigenous Peoples to carry on, change, even
commodify their performative arts, as well as challenge appropriations by dominant, metropolitan culture.
I suggest that people in Ifugao manifest movement as a process of highland enculturation versus the
ways that metropolitan artists perform their “Ifugao dances” created via urban dancemaking for Philippine
nation-building projects (metropolitan Manila groups) and Filipino identity dance-making (metropolitan
American groups). Explicitly noted distinctions in embodiment of movement were invigorated through my
interactions with Ifugao people who viewed social media videos labelled “Ifugao dances” and who also gave
demonstrations of Ifugao dancing.
During my visit to Kiangan, local male and female dancers with the Ifugao Intangible Heritage and
Performing Arts Society demonstrated movement motifs that they as a group perform at local, domestic, and
international festivals as examples of dancing originally tied to Uya-uy and Hagabi, the names of rites that
increase the prestige of kadangyan or nobility, individuals and families with substantial land holdings,
particularly rice fields.
Compared to social media videos of metropolitan artists performing Ifugao dances, the performers in
Kiangan embody movement as Ifugao versus as metropolitan Filipino dancer. The performers who are part
of the Ifugao Intangible Heritage and Performing Arts Society embody movement in ways that can be
described from a qualitative movement perspective:
A)
The Ifugao performers dance with a bound-ness of the body’s centre, moving in very controlled effort
upward and downward with the flexion and extension of the knees with a slight bounce, and also with the
movement of the extended leg forward, upwards, and backwards in a somewhat sustained movement.
Movement is inwardly maintained with the torso in a forward position.
B)
Contrastingly, the metropolitan performers’ body centre is constantly released, making body effort
free and not bound. The metropolitan dancer’s centre is at times backwards in movements, and rather than
sustaining movements, such as on one leg, movements have a sudden quality shown in hopping upwards.
Furthermore, the bounded effort of the body’s centre executed by Ifugao performers is also seen in the
stepping, whether forward or backward. The foot moves with direct effort upward and downward and held
in mid-air. In the metropolitan dance videos, movement becomes a side step, with the entire body swaying
side to side, with freer, less disciplined effort.
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WAYLAND QUINTERO
The following chart refers to ideas of body use and quality of movement, primarily effort factors and body
directions as one approach to describing movement using concepts conceived by a dance theorist and artist
named Rudolf von Laban. This chart shows contrastive qualities that are manifested by embodiment of
movement through enculturation, by performers within and from highland Ifugao province versus dancers in
metropolitan spaces such as Manila and Los Angeles.
Body effort
Movements of legs
Torso position
Ifugao Intangible Heritage and
Performing Arts Society
Bound
Sustained
Forward
Metropolitan “Ifugao dances”
Free
Sudden
Backward
I suggest that the right side of the chart offers qualitative movement terms for what holders of IK express in
terms such as “ugly”, “offensive”, and “insulting” displays by metropolitan groups that promote “Ifugao
dances”.
Concluding Remarks
During my July 2017 visit in Kiangan, one of the male dancers with the Ifugao Intangible Heritage and
Performing Arts Society demonstrated Ifugao enculturated movements mentioned above. The dancer,
Olmigy Hagada, then spoke of his movements in terms of, “an eagle circling the sky looking for prey, that’s
what we do, so it’s steady, it’s concentrated going around in circles, when it flaps its wings its already diving
for the prey, the movement is very controlled.”1 What I wish to point out is that the movements are not
necessarily about being an eagle, but are movements that are performatively bound, sustained, and danced as
an Ifugao person. On another occasion in Kiangan, I showed YouTube videos to a group of Ifugao dancers
and teachers, who expressed amusement and dismay at the metropolitan videos. Ifugao female dancers
commented that the ways the people danced in the YouTube videos was not proper, not correct, and that
while perhaps creative, the dances are not Ifugao. In closing, social media sites such as YouTube create a
forum for viewers and commentators who self-identify as Ifugao to effect a reversal of the metropolitan
artist’s gaze, to talk back at metropolitan appropriations of signifiers of Ifugao culture while sustaining,
repurposing and changing Ifugao performative arts on their own terms.
Special thanks to Desiree A. Quintero, PhD, for reading drafts of this article and providing input for the
movement analysis section.
This paper is a shorter version of a much longer article to be published in The Cordillera Review (TCR),
University of the Philippines-Baguio, and is included herein with permission by the editor of TCR.
Endnote
1 Interview
excerpt with Ifugao Intangible Heritage and Performing Arts Society performer Olmigy Hagada,
July 2017, Kiangan, Ifugao province.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
EXPRESSING GRIEF FOR THE DEAD AMONG THE BUAYA KALINGA
OF NORTHERN PHILIPPINES
Felicidad A. Prudente
Independent Scholar, Philippines
Introduction
Ethnomusicological studies on Cordillera practice of grieving and bereavement are limited and less explored.
Lamentation for the dead in particular is least articulated. Except for very few pioneering works on dirges
and wake songs, most literature related to Cordillera death traditions are anthropological in nature. In this
presentation, I explore the content and meaning of a father’s lamentation to his deceased daughter from the
region of Buaya in Balbalan, Kalinga Province. Buaya Kalinga lamentation is called lamάt; it is text-driven
and is interpolated with sobbing, crying, and shedding of tears by the performer. Because it is often
punctuated with crying, Kalinga lamentation is also referred to as ibi, or cry. It is directly addressed to the
deceased and is rendered during wake (bagongon) where prescribed practices including taboos take control.
Kalinga lamentation is a narrative of grief (lidam) and self-reflection which publicly reveals the performer’s
inner thoughts and feelings (dumdum).
Context of a Father’s Lamentation and Customary Practices for the Dead
I learned about the death of an eight-year old girl named Lagamaw from a neighbour who happened to be
passing by my residence on her way to visit the bereaved family. Hurriedly, I got my bag and joined my
neighbour in extending condolences to the parents of the deceased child. When we arrived at the bereaved
residence, a dead chicken was hanging underneath the house and a small fire was lighted burning some
chicken feathers at the yard. It is practice in the village that killing a chicken immediately upon death is
necessary so that the chicken’s soul can guide the deceased’s soul (kadodwa) to the land of the dead. Inside
the house were Lagamaw’s parents who were both watching over their deceased daughter laid between them.
Lagamaw’s body was still warm when we arrived. She was wrapped in blue blanket. Some children who
were probably her playmates gathered nearby. Relatives came in trickles bringing with them funeral
contributions (adang) in the form of rice, sugarcane wine, money, and other goods. Rice pounding at the
house yard together with butchering of a carabao and cooking its meat to feed the community likewise began.
Later, a basket containing rice and meat wrapped in banana leaves was placed at the house ceiling for the
spirits (alan) before the first meal was served so that they did not disturb the food for the people. At this time,
more relatives arrived. Some relatives who came inside the house rendered their lamentation as they saw the
corpse. They chanted, wailed, and cried in solo and sometimes in group, reminiscing their personal
experiences with Laganaw when she was still alive. Practically the whole village were at the wake
(bagongon) until the next day. Men stayed in the yard throughout the night while some slept over after dinner.
Women and children were inside the house of the deceased while others went to nearby homes to rest.
The next morning was Lagamaw’s burial (lobon). The corpse was carried by her brother to the grave
accompanied by her father who was holding a small plate and bowl. Two men opened the tomb where
Lagamaw was finally laid to rest. Following tradition, the corpse faced towards the downstream (lagud) and
the plate, bowl, clothing, and blanket were left beside her. The deceased father, Tawagon, immediately
returned home after burial to get food which he placed on top of Lagamaw’s tomb for her consumption during
her journey to the land of the dead as well as for distribution to the souls of the dead (kalading) upon her
arrival there. Rites after burial represented the cutting of ties with the dead. The throwing of a clay pot
containing a piece of burning wood and some stones by the father and the recitation of a myth called kabukab
by the village medium (man-anito) were performed to drive away the spirit of the deceased. Close relatives
of the dead were instructed to cough into a bamboo tube to remove the nature and effect of death (unawa di
natoy) on them. Later, the bamboo tube was split into two and placed at the entrance door before eventually
brought out and left at the river bank.
Excerpt of a Father’s Lamentation to his Deceased Daughter
A father’s lamentation provides a glimpse on content and meaning of lamat. I present here an English
translation of his lament.
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FELICIDAD A. PRUDENTE
“Immok, this is the house where I live,” she said
Immok, you keep reminding me of what you said
Yes, I thought so
Don’t blame me, Immok
Oh, when you got sick, Immok
When we had money, we went (to the hospital)
Twice I brought you to Salegseg
I even brought you to Tuao.
So she heals and lives, this child of mine
Immok, even if you gave me a difficult time
So don’t feel sulky, Immok
Oh, even if you will not eat the banana
I fulfilled all my obligations to you
So you have nothing to complain
Immok, that I did not take care of you.
“Go to the hospital, Lagamaw”
says Ingnga, Immok
So she will not get sick, I said.
Look at Almazan
Didn’t he live?
That’s why I brought you.
Immok, when I brought you to Tuao
I brought you directly to the doctor
I thought you got healed and will live
So that nothing will be said about me.
“Don’t worry,” said the doctor
What are they saying that you will live
Don’t blame me too much, Immok
Immok, when we arrived home,
I wished we had a pig to sacrifice
We could have celebrated one, so that nothing will be said
How pitiful, this child of mine
Immok, there’s nothing more I can think of
I’m helpless
I have no other way
Oh, I feel all the burden
Should Latawan contribute some rice wine
Let’s leave it to the people, I said.
How pitiful, this child of mine
How I wish you passed on when you were little,
Like Sabel whom I have forgotten
It pains me thinking
Oh, how pitiful, this child of mine
Immok, don’t blame me because I did everything
I shall accompany you to the hut that you built
I pity myself for what I have done
Immok, I lack knowledge about healing
One of my siblings, passed on ahead
Immok, Maling’s advice was useless
“Oh, I shall visit you on Monday,” she said
Where will you be if you did not leave, Immok
Immok, I carried you on my back last night
But I can’t do it every night because you didn’t want, you said
“Oh, how I give father so much hardship,” this child probably said
I was just waiting for night to come so you can sleep
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EXPRESSING GRIEF FOR THE DEAD AMONG THE BUAYA KALINGA OF NORTHERN PHILIPPINES
Oh, I know what you are doing
Immok, I was not able to sleep that night
I did not feel the child will die, I said
I thought you will still reach tonight
I wanted you to live the next day, I said.
Meaning & Significance of Lamentation
Lamentation (lamat) is a performer’s expression of grief (lidam) which renders the bereaved inner feeling of
pain (dumdum) towards the departed. It is an outpouring of emotion particularly the feeling of pity (kaasi)
that is often reflected in the formulaic phrase “how pitiful this child of mine.” Lamentation evokes memory
of the performer’s personal relation with the dead as in this case of the father with his deceased daughter. It
is a narrative a family experiences, particularly with their struggle to heal the child. It reminisces the past to
forget an unfortunate event. Addressing the deceased with an endearing name “Immok,” the father recalls
and narrates his role as a responsible father despite physical and economic difficulties. There is also frequent
mention by the father to the deceased daughter not to sulk (mampasugnod) or in Tagalog term tampo because
he believes that he has fulfilled his best. Attributing fault or blame (mampabasol) is likewise raised by the
father in the lamentation. Lamentation is self-reflection made public. It is a disclosure of the inner self or
gubuk, literally meaning “inside” whereby the performer outpours his inner thoughts and emotions during
the wake where practically the whole community is present. Finally, lamentation is nexus of the living and
the dead. It is a link with the dead before he/she is laid to rest. It highlights the nuances of everyday living
that recounts shared experiences at an unfortunate time of mourning.
Reference
De Raedt, J. (1969). Myth and ritual: A relational study of Buwaya mythology, ritual, and cosmology
(Unpublished doctoral dissertation). University of Chicago, Chicago, U.S.A.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
GARAK NAGARI PEREMPUAN [THE INSTINCT OF NAGARI WOMEN] IDENTITIES
OF MINANGKABAU WOMEN IN THE RUMAH GADANG: A DANCE PERSPECTIVE
(Lightning Paper)
Susas Rita Loravianti
Institut Seni Indonesia (ISI) Padangpanjang, Indonesia
Introduction
This paper is a reflection on the identities and experiences of Minangkabau women who live in our rumah
gadang (big houses, matrilineal based), through analysis of my major narrative dance work, Galak Nagari
Perempuan (2013). My research is from an indigenous perspective. I am a descendant of one of four rajo
(king/leader), of South Solok, namely Tuanku Rajo Batuah which was a title used when the district was
known as the kingdom of Alam Surambi Sungai Pagu, a kingdom connected with the central Minangkabau
palace, Pagaruyuang. The hour-long dance work was staged in my ancestral rumah gadang as part of my
PhD in dance from Surakarta Arts Institute. This house is called Istano Rajo-Rajo Adat (palace of the
customary kings) of Alam Surambi Sungai Pagu, within the nagari (Minangkabau village) of Pasir Talang
in Sungei Pagu, Solok Selatan district, West Sumatra. Garak Nagari Perampuan was devised with
choreography derived from Minangkabau martial arts (silek) and contemporary dance. Musical
accompaniment was created in collaboration with local musicians who played rabab Pasisia Selatan (rabab
from the South Coast in the Muaro Labuah style), saluang panjang (long bamboo flute), gandang sarunai
(double headed drum pair), rabano (frame drums) and gontong-gontong (hand-held gongs [canang]).
Figure 1. Puti Alam Surambi Sungai Pagu, descendants of the four Rajas of Alam Surambi Sungai Pagu at the meeting of
customary kings, Pagaruyuang Palace, 29 September 2018. Author is on the right.
(Photo credit: Author)
The title of the dance Garak Nagari Perempuan (hereafter GNP) not only means the gerak (Ind. body
movement) of nagari (M. Minangkabau village polity) perempuan (Ind. women); it also encapsulates
motivational power of both the body and soul. While a nagari is a Minangkabau village, it also refers to ones
place of origin and area of power. The meaning of perampuan (Ind. perempuan, women) here is also
culturally specific to Minangkabau; women represent a collection of ampu (thumbs); the thumb is the mother
of the fingers and most important finger of the hand.
Discussion
Women in Minangkabau are known as induak bareh (rice mother), urang rumah (person/owner of the house)
mande (mother) bundo kanduang (lit.womb mother, so birth mother, head of the rumah gadang, senior
matriarch) ambun puruik (treasurer) aluang bunian (the centre of information) payuang panji ke Medinah
(noble umbrella of Medinah) and undang-undang ke surga (the law of heaven). In addition, women are
considered sitawa sidingin (the ones who cool disputes).
This ideal image of Minangkabau women is told in kaba (sung narrative). Kaba in the form of lyrical
prose is generally conveyed while singing and sometimes accompanied by the tapped rhythm of a matchbox,
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GARAK NAGARI PEREMPUAN [THE INSTINCT OF NAGARI WOMEN] IDENTITIES OF MINANGKABAU WOMEN
IN THE RUMAH GADANG: A DANCE PERSPECTIVE
kacapi, rabab, or with saluang flute and bansi whistle. The musical accompaniment adds to audience appeal
so that they listen until late at night.
Kaba contain didactic messages and the values expressed are even thought to come from God the
Creator, delivered through kaba so Minangkabau people feel obliged to convey kaba from generation to
generation. The role of the tukang kaba (expert narrative singer) is very important, performing personal
variations on the inherited story.
Garak Nagari Perempuan (GNP): Inspired by Kaba
My GNP narrative dance is an effort to revive the kaba tradition that today is less common in highland
Minangkabau, although still strong on the coast. I chose to help revive kaba because it is an effective medium
for transmitting useful, positive values for the Minangkabau community. GNP offered two things at once,
namely: (1) New kaba, and (2) The new mode of delivery, through dance. The new kaba is presented in GNP
through a reinterpretation of existing kaba, with influences from the classics, Cindua Mato and Anggun Nan
Tongga.
The themes that I wished to convey through this dance were: (1) The role of Minangkabau women
as guardians and drivers of positive values in matrilineal culture; (2) The role of Minangkabau women in the
realm of politics and within public spaces; (3) Minangkabau women as professionals in the world of work
today; and (4) Minangkabau women as intelligent and critical mothers, who educate their extended family to
become prosperous and happy.
The Greatness of Bundo Kanduang in Kaba and within GNP
Kaba Cindua Mato and kaba Anggun Nan Tongga are narratives with strong central female characters. I used
these kaba as inspiration for GNP and introduce here the female character of Bundo Kanduang in Cinduo
Mato. I mainly used the version from the book of the kaba in Indonesian, Cindur Mata, as written down by
Aman Dt. Majiondo (1951) which I precis below:
It is said that Bundo Kanduang was a majestic ruler of the Pagaruyung Kingdom, Minangkabau. She
became king by herself, at the same time as the creation of alam Minanagkabau (Minangkabau
natural world). Bundo Kanduang is depicted as the equivalent of the King Rum (Turkey) and the
King of China, who once both proposed to her. Their requests were approved by Bundo Kanduang.
However, before either marriage could take place the great kings died because they were unable to
compete with her supernatural powers. Bundo Kanduang’s power derived from her crown called
Kulah Kamar, the silk maternity cloth Sang Seto Sigundam-Gundam, and the kris (dagger) called
Curik Si Mundam Giri.
This kaba underpins the choreography of GMP. As the choreographer and a central dancer in the work, I
embodied the tukang kaba, expressing through my dance what is experienced by Minangkabau women today.
Minangkabau women remain powerful within the nagari because they own the rumah gadang and communal
land (pusako) is inherited through them. Although Minangkabau men as mamak1 (maternal uncle) act as
executors and contribute to decisions on land use, it is women who actually receive the profits based on their
lineage. Consequently, in the Minangkabu matriarchal system, the position of women and men is balanced.
While men move in the realm of law, Minangkabau women move in the moral domain as supervisors and
treasurers.
Narrative within Garak Nagari Perempuan: Narrative Dance Perspective
GNP opens with: (1) Exposisi, the exploration of Minangkabau adat (custom), which is aligned closely with
Islamic teachings as demonstrated with the saying we use, Adat basandi syara, syara basandi kittabullah
[Custom is based on sharia and sharia is based on the holy books]; (2) Koflikasi, shows choreography
representing daily life in the rumah gadang with Gondan Gondoriah from kaba Anggun nan Tongga as the
main dance character. In the classic kaba, Gondang Gondoriah asks her fiancé Anggun nan Tongga to
collect magical animals for her, including talking parrots. He goes on the rantau (to travel away from home)
to rescue his three lost mamak. To secure a parrot he has to marry its owner, the beautiful Andami Sutan.
The parrot was in fact a test of Anggun nan Tongga’s loyalty, set for him by Gondoriah and one that he
105
SUSAS RITA LORAVIANTI
failed; (3) Klimatis, the climatic scene, which references visually the moment in kaba Cindua Mato when
Bundo Kanduang debates her four senior male advisors known as the Basa Ampek Balai. In the kaba she
punishes the young Cindua Mato for transgressing adat even though he was attempting to rescue heroine
Puti Bungsu. In my production, Bundo Kanduang debates the position of Minangkabau women today; (4)
The resolusi, where Bundo Kanduang says that even though women have entered the workforce, it is still
possible to carry out their roles as women and community members through specifically Minangkabau
custom, i.e., as a mother within the matriarchy. In short, as a complete Bundo Kanduang; (5) The konklusi
is a symbolic representation of the main characters, as they express the importance of Bundo Kanduang,
both the kaba character and mothers today.
The powerful women in kaba such as Bundo Kanduang and Gondan Gondoriah have influenced
many women leaders in Minangkabau history. The following women are particularly notable; Rohana Kudus
(educator and journalist), Rahmah El-Yunusiah (Islamic educator, leader in revolutionary army), Rasuna
Said, (leader in Indonesian nationalst politics), Yang Dipertuan Gadih Puti Reno Sumpu (from Pagaruyuang
royalty) and Siti Manggopoh (the Lubuak Basung freedom fighter against the Dutch).
Figure 2. Performance of Garak Nagari Perempuan at the rumah gadang Istano Rajo-Rajo Adat
in Alam Surambi Sungai Pagu.
(Photo credit: Nursyirwan)
Conclusion
GNP was devised from historic kaba and my self-reflection on the experiences of busy Minangkabau
women today. GNP developed a kaba into a contemporary performance and by staging it at a rumah gadang,
the South Solok community become an integral part of the work, as collaborative dancers and musicians.
Kaba-based narrative dance is only one model for new choreography. There remain many other genres that
can inspire innovative Minangkabau dance artists.
Endnote
1 Mamak
is a maternal uncle who has a leadership role in the immediate family of his mother, helping to look
after his kemanakan (children of his sisters) and within his mother’s suku (clan).
Reference
Aman Dt. Majiondo. (1951). Cindur Mato. Bukittinggi, Indonesia: Balai Pustaka.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
IDENTITIES OF MINANGKABAU WOMEN IN THE RUMAH GADANG
OF SOLOK SELATAN: SYMBOL OF BUNDO KANDUANG
(Lightning Paper)
Nursyirwan
Institut Seni Indonesia (ISI) Padangpanjang, Indonesia
Introduction
South Solok (Solok Selatan) district in West Sumatra, Indonesia, is one area in Minangkabau which has many
rumah gadang (lit. large house, a matrilineal family house), which testifies to the resilience of the
Minangkabau adat (customary) system in this locality. The indigenous research for this paper was carried
out with Susas Rita Loravianti, to support the creation of her choreography Garak Nagari Perempuan (refer
to this proceedings). The intention was to understand contemporary uses of rumah gadang in the former
kingdom of Alam Surambi Sungei Pagu. We found that Minangkabau living in what is now called the district
of South Solok, West Sumatra, have recently developed an interesting local form of arts management.
Through gotong royong (Ind. mutual help), local values are still solid, based on local knowledge within the
community. Some community members who live in the traditional rumah gadang have designated their
homes as tourist destinations. Consequently those rumah gadang have changed function to become homestay
accommodation. When tourists arrive they are treated to dances, on the halaman (front lawn of the house),
for example the tari tampuruang (coconut shell dance) staged by the women owners.
Discussion
New communication technologies have re-established links between Minangkabau women in their ancestral
villages and those who have moved to large cities in the rauntau (circular migrant locations/away from the
ancestral village). Both in the rantau and at home elite community members refused to see women as mere
housewives but rather claim their social status derived from their ownership of rumah gadang, where they
are known as the Bundo Kanduang (lit. womb mother, birth mother, head of the house, senior matriarch).
The powerful role of the Bundo Kanduang is conveyed in the proverb: Limpapeh rumah nan gadang/ambun
puruik pagangan kunci—the central pillar of the large house/the holder of the treasury key (Manggis, 1971,
pp. 50-51). In fact, women have long managed their own arts and culture activities in the Solok Selatan
community. Seni budaya (arts and culture) is routinely carried out in the presence of guests, both from their
extended families, during weddings for example, and also non-familial guests such as public officials,
corporate guests and journalists.
To understand how this management system works, we need to look at the local matrilineal system
which underpins Minangkabau adat. Matriarchy (matriakat), as used in Minangkabau, is a system that is
opposed to the word patriarchy (patrikat) but not in the sense that women are in a position of superiority and
men in exploited positions. Matriarchy is interpreted as a balance in the lives of women and men. Male
kinship leaders (penghulu) and Bundo Kanduang are the prestigious leadership pair within the rumah
gadang system, where women are positioned as the owners of the land and men as the managers of the land.
Figure 1. Rumah Gadang in South Solok.
(Photo credit: Author)
107
NURSYIRWAN
Minanagkabau Matriliny
The Minangkabau people are from the extended Malayu culture divided into two main tribal pairings namely:
Koto and Piliang and Bodi and Caniago. Other tribes (suku) have developed depending on location. A
Minangkabau household is not the nuclear family but a group of relatives, descended from a senior matriarch,
who live under one roof of the rumah gadang. A rumah gadang can be made up of several families,
depending on the number of girls in the house. At marriage daughters bring their husbands to their own
rumah gadang house, to sleep in a bilik (bedroom for a married daughter). For example, if the house has four
married daughters then the combined number of families living in a rumah gadang is also four, one in each
bilik. Adult unmarried daughters sleep in the long front communal living room with their unmarried sisters
and cousins from their mother’s siblings. Traditionally from seven years old, boys are sent to study at the
surau (small community pray house) and sleep there also. In reality, this final aspect has changed now and
boys generally sleep in a separate annex of their mother’s house. Sastrawati (70 years), a Bundo Kanduang
from South Solok, explained how use of an ancestral rumah gadang to house tourists fits with matrilienal
adat:
They are treated like dunsank (relatives). Minangkabau sleeping arrangements, which includes
sleeping guests in the long front room means that single-gender visitors can room together there. A husband
and wife are offered one of the bilik. This is so as not to damage the order of Minangkabau customary rules,
which we express as Adat basandi syara, syara basandi kittabullah [Custom is based on sharia and sharia
is based on the holy books]. If a group of tourists are unmarried friends then the women use the various bilik
and the men sleep in the communal front room.1
To eat bajamba (from one platter) is one of the privileges of staying in a rumah gadang, as explained
by Ibuk Zulfiati (48 years) who belongs to the local tourism association for the Saribu (1000) Rumah Gadang
of South Solok (POK Darwis). Eating bajamba usually occurs at weddings when musical performances also
take place. Bajamba means to eat together from one large round tray (talam), whereby four or more people
eat rice, meat dishes and vegetables sitting together around the talam. Each talam is filled with Minangkabau
food, for example Lamang Tapai (black fermented rice pudding and coconut rice cooked in a bamboo node)
chicken, fried aubergine, randang pakis (rendang beef and fern fronds) and Anyang Gulai (beef, coconut
curry). Modelled around an adat reception, guests watch local versions of beloved Minangkabau dances such
as: tari piriang (plate dance) accompanied by hand held gotong-gotong gong pots, galombang (men’s silek
martial arts dance) and the tari tampuruang (coconut shell dance) mentioned above.
Land and Rumah Gadang Inheritance
Navis (1984, p. 170) writes that every nagari in West Sumatra has ulayat land with boundaries which are
transmitted orally in accordance with the surrounding nature, such as a hilltop or a river. There are two types
of ulayat; first, ulayat nagari, which belongs to all, for example, forest and back up uncultivated land in the
village. Second, the ulayat kaum, which belongs to a smaller group, under a senior Bundo Kanduang
(grandmother/great-grandmother) and her titled brother (penghulu) who share a rumah gadang, land and
penghulu title. Rice fields, gardens and other inherited items (pusako) are also categorised in terms of origin,
consisting of high inheritance (pusako tinggi) and low inheritance (pusako rendah). A rumah gadang is
considered pusako tinggi, which means it is owned through female descent and may not be sold. Proceeds
from pusako tinggi land cultivations can be used for: (1) Daily use; and (2) Later or urgent use, for example,
rumah gadang katirisan [to renovate an old, collapsing rumah gadang], rumah gadang alun balaki [to
support a woman’s adult sisters who are old enough to marry but have not yet found a husband], mayik
tabujua ditangah rumah [a corpse lying in the middle of the house (funeral expenses)] and pambangkik
batang tarandam [to raise the family from humiliation]. In South Solok a rumah gadang is considered pusako
tinggi along with springs, ponds, rice fields, gardens and graveyards.2
Conclusion
This research concludes that the South Solok indigenous community are determined to keep traditional values
strong, so that Minangkabau leadership through women remains stable and can occupy strategic positions in
village leadership as well as in wider political leadership. By using rumah gadang as homestay houses, where
tourists enjoy the performing arts in an adat context, South Solok women negotiate the matrilineal system,
drawing on their power as Bundo Kanduang to self-determine what their houses will be used for. By treating
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IDENTITIES OF MINANGKABAU WOMEN IN THE RUMAH GADANG OF
SOLOK SELATAN: SYMBOL OF BUNDO KANDUANG
tourists as they treat family, Bundo Kanduang maintain an indigenous style of arts management. In reality,
women who live in rumah gadang in rural areas such as South Solok are not concerned about the loss of
Minangkabau heritage because they currently work within its value system which implicitly empowers them.
I note that:
1. It is important that the young people who will continue the leadership understand our specificallyMinanagkabu ways of doing things.
2. The social relationships between Bundo Kanduang women in the rantau and those living in their
original villages must be nurtured, so that each does not act alone but maintain a reliable power base.
3. The matrilineal system is only taught through oral agreements in each nigari; there is no standard
reference book or law book.
4. The matrilineal system not only strengthens the role of women alone but protects the inheritance of
all Minangkabau people.
Endnotes
1 Interview
with Ibuk Sastrawati, of Muaro Labuah, Solok Selatan, 15 July 2016.
Current land use as such, as stated by H. Syukrial Syukur Datuk Majo Basa (South Solok district
representative council). Minangkabau customary law is regulated in Indonesian law through Law No. 22
1999 and West Sumatra Provincial Regulation No. 9 of 2000.
2
References
Manggis, R. (1971). Minangkabau: Sedjarah ringkas dan Adatnya. Padang, Indonesia: Sridhama.
Navis, A. A. (1984). Alam takambang jadi guru: Adat dan kebudayaan Minangkabau. Jakarta, Indonesia:
PT. Grafiti Press.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
SOJOURNS IN SCIENCE: PLURAL FRAMINGS OF MUSIC, DISASTER
AND COMMUNITY RESILIENCE IN MINANGKABAU
Megan Collins
GNS Science, New Zealand
Introduction
Along the western coast of Sumatra, Indonesia and into the volcanic Bukit Barisan ranges, there are shared
performance traditions, which both create and support local ontologies of an animate alam (ecology, nature)
where, for example, natural elements and musical instruments are sentient (Collins, 2003; Armida, 2005;
Suriandi et al., 2012; Kartomi, 2012; Kamal, 2015). These, in turn, underpin local framings for ecological
disasters. Within the interdisciplinary practices known collectively as Disaster Risk Reduction (DRR), the
hegemony of global science predominates (Mercer, 2012; Briggs, 2013 Collins, 2017). In this paper I discuss
ecological disasters and the performing arts in West Sumatra with a focus on local framings.1 In previous
work I have discussed the creative process used by rabab Pasisia Selatan players (Minangkabau fiddle from
Pesisir Selatan, the South Coast district) who disseminate disaster information in performance (Collin,
2017).2 Here, I focus on how local communities and leaders blend performed indigenous knowledge and
associated practices with global DRR.3
In Indonesia, as Shannon, Hope and McClosky note, plural understandings of disasters are
normalised, with scientific knowledge only one of a selection of knowledge systems that locals draw from
when framing ecology and consequently ecological disasters. Some local knowledge may be ‘opaque’ to
outsiders but it is the resulting behaviour that is important for DRR (2011). The complexities of Indonesia’s
diverse faith communities and multiple ethno-linguistic groupings, can prove challenging for what is known
in Indonesian disaster science as sosialisasi. That is, the communication and implementation of disaster
education and mitigation.4
In this paper, I examine performed local knowledge about a flash flood and the West Sumatran
knowledge system, adat nagari (custom of the Minangkabau village polity). I also look at how the animate
alam is maintained by rabab Pasisia performers through sentient instruments and healing practices. Local
DRR methods include using instruments as sonic warning systems and the mobilisation of prayer groups, as
civil defences volunteers and I will examine these. I will end with a discussion on Post-Disaster Needs
Assessments (PDNAs), the fiscal assessments through which local and international aid is distributed.
Disaster Performance—Puti Sari Makah
Along the coast a mythical woman called Puti Sari Makah is known for her powers to control storms and
water. She appears in the beloved classic sung narrative kaba “Sutan Pangaduan”. Half-sister of the titular
prince, she rescued his mother by flooding the coastal plains and releasing Puti Andam Dewi from her
untouched hilltop confinement. Her story is retold in sung narratives and theatre productions, on VCDs and
YouTube.5 Puti Sari Makah appeared in New Zealand in April 2017, when the performance group Sanggar
Seni Nan Gombang, from Painan, toured their randai theatre show6 as a social-cultural spin off from
StIRRRD, a DRR programme between Indonesia and New Zealand.
Their performance in New Zealand centred on victims of the 2011 South Coast floods, where a
young woman known to the performers lost her life, near Kambang. Choreographer Hj. Ellya Ridanti and
dramaturge Hosrizal Yaman set the story with Sari Puti Makah as the manipulator of the flood. In the randai,
Armida Alimar sang their contemporary kaba in Minangkabau, which was then acted by the eight
dancer/singer/actors. Ramsil Fahri accompanied them on rabab Pasisia. The use of the classic kaba
characters along with the inclusion of the recent flood keeps the knowledge of river and coastal inundation
along the exposed coastline alive in the local memory. The belief that certain people can control water lives
on. A tunganai is a fisherman who is sensitive to the conditions of the sea and with supernatural talent can
read signs from nature and protect colleagues from storms
Ontological Difference and Adat Nagari
Global science practitioners have long acknowledged the importance of local knowledge in their work
(Wisner, Gaillard & Kelman, 2012; Lambert, 2013; Syafwina, 2014). From my experience, disaster scientists
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AND COMMUNITY RESILIENCE IN MINANGKABAU
incorporate social-cultural knowledge into risk modelling but locally specific framings are often outside their
expertise. Local framings are important because, as leading climate change scientist communicator, George
Marshall (2014) explains in his book, Don’t Even Talk About It, scientists can talk data to people all they like
but if the information is not presented within local framings, the urgencies flounder. With Indonesian
decentralisation reforms, regional autonomy laws in 1999 and 2000, saw a ‘re-Minangization’ of governance
at village level in West Sumatra. The nagari (Minangkabau village polity) was reinstated as the smallest unit
of governance, ensuring that local knowledge systems are increasingly represented and mainstreamed (von
Benda-Beckman & von Benda-Beckman, 2013).7 This nagari-ization provides space for Minangkabau ways
of doing things and DRR is an arena where this is developing.
A courageous man in West Sumatra might be given a title on marriage of Sutan Gampo Alam (Prince
of the Earthquakes), which reflects the region’s high seismicity. Global science will explain earthquakes
through plate tectonics and floods through hydrology and geomorphology. In West Sumatra people
understand disasters this way too, but also through location-specific, Minangkabau knowledge (adaik, Ind.
adat), which blends devout Sunni Islam and matrilineal inheritance and matrilocal residency patterns (Hadler,
2008).8 For many people this blend also includes Sufi-oriented practices and vestiges of earlier blended
Hindu-Buddhist animate ecologies (Abdullah, 1970; Hadler, 2008; Kartomi, 2012). People code switch
different framings daily and act on associated knowledge.
Alam Takambang Jadi Guru—The Unfurling of Nature is our Teacher
For many people ecological disasters originate in a natural world that is looked to as a guide for living within
adat nagari. The following beloved pepatah-petitiah (aphorism) underpins Minangkabau ecological views,
alam takambang jadi guru (the unfurling growth of nature becomes our teacher) (Navis, 1984; Hakimy,
1994; Amir, 1997; Ilyas, 2014). Armida, who plays Puti Sari Makah explains,
In general Minang people always try to see nature as a teacher. This is because nature does not lie
to anyone. It is nan sabana—the truth. So look after nature and the balances within nature (personal
communication, Gisborne, April 4, 2017).
Amida refers here to adat nan sabana adat (the true custom) which is derived equally from the observable
forces in nature and Islam (Sanday, 2002). Incorporating the immutable adat nan sabana adat and three other
flexible categories (Amir, 1997) adat nagari is fundamentally oral, based on discussion and consensus
(musyawarah jo mufakat) affording the resulting decisions (kato sepakat), local resonance. However, many
proverbs have been written down which demonstrate governance ideals. For example, the deliberation
process should work towards consensus, ‘Like the roundness of water in a bamboo node, so the roundness
(inclusion) of consensus’ [Bulek aia dek pambuluah, bulek kato dek mufakat] (Ilyas, 2014, p. 18).
Maintaining an Animate Alam
As a performer of rabab Pasisia I came to understand how senior players help maintain the animate alam in
West Sumatra. Their instruments, which they use to accompany disaster narratives, for example, are
considered sentient.9 Imbued with isi (a supernatural presence) they protect the player and audiences from
malevolent observers (see Collins, 2003). A jimat (M. small protective package, for example of a sanctified
object, wrapped in tin and red cloth) is sometimes placed inside the body of the instrument. The jimat also
absorbs negative energy as my late rabab Pasisa teacher, Anis explained, “If a person shouts out, “Hey this
tukang rabab is bad I say to myself let it pass, never mind because that goes into the jimat” (Anis, personal
communication, June 16, 2000). The fourth string is always left loose and never tuned, so the tukang rabab
will be alarmed if he hears it sound. “If it is tightened in a performance people will not allow you to play. It
is dangerous. It can call people out from their houses by itself.”
Senior performers within the rabab Pasisia scene are also often healers (dukun). This medical role,
which is reasonably public, intersects with more discrete, women-centred healing rituals, for example the
anak balam alternative medicine ritual. Three women, the anak limau (children of the lime) are entranced by
a dukun known as the Bundo Kanduang of the ceremony10 and call on orang halus (supernatural beings) and
animals to heal patients (Armida, 2005; Kamal, 2015). Randi Suriandi et al. (2012) note that humans cannot
live without helping one another in a crisis and that ‘the other’ includes the supernatural. Popular rabab
Pasisia player, Siril Asmara, has released a VCD of a staged anak balam with dance movements modified
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MEGAN COLLINS
from the ritual and profane pantun lyrics.11 Interactions with an animate alam, such as the concept of isi and
anak balam medicine, demonstrate West Sumatran ontological diversity through which risk is assessed in
daily life and may affect how people react during disasters.
Local Civil Defence
Having considered the animate alam, I turn now to examine how space is made for ontological diversity
within adat nagari governance when used in local civil defence practices. Leaders with DRR responsibilities
often wear two hats, one for their role within national processes and one within the indigenous adat nagari
system. Civil defence leaders, Red Cross co-ordinators and civic leaders are often also penghulu (kinship
leaders). Experienced orators through adat nagari, they move between the two governance systems, while
working on DRR projects.
On the active volcano Gunung Marapi (Fire Mountain) in Agam district, civil defence groups
(Kelompok Siaga Bencana, KSB) use local instruments as sonic emergency-warning systems and are
mobilised through pre-existing prayer societies. In Lassi nagari, the sarunai tanduak, which is made from a
buffalo horn, is typically sounded for any type of emergency, from a lost child to a lahar flow.12 The local
civil defence group Marapi Alert, has incorporated the sarunai tanduak into their civil defence, along with
1-metre tall katengtong bamboo rattles. Up to ten rattles are sounded in an emergency. Although also
equipped with cell-phones, the team prefers to use both indigenous and global messaging systems, as cellphone reception often fails during a seismic event (E. Murhadi, personal communication, February 9, 2017).
Marapi Alert is assembled from a Sufi-oriented tarekat (Arb. brotherhood association) who practise dikia
rabano (Arb. zikir, M. devotional vocal and frame-drum ensemble). The lyrics they sing, tell the life-story
of Mohammad. Their leader Edi Murhardi suggested that the devotional sessions not only keep everyone
interested in DRR, (which he acknowledged can be dull), but the social cohesion of the tarekat keeps the
team together, so that new DRR information and drills can be learnt (E. Murhadi, personal communication,
February 9, 2017).
Further around the mountain the local Red Cross branch in Sungai Puar use adat nagari leadership
in their community hazard plan, as well as that of the district council, where Bundo Kanduang and their titled
brothers the penghulu men, appear as such on emergency lists. Local coffee shops (lapau) where men gather
before and after work are used to socialise DRR training (A. Jais, personal communication, February, 2017).
Rumah gadang are also suitable places for sosialisasi meetings, about which Armida noted:
If we are talking about disasters it is best to talk about that in the rumah gadang. The carvings around
us as we sit represent nature-human relationships, what we wear; it all references our Minangness
(Armida, personal communication, April 2, 2017).
Concluding Remarks
Ontological difference is not generally represented in international humanitarian models, for example PostDisaster Needs Assessments. Culturally nuanced assessments are developing (Wilson & Ballard, 2017) but
mainly focus on the built environment, for example museums and archives. Performer-centred
questionnaires, along with those about the economy, health and infrastructure may help. By making visible
local performers and the ontological differences within which they work, timely assistance could support this
diversity.
Endnotes
1 West
Sumatra sits on the boundary of the Sunda plate, under which the Indo/Australia plate subducts. The
coastline is vulnerable to coastal abrasion, and river flooding is common.
2 This is done with the transferable poetic cell, the Sumatran-Malay sung pantun and unrhymed kaba ‘lyrical
prose’.
3 My paper draws on 20 years of engagement with rabab Pasisia performers, and also as a cultural consultant
with New Zealand’s GNS Science in Wellington, working on projects associated with a collaborative
programme between New Zealand and Indonesian scientists, Strengthening Indonesian Resilience: Reducing
Risk from Disaster or StIRRRD.
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SOJOURNS IN SCIENCE: PLURAL FRAMINGS OF MUSIC, DISASTER
AND COMMUNITY RESILIENCE IN MINANGKABAU
4
Sosialisasi emerged as an important concern at a March 2017 seminar in Wellington run by StIRRRD and
attended by Dwikorita Karnawati, head of Indonesia’s Agency for Meteorology, Climatology and
Geophysics (BMKG).
5
See, rabab Pariaman singer/players Amir Hosen and Monen’s14 cassettes/ CDs, on YouTube at rabab
sutan pangaduan.
6 Circular randai combines silek martial arts, stylized acting and dendang songs (see Pauka, 1998).
7 The use of the Javanese desa was rescinded in 1999 with Law no. 22/1999 Regional Autonomy. West
Sumatra Provincial Government Regulation No 9/2000 then strengthened nagari governance.
8
Expressed by “Adat basandi syara, syara basandi kittabullah” [Custom is based on sharia and sharia is
based on the holy books].
9
Siril Asmara’s disaster-themed VCD, “Kejadian Banjir Bandang Pasisia Selatan” (The Flash Flood on the
South Coast) details the 2011 floods.
10
Birth mother, senior owners of the rumah gadang.
11 YouTube, Rabab Pesisir Selatan, CHILD BALAM—Siril Asmara & Erni Kampai.
12 The buffalo horn roof design of Minangkabau rumah gadang is an architectural marker of Minangkabau
territory.
References
Abdullah T. (1970). Some notes on the Kaba Tjindua Mato: An example of Minangkabau traditional
literature. Indonesia, 9, 1-22.
Amir M. S. (1997). Adat Minangkabau: Pola dan tujuan hidup rrang Minang. Jakarta, Indonesia: Mutiara.
Armida Alimar. (2005). Tradisi nyanyian anak balam dalam pendukunan dan pertunjukan rabab Pasisia di
nagari Kambang Pesisir Selatan. Sarjana S1 Institute Seni Indonesia, Padangpanjang.
Collins, M. (2003). The Minangkabau rabab Pasisia: Music performance and practice in West Sumatra,
Indonesia (Unpublished doctoral dissertation).Victoria University of Wellington, Wellington, New
Zealand.
Collins, M. (2017). Remembering Krakatau: Indigenous knowledge and disasters in Indonesia. In P. Matusky
& W. Quintero (Eds.), Performing arts and the religious impulse in Southeast Asian, endangered
performing arts – Maintenance and sustainability efforts, new research. Proceedings of the 4th
Symposium of the ICTM Study Group on the Performing Arts of Southeast Asia (pp. 61-65). Penang,
Malaysia: Universiti Sains Malaysia.
H. Idrus Hakimy Dt. Rajo Penghulu. (1994). Pokok-pokok pengetahuan adat alam Minangkabau. Bandung,
Indonesia: Remaja Rosdakarya.
Hadler, J. (2008). Muslims and matriarchs: Cultural resilience through Jihad and Colonialism. Ithaca, NY:
Cornell University Press.
Ilyas, A. (2014). Minangkabau worldview: Knowing of the four, understanding of the two, belief in the
oneness God. Palembang, Indonesia: Lembaga Kekerabatan Datuk Soda.
Kamal, Z. (2015). Nyanyian anak balam: Terapi mistik perdukunan ke seni pertunjukan rabab pasisie di
Pesisir Selatan Sumatera Barat. Humanus, 14(2), 165-173.
Kartomi, M. (2012). Musical journeys in Sumatra. Champaign, IL: University of Illinois Press.
Marshall, G. (2014). Don’t even think about it: Why our brains are wired to ignore climate change. New
York, NY: Bloomsbury.
Navis, A. A. (1984). Alam terkembang jadi guru: Adat dan kebudayaan Minangkabau. Jakarta, Indonesia:
Grafiti Press.
Pauka, K. (1998). Theatre and martial arts in West Sumatra: Randai and Silek of the Minangkabau. Southeast
Asia Series No.103. Athens, OH: Ohio University.
Sanday, P. R. (2002). Women at the center: Life in a modern matriarchy. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University
Press.
Shannon, R., Hope, M., & McCloskey, J. (2011). The Bengkulu premonition: Cultural pluralism and
hybridity in disaster risk reduction. Area, 43(4), 449-455. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/
stable/41406028
Suriandi, T. H. K. & Syeilendra. (2012). Nilia-nilai pendidikan lagu anak balam pada pertunjukan rabab
Pasisie dalam pesta perkawinan nagari kambang, Kabupaten Pesisier Selatan. Padang, Indonesia:
Universitas Negri Padang.
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Syafwina. (2014). Recognizing indigenous knowledge for disaster management: Smong, early warning
system from Simeulue Island, Aceh. Procedia Environmental Sciences, 20, 573 - 582. Retrieved
from https://doi: 10.1016/j.proenv.2014.03.070
Siril (Cyril), A. (2011). Rabab Pesisir Selatan, banjir bandang pasisiah Padang [Video file of VCD].
Padang, Indonesia: Sinar Padang. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wCgVW_
4hh5w
Von Benda-Beckmann, F. & von Benda-Beckmann, K. (2013). Political and legal transformations of an
Indonesian polity: The Nagari from Colonisation to decentralisation. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge
University Press.
Wilson, M. & Ballard, C. (2017). Safeguarding and mobilising intangible cultural heritage in the context of
natural and human-induced hazards. Intangible Cultural Heritage Section: UNESCO.
Retrieved from ich.unesco.org/doc/src/38266-EN.pdf
Wisner, B., Gaillard, J. C., & Kelman, I. (2012). Framing disaster; Theories and stories seeking to understand
hazards, vulnerability and risk. In B. Wisner, J. C. Gaillard, & I. Kelman (Eds.), The Routledge
handbook of hazards and disaster risk reduction (pp. 18-33). New York. NY: Routledge.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
BELIAN DADO’ (KENYAH DANCE-SONGS) ACROSS BOUNDARIES OF LANGUAGE
AND ETHNICITY IN MUSIC EDUCATION
Chong Pek Lin
Independent Scholar, Malaysia
Introduction
The Kenyah are a minority indigenous group of Malaysia who dwell on the upper reaches of four of Borneo’s
major rivers: the Baram and Balui in Sarawak, and the Mahakam and Kayan in Kalimantan. Music plays an
integral part of their life, with musicking activities centred at the communal veranda of the longhouse. While
their instrumental music and dance are well-known cultural attractions, their rich choral singing repertoire is
seldom heard outside their remote villages.
This paper deals with one category of Kenyah songs, the belian dado’, sung while performing a linedance where participants move counter-clockwise in single file along the veranda. Evolving over the last
seventy years in remote villages, they now face extinction due to rural-urban migration and displacement of
populations with the construction of hydroelectric dams. I have been documenting these songs since 1995,
conducting fieldwork in seven locations in the Baram (Long Moh, Long San, Long Selatong, Long Mekaba,
Long Tungan Long Semiyang and Long Lama) and three in the Balui (Uma Sambop, Uma Badang and Uma
Baka’).
Although Malaysia subscribes to the philosophy of multiculturalism, there is little published material
available on folk music. Music education approaches such as those of Kodály and Orff are strongly
encouraged, but there is a shortage of songs, especially those in non-diatonic scales to effectively implement
these methods. The songs taught in many schools are mainly diatonic, monotonously similar in form and
seldom reflect the musical traditions of the diverse ethnic groups in the country.
This paper examines whether these songs can be brought across the boundaries of ethnicity and
language to meet the acute shortage of folksongs in Malaysian formal and non-formal education.
Musical Characteristics of Belian Dado’
Belian dado’ are regular metrically, often 4/4, with some flexibility in the beat, unlike older categories of
Kenyah songs which display free rhythm. They consist of a fixed number of phrases of irregular length and
have a strophic structure. Melodies built on the anhemitonic pentatonic scale predominate (75%), but there
are also others in major, hemitonic pentatonic and other scales.
Multipart choral singing is a common feature, observed in at least 44% of the songs. A unique
characteristic is that the accompanying voice or kerahang (chorus) is melodic, generally following the
contour of the melody at intervals of thirds, fourths, fifths and sixths. This contrasts with older repertoire
where the chorus is sung on a monotone on the tonal centre. In most of the multipart songs transcribed, the
descant or alto itself constitutes a distinct and attractive melody. This characteristic makes the songs
especially suitable as teaching materials, as the subsidiary voice is easily taught and remembered by rote.
From Longhouse to Classroom
From 2004 to 2006 (as part of the project From Upriver Longhouses to the Modern Classroom) and from
2007 to 2009 (as part of the ISME -Gibson project) these songs were introduced to teacher-trainees in Institute
of Teacher Education (ITE) Batu Lintang, Sarawak, schoolteachers and students through dissemination
workshops and subsequently taught to primary schoolchildren in actual school contexts from 2011–2012.
Data in the form of personal experience, direct observation, oral feedback, and written responses to
questionnaires confirmed that selected examples from the various categories of songs mentioned were viable
materials for the music classroom. The hypothesis that the songs would be appealing to children as well as
adults was borne out by the enthusiastic participation of young schoolchildren as well as of adults.
Investigating the Responses of Schoolchildren to Kenyah Songs
A study on the teaching and learning process of the songs in regular music classes in the schools was
conducted between 2011 and 2012 (Chong, 2014, pp. 240-267). For a period of 8 weeks, selected classes of
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elementary school pupils were taught (along with other songs) several Kenyah songs applying the Kodály
approach of movable-do. The teachers were free to choose any songs from the books supplied (Chong, 2006;
Chong & Lajinga, 2011). Activities included singing, dance-movements associated with the songs, playing
the tunes on the recorder and free dramatization. Written feedback was obtained through two questionnaires.
The reactions of the schoolchildren to the songs were gauged both quantitatively through responses to several
statements using a five-point Likert scale, and qualitatively based on their answers to several open-ended
questions. Feedback from the teachers was collected during post-lesson discussions and through a separate
questionnaire for teachers.
The sample population consisted of children aged between 8-11 years from 6 Chinese-medium
schools and 5 Malay-medium schools in Sarawak, taught by 12 teacher trainees from ITE Batu Lintang during
practicum and 4 trained music specialist teachers. I personally taught one Year 5 class from a Malay-medium
school, SK Ong Tiang Swee. Except for SK Chung Hua Stapok (68% Chinese), over 90% of the children in
the Chinese medium schools were of Chinese descent. In the Malay medium schools, Iban children
constituted 97% in two schools, Bidayuh 88% in another school, Malay/Melanau 77 % in the third, while SK
Ong Tiang Swee had a balanced ethnic mixture of Malay/Melanau, Iban, Bidayuh and Chinese.
Crossing Boundaries of Ethnicity: Initial Reactions
When I met with the teacher-trainees for a mid-term review, one disturbing fact emerged. Over 90% of the
pupils had never heard of the Kenyah and were unable to name the different indigenous groups of Sarawak,
except for the Iban. The trainees reported that they introduced the Kenyah community to their pupils by
showing pictures and video-clips. When relating the children’s reactions to the first Kenyah song each of
them taught, a spectrum of responses emerged, with some showing interest, while others were disinclined to
struggle with unfamiliar lyrics. Subsequently, several trainees borrowed sape and jatung utang and to the
delight of their students utilised them in class while teaching the songs. By the end of the eight weeks, it was
clear that most of the children had become fond of the songs, as shown in the discussion below.
The following anecdote from my teaching stint at SK Ong Tiang Swee serves to illustrate the impact
of teaching of songs with local cultural context (Chong, 2014, pp. 243-247).
I showed the class video-clips of Kenyah song and dance and taught them to play some tunes on
sape and jatung utang. They were fascinated, eager to learn the songs and to sing them in the original
language. One favourite song was Ilun Kuai (Orphaned Argus pheasant). The lyrics, featuring mystical
orphaned kuai, and the sad, gentle tune, seemed to strike a chord with the children. I brought a long feather
spectacularly covered with ‘eye-spots’ and an Iban hat decorated with Argus feathers. Among the questions
were: “Is the feather real?”, “Is it plastic?”, “Is the bird extinct?”, “What does it taste like?” “How does it
clear the dancing ground? (The second verse, ‘kuai mekat’, refers to the male pheasant scraping the ground
in preparation for a mating dance). The children learnt to sing the song, first in unison and later in harmony—
this was manageable as only the last short phrase was in two parts. Playing the melody with the descant on
the recorder helped them to distinguish between the two parts. The lyrics to three of the verses are given
below (Chong & Lajinga, 2011).
Ilun Kuai
Kuai maping
Mudung suling apau payan
Ilun kuai
Translation
Pheasant fanning
From the everlasting mountains and plateaus
Orphaned pheasant.
Kuai mekat
Lide silat sang usan
Ilun kuai
Pheasant scratching
The decaying leaves of the fan-palm
Orphaned pheasant.
Kuai meku
Nalan bio ne te tengang
Ilun kuai
Hoarse-voiced pheasant
Caught in a big trap
Orphaned pheasant.
Later, in groups of seven, they practiced two verses each and presented the song with dramatization (using
supplied props) and recorder accompaniment. The children enjoyed the exercise immensely while cultivating
an appreciation of both Kenyah culture and an awareness of endangered fauna.
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BELIAN DADO’ (KENYAH DANCE-SONGS) ACROSS BOUNDARIES OF LANGUAGE
AND ETHNICITY IN MUSIC EDUCATION
Responses to the Written Questionnaire (Chong, 2014, pp. 252-260)
The questionnaire consisted of two sections. Section A contained 6 statements to which the students were
asked to rate their responses using a Likert scale. Section B consisted of 5 open-ended questions. For the
purposes of this paper, only responses to the first 3 questions in Section B are discussed.
1. Do you feel that Kenyah songs are suitable for teaching in class/or for performance at school events?
Compare them with the composed songs in the existing Kurikulum Bersepadu Sekolah Rendah
(KBSR) /Integrated Primary School Curriculum and pre-school books.
2. Choose two songs that you particularly like and explain why you like them.
3. What is your opinion on Kenyah traditional multipart singing?
The written responses from all eleven schools indicated clearly that the songs had made an impact on the
children.
Question 1 evoked responses from such as:
(i)
(ii)
(iii)
(iv)
(v)
Songs are special compared to others; Something new/Something different
Through songs we can learn a different language/We can learn Kenyah language
Yes, the songs are peaceful/Yes, more soothing to the spirit than other KBSR songs
Very special and we can learn about another culture. More interesting than Chinese songs
Rich with culture
Responses to Question 2
Although a person’s ‘favourite song’ may arguably vary from day to day, this question was designed to elicit
from the respondents the characteristics of songs which rendered them attractive. The overall analysis served
to indicate which types of songs and which specific characteristics appealed to most of the respondents. The
sincerity of their responses could be judged from the adjectives that they used, such as “attractive” or “pretty”
tunes, “hao ting” (Chinese, literally ‘pleasing to hear’) “enjoyable”, “soothing” and “peaceful”. Based on
research involving children aged 6-9 years, Nieminen et al. (2011, p. 1143) found that the adjective
‘beautiful’ is used often in judging music and propose that the concept of beauty in music seems to emerge
around the age of 6 years in association with the formation of culture-specific knowledge of tonality.
Responses to Question 2 were analysed by coding into various categories as shown in Figure 1:
Figure 1. Responses to Question 2 (Chong (2014, pp. 258-259)
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CHONG PEK LIN
The most frequent reason (84 responses) given for liking a song is “attractive melody”, followed by (44) that
the songs were “enjoyable”. A considerable number thought the songs were easy to sing/remember (23) and
that the songs were calming and peaceful (20). The majority voted for the light-hearted, shorter songs taught
at most of the schools, such as Sai Ulai. The slower, sentimental songs such as Kun Nelane (see Figure 2)
were only taught at 4 schools. Despite being fond of these songs themselves, the other trainees were hesitant
to teach them, perceiving them as being too challenging for their young charges. Significantly, for the latter
4 schools, the most popular songs were these sentimental belian dado’.
From my experience in SK Ong Tiang Swee, and my observations at three other schools, the children
not only learned the melodies and memorized the lyrics; they sang these nostalgic songs with nuance and
sensitivity. I was especially impressed with the rendition of Kun Nelane at SK Chung Hua Stapok, as this
slow, melancholic song consists of long phrases that I did not envision young children would appreciate or
strive to memorize in an unfamiliar language. The teacher-trainee concerned related that they had initially
struggled to pronounce the lyrics, but persevered because they were “so interested in the song” after he had
sung it to them.
Figure 2. Kun Nelane (Chong, 2006)
Responses to Question 3
The responses of SK Ong Tiang Swee to Question 3 surprised me. I had expected most to answer that it was
difficult, as I had found it a struggle teaching Ateklan in two parts to them. Instead, the majority replied that
learning to sing in harmony was easy. Perhaps this was because most could sing Ilun Kuai (where only the
last phrase was in harmony), or that many were choir-members, who, with more training, succeeded in
mastering Ateklan. The most insightful answers came from 7 children, who opined that singing in parts may
be challenging but achievable: “Yes, with training or effort /Difficult at first but easy after practising/Easy if
we are interested.”
At workshops with schoolchildren from 2006-2009, teams of student demonstrators have
successfully taught songs such as Lane Tuyang in two-part harmony within 20 minutes. The presence of
multiple demonstrators is a good simulation of the longhouse setting, where one picks up part-singing
naturally when surrounded by others singing in harmony. Trainees also succeeded in teaching two-part songs
through pair-teaching, a productive strategy encouraged during practicum.
In approaches such as those of Kodály and Orff, homophonic harmony is placed late in the sequence
of teaching of musical concepts. Both music educators recommend that children first be exposed to simple
harmonies such as ostinatos and round-songs. Homophonic and chordal harmony are only taught later.
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BELIAN DADO’ (KENYAH DANCE-SONGS) ACROSS BOUNDARIES OF LANGUAGE
AND ETHNICITY IN MUSIC EDUCATION
Perhaps it is time to consider the merits of using songs from multipart traditions such as the Kenyah where
harmony is picked up naturally as an oral-aural tradition.
Crossing Boundaries of Language
As the Kenyah language is unfamiliar to most Malaysians, would this present a major obstacle to the learning
of the songs? From what I have observed during dissemination efforts, Kenyah lyrics were mastered easily,
as, like Malay it is an Austronesian language, and phonetically bears many similarities to the latter.
During public choir performances, Kenyah lyrics were retained wherever possible. In less formal
settings, we arranged for a verbal introduction to the songs, and translations were given in the program notes.
In 2007 we incorporated Kenyah songs into a musical drama “Dayang Petri and the Magic Rice” singing
alternately in Malay and Kenyah. We also successfully surmounted the language barrier in a 2017 production
featuring a cast of trainee teachers enacting a mini-opera featuring seven belian dado’ Love triangle in Ulu
Baram using only Kenyah lyrics.
Some trainees were initially sceptical about teaching the songs in school during practicum. Although
they were confident that the melodies would be well-received, they were doubtful if their pupils could cope
with lyrics in an unfamiliar language. However, many of these trainees later reported that their pupils enjoyed
the novelty of singing in another language and quickly learnt the lyrics.
Instrumental Accompaniment
Traditionally, belian dado’ is performed a capella, accompanied only by rhythmic stamping on the wooden
longhouse floor. However, this is not practical in an urban setting. As part of the ISME-Gibson project,
Kenyah instruments such as sape, jatung utang and lutong were purchased for ITE Batu Lintang. The trainees
learned to play the instruments for public performances and made good use of their skills in the classroom.
Although using sape and jatung utang would lend a traditional atmosphere to the performance, they were not
practical for a series of songs in different keys. Jatung utang can only play in one fixed key while a sape
would need to be retuned (impossible to execute in the middle of a performance). In recent performances,
we have struck a balance by using a combination of traditional and contemporary instruments. The Kenyah
themselves have begun to add keys to the jatung utang and frets to the sape in order to play diatonic songs.
Implications for the Culture-Bearers
Kenyah students we met during our workshops were gratified as before this they may have been aware of the
songs but were unable to sing them on their own. A Kenyah teacher-trainee at ITE Batu Lintang related that
only when she learnt to sing belian dado’ with the institute’s choir, did she begin to value the intricacy of the
melodies and harmonies. Kenyah informants, on viewing video-clips of performances were pleasantly
surprised that their repertoire could be presented in this way and that people of other ethnicities would be
interested in their songs.
In January 2008, as part of the ISME-Gibson project, I led a team of ITE Batu Lintang students to
Uma Sambop and Uma Badang for a dual mission: to observe Kenyah music directly in the longhouse context
as well as to introduce the songs with a Kodály approach in the schools. We surprised our hosts at both
villages by performing belian dado’. This was received with both enthusiasm and amusement. At the schools,
we conducted workshops with some apprehension as we were teaching Kenyah songs to 65 Kenyah and
Kayan children but were soon put at ease by their warm response.
Theresa Ubong Nawan and Juliana Usun Kallang, grand-daughters of Temenggong Oyong Lawai
Jau (the late paramount chief of the Kenyah) who attended a presentation and workshop on Kenyah songs at
ITE Batu Lintang in 2012, were immensely moved when the students performed the songs of their childhood
and thanked us for our efforts.
Nonetheless, Kenyah informants have also critiqued our pronunciation and singing style and this has
helped improve later presentations.
Conclusion
Belian dado’ with their elements of varied tonality, melodic appeal and culturally meaningful texts, are
readily amenable, with minor adaptations, to stage performance and inclusion into music education programs.
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CHONG PEK LIN
The predominantly anhemitonic tonality makes them ideal for the earlier stages in the Kodály sequence of
teaching melodic concepts while the traditional harmonies are useful for teaching of harmonic concepts.
Responses from participants indicate a widespread recognition of the aesthetic appeal of the
melodies and harmonies, as well as the cultural worth of the lyrics. The responses from schoolchildren were
insightful, showing a real appreciation of the characteristics of Kenyah melodies. The reactions of the culturebearers towards recontextualization has been warm and positive, though there have been some noteworthy
criticisms to bear in mind for future dissemination strategies.
References
Chong, P. L. (2006). Songs from the Baram: Kenyah songs from upriver longhouses. Kuching: Sarawak
Development Institute.
Chong P. L. (2014). Kenyah recreational songs and their significance to music education (Unpublished
doctoral dissertation). University of Pretoria, South Africa.
Chong, P. L. & Lajinga, A. A. (2011). Introduction to selected instrumental ensembles and folk songs of East
Malaysia. Kuching: Institute of Teacher Education, Batu Lintang Campus.
Nieminen, S., Istok, E., Brattico, E., Tervaniemi, M. & Huotilainen, M. (2011). The development of aesthetic
responses to music and their underlying neural and psychological mechanisms. Cortex, 47, 11381146. Retrieved from http://www.elsevier.com/locate/cortex. (doi:10.1016/j.cortex.2011.05.008)
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
CROSSING BORDERS FROM VILLAGE TO RECORDING STUDIO—CONTINUITY
AND CHANGE IN SINDING SECULAR SINGING AMONG THE KADAZAN DUSUN
OF SABAH, MALAYSIA
(Lightning Paper)
Jacqueline Pugh-Kitingan
Universiti Malaysia Sabah, Malaysia
Introduction
“Crossing Borders,” one of the themes for this Symposium, encompasses not only traversing boundaries of
location and ethnicity, but transecting performative frontiers within cultures into new contexts and eras
through change. Hence, this short paper traces the development of Kadazan Dusun popular music from
traditional secular singing to the establishment of Sabah’s music industry, and briefly discusses the impact
of this on other contexts and cultures.
The Kadazan Dusun are the largest indigenous and largest overall ethnic group in Sabah, Malaysia’s
northernmost state on Borneo Island. They have many genres of traditional music. Vocal music includes long
poetic ritual chanting, non-ritual verse debates, storytelling, classical poetic types and sinding or songs.
In tracing the development of Kadazan Dusun pop songs from traditional sinding, several questions
emerge. What are the characteristics of traditional and contemporary sinding? What developments have
enabled traditional sinding to form the basis of the Kadazan Dusun popular music industry? Who are some
of the leading Kadazan Dusun singers? And, what impact has popular sinding had on music in other contexts
and cultures?
Traditional and Contemporary Sinding
Sinding simply means “singing” or “song” (modsinding = to sing). This is also known as lonsoi in one village
in the northern part of Tambunan District, and humozou or lumozou and hius among the coastal Kadazan of
Penampang. Sinding includes love songs, drinking songs, morning wake-up songs, and others. The term is
never applied to the traditional ritual chanting of sacred poetry (rinait) by priestesses. Classical genres of old
sung secular poetic forms and call-and-response genres are also not regarded as sinding, although some
people describe the vocal style of those genres as such (Pugh-Kitingan, 2004, pp. 45-66).
Traditional sinding consist of poetic stanzas of two or four lines with melodies based on ahemitonic
pentatonic tonal material sung in a rich full-throated vocal timbre. Sinding melodies are as important as their
lyrics. Songs can be handed down over generations or created by individual singers.
Contemporary sinding can also be traditional songs, or new compositions. They normally have
traditional anhemitonic pentatonic melodies, but are accompanied by diatonically-tuned electric band
instruments. The band beat and rhythms resemble gong beating or tinindot for dancing, whether the
magarang from Tambunan or its slower Penampang sumazau version.
Contributing Historical Developments
Various factors influenced the development of contemporary sinding. These included the advent of the guitar
in interior villages, the development of Radio Sabah and RTM Sabah and emergence of recording studios.
After World War II, North Borneo first became a British Crown Colony in 1946. Infrastructure was
gradually restored and interior areas received outside goods including the guitar. This became popular for
entertainment. It was played at social gatherings and sometimes accompanied traditional sinding (PughKitingan, 2014, p. 95).
Although wireless radio was present in North Borneo from 1921, Radio Sabah developed from 1952
during the colonial era as part of the Information Office (Wong, 2015, p. 170; Jamal, 2015, p. 103). Radio
provided outside news and brought new musical sounds into remote interior villages. Radio Sabah recorded
and used local music in their broadcasts. Some musicians’ music was reproduced on vinyl discs in Singapore
and Kuala Lumpur. These were kept in the Radio Sabah archives and played over the radio. The late Datuk
Peter Pracas from Kuala Lumpur was Radio Sabah’s first Music Director. He settled and married in Sabah,
and developed the first radio band Sabah Serenaders (later RTM Combo). His compositions included fusion
of traditional western music (Funk, 2013, pp. 11-13).
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JACQUELINE PUGH-KITINGAN
With Malaysia’s formation in 1963, Radio Sabah became Radio Malaysia Sabah. During the 1970s,
Sabah had its own television station featuring local artists accompanied by the orchestra or combo band. By
1980, Radio Television Malaysia or RTM subsumed local radio and television as RTM Sabah under the
Department of Information. The band became Combo RTM. RTM Sabah had proper recording studios for
its music productions.
From around 1968, the private recording studio, Syarikat Seh Huat Recordings Sdn. Bhd., operated
in Kampung Air, Kota Kinabalu. They produced thousands of cheap cassette recordings of many Kadazan
Dusun singers under their Kinabalu Records label. Several singers, however, alleged the studio did not pay
promised royalties. Thus, by the 1990s, Kadazan Dusun singers began to establish their own studios in
Tambunan and Penampang. With digital technology developments, many artists now produce their own
recordings. This has encouraged the burgeoning Kadazan Dusun music industry, largely based on popular
sinding.
Some Key Singers and Musicians
Latifah Gindug from Ranau is a popular singer from the 1960s. Although her lyrics were usually in Kadazan
Dusun, her music was accompanied by strings in kroncong style.
Datuk Justin Stimol from Penampang, another renowned singer from the 1960s, recorded with both
RTM Sabah and Seh Huat Recordings. Now in his late seventies, he continues to produce songs. His musical
style shows some influences from both folk and American country music, in addition to Kadazan Dusun
songs.
The popular sinding style of today became fully developed in the music of the late Datuk John Gaisah
from Tambunan. He performed during the late 1970s until his tragic death by car accident in 1981 at age 26.
His copious output recorded on the Kinabalu Records label includes landmark songs such as Miniagal Oh
Sinsing and Oi Gidi. His style continues to influence popular sinding.
Many other singers have come from Tambunan, including Justin Lusah, the late Ambrose Mudi,
David Yuntala, Lorena Ingging, Mary Intiang, Evaristus Gungkit, and Jimmy Palikat. All have performed in
the distinctive sinding style in Kadazan Dusun language, although some more recent songs include Sabah
Malay dialect lyrics.
Younger 21st century performers from Tambunan, such as Candy Clement and Nera (Queenera
Francis Kitingan) have achieved national acclaim through the Malaysian televised series Akademi Fantasia.
They have branched out into other styles of popular music.
Impacts of Kadazan Dusun Pop Sinding
Contemporary sinding features prominently in events of the annual state-level Pesta Kaamantan (Harvest
Festival), such as the Bintang Kaamatan dan Kugiran (“Kaamatan Stars and Bands”) competition and later
in the Bintang Kaamatan. Today, this event is now the Sugandoi competition where singers must perform
both a sinding and a Malay pop song, accompanied by live band (Pugh-Kitingan, 2014, p. 96). This
contemporary sinding is regarded as an expression of the Kadazan Dusun cultural identity.
This style of Kadazan Dusun pop music has also impacted indigenous church music. Christian
sinding, such as the widely popular Mamarayou Oku Kinorohingan (“I Praise You, God Most High”), are
important in indigenous church worship.
The development of the Kadazan Dusun pop music industry through recording contemporary sinding
has influenced the emergence of pop music in other communities. The Rungus, Timugon Murut, west coast
Bajau and others now create their own pop music. As among the Kadazan Dusun, these are produced and
sold on CDs and in karaoke versions.
Conclusions
Both traditional sinding and contemporary Kadazan Dusun pop songs are sung in a rich full-throated vocal
timbre. They are based on poetic stanzas with anhemitonic pentatonic melodies. Contemporary songs,
however, are accompanied by electric band instruments that play the basic dance rhythms of traditional gong
ensemble music for dancing.
This emergence of this contemporary genre began with the entrance of the guitar into remote villages
after World War II that initiated a trend of accompanying traditional songs with the instrument. Meanwhile,
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CROSSING BORDERS FROM VILLAGE TO RECORDING STUDIO—CONTINUITY AND CHANGE
IN SINDING SECULAR SINGING AMONG THE KADAZAN DUSUN OF SABAH, MALAYSIA
the development of radio and television through Radio Sabah and RTM Sabah saw the recording and
broadcasting of both traditional music and new Kadazan Dusun songs. This, together with the mass
production and distribution of cassettes by renowned Kadazan Dusun singers such as Justin Stimol and John
Gaisah by Syarikat Seh Huat Sdn. Bhd. and later other locally-owned studios, led to the burgeoning of the
Kadazan Dusun pop music industry.
Although he died at a young age, the prodigious output of songs by the late Datuk John Gaisah
established the characteristic style of popular sinding, especially among subsequent singers from Tambunan.
The development of the recording industry and spread of songs through new media, has led to the emergence
of staged singing competitions including sinding as representative of Kadazan Dusun vocal music at the statelevel Kaamatan. It has also encouraged the composition of new indigenous Christian worship songs in the
sinding style, and has inspired the development of popular songs among other communities in Sabah.
Postscript
Sadly, with the move of RTM Sabah from Wisma Radio and Wisma RTM in Tuaran Road to the new large
premises of the Department of Broadcasting Malaysia Sabah in Lintas Kepayan several years ago, the huge
archives of vinyl records and taped recordings was destroyed. Instead of donating these to the Sabah State
Archives, the Department of Sabah Museum, or the local branch of the National Archives in Kota Kinabalu,
part of this priceless musical collection was allegedly thrown in garbage dumpsters while the rest was
allegedly buried. The old historic premises and its furniture had been used by the Cobbold Commission in
1962 which led to the formation of Malaysia in 1963. Although these were protected under state heritage
enactments, one of these buildings has been demolished and the other lies in ruins. It is not known of what
became of the historical furniture and studio recording equipment that should have been but were not donated
to the Department of Sabah Museum.
References
Funk, J. (2013). Sabah songs: Contemporary music in Sabah. Kota Kinabalu, Sabah: Opus Publications.
Jamal, M. (2015). Radio Malaysia Sabah dan Radio Brunei Darussalam: Satu tinjauan format penerbitan
dan siaran. Jurnal Komunikasi Borneo, Edisi Khas (Konvokesyen ke-17 UMS), 101-115.
Pugh-Kitingan, J. (2004). Selected papers on music in Sabah. Kota Kinabalu, Sabah: Kadazandusun Chair,
Universiti Malaysia Sabah.
Pugh-Kitingan, J. (2014). Sustaining musical heritage and adapting to change among the Kadazan Dusun of
Tambunan, Sabah, Malaysia. In C. S. C. Chan & J. Penny (Eds.), Sustainability in music and the
performing arts: Heritage, performance and education (pp. 81-103). Tanjong Malim, Perak:
Penerbit Universiti Pendidikan Sultan Idris.
Wong, D. T. K. (2015). The name of Sabah and the sustaining of a new identity in a new nation.
Archipel, 89, 161-178.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
JAZZ EDUCATION IN SOUTHEAST ASIA
(Lightning Paper)
Don Bowyer
Sunway University, Malaysia
Though jazz has been performed in Southeast Asia for nearly a century, formal education in this genre was
not available until more recently. While there are undoubtedly a variety of influences fueling the recent rise
in jazz interest in the region, one factor seems to be the emergence of the non-profit organization Jazz
Education Abroad (JEA).
Jazz found its way to Asia as early as 100 years ago, initially in the port cities of Shanghai, Tokyo,
Manila, and Bombay, often arriving on cruise ships. During these ports of call, American and European jazz
musicians from the ships played in venues in these port cities, with some ultimately staying in Asia as
performers and private teachers. Early Asian jazz musicians studied with these professional musicians, were
self-taught, or went overseas to study jazz. One hundred years later, there are only four undergraduate jazz
degrees in ASEAN nations: Mahidol University and Rangsit University in Thailand, the University of Santo
Tomas in the Philippines, and LaSalle College of the Arts in Singapore.
Jazz Education Abroad (JEA) was founded by Dr. Gene Aitken in 2012 as a 501c3 non-profit
organization in the USA. Aitken retired in 2002 from the University of Northern Colorado after 27 years as
Director of Jazz Studies. He subsequently moved to Southeast Asia where he worked at Mahidol University
and the Yong Siew Toh Conservatory of Music at the National University of Singapore. After retiring from
NUS in 2007, Aitken spent several years involved with US State Department activities in Asia and the Middle
East.
JEA is an international organization of jazz educators dedicated to teaching jazz outside the USA,
and defines its mission: “to increase cultural, musical, and educational awareness through the teaching of
American jazz to youth from different backgrounds and regions of the world.” JEA Board Members include
Mariano Abell, Director, Kathmandu Jazz Conservatory; Dave Glenn, Professor Emeritus, Whitman College;
Phil Dunlap, Director of Education and Community Engagement, Jazz St. Louis; Dan Gailey, Director of
Jazz Studies, University of Kansas; and Christine Guter, Director of Vocal Jazz, University of California
Long Beach. The JEA Advisory Board includes Peter Erskine, Dave Liebman, Jamey Aebersold, and Eric
Marienthal.
Over the past six years, JEA has partnered with, produced, or presented numerous jazz workshops,
festivals, and programs throughout Asia, Europe, and the Middle East. A sampling of JEA events in 2017
includes workshops in Thailand, Lebanon, Cyprus, and Hong Kong.
Specific to Southeast Asia, the annual Thailand Jazz Workshop has grown over the past five years
to include more than 350 students, coming from Thailand, Malaysia, Vietnam, Singapore, and Indonesia.
The first Thailand Jazz Workshop in 2014 involved 50 students for a weekend workshop. In 2018, the weeklong workshop at Rangsit University hosted 350 students participating in big bands, combos, a vocal jazz
choir, a jazz strings workshop, instrumental masterclasses, and improvisation classes.
Other recent JEA activities include the Cyprus Jazz Workshop in July 2018 at European University
Cyprus, the Lebanon Jazz Workshop in July 2018 at Notre Dame University-Louaize, the Hong Kong
International Jazz Education Festival in October 2017, and the Fu-Jen University Jazz Camp in February
2018 at Fu-Jen University in Taipei.
Jazz Education Abroad will present the first Malaysian Jazz Workshop in October 2018, hosted by
Sunway University and ASWARA, the National Academy for Arts, Culture and Heritage. Students will
participate in big bands, combos, instrumental masterclasses, and improvisation classes.
Through these activities, Jazz Education Abroad contributes greatly to the level of jazz playing
throughout the region.
References
Attarian, H. (2016, October 4). Jazz from around the world: Asia. Retrieved from https://www.
allaboutjazz.com/jazz-from-around-the-world-asia-by-hrayr-attarian.php
Barendregt, B., Keppy, P., & Schulte Nordholt, H. (1969). Popular music in Southeast Asia. Amsterdam:
Amsterdam University Press.
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JAZZ EDUCATION IN SOUTHEAST ASIA
Field, A. (2017). Asian jazz diasporas: Performing jazz in Pacific port cities, 1920-1945. Retrieved from
https://iias.asia/the-newsletter/article/asian-jazz-diasporas-performing-jazz-pacific-port-cities1920-1945
Jazz Education Abroad: Mission and Vision (n. d.). Retrieved from http://www.jazzeducationabroad.
org/jea/mission-and-vision/
Keppy, P. (2013, October). Southeast Asia in the age of jazz: Locating popular culture in the colonial
Philippines and Indonesia. Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, 44(3), 444–464. Retrieved from
doi:10.1017/S0022463413000350
Russell, J. (2017, April 25). Crossing language barriers with jazz education in Asia. Retrieved from
https://learningenglish.voanews.com/a/jazz-education-in-asia/3825400.html
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
MUSIC OF SOUND: EMPOWERING YOUNG PEOPLE IN RECREATING POPULAR MUSIC
GENRES USING 21ST CENTURY PEDAGOGICAL APPROACHES FROM MULTIPLE
INTELLIGENCES PATHWAYS
Toh Lai Chee
Institution of Teachers Education, Malaysia
Introduction
This paper addresses the methodology of “Music of Sound” as a platform in empowering young people to
recreate Malaysian popular performance genres across ethnic, cultural and stylistic boundaries using 21st
century pedagogical approaches from multiple intelligences pathways. “Music of Sound” pioneered by Tan
Sooi Beng (professor of Ethnomusicology at the University Sains Malaysia in Penang, and a keen advocate
of multi-arts community for young people) in 1989, is an experimental music which aims at shaping the
personal development of an individual and the making of drama, music or dance by the participants
themselves (Tan, 2008). Based on ethnomusicological tasks such as field work, interviews, observation,
learning to play and perform traditional instruments and music of various ethnic groups, as well as
improvising music, the participants generate new ideas in recreating local Malaysian popular genres through
inquiry and creative thinking from multiple dimensions. The methodology of “Music of Sound” encourages
the participants to (i) observe the environment and conduct research in a community; (ii) undergo skill
training in learning to play the traditional music instruments such as gamelan (the ensemble of bronze and
wood percussion instruments) and wayang kulit (the shadow play) as well as to improvise music using daily
objects, voices and body parts; and (iii) apply creative thinking skills to re-enact scenes and stories gathered
during their field trip into their musical composition.
Methodology
The methodology used in this research is based on longitudinal multi-site case study approach where the data
on “Music of Sound” methodology is collected repeatedly over a period of time (2007-2015) during
workshops’ practice in the heritage sites of George Town, and in the Institute of Teachers Education in
Penang (2012-2016). The case study approach is used to provide detailed and in-depth data on the
methodology of “Music of Sound" as well as the creative thinking process applied by the participants from
multiple pathways in recreating Malaysian popular music genres. Multiple cases are used to provide more
compelling evidence and to predict similar results (literal replication) or contrasting results but for predictable
reasons (Yin, 2003). The multiple cases selected in this study comprise the following chronological workshop
performances (see Table 1).
Table 1. “Music of Sound” Workshops (2007-2016)
The sample population for “Music of Sound” workshops is primarily multi-ethnic and includes students from
both genders in the primary school (11-12 years) and secondary school (13-19 years) in the north-eastern
district of Penang as well as student teachers from the Institute of Teachers Education in Penang (18-20
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MUSIC OF SOUND: EMPOWERING YOUNG PEOPLE IN RECREATING POPULAR MUSIC GENRES
USING 21ST CENTURY PEDAGOGICAL APPROACHES FROM MULTIPLE INTELLIGENCES PATHWAYS
years). The purposeful sampling comprise participants who are passionate in the performing arts such as
music, dance and drama. Professor Tan Sooi Beng is the director of the “Music of Sound” workshops
conducted in the inner city of George Town, while the researcher is the prime music facilitator of the
workshops.
Methodological triangulations are used to maximise the construct validity and reliability in this
research. Multiple sources of evidence used to establish sufficient operational measures for the concepts
being studied include direct observation, participant-observation, individual and focus group interviews,
video documentation of participants’ performances and their reflections. Focus group interviews which entail
a set of questions of an open-ended nature are conducted to enable the participants to share their own insights
and experiences on the approaches and strategies used in the methodology of “Music of Sound”.
Discussion
What are the 21st century pedagogical approaches and strategies used in the methodology of “Music of
Sound” to empower young people to recreate Malaysian popular genres? How do participants explore and
merge ethnic, cultural and stylistic boundaries to recreate the Malaysian popular genres collaboratively using
their intelligence strengths?
The discussion of this paper is based on Howard Gardner’s Theory of Multiple Intelligences (2004).
Gardner (1999) conceptualized intelligence as a computational capacity that entails the ability to solve
problems and fashion products that are of consequence in one or more cultural settings. Gardner (2000, 2006)
proposed project scaffolding from multiple entry points to provide an opportunity for children to marshal
previously mastered concepts and skills in the service of acquisition in new challenges. The entry points
suggested comprise dramatic narrative, logical syllogism, numerical classifications in different niches—
existential or foundational, aesthetic presentations, and experiential and collaborative participation.
The two pedagogical approaches used in “Music of Sound” workshop are the experiential and the
collaborative participation approaches. The collaborative approach enables joint intellectual efforts, sharing
of authority and acceptance of responsibility among group members through discussions, clarifications of
ideas and evaluation of other’s ideas. As said by Clifford (2011), working as an ensemble enables the
individual to attain higher level thinking and preserve information for longer times. In the experiential
approach, the participants explore and interact directly with the materials that embody or convey the concept
in a concrete form (Gardner, 2006). This approach seeks to build understanding and appreciation of the
content and key concepts of music through a hands-on practice. Strategies from multiple intelligences
pathways used to diverse concepts in learning and creating music include language, logical mathematical
analyses, visual-spatial illustrations, physical engagements, musical experiences, an interpersonal
understanding of others, an intrapersonal knowledge of self, and an experience in the natural world.
Throughout the whole program of “Music of Sound” workshops, participants are encouraged to form
smart partnerships and work together through experiential and collaborative learning. A smart partnership is
formed by grouping participants with different ethnic, gender, cognitive abilities, personality knowledge and
linguistic background so that they are able to work as an ensemble collaboratively. In their smart teams,
participants from “Music of Sound” workshops are given the artistic freedom to re-enact rap and local popular
street genres such as dikir barat,1 boria2 and Chinese chants across ethnic, cultural and stylistic boundaries
reflecting the rich tapestry of George Town. The whole process of recreating local popular genres is oriented
according to the participants’ interests and capacities using multiple intelligences pathways.
Embodying the key musical concepts such as pitch, rhythm and tone colours, new perspectives were
given to the local popular street genres, chants and raps. Participants re-enacted scenes of historical sites,
trades and multi ethnic cultures through music and movements as well as a mixture of languages and dialects
heard during their field trip. Through the collaborative and experiential approach, participants with linguistic
prowess from different ethnicities marshalled quatrains of artistic verses against a set rhyming scheme (of
boria, dikir barat, rap and chant) in a multilingual landscape. Participants with kinaesthetic capacities guided
their friends in transforming daily actions and elements from ethnic cultures into rhythmic movements. Those
with musical precocity generated suitable songs and logical soundscapes by executing interlocking rhythmic
patterns, pitches and tone colours using daily objects, body parts, vocalization and traditional ethnic
instruments. Budding visual artists crafted props to conjure up mental images of the diverse communities in
the multitude of different streets in George Town.
The history of George Town was manifested in the names of streets, trades and multiple languages
spoken in the piece entitled Georgetown Hebat (2013). The participants re-enacted the history of Church
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TOH LAI CHEE
Street in the form of dikir barat, sung in the English language to a Malay folk tune, Chan Mali Chan and
accompanied by the saron and gendang Melayu. The trades of the Indian ethnic group in Market Street were
sung in the Malay language to the tune of the popular Hindustani song, Bole Curiya in dikir barat form. The
unmistakable history of China Street was interjected with some Hokkien words to the tune of Inang Cina
accompanied by interlocking rhythms played using spoons and saron (see lyrics in Example 1, Example 2
and Example 3).
In the small town
We have church street
within the part of World Heritage site
It has appeared in 1798
One of earliest street to be laid in Georgetown.
Example 1. Church Street
Little India, dekat market street,
Orang India, buat bisnes,
Jual rempah, gelang-gelang,
dan juga emas,
Banyak sari, semuanya cantik-cantik,
Little India, ohh..
Example 2. Market Street
Lebuh Cina, orang Cina buat bisnes,
Dimulakan oleh tauke Koh Lay Huan,
Orang hokkien panggil lebuh ini jalan Tua-Kay,
Macam-macam dijual, sangat meriah, sangat lau-juak.
Example 3. China Street
The same methodology is used in bridging the traditional and local popular street genres in the theatrical
entitled Wayang Chulia (2015). The innovative performance displayed highly collaborative skills among the
puppeteers, musicians, singers and visual artists where they juxtaposed dikir barat against the wayang kulit
(shadow play) performance. The participants with kinaesthetic capacities skilfully manipulated the shadow
puppets in a well-honed sense of timing to the exuberance of the reverberating gongs and rhythmic pulsations
of the traditional wayang kulit drums such as gendang, gedumbak and geduk that were played by participants
with musical prowess. The singers sang regaling tales experienced by the local community in dikir barat
form. Visual artists crafted leather puppets and props to conjure up mental images of the communities in
Chulia Street, George Town.
Figure 1. Collaborative skills between puppeteers and musicians (Photos: Toh L. C., 2015)
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MUSIC OF SOUND: EMPOWERING YOUNG PEOPLE IN RECREATING POPULAR MUSIC GENRES
USING 21ST CENTURY PEDAGOGICAL APPROACHES FROM MULTIPLE INTELLIGENCES PATHWAYS
Contemporary genres such as rap formed the basis of new creative pieces created by the young participants.
For example, in the rap piece entitled Ronggeng Merdeka (2007), the Chinese medicine shop was translated
in a rap which featured an eclectic blend of the Hokkien dialect along with the Malay and English languages
accompanied by body percussion (see lyrics in Example 4).
OK, now hold your breath Mr. VIP
Kalau tak percaya dalam the whole street
GUA KUA TEO EE EH LOR OO LANG SI
So cepat duduk di atas tikar ini
Kalau you makan ubat yang GUA bagi
Badan fit and healthy GUA guarantee
Lima puluh gram of tepung tanduk
QI KIN EH OR CHO
PAO SOM strengthens your QI
Example 4. Chinese Medication shop
A new twist is given to the Chinese chant in the Hokkien dialect and the Malay language to portray the
livelihood of the vegetable seller in the piece titled Opera Pasar (2008). The chant is accompanied by the
Chinese drum shigu, the Malay geduk drum and the plastic barrel as time markers instead of the conventional
Chinese wood blocks.
The methodology of “Music of Sound” is also introduced to student teachers in the Institution of
Teachers Education in Penang. The result of collaborative and experiential learning among peers from
multiple intelligences pathways also pushes boundaries towards creative boria and dikir barat performances.
The advent of new communicative media and secularization of the expressive forms prompted new styles in
the introductory movement of boria by student teachers with highly evolved kinaesthetic intelligence. For
example, one of the groups created movements reflecting the action of rowing into the stage depicting scenes
from the movie Pirates of Caribbean with points of repose and shift.
Student teachers with musical competencies illuminate new songs for boria and dikir barat
performances while their peers with linguistic strengths help to incorporate linguistic command of
phonology, syntax, semantics and pragmatics into their creative expression to portray sentiments regarding
current social issues. Student teachers with exquisite sensitivity to visual arts recreate boria costume
paraphernalia using the unusual possibilities of recycled materials. Multi-coloured layers of plastics bags are
glued to plastic mineral water bottles to create the resemblance of colourful layered sleeves worn by the
sailors; and shimmery sweet and biscuit wrappers are entwined around thin sticks of coconut fronds to model
palm blossom (bunga manggar) carried by the boria performers (Toh, 2015).
Findings
The overall findings from various “Music of Sound” workshops demonstrated that empowering young people
in recreating popular genres using 21st century pedagogical approaches from multiple representations
managed to engage participants to internalize local popular street genres in a new way and thus revitalize the
local tradition. As said by an 18 year old participant of mixed parentage, “I feel that joining this workshop is
really refreshing because we've never done it before. In secondary school we did learn about dikir barat and
boria in theory but it's definitely not the same as learning from hands-on and creating it by ourselves. We get
to combine it with whatever we've learnt in the music segment creatively, so it's a bit unorthodox (traditional
and modern) but when you see it as a whole it's very interesting.” One of the participants of Chinese descent
declared, “Get to ‘go’ into the culture of other races, learn about their art forms, better than history books.”
Young participants from focus group interview also agreed that the methodology engaged them in learning
new popular street genres. As said, “We feel very happy because we have learnt many things that we have
not learnt before like dikir barat and boria and their performance styles. It has motivated us to learn more
about our local forms.” According to Tan (2008, p. 81; 2015, p. 127), “Empowerment ensures that musical
traditions will be conserved in their traditional socio-cultural contexts of performance, rather than in the
archives.”
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TOH LAI CHEE
Collaborative learning through smart partnerships from different ethnics, gender, cognitive abilities,
personality’s knowledge and linguistic background engendered valuable learning experience in sharing
responsibilities, developed cross cultural understanding, creativity, ideas, and artistic knowledge. Hence,
contributes towards changing expectations and perceptions in positive ways. As revealed by young
participants, “Music of Sound sparks our creativity in lots of ways.” Intercultural mixing through intensive
workshop also encouraged active interaction and enhanced understanding among children of different
ethnicity. As declared by a 16 year old participant, “It made me more open minded. Well, this happens
because there are so many different ethnics [ethnic groups] here that we start to look at things the way they
look [appear]… from different perspectives, Also [This has also] made me more sociable. I learned to
cooperate with other musicians so that the whole piece synchronize [synchronizes] creatively.”
Experiential approach from multiple pathways capitalized the participants’ cognitive potential and
served as spring board to reinforce personal development besides initiating a process of self-awareness and
discovery. As said by a participant with rhetoric and poetic skills, “I won’t have any single regret joining this
workshop. I like rapping and this is the opportunity for me to do solo rapping! I realised that I can rap and
have gained self-confidence in performing.” Reflections from one of the student teachers’ in her journal
writings concluded, “The casualness of configuring representations has made us aware about the usefulness
of recycled materials. I also got to know new ways to produce music and sounds. I learnt that music is
universal and it can be formed by anything.” One of the young participants also said “We discovered that we
can make different shapes with our body such as triangle, wall, pin, ball, pyramids, and pins through creating
movements collectively. Most important all movements and steps must have a reason.” As stated by Gardner
(2006, p. 141), “Some students-old as well as young learn best with hands-on approach, dealing directly with
materials that embody or convey the concept.”
The methodology of “Music of Sound” has also promoted a fun learning environment besides
enabling the participants to appreciate their diverse cultures. As said, “It is 200% more fun than learning in
schools.” “It is really awesome; we are able to make this performance from nothing to something, from zero
to hero.” Other participants were quick to add, “The whole process was fun, enjoyable and engaged us in
learning and understanding the musical characteristics besides appreciating other ethnic’s culture.”
Conclusion
The findings showed that rich and creative experiences via multiple representations across boundaries
developed insights, musical knowledge and skills; serves as venues to enhance the participants’ appreciation
towards local popular performance genres and inculcate the value of lifelong learning experience besides
appreciating cultural diversity. It also increased active participation and motivation levels among the
participants to explore using their own interest, capacities and creative thinking. The children gained selfconfidence from appreciating his/her own best learning abilities in a positive and creative learning
environment.
Endnotes
1
Dikir barat is a popular form of secular entertainment among the village Malays of Kelantan and of the
southern Thai provinces. This form features the singing of a four-line pantun in responsorial style between a
solo singer and a chorus. While singing, the chorus move their arms, hands and upper torso rhythmically to
the music (Matusky & Tan, 2017, pp. 332-340).
2 Boria is a popular syncretic theatre and music in Penang. The performance comprises two segments which
feature the same story or theme. The first segment consists of a comic sketch while the second segment
includes a song and dance routine presented by a solo singer and a chorus. The solo singer sings in a set
rhyming scheme, accompanied by a band and at the same time the chorus moves in a dance routine. When
the solo singer finishes, the chorus dance and repeat the lyric and melody of the verse sung by him (Matusky
& Tan, 2017, pp. 77-81).
References
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Campbell, L., Campbell B., & Dickinson, D. (2004). Teaching and learning through multiple intelligences
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USING 21ST CENTURY PEDAGOGICAL APPROACHES FROM MULTIPLE INTELLIGENCES PATHWAYS
Clifford, M. (2011). Collaborative learning tips and strategies for teachers. Retrieved from https://www.tea
chthought.com
Gardner, H. (1999). Intelligence reframed: Multiple intelligences for the 21st century. New York, NY: Basic
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Gardner, H. (2000). The disciplined mind: Beyond standardized tests, the K-12 education that every child
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Gardner, H. (2004). Frames of mind: The theory of multiple intelligences (1st ed.). New York, NY: Basic
Books.
Gardner, H. (2006). Multiple intelligence: New horizons (2nd ed.). New York, NY: Basic Books.
Matusky, P. & Tan, S. B. (2017). The music of Malaysia: The classical, folk and syncretic traditions. (2nd
ed.). New York, NY: Routledge.
Tan, S. B. (2008). Activism in Southeast Asian ethnomusicology: Empowering youths to revitalize traditions
and bridge cultural barriers. Musicological Journal: Applied Ethnomusicology, 1, 69-83.
Tan, S. B. (2015). Cultural engagement and ownership through participatory approaches in applied
ethnomusicology. In S. Pettan & J. T. Titon (Eds.), The Oxford handbook of applied
ethnomusicology. Retrieved from doi: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199351701.013.6
Toh, L. C. (2015). Strategies and approaches in the teaching and learning of boria in the Institute of Teacher
Education and Schools in Penang. Malaysian International Journal of Research in Teacher
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Publications.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
KALEIDOSCOPING GLOBAL ETHOS THROUGH LOCAL RESPONSES
IN THE MALAY WORLD: THE CASE OF DESPACITO
Leonardo García Fuenzalida
Pôle Supérieur Paris Boulogne-Billancourt, France
Released in January 2017, Despacito became the most viewed music clip in the history of the Internet,1
garnering 5.5 billion YouTube views by September 2018. The reggaeton hit featured Puerto Rican stars Luis
Fonsi and Daddy Yankee.2 A second mix (2017, April) included Canadian star Justin Bieber.
Video 1: Luis Fonsi and Daddy Yankee
In spite of featuring reggaeton, a genre currently blamed for its misogynistic lyrics and violence, the success
of Despacito generated myriad versions worldwide through eclectic arrangements, satirical lyrics or ethic
transpositions. In the Malay world, and mainly in Indonesia, Malaysia and Singapore, local versions
highlighted a sonic “tropicalism”3 and “bahasitude”,4 globalizing mainstream planetary culture through local
responses. These concern traditional gamelan and anklung ensembles as religious pop music embedding
qasidah with westernized sounds.
This paper seeks to examine how mass-media culture generates local identity through the
globalization of mainstream exotic imaginaries and religious ethos beyond the traditional conceptions of rites
and beliefs as stated by Durkheim (1912).
Latin Global Popular Music and Reggaeton
Along the twentieth-century global popular music diversifies into categories including the idea of “Latin”
generated in the USA during the pre-WW2 period (Cramer, 2012). Latin global popular music (LGPM) arises
as a commercial brand subdivided into Argentinian (tango), Brazilian (samba, bossa-nova), Mexican
(ranchera) and Hispanic-Afro-Caribbean (rumba, mambo, bolero, son). LGPM relates to major Latin
American clichés as eternal partying, leisure and sensuality, becoming an exotic buyable counterpart to the
capitalistic ethic values of self-merit and hard-working.
Most of the musical characteristics of LGPM can relate to global popular music concerning a binary
rhythmic conception linked to the prevalence of 4/4 meter, cyclic harmonic progressions or symmetric formal
structures. However, main rhythmic approaches in LGPM focus on internal asymmetric subdivisions of the
meter, as clave5 or the habanera, composed by a 3+1+2+2 pattern resulting from the superposition of 3+3+2
and 4+2+2 structures (Sandroni, 2000).
The habanera rhythm is particularly important as it diffuses worldwide since the nineteenth century
though Spanish and Cuban zarzuela and classical Western music. Habanera features the French sonic
imaginary of espagnolade (“Spanishing”) as in Bizet’s Carmen or in Ravel’s Pièce en forme d’habanera and
during the twentieth century this sonic espagnolade joins successfully the exotic imaginaries of LGPM
through the habanera rhythm in rumba.
In the Asia-Pacific the habanera diffuses through two main axes:
(1) In the genesis ballroom during the 1920-30s in Japan and Shanghai, mainly through tango and
rumba (De La Peza, 2006). These centres are not only interacting with Western music and
musicians though the Pacific Jazz Network (Zheng, 2014) but also generate their own
local/regional music life.
(2) In the music of local cinema productions, mainly in Hong-Kong and Singapore. Indeed, several
Malay Golden Age movies of the 1950-1960 feature habanera in Malay folk music arrangements
of inang or asli, resulting in a sort of nostalgic Malay (Zubillaga-Pow, 2014) rumba flavour that
joins that of Hollywood music productions during that period (Van de Heide, 2002).
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KALEIDOSCOPING GLOBAL ETHOS THROUGH LOCAL RESPONSES
IN THE MALAY WORLD: THE CASE OF DESPACITO
Video 2: Rumba-like mak inang dance rhythm from film “Sumpitan Rachun” (Cathay Keris,
Singapore, 1961)6
Video 3: Perreo Tutorial7
(Probably recorded by Argentinian instructors highlighting the impact of reggaeton in the Americas.)
The habanera pattern is also the basic rhythmic frame of reggaeton, sustaining a strongly eroticized couple
dance known as perreo (“like a dog”) where partners mimic canine copulation. Reggaeton also characterizes
through vocals shared by two singers; the former incarnating an idea of “romantic”, with a polished tone, and
the latter that of “badass”, with a rough and more aggressive energy. This vocal alternation highlights a
switchable dual conception of a Latin masculinity gliding between romanticism and brutality. In Despacito
these rolls are performed by Luis Fonsi and Daddy Yankee, respectively.
Diffusing Despacito and Globalizing Reggaeton
The origins of the term reggaeton remain confusing as in Spanish it would mean a sort of “big reggae” (reggae
+ the augmentative particle tón). However, reggae and reggaeton strongly differ in their respective music,
ethos, corporality, fashion and political ideas. Unlikely to reggae, reggaeton does not seem to have a
geographically rooted origin, but developed through transnational networks, mainly in the Unites States and
Puerto Rico. In the Americas, reggaeton has been considered to be as a sort of LGPM equivalent of gangstarap.
Through its planetary diffusion, Despacito generated a series of local instantaneously accessible
productions enhancing the possibilities of real time interactions among interconnected audiences. I could
observe a group of Taiwanese and Latin American YouTube fans inter-evaluating an Arab cover of Despacito
through common mondialized perceptions of alterity, particularly concerning sonic and idiomatic contents
being perceived as so fascinatingly exotic. Several of these audiences even seemed to share the experience
of a virtual voyage through common exotic representations of the world. Indeed, their approach to exotic
covers of Despacito seems to be unassociated from planetary recognizable sonic frames (harmony, formal
symmetry), just the same way as fast-food multinational companies conquer world markets adapting exotic
recipes through collective knowledgeable tastes.8
However, even if it is partly through this exoticism that Despacito overpassed the stigma of
reggaeton, in July 2017 its diffusion was banned from the public broadcasting channels in Malaysia for a
supposed incompatibility with Islam. Already since early 2017, the Malaysian Islamic party, Parti Amanah
Negara, had been blaming Despacito for its explicit sexual content. Finally, its banning was announced by
Malaysia’s communication minister Salleh Said Keruak,9 who also invited private media to self-censor.10 The
rejection of Despacito by Malaysian authorities and conservative political parties mainly seems to target the
choreographic content as scarce Bahasa lyric translations have been diffused in a region where a low
percentage of the population understands Spanish.11 However, and in spite of the ban, Despacito has been
widely publicly diffused in Malaysia mainly by local folk and rock bands, buskers, religious singers, MCs
and a panoply of interconnected music and dance communities.
Malaysia’s banning of Despacito is a relevant case concerning the evolution of political Islam.
Indeed, unlike in Malaysia, most of the strongly conservative Islamic countries, including Brunei, Iran,
Pakistan or Saudi Arabia, allowed or at least tolerated its diffusion.
“Kaleidoscoping” the Local
Video 4: Despacito (Malay Female Version)13
Video 5: Despacito (Malay Male Version)14
Malay versions of Despacito globalize through compound sonic and choreographic elements generating
dynamics of métissage (Gruzinski, 2004) and creolization (Glissant, 2005)12 through three main axes:
multicultural negotiation, intercultural impregnation and transcultural appropriation.
Multicultural negotiation refers to covers of Despacito featuring transformations that adapt to local
social ethos. For example, in a Malay context of gender separation, female covers feature a lyrical-romantic
mood by omitting sexually explicit lyrics as well as the habanera rhythmic pattern of reggaeton. This aspect
contrasts with male Malay covers that strongly feature the reggaeton rhythm in spite of changing the lyric
content.
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LEONARDO GARCÍA FUENZALIDA
The rhythmic approach of habanera associates here to a sonic identity of masculinity separated from
a feminine sonic tapestry defined by its absence. Indeed, rhythm can highlight in this case the multicultural
gap between local gender separation and mondialized Latin explicit heterosexuality.
Video 6: Busking Despacito in Jogyakarta15
Intercultural impregnation includes here the paraphrasing of Despacito through recognizable frames of local
culture as global forms (pop, hip-hop).
Malay paraphrased versions feature dangdut and keroncong as well as traditional-rooted anklung,
and bamboo ensembles that can also integrate pop grooves, cyclic harmonic progressions and a collective
performing implication through local instruments and/or body techniques (Mauss, 1936). These versions can
also include the participation of street-dancers featuring choreographies combining local gestures with
elements of break-dance or hip-hop.
Video 7: Cover by Dodi Hidayatullah16
Transcultural appropriation here highlights several music and semantic transpositions between global cultural
frames and local transpositions. Probably relating to the ban of Despacito in Malaysian public media, several
Malay “Muslim versions” were released as sort of local responses to the issue. This draft focuses on two
Indonesian covers, the former featuring MCs Dodi Hidayatullah and Ibnu TJ and the latter featuring religious
singer Gus Aldi.
In the first version the original groove, arrangement and instrument functions as well as the shared
dual vocal rolls (romantic Luis Fonsi by Dodi Hidayatullah and badass Daddy Yankee by Ibnu TJ) relate to
the original. However, choreographic content avoiding couple dance as the representations of the feminine
are completely different, with the exception of the transposition of the image of Virgin Mary in the original
version to the Muslim scarfed young girl, as coinciding symbols incarnating the idea of pureness. This
Muslim version also features softened Bahasa lyrics where original Despacito switches to Thank You My
Dear (curiously in English) inducing the ambiguity about the sense of Dear, being dedicated to the scarf-clad
girl, to God, or both.
Video 8: Maher Zain17
Video 9: Gus Aldi18
A second Muslim version featuring religious singer Gus Aldi is based on the late eighteenth-century qasidah,
“Ya Nabi Salam Alayka” (Imam as-Sayyid Jafar ibn Hassam ibn Abdal Karim al-Barzanji) linked to Mawlid
(birth of Prophet Muhammad). Already a pop-music hit based on this qasidah was released in 2011 featuring
Swedish-Lebanese singer Maher Zain.
Even if Gus Aldi’s video presents Despacito (with the Malay pronunciation “despachito”) and cites
Luis Fonsi, Daddy Yankee and Justin Bieber as the authors, its melodic lines, arrangement and lyrics result
quite distant from those of the original. Indeed, Gus Aldi paraphrases the main melody over an arrangement
featuring psychedelic-like vintage electronics. He also performs simultaneously the opposing rolls of Luis
Fonsi and Daddy Yankee, even if resulting in a softer vocal contrast. The images of the video are certainly
inspired in those of Maher Zain’s hit, with Gus Aldi distributing the good-news letters among people and
highlighting a sort of universal empathy. The lyrics of this version alternate original classical Arabic of
qasidah with Bahasa, generating a sort of supra-modern local combination of global referents (reggaeton,
pop culture, qasidah, mawlid, Arabic song…) and joining Bahasa to the transmission of religion and culture.
Conclusion
Far from being a mass-media sonic “no-place” (Augé, 1992), the diffusion of Despacito in the Malay world
inserts into a continuity of local appropriations of LGPM, including the métissage and creolization of Latin
imaginaries. However, and in spite of these exotic references, the political contingencies generated here by
Despacito also reveal the interdependence between the evolution of local culture and social ethos. Indeed,
the appropriation of the semantic content of reggaeton in the Malay world passes through a complex
negotiation of issues, transcending music and dance and highlighting the contingencies of morals, religion
and identity. In this case Despacito transforms through a myriad of sonic dynamics defining Malay
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KALEIDOSCOPING GLOBAL ETHOS THROUGH LOCAL RESPONSES
IN THE MALAY WORLD: THE CASE OF DESPACITO
globalization as well as through the creolization of Islam through “Bahasitude,” generating social cohesion
beyond the frames of national borders and ethnicity.
Endnotes
1
Platforms such as Instagram or YouTube allow quite accurate public tracking concerning the number of
views of their videos.
2
Luis Fonsi. (2017). “Despacito ft. Daddy Yankee.” Retrieved from https://youtu.be/kJQP7kiw5Fk
3
“Sonic Tropicalism” here does not refer to the Brazilian centred literary and philosophical movement of the
1950-1960’s, but rather to a global sonic matrix diffusing during the twentieth century through radio,
recorded media, and cinema. “Tropicalistic” sonic elements in the Malay world include the use of Caribbean
percussions such as maracas, bongos and congas as well as the embedding of habanera rhythmic patterns in
Malay folk music.
4 “Bahasitude” here relates to the linguistic compound of Bahasa-speaking groups not considering clear
ethnic, national and regional differences.
5 Clave patterns generate polyrhythmic tapestries when superposed to basic meters. Clave patterns associate
to an idiophonic instrument called clave and composed by two inter-shocked wooden sticks. Main clave
patterns, associated to the tresillo Cubano, include the “3+2” (3+3+4+2+4) and the “2+3” (2+4+3+3+4)
(Plisson, 2004). As with Orientalism, “New-worldism” relates here to stereotyped ideas of the Americas as
the virginal Amazon rainforest, the cultural pureness of Andean societies or the easy-going life and eternal
party. New-worldism and Orientalism can be compared as exotic imaginaries generated in the centres of
power and nowadays diffusing transversally through a myriad of visual and aural supports ensuring their
prevalence through time and transmission.
6 (2017). “Lagu filem2 seniwati Latifah Omar - Mak Inang Melayu.” Retrieved 29 September 2018 from
https://youtu.be/aGlCZf42t6E
7 Academia de Baile. (2017). “Reggaeton Nivel 2 Perreo.” Retrieved 29 September 2018 from
https://youtu.be/UsZb69X4w1E
8 As in the case of McDonald’s or Burger King’s “exotic” Indian, Moroccan or Argentinian menus, where
the possibility to recognize a Big Mac or a Whopper sandwich co-exists with the tastes of exotic-typed
dressings imitating respectively curry, harissa and chimichurri.
9 “Despacito will not be aired by the government-owned broadcast stations because we received public
complaints,” Malaysia’s communications minister Salleh Said Keruak told AFP news agency. (Despacito
censored: Malaysia bans ‘unsuitable’ hit from state stations - BBC News. July 20, 2017. Retrieved from
https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-40665528)
10 “Meanwhile, privately-owned radio stations have been ‘encouraged’ to "practice self-censorship,’ he said”.
(Ibid.)
11 While interviewing buskers in Kuala Lumpur and Sabah including Despacito in their current repertoire, I
realized that not one of them really understood the lyrics of the song.
12 “Edouard Glissant: Nous sommes tous créoles”. Interview given to Thierry Clermont and Odette
Casamayor. In La Création (2005). These two concepts relate to the idea of a new and unedited cultural
element still containing at least some recognizable features of its original components. Both largely relate
here to the cultural exchanges of globalization but would differ in the greater degree of predictableness for
the latter.
13 (2017). “Despacito (Malay Female Version).” Retrieved 29 September 2018 from https://youtu.
be/nEVStme93AU.
14 Incognito. (2017). “Despacito (Malay Version).” Retrieved 29 September 2018 from https://
youtu.be/gR965hqGBd0
15 Angklung Malioboro. “Despacito - Angklung (Traditional Musical Instrument Made of Bamboo).”
Retrieved 29 September 2018 from https://youtu.be/8HjsOgpLoyo
16 Dodi Hidayatullah. (2017). “Despacito - Muslim Version (Thank You My Dear) ft. Ibnu TJ.” Retrieved
from https://youtu.be/QKR0TcBqNqY
17 Maher Zain. “Ya Nabi Salam Alayka.” Retrieved 29 September 2018 from https://youtu.be/Vqfy4ScRXFQ.
18 Gus Aldi. (2017). “Despacito Versi Sholawat.” Retrieved 29 September 2018 from https://
youtu.be/6ROQ7ATswYM
135
LEONARDO GARCÍA FUENZALIDA
References
Augé, M. (1992). Non-Lieux. introduction à une anthropologie de la surmodernité. Paris: Seuil, La librairie
du XXIe siècle.
Cramer, G. (2012). How to do things with waves: United States Radio and Latin America in times of the
Good Neighbor. In A. Bronfman & G. W. Wood (Eds.), Media, Sound & culture in Latin America
and the Caribbean (pp. 37-54). Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press.
De la Peza, M. (2006). Music and globalization: The impact of Latin American music in Japan. In
Intercultural communication studies XV(1) (pp. 168-173). Mexico: Universidad Autónoma
Metropolitana-Xochimilco.
Van Der Heide, W. (2002). Malaysian cinema, Asian film: Border crossings and national cultures, film
culture in transition. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press.
Durkheim, E. (1912). Les formes élémentaires de la vie religieuse. Paris: Ed. Quadrige/Presses Universitaires
de France.
Gruzinski, S. (2004). Les quatre parties du Monde: Histoire d’une mondialisation. Paris: Éditions de la
Martinière.
Mauss, M. (1950). Les techniques du corps. Sociologie et Anthropologie (Originalement paru dans Journal
de Psychologie, XXXII, n°3-4, 1934). Paris. 6e édition Quadrige. Presses Universitaires de France
(PUF).
Plisson, M. (2004). Tango. Du noir au blanc. Arles, France. Seconde édition augmentée. Collection
“Musiques du Monde.” Cité de la Musique/Actes Sud.
Sandroni, C. (2001) « Le Tresillo rythme et « métissage » dans la musique populaire latino-américaine
imprimée au XIXe siècle ». Cahiers d’ethnomusicologie, 13. Retrieved from http://ethnomusic
ologie.revues.org/675
Zheng, Y. P. (2014). Jazz from the 1920s to the present: The musicians, the spaces and the music. In J.
Zubillaga-Pow & Ho C. K. (Eds.), Singapore soundscape: Musical renaissance of a global city
(pp.183-198). Singapore: National Library Board.
Zubillaga-Pow, J. (2014). Sejarah muzik Singapura: A short story on Malay nostalgia. In J. Zubillaga-Pow
& Ho C. K. (Eds.), Singapore soundscape: Musical renaissance of a global city (pp. 99-114).
Singapore: National Library Board.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
MALAY CHRONICLES, THAI DRAMA, JAVANESE TALES:
MAK YONG, INTERTEXTUALITY, AND PASISIR CULTURAL FLOW
Patricia Ann Hardwick
Fulbright Scholar to Indonesia, Hofstra University, USA
Music, dances, stories, performers, and performance practices have long been circulating within maritime
Southeast Asia. While there are few written documents providing detailed records of these embodied
exchanges, oral histories and the study of performance practices provide some insight into the transnational
and cosmopolitan nature of these performative borderlands. Drawing on past ethnographic fieldwork with
mak yong performers in Kelantan, Malaysia and my current research in Riau Islands province, Indonesia,
this paper traces some of the cultural, political, and performative flows between the Riau Islands, Java, the
Northeastern Peninsular Malaysia, and Southern Thailand. I will also explore how the glocalized sampling
of popular cultural influences in Kelantanese and Riau performance practices articulate the cosmopolitanism
and complexity of Malay identity in the Thai-Malay borderlands and the Riau Archipelago.
Explorations into the history of mak yong performance in Patani, Kelantan, Terengganu, and the
Riau Islands take on a performative perantau, a journey cycling through phases of royal patronage and folk
performance, refinement and decline, federal level support, international recognition, and state level religious
bans. Ethnographic examinations of maritime Southeast Asian theatrical forms like mak yong and
Kelantanese wayang kulit reveal that the practice of these forms transgress attempts to rigidly define them as
classical palace arts, folk performance, or popular culture. Terms like hybridity, syncretism, bricolage, and
creolisation have been fashioned by anthropologists and social scientists to address the heterogeneity of
complex cultural practices (Kapchan & Strong, 1999). Drawing upon a long history of textual comparisons
in folkloristics, Validmar Hafstein proposes that scholars view the dynamics of tradition as intertextual.
Hafstein (2004) notes that, “in this regard, tradition is no different from other categories of creativity” (p.
307). Hafstein (2004) continues “[b]y conceiving of copying as a creative act (and conversely, creation as an
act of reproduction) we undermine the logic that has contrasted the two and has articulated other oppositions
to this contrast: social verses individual, folk verses elite, colonial verses Western, female verses male” (p.
310).
Intertextual Exchanges within the Kelantanese Arts Complex
My past research into the performative histories of mak yong artists in Kelantan reveal their engagement in
a diversity of performance forms that include ‘Nura, bangsawan, wayang kulit Siam, nang talung, main ‘teri,
tari inai, dikir barat, and silat. As early as 1980, Barbara Wright described a “Kelantanese Arts Complex”
which she defined as including shadow puppet plays, dance drama (mak yong), martial arts (silat), and spirit
exorcism (main ‘teri) (1980). When I began my research in Kelantan in 2005, I found that the social network
of Kelantanese performers was tightly knit and highly interconnected. Performers had loose affiliations to
particular troupes, but the exchange of performers and players for performances was common. The 1991
Parti Islam se-Malaysia (PAS) ban on wayang kulit and mak yong may have inhibited performance and
transmission of traditional arts in Kelantan, however it also intensified feelings of solidarity between
Kelantanese performers. Kelantanese Thai and Chinese performers obtained permits for ‘Nura or wayang
kulit performances at Buddhist temples, inviting their Malay Muslim colleagues to perform in their temples
(Yong, 2017). Many Malay Muslim mak yong artists deployed the diversity of their performative histories
as a survival strategy, shifting to ‘Nura or mak yong-main ‘teri to continue to perform despite the (PAS)
bans.
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PATRICIA ANN HARDWICK
Figure 1. Jennab binti Yaccob performing mak yong in Wakaf Baru, Tumpat, Kelantan, Malaysia.
(Photo: Lim Chuen Ming, 2005)
One illustration of the types of borrowing and exchange that takes place within the Kelantanese performing
arts complex can be seen in an example taken from my 2005 field recording of the mak yong play Dewa
Pechil in Kampung Kedemit, Tumpat. The performers circle a panggung anticlockwise, their
circumambulation as an embodied metaphor for travel. The song they perform is entitled lagu berjale
Menora, and as its name implies, this mak yong travelling song has musical elements incorporated both from
Kelantanese ‘Nura and wayang kulit Siam traditions. The rebab and melasmic heterophonic singing style
characteristic of Kelantanese mak yong is interspersed with the melodic line of the serunai adopted from
wayang kulit and supported by interlocking gendang drumming patterns and gong cycles. Even the dance
movements of the traveling mak yong performers echo the movement of the shadow puppet Maharaja Sri
Rama as he “walks” in a slow and dignified manner across a shadow puppet screen.
Another example of intertextual referencing includes the incorporation of local folksongs into mak
yong clowning scenes. An example comes from my field recording of mak yong on 18 February 2006 in Kg.
Gabus To’ Uban, Pasir Mas, Kelantan. Clowns Wan Midin bin Wan Majid and Hassan bin Sama playfully
sing the rhymed couplets of the lyrics of Ayam Didik, a folksong often attributed to Kangar, Perlis, but that
is also well known to mak yong performers residing in Tumpat, Rantau Panjang, and Pasir Mas. The dance
of Ayam Didik is said to have been derived from the movements of roosters beating their wings when cock
fighting. In this example, Wan Midin and Hassan combine main ‘teri, mak yong, and Ayam Didik movements
as they dance, their movements embodied references to the intertextuality of their performative experiences.
In 2006, Hassan was an effective Tok ‘Teri, spending the majority of his evenings facilitating main ‘teri ritual
healings on both sides of the Thai-Malaysian border. Hassan was also a wayang kulit dalang who performed
in Thai and Malay and specialized in a form of wayang kulit Siam that incorporated popular music and clown
characters from the Southern Thai Nang Talung shadow puppetry tradition. Hassan also had a joget troupe
that attracted large crowds in secluded kampungs. In 2005, Wan Midin participated in main ‘teri as a
musician and mak yong performer. In the 1970s Wan Midin was a member of the Seri Temenggung mak
yong troupe. He had also trained as a wayang kulit Siam dalang in Tumpat under dalang Awang Lah and had
toured Europe in the mid-1970s as the dalang muda for dalang Hamzah bin Awang Amat. At the end of their
performance of Ayam Didik, Wan Midin quickly references a dikir barat tune for humorous effect before the
Pak Yong hits him with a rotan to chastise him for his insolence and end the comic scene.
Sampling the Popular, Localizing the Transnational
When Kelantanese performers sample popular tunes in mak yong and wayang kulit, they often transpose
them, indigenizing the transnational as they play popular music on local instrumentation. Patricia Matusky
and Tan Sooi Beng (2017) describe the lagu hiburan of the gendang silat tradition as composed of folk tunes,
Malay popular standards, Bollywood songs, Arabic tunes, and interpretations of regional and global popular
songs (p. 232). Given that many Kelantanese gendang silat performers are also mak yong, main ‘teri, wayang
kulit, and dikir barat performers, renditions of these lagu hiburan are also selectively incorporated into makyong-main ‘teri dance sessions, slotted into informal clowning scenes in mak yong performances, or utilized
during humorous melodic interludes in wayang kulit. In providing a structural space for the incorporation of
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MAK YONG, INTERTEXTUALITY, AND PASISIR CULTURAL FLOW
popular music indigenized through performance on local instruments, rural Kelantan performers
simultaneously sample the popular while re-affirming traditional performance structure.
Intertextual sampling in Kelantanese dramatic forms is not just linked to borrowings between mak
yong, ‘Nura, wayang kulit, main ‘teri, or the incorporation of Malaysian folksongs and dances for humorous
effect. Some Kelantanese wayang kulit Siam dalang chose to sample Bollywood songs in their performances.
These songs are not simply reproduced, they are incorporated along a spectrum of transformation and
recreation. One example, attributed to the late dalang Baju Dollah Merah, is sung by a clown who begins
with “Jai Ho, Jai He Kol, Me Kah Jah Me Hai”, an auditory cue to the audience that the song is derived from
a Bollywood tune. After this opening salvo, the clown shifts into Kelantanese to sing about eating, drinking,
traveling, and enjoying nights of watching wayang kulit. “Jai He Kol Me Kah Jah Me Hai” is repeated as a
chorus, but the song has been so localized that it is difficult to attribute to a particular origin (Seni Budaya,
2015, April 17). A second example is a performance credited to dalang Saupi. The clowns Said, Samad, and
Wok Yoh travel to India where they meet the beloved Bollywood superstar Shah Rukh Khan. Claiming to
suffer from a “dancing illness” one of the clowns asks Shah Rukh Khan to sing a Hindustani song. Shah
Rukh Khan in puppet form complies with a rendition of “Phi Bi Dil Hai Hindustani” (Kancil Buruk, 2012,
October 13).
The incorporation of Malaysian folk tunes and Bollywood pop into the clowning scenes of
Kelantanese mak yong and wayang kulit is purposeful. As Jan Mrázek notes when speaking of Javanese
wayang kulit “clown scenes are characterized by a particular kind of opening to the present. They are in many
ways a rupture in the performance structure, an opening within the structure” (Mrázek, 1999, p. 44). Rene
Lysloff refers to clown scenes as “a rupture in the flow of time” (Lysloff quoted in Mrázek, 1999, p. 44).
Clown scenes have little to do with the continuation of the plot of a tale and provide innovative performance
space that allows elements of the present to penetrate formal performance structure (Mrázek, 1999).
Intertextuality and Riau Mak Yong
In the Riau Archipelago of Indonesia, the process and performance of intertextuality in mak yong takes
slightly different form. In June 2018, I began research with traditional mak yong performers in Kg. Kijang
Keke, Bintan, Pulau Mantang Arang, and Batam. Interviews with mak yong performers in Bintan reveal that
they, like Kelantanese mak yong performers, are also engaged in multiple performance styles that include
bangsawan, silat, joget dangkung, and joget tandak, but that unlike Kelantanese performers they are isolated
from a highly-networked arts complex that includes forms of ritual and non-ritual drama.
Interviews with mak yong performers in Kg. Kijang Keke and Mantang Arang Lama trace the history
of mak yong in Riau to Patani performers who passed through Kelantan, and possibly Singapore, before they
settled on Mantang Arang off the coast of Bintan. While the date of departure from southern Thailand and
Kelantan is vague, there is a general consensus amongst mak yong performers that Mantang Arang mak yong
performers were brought to Pulau Penyengat to perform for the court of the Riau-Lingga Sultanate in the late
19th century. There is a collection of five mak yong scripts written in Jawi by Riau mak yong performers,
some of which are said to date back to the1890s. The late 19th and early 20th centuries was a period of cultural
florescence in the Riau-Lingga court. In 1895, Riau Malay intelligentsia established the Roesidijah Klub
Riau, an association that began as a literary circle, but that was soon viewed with suspicion by the Dutch as
Malay nationalist sentiment grew. Royal sponsorship of Riau mak yong ended abruptly in 1911 when the
Dutch forcibly dissolved the Riau-Lingga Sultanate and a mass exodus of citizens and royals fled from RiauLingga to Singapore and Johore.
After the dissolution of the Riau-Lingga Sultanate, Riau mak yong performers returned to Mantang
Arang. Mak yong performer Tengku Muhamad Satar bin Tengku Muhamad Atan Rahman describes mid20th century mak yong performances tours in the Riau Archipelago via boat. These performative perantaus
fused traditional drama with popular music, mak yong with joget dangkung. As Satar explains:
From 1979, I followed mak yong. We performed in Mantang island, Asu island, Kara island, Sembu
island, and Benan island all the way to the island of Bangka-Belitung. So mak yong was like this.
Mak yong was one group with two appearances. After Isyak, mak yong would appear. After we
presented mak yong and everything was settled we would then add on joget. Joget of the 1960s-lah.
Free-style joget. So from there we were one mak yong group. After we finished playing mak yong,
we would joget. I would play drum, my father would play guitar, my uncle would play tabras. An
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in-married uncle of mine would play accordion. So everyday mak yong would circle, circulate in the
Riau Archipelago. (personal communication, June 2018)
Instrumentation of Bintan mak yong differs from that of contemporary Kelantan. Performers that played the
rebab and serunai have passed away and have not been replaced. Lack of serunai and rebab aside, the names
and types of Bintan mak yong instrumentation is nearly identical to the 1900 description of mak yong
instrumentation found in William Walter Skeat’s (1972) Malay Magic and includes a jantan and betina gong,
a jantan and betina mong-mong, a bring-bring, geduk-geduk, a gedombak pengibu and gedombak penganak,
gendang pengibu and gendang penganak (p. 518). Riau mak yong performers also continue to use masks
during their performances, with the use of up to sixteen different masks reported. These masks bear a striking
resemblance to the mak yong masks in Malay Magic (1972, Plate 21).
Figure 2. Tengku Muhamad Satar bin Tengku Muhamad Atan Rahman (playing the gendang pengibu) performs with
members of Sanggar Mak Yong Warisan, Kg. Kijang Keke, Bintan, KEPRI, Indonesia.
(Photo: Patricia A. Hardwick, 2018)
When I played my field recordings of Kelantanese mak yong for Satar he recognized the Kelantanese ‘teri
drumming style often employed to induce lupa, or trance, as similar to rhythms he played on the gendang.
These rhythms were said by his elders to call spirits to mak yong performance. As Satar explains:
In the past when mak yong performers were about to arrive a village, they would play the gendang
first, before the gendang they would use the gong. That is the drumming, the calling of the spirits…
in the boat, we would be about to arrive at a village and we would play the gendang first. This was
also true at night, presented when I would buka tanah. I would jampi-jampi, then I would play the
drums, not go straight into Betabek (personal communication, June 2018).
Like Kelantanese mak yong performers, Satar engages the diversity of his performative experiences, in his
case, not to sample the popular, but rather to repurpose the traditional. Satar recently worked with the
Samudra Ensemble, a group of young musicians, to create a pop single under the label of “Progressive Mak
Yong” in an attempt to capture the imagination of young Indonesians who have never seen a performance of
Riau mak yong. “Progressive Mak Yong” fuses the melody and words of lagu Betabek and lagu Klantan
from Riau mak yong, backing them with Western instrumentation to create a popular hit that has appealed to
young audiences in Indonesia and Malaysia (Samudra Art Production, 2017, February 2).
I have just begun to investigate the intertextual referencing, reproduction, and exchange within and
between the Kelantanese and Riau mak yong traditions. In Kelantan, the performative knowledge of multiple
local arts traditions, the history of exchanges between Malay, Thai, and Chinese Kelantanese performers,
and the exposure to popular cultural influences provides a wealth of resources from which rural Kelantanese
performers draw to create complex intertextual performances that reference both local performance forms
and international sources. Both Riau and Kelantanese performers engage the diversity of their performative
histories to sample popular culture, recreating traditional forms as they attempt to capture the attention of
new audiences.
As I continue with my research I plan to examine historical cross-cultural exchanges that existed
between Kelantanese and Javanese performance. Kelantanese mak yong includes oral-formulaic statements
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MALAY CHRONICLES, THAI DRAMA, JAVANESE TALES:
MAK YONG, INTERTEXTUALITY, AND PASISIR CULTURAL FLOW
declaring mak yong tales, cerita Jawa, and tanah Jawi, Javanese stories in a Malay land. Mantera opening
Kelantanese wayang kulit announce that they “membawa hikayat Melayu, wayang Siam, cerita Jawa,” or
perform Malay chronicles, Siamese theater, and Javanese tales (Foley, 2015). There have been historical
linkages between Kelantanese dalang and the royal courts of Java, perhaps dating back as far as the 1700s
(Matusky, 2011). These historical references combined with ethnographic documentation of the importance
of the Javanese god-clown Semar in Kelantanese mak yong and wayang kulit, and the similarity of story type
and drumming styles between Riau mak yong and Kelantanese main ‘teri gesture to a long period of cultural
exchange between Kelantan, Java, Patani, and Riau.
References
Foley, K. (2015). Wayang Kelantan beyond borders. In Puppetry Studies in Society and History, 38, 28-31.
Hafstein, V. (2004). The politics of origins: Collective creation revisited. The Journal of American Folklore,
117(465), 300-315.
Kancil Buruk. (2012, October 13). Wayang Kulit Bollywood – Bollywood (Dalang Saupi). Retrieved from
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j6616HnRd_s
Kapchan, D. A. & Strong, P. T. (1999). Theorizing the hybrid. The Journal of American Folklore, 112(445),
239-253.
Matusky, P. & Tan S. B. (2017). The music of Malaysia: The classical, folk, and syncretic traditions. SOAS
Musicology Series. Second edition. London: Routledge Taylor & Francis Group.
Matusky, P. (2011). Wayang Jawa (Wayang Melayu) ancient Malaysian shadow play (wayang kulit):
Aristocratic hegemony in a hybridized form. In Mohd Anis Md Nor & P. Matusky (Eds.), Hybridity
in the performing arts of Southeast Asia: Proceedings of the 1st symposium of the ICTM study group
on performing arts of Southeast Asia (pp. 65-73). Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia: NusPARC, Department
of Southeast Asian Studies, University of Malaya.
Mrázek, J. (1999). Javanese wayang kulit in the times of comedy: Clown scenes, innovation and the
performance’s being in the present world. Part one. Indonesia, 68, 38-128.
Samudra Art Production. (2017, February 2). Samudra Ensemble – Progressive Makyong [Video file].
Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KoGIs-MKisU
Seni Budaya. (2015, April 17). Wayang Kulit Kelantan - Lagu Chahikun [Video file]. Retrieved from
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7mXwsLlP_U
Skeat, W. W. (1972 [1900]). Malay magic being an introduction to the folklore and popular religion of the
Malay Peninsula. New York, NY: Benjamin Blom, INC.
Wright, B. S. (1980). Dance is the cure: The arts as metaphor for healing in Kelantanese Malay
spirit exorcisms. Dance Research Journal, 12(2), 3-10.
Yong, C. M. (2017). Wayang at the temple: Contesting religion, religiosity, and identity in wayang kulit
Kelantan. In P. Matusky & W. Quintero (Eds.), Proceedings of the 4th symposium the ICTM study
group on performing arts of Southeast Asia (pp.134-137). Penang: School of the Arts, Universiti
Sains Malaysia.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
COMMEMORATING THE “SINGAPORE-MEDAN” CONNECTION:
CONTRADICTIONS IN APPROPRIATING “INDONESIAN” REPERTORIES INTO THE
SINGAPORE MALAY DANCE CANON1
Muhammad Noramin bin Mohamed Farid
University of London, United Kingdom
I start this paper by describing a blurry photo from the archives, more specifically a chendaramata, a souvenir
book given to attendees of a performance consisting of event details, pictures and written articles. A black
and white photo caught my attention and it featured a group of people who, upon closer observation of its
surroundings, were posing for a group photo in front of a Malayan Airways airplane. The caption provided
important information: the people in the photo are members of an arts group called Sriwana and that they
represented the Lembaga Tetap Kongres (LTK),2 as part of Singapore’s cultural mission to the countries of
the Melayu Raya. This photo was in a chendaramata published in 1962 commemorating Sriwana’s 7th year
of establishment since its inception in 1955.
The year 1962 in the context of Southeast Asian history was part of a very volatile period: one-year
shy of the signing of the Malaysia act of 1963 and the Manila Accord, later the unprecedented aftermath
resulting in the Konfrontasi3 and eventually the separation of Singapore from Malaysia in 1965, the period
in which Indonesian studies scholar Jennifer Lindsay (2012) affirms, when “things began to get nasty” (p.
4).
I wish to gesture to the Melayu Raya4 mentioned in the caption, which was a politically charged panMalay cultural movement of the late fifties to the mid-sixties, based on two grounds: (1) as an imagined and
political concept in currency at a particular, albeit limited, period of time bringing together communities of
Malay cultural affinities and identities; and (2) as a robust period of cultural, social, and artistic experience
and exchange.
For this paper, I deal most with the second intention as the gesturing to Melayu Raya and that through
this perspective affords me a reference point in history wherein the “translocal”, as purported by
anthropologist Joel Kahn (2006), allowed for Singapore institutions to invite Indonesian artists to come and
teach Malay dance. This is important because the “coming” of these Indonesian artists continues to be part
of the oral and documented single narrative of Malay dance history in Singapore and the repertoires they
taught are preserved and practiced today by leading Malay dance groups.
In addition, to facilitate this discussion I use anthropologist Michael Herzfeld’s (2016) “cultural
intimacy” to understand the phenomena in this study. Cultural intimacy affords, “the recognition of those
aspects of an officially shared identity that are considered a source of external embarrassment but that
nevertheless provide insiders with their assurance of common sociality” (p. 7). I argue that the “external
embarrassment” of not possessing a unique Singaporean Malay dance identity, which propels the ongoing
dependence of establishing and re-affirming the Singapore-Medan connection, equally provides the
practitioners within the scene a sense of communality but also at the same time fortifies pan-Malay
identification that transcends and subverts the nation-state identit(ies).
Objectives of Paper
The objectives of the paper are two-fold. Firstly, to date there has yet to be dedicated research on the historical
trajectories of Malay dance in Singapore and its contemporary development today. Thus, through this paper
I provide a perspective of Malay dance history in Singapore through the usual narratives that are verbally
reiterated through persatuan-persatuan, or arts organizations and traces found in newspapers and in the form
of chendaramata, or souvenir books, that are given to attendees of events organized by these organisations.
Secondly, acknowledging my perilous position as a researcher and insider to this exclusive (practised largely
by practitioners who identify themselves as Malay) and hierarchical (the important roles of Gurus / Veterans)
art world,5 I am interested to juxtapose history and contemporary development of the form in Singapore today
and attempt to bring to the fore, the contestations and contradictions of the practice and a critical
understanding of its history today.
The Malay dance art world in Singapore continues to be dependent on its Singapore-Medan relations
despite its inherent and relentless desire to forge a Singaporean identity as fostered and bolstered by the
multiracial policies of the nation-state. This is purported by the nostalgia of veterans and elite groups of
Malay dance in Singapore who continue to commemorate this connection through celebratory events and
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“INDONESIAN” REPERTORIES INTO THE SINGAPORE MALAY DANCE CANON
most recently with the endorsement by Singapore’s premier arts establishment, the Esplanade—Theatres on
the Bay.
Equally, I argue as anthropologist and sociologist J. D. Y. Peel (1984) does, that “conceptions of the
past are facts of the present” and that “the content of such conceptions of the past… may well be largely or
entirely the product of particular present interests” (p. 112). Veteran choreographers find opportunities to
reinforce personal histories, fortifying and re-establishing historical links to remain relevant and be
gatekeepers to what they now regard as “tradition”. I believe I must also clarify here that I am not talking
about Indonesia in monolithic terms, but in acknowledgement of the Indonesian dance teachers who came to
Singapore to teach specifically Malay dance, i.e. Sumatran dances ranging from Minangkabau dances to
popular Malay dances of North Sumatra and Riau (Hinterland and Island) communities.
The Malay Dance scene in Singapore can best be described as what theatre scholar Howard Becker
would deem as, an “Art World”. Art worlds can be understood in terms of a “local community, in which
people who live close to each other routinely collaborate to produce more or less similar works, a form of
community especially likely in such performing arts as theatre (Becker et al, p. 93). For the case of the Malay
dance art world in Singapore, although practitioners do not live close to each other, there is a shared “tradition
and culture,” a system of how things are done, and a common artistic language used (p. 94).
Persatuan-persatuan, or organisations in Singapore, are examples of how the Malay dance art world
functions. The 1950s saw the formation of such persatuan-persatuan by eager artists who were influenced
by the Malay nationalist movement. Arts organisations such as Sriwana formed in 1955 and Perkumpulan
Seni in 1956, two of the oldest arts organisations in Singapore, were founded by prominent Malay
personalities of that period such as Zubir Said (music and film), Nongchik Ghani (theatre and dance), Usman
Awang and Abdul Ghani Hamid (literature). These two organisations continue to be active contributors today
in the artistic disciplines of dance and theatre.
Since attaining independence in 1965 upon separation from Malaysia, these persatuan-persatuan,
especially those focused on promoting Malay cultural activities and social causes, had to deal with a sudden
void: the previous agenda of promoting a Malay nationalism had to be replaced with future efforts to promote
multicultural national agenda that acknowledges the equal and unique existence of various ethnic entities
(Barnard & Putten, 2008).
Sriwana and Perkumpulan Seni
For this paper I will focus on the activities of these two organizations and how in their own capacities, each
have maintained the Singapore-Medan connection in their practice and histories. It must first be
acknowledged that these two groups were multi-arts groups consisting of different arts disciplines such as
literature, dance, silat (martial arts), choir, etc. But it is the theatre and dance sections of the groups that
continue to remain active and pertinent to the arts scene today.
The two organisations worked closely in their formative years and the period saw many theatrical
collaborations such as, “Keris Sempena Riau” (1959), “Lela Satria” (1960) and “Ribut” (1962). As the
theatrical collaborations were quite reminiscent to that of Bangsawan shows in the earlier periods (Tan,
1993), the inclusion of creative dance repertoires was commonplace. In fact, most of the performers were
multi-talented and would also take on many other artistic and technical roles in the production. Hence, the
development of dance in these groups was very much in tandem with the active promotion of theatre as well.
However, as more opportunities became available for dance as part of the nation-building and community
agendas, e.g. People’s Association Dance Talents formed in 1965 and the National Dance Company in 1970,
dancers from these groups would work alongside each other within these organisations, exchanging ideas
and adapting repertoires.
Sriwana’s illustrious development in both the arts and media in Singapore, is integral to the creation
of platforms for the professionalization of Malay dance and the establishment of future arts groups. These
progenies formed by former members of Sriwana, who continue to have good relations with their former
group, in their own capacities played a role in the continuity of Sriwana’s importance and legacy via the
endorsement of specific Sriwana-based repertories. I focus now on the historical involvement of an
Indonesian-Chinese lady, Surianty Liu Chun Wai, in the late fifties and how the recent activities by Sriwana
and its progenies commemorate Liu’s ongoing prominence and her dance creations which are regarded as
“classic” repertoires of Singapore’s Malay dance canon.
According to my recent interview with Liu (2018) arranged by the Esplanade—Theatres on the Bay,
she shared that her first arrival to Singapore was with the Indonesian Cultural Mission to the country in 1959.
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MUHAMMAD NORAMIN BIN MOHAMED FARID
Later, the team was invited by then Ministry of Culture, to teach a Malay dance workshop for practitioners.
As the only Indonesian of Chinese descent who was able to communicate in Mandarin, she played an
important role in the workshop translating for her guru, Saugi Bustami, who conducted the workshop for
students of the former Nanyang University, Singapore’s Chinese-medium university.
Subsequently, her meeting with the founder of Sriwana, Nongchik Ghani was to become the
beginning of Liu’s involvement with Sriwana and the production of more than twenty choreographies during
her two-year stint with the group. She came bearing knowledge of dances that were deemed as “Malay” and
these repertoires, namely Tanjong Katong, Serampang Dua Belas and Baju Kurung, are still practised today
by dance troupes in Singapore.
Sulaiman Jeem, Sriwana member and journalist, highlighted in Berita Harian (a Malay daily) that in
the early sixties, Malay youth were very keen for Western forms of dance. In his article he opines that Liu’s
efforts to teach Chinese youth Malay dance, made them resemble Malay youth. Sulaiman then (1961) ended
his article with a paragraph to advise the “Malay Race” of an impending setback:
So if we ourselves do not seize the opportunity, then without realising it we, the Malay race, will be
far behind than the Chinese youths in the field of Malay dance, which is our right and ours to possess.
A confession that is maligning and embarrassing. (p. 4)
Sulaiman Jeem (1982) would remind 20 years later in the Straits Times about Liu’s influence. He wrote:
Her contribution to the art of Malay dancing in Singapore had a very big impact especially in respect
of form, system and method. She taught Malay dancing here for just a few months but the dances
that she introduced have remained with the Malay cultural scene for a very long time. (p. 24)
I highlight some of the recent commemorative events that have been organized emphasizing Sriwana and its
progenies’ nostalgic affiliation to the Singapore-Medan connection. Some former members of Sriwana who
left the organization, had formed their own collectives and continue to practise certain Sriwanna repertoires,
namely Sri Warisan Som Said Performing Arts Ltd. established in 1997 and Era Dance Theatre Ltd. founded
in 1992, incorporated in 2009, just to name a few.
Sriwana’s recent commissioned production by the Esplanade as part of a “Pesta Raya” event entitled
“Legendary Lengang: Tracing Origins”, and held at the outdoor theatre, presented some of Sriwana’s
“classic” dances and were performed by current dancers of Sriwana and its progenies. One of these repertoire
pieces was the “Baju Kurung” a choreography of Liu, circa 1961-62. Liu was later invited on stage after the
presentation of the dance to share her well-wishes for the group. Liu was invited the next day to teach a dance
masterclass which was promoted as “Classical Malay Dance”. I was present at the workshop and from my
observation, there were equal numbers of Malay dance practitioners and amateurs. She taught excerpts of a
Minangkabau Joget dance and later a Zapin dance.
The art world proceeding Liu was immersed by the presence of a steady stream of Indonesian
choreographers trained in Malay and Minangkabau dances such as Deddy Luthan, Tom Ibnur and Noerdin
Daud who were invited by Sriwana and the NDC to teach Sumatran dances. Perkumpulan Seni likewise is
no stranger to this trend of inviting Indonesian choreographers.
In 2012, Perkumpulan Seni documented its own unique historical trajectory with Medan to position
itself within the discourse. In a book entitled, Tari Melayu Serampang 12: Sejarah & Perkembangan di
dalam Perkumpulan Seni (Malay Dance Serampang 12: History & Development in Perkumpulan Seni), the
authors traced the origins of a popular North Sumatran dance, “Serampang Dua Belas”6 and the context
which led to the inception of a Perkumpulan Seni version of this dance that was introduced by a prominent
dance personality from Medan, Tengku Sitta Syaritsa, in the 1980s.
The book launch in July 2012 was attended by dance activists from many dance groups. During the
event there was acknowledgement of the several variations of Serampang Dua Belas in Singapore which was
affirmed by the master of ceremony, Ramlan Rasidi, who is also a dance veteran in the art world, who said,
“although the basic movements are the same, but the style of presentation differs for each dance
group”7(Putra, 2012, p. 10).
Contradictions and Contestations
From the events, we see how certain elite personalities and organizations have taken great lengths to re144
COMMEMORATING THE “SINGAPORE-MEDAN” CONNECTION: CONTRADICTIONS IN APPROPRIATING
“INDONESIAN” REPERTORIES INTO THE SINGAPORE MALAY DANCE CANON
establish historical links with certain figures while purporting nostalgic narratives amidst the art world’s
desire to find its own identity. Som Said asserts in an interview (EsplanadeSG, 2012) that:
Talk about Malay dance, I know that the history is always based on Indonesian Medan instructors
that brought Malay dance here. Inside me, it is always like “This is not ours… this is not ours.” What
would make Malay dance in Singapore different from what we received?
A newspaper article written in the late 1980s documented this long-lasting inherent desire. The article
entitled, “Dancing to the Rhythm of Borrowed Steps,” was the journalist’s creative response to what was
discussed by elite practitioners at a forum in 1988, the revelation that Singapore has long perpetuated
Indonesian repertoires with none to call their own.
Today, communal discussions to institutionalize Singaporean Malay Dance identity have produced
further questions as practitioners struggle to agree on which dances are representative, as it concerns whose
group identity is placed on the pedestal. Questions such as, “should we prioritise Sriwana’s repertoires, if so,
does it truly represent groups from other non-Sriwana genealogies?” or “must we discard and disown the
Indonesian dances still practiced today?”. As one veteran8 shared with me in Malay:
Why must we constantly refer to (mengkiblatkan) Medan, when we have existed for 50 years, dance
associations have dance repertoires of their own. Shouldn’t it be time for us to elevate the dances of
Sriwana and Perkumpulan Seni to become the symbols of Malay dance in Singapore?9
The veteran used the word “mengkiblatkan” which is usually used to entail the religious direction of Islamic
prayer. He used it to stress the direction some personalities in the art world are looking at, in particular the
preoccupation with Medan when the existence of associations has allowed for new choreographies in the
spirit of a “Singaporean” identity.
Conclusion
I see two ways in which the employment of Herzfeld’s “cultural intimacy” could best sum up my analysis of
these Singapore-Medan commemorative events by leading organizations and personalities of Malay dance.
Firstly, despite having to continuously depend on Indonesian counterparts for knowledge about Malay dance
due to local Malay dance practitioners’ “external embarrassment” that they do not have any repertoires that
can be regarded authentically Malay or can be classify as uniquely Singaporean-Malay, these insiders see
themselves and find comfort as being part of this local art world—a sense of community that binds them
together.
Secondly, this same “external embarrassment of not possessing a unique Singaporean-Malay style
of performance which differs from its cultural affiliated neighbours, namely Indonesia and Malaysia, actually
affords “the assurance of common sociality”—being part of a larger polity, a continued recognition of a premodern nation-state identity of the Alam Melayu or the Malay world.
Using the archival material of a particular period has given me access and context to think deeper
and critically about Malay dance history. The study teases out the contestations and contradictions inherent
in the discourse of ethnicity and identity politics, highlighting cultural intimacies of the art world.
The two explanations I provide here may seem contradictory, but as an insider I affirm the dual lived
experiences, as it also speaks volumes of an issue that I have just only scratched the surface: the experience
of a Malay dance practitioner in Singapore as a minority ethnic citizen in a multicultural nation, sandwiched
between two nations of cultural affinities. The intersections between the discourses of ethnic identity and
nationality in the Malay dance art world of Singapore provides compelling insights for the anthropology of
dance in the nation-state and also the maritime region.
Endnotes
1
This is a revised title. The original title, “Revisting the ‘Melayu Raya’: Contradictions in Appropriating
‘Indonesian’ Repertories into the Singapore Malay Dance Canon” was an ambitious feat on my part and I
have revised it to reflect a more focused study.
2
“Anggota2 Sriwana telah terpileh sa-bagai mewakili LTK, menyertai rombongan Kebudayaan Singapura
ka-negara2 Melayu Raya” (Sriwana, 1962, p. 17).
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MUHAMMAD NORAMIN BIN MOHAMED FARID
3
The political and armed conflict known as the Indonesia-Malaysia Confrontation or Konfrontasi began in
1963. It was Indonesia’s response to the formation of the Federation of Malaysia. It lasted for about 4 years,
ceasing officially in 1966 (Omar, 2008).
4
A political anti-colonial movement with its beginnings in the 1920s with the desire to unite and form an
independent nation made up of a united Malaya and Indonesia. It is often referred to as “Indonesia Raya”
(Plomp, 2012, p. 389)
5 At the time of writing this article, I am currently pursuing ethnographic research in Singapore, Malaysia
and Indonesia as my part of my PhD candidacy.
6
This dance repertoire which originated from the Deli-Serdang area, now part of the province of North
Sumatra, was choreographed by Guru Sauti in the 1930s and its proliferation in the Malay World came about
when it was given the status of one of the “national dances” of Indonesia. The popular dance repertoires of
Guru Sauti was taught by Indonesian dance teachers to Malay communities of cultural affinities. I wrote
about the contemporary practice of Serampang Dua Belas in Medan and Pekanbaru as part of my Master’s
thesis (Mohd Farid, 2016).
7 “Mungkin gerak dasar tari ini masih sama, tapi gaya penyampaian agak berbeza bagi setiap kumpulan tari.”
8 I have chosen to withhold the identity of this veteran as this perspective was shared as part of a personal
communication.
9 “Kenapa harus kita mengkiblatkan Medan, sedangkan kita sudah lima puluh tahun wujud, persatuanpersatuan ada repertoar tari tersendiri. Bukankah masa untuk kita mengangkat karya-karya tari Sriwana dan
Perkumpulan Seni sebagai simbol tarian Melayu di Singapura.”
References
Abu Bakar, M. (1988, September 19). Dancing to the rhythm of borrowed steps. The Straits Times, p. 5.
Barnard, T. & Putten, J. V. (2008). Malay cosmopolitan activism in post-war Singapore. In M. D. Barr & C.
A. Trocki (Eds.), Paths not taken: Political pluralism in post-war Singapore (pp. 132-153).
Singapore: NUS Press.
EsplanadeSG. (2012) Tribute.sg - Som Said [YouTube]. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?
v=fKshrfbhbWY (Accessed: 05/09/2018).
Jeem, S. (1961, February 28). Sumbangan gadis Tionghoa dalam tari Melayu asli: Chara mereka menari
sunggoh2 saperti pemuda pemudi melayu. Berita Harian, p. 4
Jeem, S. (1982, February 22). Great contribution of Malay dances by an instructress. Straits Times, p. 24.
Herzfeld, M. (2016). Cultural intimacy: Social poetics and the real life of states, societies, and institutions.
London: Routledge.
Kahn, J. (2006). Other Malays: Nationalism and cosmopolitanism in the modern Malay world. Singapore:
Singapore University Press.
Lindsay, J. (2012). Performing Indonesia abroad. In J. Lindsay & M. H. T. Liem (Eds.), Heirs to world
culture: Being Indonesia 1950-1956 (pp. 191-220). Leiden: KITLV Press.
Mohd Farid, Muhd Noramin. (2016). Serampang dua belas: Discourses of identity in the contemporary
practice of a Malay courtship dance in Sumatra (Unpublished master’s thesis). Roehampton
University, London, United Kingdom.
Omar, M. (2008). Indonesia-Malaysia Confrontation. Retrieved from http://eresources.nlb.gov.sg/history/
events/126b6b07-f796-4b4c-b658-938001e3213e.
Peel, J. D. Y. (1984). Making history: The past in the Ijesha present. Man, 19(1), 111-132.
Plomp, M. (2012). The capital of pulp fiction and other capitals cultural life in Medan, 1950-1958. In J.
Lindsay & M. H. T. Liem (Eds.), Heirs to world culture: Being Indonesia 1950-1956 (pp. 191-220).
Leiden: KITLV Press.
Putra, A. (2012, March 28). Perkumpulan seni rakam sejarah serampang 12. Berita Harian, p. 10.
Said, S. & Ahmad, H. (2012). Tari Melayu serampang 12: Sejarah & perkembangan di dalam perkumpulan
seni. Singapore: PS Singapura.
Sriwana. (1962). Chenderamata Sriwana 1955-1962. Singapore: Sriwana.
Tan, S. B. (1993). Bangsawan: A social and stylistic history of popular Malay opera. Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
FROM FOLK MUSICIANS TO POPULAR ICONS: REFASHIONING A STRUGGLING TAMIL
FOLK MUSIC TRADITION IN SINGAPORE
Gene Lai
Wesleyan University, USA
Singapore is situated at the southern tip of the Malay Peninsula. It is separated from Malaysia by the Straits
of Johor to its north and from Indonesia's Riau Islands by the Singapore Strait to its south. The Singapore
ethnicity composition as of September 2015 is approximately 75% Chinese, 13% Malays, 9% Indians, 3%
others.
In 2015, during the thaipusam celebrations—which is a major Hindu festival in Singapore—a scuffle
between members of a Tamil folk drumming groups known as urumi mēlam and police officers broke out
along the procession route. As a result, a police SWAT team was deployed to the scene and three men were
arrested and sentenced to jail and fines.
In January 2016, the Hindu Endowments Board released a new set of regulations for thaipusam 2016
in the national newspaper under the title, Live Music at Thaipusam after 42 Years. Temple musicians and
urumi mēlam musicians were invited to perform at allocated spots in the Sri Srinivasa Perumal Temple and
at three live music points along the procession route. However, they were not allowed to walk or play their
drums along the route. The live music points were identified by the police and each was located at least one
hundred meters away from residential areas. While two live music points were assigned to temple musicians
playing the nagaswaram and tavil, only one live music point was assigned to urumi mēlam groups.
Fast forward to 2018: during the thaipusam festival, urumi mēlam groups were allowed to perform
in the Sri Srinivasa Perumal Temple and two live music points while temple musicians were assigned one
live music point. Furthermore, they have also received invitations from government statuary boards and
community centers to perform at numerous community events such as this one. What made a struggling
Tamil musical tradition in Singapore such as urumi mēlam to alleviate their stigma and gain acceptance in
the public eye two years after the 2015 thaipusam scuffle?
In this paper, I discuss the concept of resilience within the context of urumi mēlam musical tradition
in Singapore. I will do this by firstly providing brief descriptions about resilience and urumi mēlam. I will
then describe how the transnational network of urumi mēlam musicians and Tamil folk musicians in Malaysia
and Tamil Nadu have inspired Singaporean urumi mēlam musicians to adopt strategies that have helped to
alleviate their stigmatized musical tradition. By examining these strategies and their outcomes, I propose that
urumi mēlam musicians in Singapore have been able to move beyond being defined as members of an ethnic
minority folk troupe. Instead, they have been able to refashion their image to resemble that of a popular icon
in popular culture.
The Concept of Resilience
Resilience is a term originated from the field of ecology. It implies a way to manage disturbances and
changes, and guides the outcome toward a desirable end in an ecosystem. One of the earliest mentions of the
concept of resilience in the field of ethnomusicology was in an article by Daniel Neuman titled ‘Ecology of
Indian Music in North America’ (1984). Neuman writes that “resiliency is a consequence of Hindustani or
North Indian Classical Music’s adaptive possibilities in different cultural environments” (1984, p. 2). In a
recent publication, Jeff Titon reintroduced the concept of resilience and defines it as “a system’s capacity to
recover its integrity, identity, and continuity when subjected to forces of disturbance” (2015, p. 158).
Singaporean musical traditions have demonstrated resilience in the midst of disturbances in the form
of regulations imposed by the authorities. These have been addressed by scholars who conducted studies on
traditions such as Tamil music (Sykes, 2015a, 2015b), kuda kepang [hobby horse trance dance] (Hardwick,
2014), Extreme metal music (Dairianathan, 2013), and Islamic call for prayer (Lee, 1999). Unanimously,
they note that practitioners of local traditions demonstrated resiliency through adaptive strategies such as
changing narratives to one approved by authorities, syncretizing their musics with nuances of western popular
music, and seeking alternative platforms to reach their audiences.
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GENE LAI
The Urumi Mēlam in Singapore and Malaysia
The urumi mēlam is a folk ensemble that originated in Tamil Nadu, South India. Urumi refers to the type of
drum, and mēlam refers to ensemble or band. In Tamil Nadu, urumi melam consist of urumi,1 nagaswaram,2
tàvil,3 pambai,4 and tālam.5 In Southeast Asia, notably Malaysia and Singapore, urumi mēlam groups usually
comprise a vocalist, urumi, távil, chinna kattai,6 and chin chak.7 It emerged in the Malaysian city of Ipoh in
the late 1980s. Subsequently it began to spread and became popularized in Singapore in the early 2000s
(Sykes, 2015b, p. 383). The performers are Tamil Hindu males between the ages of 16 to 31 who drum
energetically and sing songs of praises to deities. All of them pursue urumi mēlam as a part-time engagement
(see Figure 1).
Urumi mēlam groups are hired on an on-demand basis. Typically, they provide music for events
such as Hindu ceremonies and rituals, weddings, and welcoming ceremonies for guests of honour. Apart
from providing music for events, urumi mēlam groups have also been successful in keeping vulnerable teens
away from narcotics and street gangs (Sykes, 2015b, p. 390).
Figure 1. Drummers of Siva Sakthi Muniandy Urumi Mēlam.
(Photo: Christine May Yong, 2016)
Urumi mēlam musicians have a strong sense of solidarity in Singapore. Most urumi mēlam musicians are
acquaintances. Despite competing for gigs, it is common for a musician from one urumi mēlam group to
perform with another group when there is a shortage of players. The musical tradition has also receives
support from the Singaporean Tamil Hindu community, who hire them for sacred and secular events. The
cohesiveness of the urumi mēlam performance community and the Singaporean Tamil Hindu community has
made the musical tradition an important emblem of cultural identity. However, tensions and anxieties arise
as Singaporean authorities constrain the ability of urumi mēlam groups to perform.
Singaporean authorities, advised by members of the Hindu endowments board (of whom many are
upper caste Indian permanent residents of Singapore), select and declare what is “Hindu”, and what is not.
Music, an important element of Hindu practice, is not spared from this process. Although the Singaporean
Tamil Hindu community is not bound by the Hindu caste system, there is an implicit caste hierarchy. The
urumi mēlam groups are often stigmatized because upper caste Hindu advisors viewed it as a dalit
(untouchable caste) ensemble affiliated with criminals and gangs. Therefore, they face challenges from
regulations imposed on them by Singaporean authorities. Despite urumi mēlam musical tradition’s
emblematic status within the larger Singaporean Tamil Hindu community, they are never endorsed as a
Singaporean Indian performing arts and do not receive support from the government or any heritage
management agencies. One of the examples that demonstrates the significant lack of support for urumi mēlam
groups in Singapore is their struggle to find a proper rehearsal venue. They usually hold their rehearsals at
public parks and carparks.
Urumi Mēlam Musical Tradition’s Resilience Amid Disturbances
According to Yoshitaka Terada, as the effects of globalization deepen, more musical traditions will face a
similar situation in which multiple centres of musical production and consumption are connected through
physical movements of people and electronic means (2014, p. 67). Therefore, Terada argues that it is much
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FROM FOLK MUSICIANS TO POPULAR ICONS: REFASHIONING A STRUGGLING TAMIL
FOLK MUSIC TRADITION IN SINGAPORE
closer to reality to think of the flow as being circular between multiple centres of South Indian music and
dance (2014, p. 66). Terada’s concept of circular flow very much corresponds to the intracultural influences
among urumi mēlam musical tradition in Singapore, Malaysia, and Tamil Nadu.
Urumi mēlam musicians have been demonstrating resiliency in an effort to maintain their musical
tradition because they are unaided by the government and heritage management agencies. Despite these
obstacles, they have been actively adapting new strategies to maintain their musical tradition on their own
capacity. They learn new strategies from their counterparts in Malaysia and Tamil Nadu and they adopt,
adapt, reject, and negotiate for suitable strategies that will engage audiences within and beyond the Singapore
Tamil Hindu community. I will highlight two strategies that urumi mēlam musicians use to engage their
diverse audiences: They are, 1) borrowing rhythms from popular music, Tamil film music, and other musical
traditions and 2) synthesizing traditional Tamil folk Music with synthesized sounds.
Borrowing Rhythms from Popular Music, Tamil Film Music, and Other Musical Traditions
All musical arrangements for urumi mēlam are set to Tamil folk rhythms known as adis. However, to engage
non-Indian audiences, urumi mēlam musicians have been borrowing rhythms and sounds from popular music,
Tamil film music, and other musical traditions to create musical arrangements for their groups. The Lion
Dance adi is borrowed from the rhythms accompanying the Chinese lion dance (see Figure 2). The kabali
aḍi is borrowed from the 2016 Tamil blockbuster movie Kabali. The Micheal Jackson adi is borrowed from
Michael Jackson’s Smooth Criminal from his 1987 album titled Bad. Urumi mēlam musicians apply these
rhythms to pre-existing Tamil songs to create musical arrangements or to create their own compositions.
Figure 2. Siva Sakthi Muniandy Urumi Mēlam accompanying a Chinese Lion Dance Performance.
(Photo: Siva Sakthi Muniandy Urumi Mēlam, 2017)
Synthesis of Traditional Tamil Folk Music and Synthesized Sounds
In Tamil Nadu, prominent folk singer and urumi drummer Anthony Daasan and his Tamil folk fusion band
known as “Anthony in Party” became a big sensation among Tamil folk music fans around the world. The
sonorities of Tamil folk music fused with synthesized sounds have inspired urumi mēlam groups in Singapore
and Malaysia to experiment with synthesized sound in their compositions.
In October 2017, the Siva Sakthi Muniandy Urumi Mēlam released their very first devotional single
titled karuppu on Facebook and YouTube (see Figure 2). The song is a devotional song in praise of the Tamil
folk deity karuppu. It is a synthesis of traditional Tamil folk rhythms and synthesized sounds, which gives a
fresh sonority that transcends the traditional urumi mēlam sounds.
Conclusion
Government regulations are part of the larger struggle for Singaporean urumi mēlam to sustain their musical
tradition. Urumi mēlam musicians hope to gain recognition as a Singaporean Indian musical tradition that
serves the Singaporean Tamil Hindu Community. However, the constant suppression from authorities has
made it difficult for urumi mēlam musicians to sustain their musical tradition within the multicultural matrix
of Singaporean society. This has forced urumi mēlam musicians to become resilient. They have been
149
GENE LAI
developing strategies to attract audiences, gazers, and fellow Tamil Hindus. Inspired by their counterparts in
Malaysia and Tamil Nadu, they borrow rhythms from popular culture into their musical performances and
they also experiment with synthesized sounds in their compositions.
With all these strategies in place, urumi mēlam groups in Singapore have been able to overcome the
stigma of being associated by the Singaporean government with criminality and gangsterism, and have gained
popularity. However, more work needs to be done in order for the urumi mēlam musical tradition to
completely eradicate these harmful associations. For now, urumi mēlam musicians have been able to recraft
their image from Tamil Hindu folk drumming tradition to a representation resembling a popular icon.
Endnotes
1
Urumi is a double-headed hourglass-shaped drum that originated in the state of Tamil Nadu, South India.
In Tamil Nadu, it is typically played by dalits, many of whom believe it has supernatural and sacred powers.
When played in religious ceremonies and processions, the performance of specific beats and “moaning”
sound produced on the urumi may induce spirit possessions or trance (Lai, 2016, p. 33).
2 The tavil is a single barrel-shaped drum with two heads, the treble sounding head normally at the right and
a bass sounding head at the left (ibid).
3 The nāgasvaram is a Tamil folk wind instrument; it has been a necessary instrument that accompanies
important religious rituals at the Hindu temple (ibid).
4 The pambai comprise of a pair of small cylindrical drums held horizontally one on top of the other in front
of the musician's chest. The lower pitched drum is tied to the musician’s waist and the higher pitched drum
is slung from the musician’s neck so that the drums comprises and lie above the other horizontally (ibid).
5 The tālam is a pair of brass bells that keeps tāḷa for most South Indian musical traditions.
6 The chinna kattai drum is the high-pitched drum of the pambai (ibid).
7 The chin chak is a localized name of tālam. Urumi mēlam musicians use it to keep tempo.
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study (pp. 47-71). Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
FUNCTIONALISM AND THE SULING DEWA IN THE NGAPONIN SACRED PURIFICATION
CEREMONY OF NORTHERN LOMBOK
Nur Kholis Sumardi
Indonesian Arts Institute, Indonesia
Introduction
Broadly speaking, the Sasak tribe has four sub cultures: Kuto—kute North Lombok, Meno—mene West
Lombok, Ngeno—ngeni East Lombok and Meriyaq—meriku South Lombok. These four great sub-groups
have other branches based on commune. Sub-cultures in the Sasak tribe have different languages, arts and
customs. The people from North Lombok, especially those in Bayan village use Kuto—kute bayan language,
or commonly referred to as Sasak polong language. The majority of the Sasak Kuto—kute community is
located in North Lombok, and partly in the Sekotong and Karang Bayan mountains of West Lombok. The
Sasak Kuto—kute language has several branches, one of which is the polong language and the unique
language of the polong or Kuto—kute bayan is split in several hamlet languages. The interesting thing about
Lombok is that it is such a small island but has a particular aesthetic based on the contrast of diversity in
languages and culture. Here is a comparison table between the Sasak Kuto-kute community with four major
sub-Sasak languages with the keyword “Nothing”.
Table 1. The Language of Sub-Sasaknese Culture
Kuto – kute bayan
Meno – mene
Ngeno – ngeni
Meriyaq – meriku
Kuto – kute
Soraq e dan Enya Raq
Endeq Araq
Enda Raq
Edaq Iye
Enya Raq
As for the tribal everyday language, the Sasak tribe itself is divided into four groups, but the sub-Sasak Kuto
- kute Bayan tribe uses only two levels of Diq and Epe. As the table below shows, the level of Sasak language
ranges from low to high.
Table 2. Level of Language
Language
Level
Meq
Very Low
Kamu or Diq (Kuto – kute)
Side or Epe (Kuto – kute)
Plungguh
Low
Middle
High
The Sasak Kuto-kute tribe, which lives in the village of Bayan North Lombok, has a unique belief known by
the three terms of Waktu Telu, Metu Telu or Wetu Telu. Islam Metu Telu is actually a belief system that was
born from the syncretism of the three elements of Islam, Hindu Majapahit and Nenekisme (ancient beliefs of
the Sasak tribe) religion. This religion, if observed from the viewpoint of cultural phenomenon, has a very
high beauty value, ranging from art to the practice of ceremony, one of which is the Suling Dewa and
Ngaponin Ceremony.
Suling Dewa is the most sacred of instruments in the Sasak Kuto-kute Bayan community. This
instrument consists of only four pieces representing the four directions (east, south, west and north). Every
ceremony or ritual performed by the Sasak Kuto-kute community usually uses only one Suling Dewa, a
situation different than in Ngaponin ceremony, which uses four Suling Dewa at once in the implementation
of its activities.
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NUR KHOLIS SUMARDI
Figure 1. Jero Gamel (left), Inan Gending (right) and Suling Dewa.
(Photo: Nur Kholis Sumardi, Senaru 02 Februari 2014)
The presence of four sacred Suling Dewa in the ceremony of Ngaponin relates to the status of Ngaponin
ceremony as one of the sacred ceremonies in the Sasak Kuto-kute society. This four-year ceremony is a
purification rite of ancestral heritage of the keris and other traditional weapons performed with maximum
and full consideration. This can be seen from the presence of the four Suling Dewa at the same time. In
addition to the presence of the four Suling Dewa, all customary officials also attend the ceremony of
Ngaponin to perform their duties respectively for the sustainability of the ceremony.
Ceremony, Rites, and Textual Aspects
The ‘ceremony’ (upacara) in Sanskrit means service, honour, worship and supplication (Surada, 2007), or in
Old Javanese language also known as upakara, which means to help, serve, grace and obligation
(Zoetmulder, 1997), while ‘ritual’ is a culturally constructed symbolic communication system (Stausberg et
al, 2006). Actually, rituals and ceremonies have a similar substance of service and worship, but the system
and size of its activities are distinguished. As in the case of the Ngaponin ceremony, the ritual activities
included in it comprise the ritual Mendewa. ‘Rent’ ritual activity is a ritual activity which calls the spirit of
the ancestors to enter the human. This ritual in its existence is separated by the Ngaponin ceremony, however,
to maintain the sanctity of the Ngaponin ceremony, the ritual of Mendewa took place in a series of
ceremonies. This led to the birth of a ‘ritual’ in the ‘ceremony’.
The presence of the Ngaponin ceremony every four years, according to the Sasak Kuto-kute
customary calendar, aims to purify the sacred heritage of the Sasak Kuto-kute community. However, if we
look at the cultural phenomenon, it can be considered that this has a relationship with the world community
itself. As Jenks said,
The phenomenon of culture has the content that comes through human plans and purposes; certain
sensations or impressions reach us through our relationship with the world. (Jenks, 2013).
This clearly indicates there is always a certain intent upon the teachings that the ancestors left for their
generation, just as the ancestors of Sasak Kuto-kute have formulated the timeliness of metal oxidation and
made it a pattern of ceremonies to survive in society.
In connection with a ceremony, of course the time elected is an important element in a ceremony. It
is similar to Koentjacaraningrat’s opinion about religious ceremonies in Indonesia which generally contain
five components: 1) religious emotion, 2) belief system, 3) rite and ceremonial system, 4) ritual and
ceremonial equipment, and 5) religious people (Koentjacaraningrat, 1993). The Ngaponin ceremony is held
every four years on Friday in the year of Se (the year of Sasaknese). This is included in the ceremonial system
referred to by Koentjaraningrat. In addition, the Ngaponin ceremony also uses facilities and special prasana
from the primary, secondary and tertiary elements (or needs). Some examples are the Suling Dewa as the
primary need, ceremonial participants as secondary need and traditional food as the tertiary need.
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PURIFICATION CEREMONY OF NORTHERN LOMBOK
The Suling Dewa as a primary need in the Ngaponin ceremony is a special ritual or ordinance in the
ceremony that has a series of behaviours which give meaning through symbols (Kuper, 2008). This incident
is inseparable from the textual elements of the Suling Dewa in the Ngaponin ceremony—the players of Suling
Dewa (Jero Gamel as flute player and Inan Gending as vocal of the Suling Dewa), Suling Dewa lyric.
Dedicated Suling Dewa instrument representing the direction (west, east, north and south) and the music
composition of Suling Dewa (gending lokoq sebie as special gending for Ngaponin).
If you consider the symbolic meaning of Suling Dewa through the stages of semiosis by Peirce in
the form of repesentamen (R), object (O) and interpretant (I) (Mustansyir, 2011), the Table will be obtained
as follows:
Table 3. The Symbol Meanings of the Suling Dewa Text
Numb
Text
1
Players
2
Lyric
3
4
Suling DewaInstrument
Music Compositions
Representamen
(R)
Jero Gamel and
Inan Gending
Gending Lokok
Sebie
Flute Organology
Gending Lokoq
Sebie
Object
(O)
Purity
Supplication
Interpretant
(I)
The balance of
nature
Cool and peaceful
Breath
Hot weather
atmosphere
Human Reflection
Take natural
energy
Functionalism of Suling Dewa in the Ngaponin Sacred Ceremony
The Suling Dewa in the Ngaponin ceremony explicitly positions itself in various functions of music and
usability. The Suling Dewa has the ability to summon supernatural creatures and create imaginary walls in
order to maintain the sanctity of the ceremony, but it should be known that the Suling Dewa also has other
functions, such as communication, expression, physical response, the function of the organizers of
conformity with social norms, the function of sustainability and cultural stability, and the function of support
of social integrity and of solidarity.
The above description is reviewed on field phenomena based on the theory put forward by Alan P.
Meriam and Charles Keil (Merriam, 2000). However, the text in this chapter will not describe the way the
functions of Suling Dewa in Ngaponin ceremony operate. In this chapter the discussion presented leads to
the analysis of the causes of the establishment of function in the functions of Suling Dewa in Ngaponin
ceremony.
Entering more deeply into the formation of the idea of the function itself, it is certainly not loosely
related to the body structure of objects that contain the predicate of the function itself. Let’s look at the
anthropologist Levi Strauss's view of structuralism, which says that structuralists are systems of analysis that
focus on systems of relationships that lie behind a grammatical structure and grammar (Abror, 2006). The
following schematic is attached as network analytics based on the phenomenon of the field of Suling Dewa
in Ngaponin ceremony along with the correlations.
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NUR KHOLIS SUMARDI
The top (or the top column) on this network explains that the Suling Dewa is an object consisting of two
aspects of ‘text’ and ‘context’. Furthermore, the lines lead to an understanding of the aspect of the text and
the context of the Suling Dewa which consists of its constituent items. The text chart on this network shows
the text degrading the nature of the structure, and the context has ceremonial content as structure and further
downgrades the system.
Structures and systems are two aspects that are related but have the opposite nature. The structure
has stagnant properties, while the system is dynamic. It is said so because the structure essentially has a
proportional dichotomous position which runs and produces the system, whereas the system as a product of
a structure moves dynamically, up and down, back and forth, linearly and exercises control over the will of
its structure.
The line between the two aspects of the text and the context in the network above shows that
conceptually there is a relationship of these two sides as a whole in forming functional meaning. Value as
the last product of the dialectic between expressions, situations, receptions and interpretations is generally
regarded as the most influential factor in the formation of meaning. Thoughts of value and its focus on
meaning have been extensively discussed in philosophical studies since Plato’s era (Gadamer, 1987), but
through critical thinking comes the fact that the meaning of not standing alone, and the study, radically need
to look at the circle of meaning itself.
The significance of the above network is seen to be directly related to value, but it should be noted
also that the circle of meaning relates to three elements, namely individual, universal, and aspectual.
Furthermore, through these three elements meaning can be formed through all three, both even through one
element at random. Therefore, these elements become cyclic, series and singular.
The three elements of meaning will continue to bear different novelties through unique dialectical
relationships. For example, when there is a predicate of universal meaning to the Suling Dewa function, but
in its application the Suling Dewa meets with text and context with different meaning of aspect, hence will
automatically be born new functional newness also. Likewise, if deconstruction occurs on the individual
elements of the Suling Dewa, such as the addition of the number of music players and changes in musical
composition, then this will contribute to overhaul the meaning of the aspect and universal and anchored to
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FUNCTIONALISM AND THE SULING DEWA IN THE NGAPONIN SACRED
PURIFICATION CEREMONY OF NORTHERN LOMBOK
the impact on functionalism. So forth, the dynamics of the functional faces of Suling Dewa can change
following the process of moving the three aspects of the core in the spiral orbit of the elements of meaning.
Conclusion
The Functionalism of the Suling Dewa at the Ngaponin ceremony manifests discourse on the concept of
natural balance, coolness, natural energy enhancement, peace and human reflection in the Sasak Kuto-kute
tribe, whereas in the communication function and the use value of Suling Dewa at the ritual Mendewa it has
the purpose of summoning supernatural energy and creating an imaginary wall for the sanctity of the
Ngaponin ceremony to stay awake. This is certainly caused by indications that have a significant power of
change so as to tinker with the meaning of Suling Dewa functionalism and produce novelty functions at each
different rituals and ceremonies. Significant power of change destabilizes the establishment of musical
functionalism with systematic conceptualist structure relationships, so as to produce power that matches the
load.
Dynamic and ever-changing systems that follow structural control produce a unique dialectic among
universal, aspectual and individual elements in their meaning. In other words, the meaning of functionalism
in the Suling Dewa in the Ngaponin ceremony is formed by the singularity of the element of meaning or
merging between the three and the two that always change following the structure of the Suling Dewa.
Therefore Suling Dewa has a very good adaptation power to fight modernization. And, during the Islam Metu
Telu ceremony which is still done, the Suling Dewa still can survive.
References
Abror, R. H. (2006). Strukturalisme Levi-Strauss: Positivis dan fungsionalistis? Yogyakarta: Insight
Reference.
Gadamer, W. G. (1987). Hermeneutics: Tradition and reason. Oxford: Polity Press.
Jenks, C. (2013). Culture (Trans. Erika Setyawati). Yogyakarta: Pustaka Pelajar.
Koentjacaraningrat. (1993). Ritus peralihan di Indonesia. Jakarta: Balai Pustaka.
Kuper, A. K. & Jessica. (2008). Ensiklopedi ilmu-ilmu social (Trans. Haris Munandar, Aris Ananda, Meri J.
Binsar, Yanto Mustofa, Tris Wibowa Budi Santoso). Jakarta: PT Raja Grafindo Persada.
Merriam, A. P. (2000). Antropologi musik. Yogyakarta: Program S-2 Pascasarjana Institut Seni Indonesia
Yogyakarta.
Mustansyir, R. (2011). Charles Sanders Pierce’s sign philosophy in perspectives of analytical philosophy
relevance for contemporary culture in Indonesia (Doctoral dissertation). UGM Yogyakarta,
Indonesia.
Surada, I. M. (2007). Kamus sansekerta Indonesia. Denpasar: Widya Dharma.
Stausberg, J. K., Snoek, J., & and Michael. (Eds.). (2006). Theorizing rituals issues: Topics, approaches,
concepts. Leiden-Boston: Brill.
Zoetmulder, P. J. & Robson, S. O. (1997). Kamus Jawa Kuna-Indonesia 2 P-Y, Darusuprapta (Trans.
Suprayitna Sumarti). Jakarta: PT Gramedia Pustaka Utama.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
RE-VOICING PANCASILA: CATHOLIC MUSIC AND RELIGIOUS PLURALISM
IN INDONESIA
(Lightning Paper)
Emilie Coakley
University of Pittsburgh, USA
On August 6, 2017, at the Indonesian Airforce Academy on the outskirts of Yogyakarta, Indonesia, former
Indonesia’s Got Talent finalist, Hudson, and the Yogyakarta Dearah Istemewa Choir performed an
arrangement by Bapak Tonie Widyarto of the Indonesian patriotic song "Indonesia Jaya.” Following the
closing Mass of 7th Catholic Asian Youth Day (AYD), this performance served as a kind of pivot point
between the Eucharistic celebration and preparation for the political speeches which followed. Half way
through the song, during an instrumental interlude, choir members together shouted “Saya Indonesia; Saya
Pancasila!,” waving mini-Indonesian flags affixed to plastic drinking straws. Echoing the exact words of
President Joko Widodo’s slogan in honor of Pancasila Day 2017, the performance of this choir of more than
500 Indonesian Catholic youth is just one example of the recent re-voicing of the famed Indonesian political
philosophy of Pancasila that has been produced by the Catholic community in Yogyakarta over the past year.
That same summer in Yogyakarta, in June 2017, composer Paul Widyawan—conductor of the
Vocalista Sonora choir—published a songbook titled “Pancasila” with the Pusat Musik Liturgi (Center for
Liturgical Music or PML). The book’s cover pictures a Garuda bird superimposed over the Indonesian flag,
and boasts of 32 choral arrangements of national songs. The opening song, “Pancasila,” is in “5/4” meter and
arranged for five voices, with a beat and voice-part for each of the five principles of this political philosophy.
Detailing his aspirations for this particular song, towards the end of his preface to this book—dated June 1,
2017, the first annual “Hari Lahir Pancasila” [The Birthday of Pancasila]—Pak Paul wrote that “hopefully
[the song “Pancasila”] will be useful to realize the contents of the lyrics as the base foundation of our country”
(Widyawan, 2017).1 In fact, the lyrics are, word for word, the five tenets of Pancasila itself. Similar to how
the AYD youth choir chanted their embodiment of Pancasila in the middle of their performance of “Indonesia
Jaya,” this publication is one of the pragmatic ways the PML is aligning with President Widodo’s Pancasila
politics.
Despite the fact that Pancasila has been used and re-used throughout Indonesia’s history, I am
reading this the recent re-voicing as an agentive move: a reminder that the tenets of Pancasila, and particularly
the first tenet purporting religious pluralism, need to be remembered for the sake of all Indonesian citizens.
Past uses of Pancasila include, but are not limited to, the famed 100 hours of Pancasila education required
for all civil servants under the Suharto regime (see Morfit, 1981; Weatherbee, 1985). The current social
atmosphere in Yogyakarta—particularly from 2017 to the present—is thick with a history of religious tension
and past conflict. For Pak Paul and members of the PML and Yogyakarta Catholic community, this reality
was highlighted in February 2018, when PML director Father Karl-Edmund Prier was attacked while saying
Mass at a local church. In a conversation later that month, PML staff member Bapak Yohanes Wahyudi
explained to me how Pancasila historically was created by Indonesia’s founding fathers in response to various
extreme factions threatening national unity (Yohanes Wahyudi, personal communication, February 27,
2018). Thus, the importance of the tenets of Pancasila and the ability of these principles to be acted upon to
secure a basis of religious pluralism is ever poignant now in Indonesia and particularly in the city of
Yogyakarta.
The PML, under the leadership of Father Karl-Edmund Prier in conjunction with Pak Paul, has a
history of using Indonesian state ideologies—like “Unity in Diversity” (Bhinneka Tunggal Ika)—to support
their project of inculturated music (musik inkulturasi). The PML has used such national ideologies to justify
musical choices, as exemplified through their attempted archipelagic representation of Catholic communities
in Indonesia through the “Madah Bakti” hymnal (Poplawska, 2008, p. 94). However, through my past seven
months of participation in PML events, archival research at their library, and attendance of PML concerts
and training sessions, I have concluded that their recent use of Pancasila—through lyrics, meter, ideology,
and image—takes their employment of Indonesian political symbols a step further from representation to
political accountability. In this sense, Indonesian Catholics are employing Pancasila to assert their right to
full citizenship in their country, which hinges on the practice and protection of religious pluralism.
Police and politicians, including Indonesian Vice President Jusuf Kalla, responded to this call for
the promotion and protection of religious diversity through their participation in AYD 2017. Another show
of state support for the Indonesian Catholic community in Yogyakarta occurred during the week before that
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RE-VOICING PANCASILA: CATHOLIC MUSIC AND RELIGIOUS PLURALISM IN INDONESIA
closing Mass, when a battalion of local police officers welcomed a delegation of Asian Catholic youth who
visited the PML on 4 August, 2017, as part of a scheduled AYD excursion. While the officers’ presence that
day seemed more symbolic than security oriented—with lunching together and picture-taking as the main
activities engaged in—the fact of their presence registers as a supportive response to activities going on in
the Yogyakartan Catholic community: a response both called for and supported by the community’s musical
intonement of Pancasila throughout that summer. In fact, according to Professor of Ethnomusicology and
musician at AYD, Drs. Krismus Purba, AYD itself can be considered an example of Pancasila (Pancasialis),
explaining that through their invitation of Vice President Jusuf Kalla, AYD organizers were asserting the
compatibility of being Catholic and being Indonesian (Drs. Krismus Purba, M. Hum., personal
communication, July 4, 2018). The fact that the AYD organizers worked to assert their Indonesian citizenship
through national symbols—and to have such belonging affirmed through the invitation of political figures—
shows the capital required to be 100 percent Indonesian and the tools they had at their disposal, particularly
Pancasila and music.
The Yogyakarta Catholic community’s timely re-use of Pancasila, I contend, has currency to it.
Follow Pierre Bourdieu’s “Forms of Capital,” I see it as serving as a form of both objectified and embodied
cultural capital, as instrumental figures in the Yogyakarta Catholic scene are literally making Pancasila work
for them (Bourdieu, 1986, p. 241). Furthermore, looking at Benedict Anderson’s work on print capital,
particularly the importance of print materials in supporting agendas of the nation-state, I see the printing of
a composition on Pancasila by the PML and the use of President Jokowi’s phrase at AYD as concrete
examples of how national symbols are being musically mobilized by minority religious organizations
(Anderson, 1991, pp. 40-45). In the words of former-PML staff member Bernadeth Diaz, “We are Pancasila;
we are unity…everyone is different but one. The church will be like that” (Bernadeth Diaz, personal
communication, March 13, 2018).2
Ultimately, through this examination of the use of Pancasila, and in my larger dissertation research
on Catholic music in Indonesia (of which this is a part), I am arguing for an ethnographic understanding of
communities’ relationships to centers of political and religious power through music. In so doing, I am
advocating here for a re-examination of traditional center-periphery paradigm in Indonesianist studies,
through the study of national symbols associated with music. In conclusion, through music, the Indonesian
Catholic community in Yogyakarta address their desire for religious pluralism and tolerance through cultural
capital concretized in a songbook or a song sung by hundreds of youth. Thus, they print and perform their
allegiance to the Indonesian nation-state at a time when their belonging seems most at stake.
Endnotes
1
In Indonesian: “Semoga bermanfaat untuk menghayati isi syair sebagai dasar negara kita” (Widyawan,
2017, “Kata Pengantar”). All English-language translations in this paper have been done by the author (E.
Coakley), unless otherwise specified.
2 In Indonesian: “Kita Pancasila; kita bhinneka…bhinneka tunggal ika; semua yang berbeda-beda tetap satu.
Gereja akan ‘gitu” (B. Diaz, personal communication, March 13, 2018).
References
Anderson, B. R. O’G. (1991). Imagined communities: reflection on the origin and spread of nationalism
(Revised ed.). London: Verso.
Asian Youth Day. (Streamed live 2017, August 6). Live from Asian Youth Day 2017 6 AUG 2017. Retrieved
from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zSkgvRDux5A. 3:00:27-3:01:14.
Bourdieu, P. (1986). The forms of capital. In J. Richardson (Ed.), Handbook of theory and research for the
sociology of education (pp. 241-258). New York, Greenwood. Retrieved from http://www.marxists.
org/reference/subject/philosophy/works/fr/bourdieu-forms-capital.htm
Widyawan, P. (2017). Pancasila: Lagu-lagu nasional and perjuangan: Arransemen paduan suara.
Yogyakarta, Indonesia: Pusat Musik Liturgi Yogyakarta.
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“WOR AURAK” AT A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL CEREMONY BY BIAK YOUTH
TO A SENTANI YOUNG WOMAN AT JAYAPURA, PAPUA, INDONESIA
(Lightning Paper)
I Wayan Rai S.
Institut Seni Budaya Indonesia (ISBI), Indonesia
Introduction
This paper is part of the research results on Wor, the indigenous cultural arts of the Biak tribe. The Biak tribe
is one of 254 tribes who now live in Papua (Indonesia). Specifically, in this paper Wor Aurak discusses the
marriage proposal of a young Biak man towards a young Sentani woman. This study approaches the study
of Wor interms of itself and its socio-cultural context. Research on Wor is urgent because the literature on
Wor is still limited and tends to be incomplete. In addition, the most worrying thing is the increasing influence
of globalization which has caused drastic changes in the Biak community that have fatal impacts on Wor’s
existence today.
Definition of Wor
Wor has two meanings, namely: (1) Wor is a traditional ceremony or a traditional party, and (2) Wor as a
traditional song. As a traditional ceremony, it was carried out by a Biak tribe family to protect children during
the transitional period which was seen as a dangerous time so that it must be protected by Wor. As a song in
the implementation of the Biak traditional ceremony, it is sung along with a dance movement accompanied
by a musical instrument called Tifa or Sireb (single-headed drum).
Type, Structure, and Wor Player
Regarding the type of Wor, Sam Kapissa (1994) notes there are at least 19 types, while Hendrik Baransano
found about 26 types of Wor. According to Baransano (H. Baransano, personal communication, January 28,
2018), a Wor expert who now lives in Waena, Jayapura, this amount will increase if the information about
sacred types of Wor can be documented.
The Wor structure consists of two parts, namely: the first part is called kadwor or the tip, while the
second part is called fuar or base. At the kadwor, the message or purpose to be conveyed is made vaguely or
in puzzles so that the listener does not yet understand the real intention. The message conveyed will become
clear at the fuar because in this section the puzzle is answered clearly (Rai S., 2018). The text from Wor uses
the Biak language and the message conveyed through the text itself is adapted to the context. Wor uses a
pentatonic scale consisting of five dominant tones, namely: 1 (do), 2 (re), 3 (mi), 5 (sol), and 6 (la).
When performing in certain events, the male Wor players use traditional costumes such as crowns
(headdress), tassel, and body painting with certain motives in accordance with the customs and beliefs of the
tribe. The female player’s face is adorned with dots that symbolize they are the children of a leader (chieftain)
and also painted with tattoos on her face which distinguishes her from other female participants who are not
the daughter of a chieftain.
Function of Wor
As a sacred traditional song, Wor is seen as a protector of life of the Biak tribe. This fact is illustrated by an
expression that reads “Nggo Wor Baido Na Nggomar” which means “if we don't sing and dance (Wor), we
will die.” The term “die” in this context is not merely meant to die physically, but to die psychologically.
Biak people who do not carry out Wor are considered “dead people” meaning they are physically alive but
considered psychologically like someone who has died.
For example, the picture below shows Wor’s function in the life cycle of the Biak tribe, since the
baby still in the womb, birth, marriage, and death.
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“WOR AURAK” AT A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL CEREMONY BY BIAK YOUTH
TO A SENTANI YOUNG WOMAN AT JAYAPURA, PAPUA, INDONESIA
Figure 1. Life Cycle of the Biak Tribe.
Information:
1.
Kokfo Ayus
2.
Anumbesop
3.
Famamar
4.
Maman
5.
Kapapnik
6. Masorandak
7. Kabor Insos
8. Fakfuken
9. Ararem
10. Ramren
11. Yakyaker 16. Marar Kaderen
12. Wafwofer
13. Apen Bayeren
14. Pangkar Ankyon
15. Rasrus
The picture above depicts the life cycle of the Biak people, starting with number 1 located in the middle, then
moving according to the next sequence number and ending at sequence number 16. Numbers 1-16, describe
the life cycle starting from the baby in the womb, the process marriage, and ends with death.
Wor Aurak at the Marriage Proposal of a Young Biak Man to a Young Sentani Woman
Wor Aurak is one type of Wor. In the past, Wor Aurak was a song to gather warriors who would go to the
battlefield as well as stimulate the fighting spirit of people who would fight in the battlefield. Wor Aurak
songs are a medium that can easily ignite the spirit of soldiers to never give up and be determined to win the
war.
Today Wor Aurak is also used in the context of other “wars”, as seen in the marriage proposal
ceremony by a young Biak man named Markus Rumbino to a young Sentani woman named Irma Dian
Awoitauw. The Biak tribe is amongst the Seireri customary territory, while the Sentani tribe is from the
Mamta (Mambramo Tabi) customary territory. In the past, the marriage of two people from two different
tribes and customary territories was often very difficult and the process was very intricate.
Along with the times, the difficult and complex conditions that were in past times are now gradually
changing. In relation to this marriage proposal, the Rumbino family has traditionally approached and met
with the Awoitauw family according to their respective traditions. According to the agreement at the meeting
of the two families, the marriage proposal was held on August 19, 2017 at the Awoitauw family home in
Sentani, singing Wor Aurak as below:
Kadwor:
Fuar:
Meaning:
Ryabe soa wo ryabe soa
Indai inbena ner aniraya ryabe soa
Wo ryabe soa
Where are you going?
Indai fish of the coral reefs
Where are you going?
Indai fish as a symbol of a knight
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I WAYAN RAI S.
The series of the marriage proposal went very smoothly. Wor Aurak has inspired the spirit of the Biak tribe
to succeed in the marriage proposal. On the other hand, the Sentani tribe accepted it gracefully in accordance
with the current development. This proposal is an example of how a very rigid situation in the past, can be
smooth and flexible on the basis of mutual respect for each other.
In closing this paper, it can be said that in order to understand a culture more comprehensively we
can approach SG line (Specific-General), from a specific (i.e. Wor Aurak) to a broader context namely
customs and culture. Thus, in the future a multidisciplinary approach becomes one of the most important
research approach models in accordance with the context.
References
Kapissa, S. (1994). Eksistensi wor Biak dan upaya pelestariannya (Revisi Makalah Seminar). Papua:
Fakultas Ilmu Sosial dan Ilmu Politik, Universitas Cenderawasih.
Rai S., I W. (2018). Why are they singing and dancing? Art, identity, and reality of wor tradition in Biak
tribe, Papua. Paper presented at the International Seminar FKI X 2018, Surabaya.
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FOLLOWING THE WHIMS OF THE DEMON:
THE FUNCTION AND USAGE OF ANGSEL/NGOPAK IN JAUK KERAS
(Lightning Paper)
Kurt Schatz
University of Music and Performing Arts Graz, Austria
Introduction
This article focuses on the usage and function of the different cues provided by the dancer called angsel or
ngopak in the traditional Balinese dance of Jauk keras. Before discussing angsel in detail, a short description
of the dance and the music is given. This is followed by a discussion of the different kinds of angsel found
in Jauk keras and a final conclusion on their function and usage.
The Dance
Jauk keras is an improvisational Balinese male solo mask dance, similar in its conception to the now more
frequently performed and more heavily researched dance of Baris tunggal. While the term “Jauk” refers to
the character personified by the dancer during a performance, the word “keras” (harsh or rude), describes the
character's temper (I. W. Budiarsa, personal communication, July, 2018).
According to my dance teacher I Made “Cat” Suteja, Jauk is at present considered the second type
of male dance a student learns after mastering Baris (personal communication, November 2017). While it is
unclear when exactly the Jauk dance emerged, it can be assumed that it started off as a group dance and was
later transformed into a solo performance. As stated by Bandem and deBoer (1995), Baris tunggal served as
a model for the Jauk solo dance. Having this in mind, it can be concluded that the soonest possible time of
origin of the Jauk solo dance lies at the turn of the 20th century after Baris tunggal’s emergence (Dibia &
Ballinger, 2005). Jauk keras does not depict any kind of story, but the dancer enacts the role of a—in the
words of Bandem and deBoer (1995)—“puzzled, fierce demon who […] has been suddenly wrenched into
an alien and dangerous reality” (p. 122). This impression might be based on the sudden and impulsive
movements incorporated in the dance improvisation, as well as on the overall outfit of the dancer. Especially
the red, fierce looking mask with its bulbous eyes and protruding teeth along with the long fingernails
attached to the dancer’s gloves signify the Jauk keras character as demonic (see Figure 1).
Figure 1. Jauk keras dancer.
(Photo by the author)
At present, Jauk keras can be seen in concerts staging different kinds of Balinese dance in the context of
temple festivals, as pengelembar (introductory dance) for Topeng panca, Topeng prembon or a Calonarang,
in dance competitions as well as in tourist performances (Bandem & deBoer, 1995; Hood, 2016).
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The Music
In a performance, a single dancer dressed as the Jauk keras character can be accompanied by either a gamelan
gong kebyar or a gamelan pelegongan/bebarongan (Covarrubias, 1937; Tenzer, 2000). In both cases, a single
drummer, playing kendang tunggal in gupekan-style (hand drumming), is leading the gamelan. The
composition accompanying the dance shows a ternary form with two identical A parts in fast tempo framing
a considerably slower B part. The melody played during the A parts of the composition is known as “Bapang
Durga” (I. N. Wenten, personal communication, July 2018). Although these parts are musically identical, in
practice the first A part is referred to as pepeson while the second one is called pekaad, the commonly used
names for the opening and closing parts of a dance. The slow middle section can be referred to as pengadeng,
pelayon, or also pengawak. Despite the drastic difference in tempo between the fast A sections and the
pengawak, both parts consist of an 8-beat gong cycle, having the same gong pattern, which is referred to as
bapang, and a similar melodic progression. If a gamelan gong kebyar accompanies the dance, the gong
structure might be slightly denser, although in both cases the deepest pitched gong present in the gamelan is
struck on the 8th beat, while klentong/kemong is sounded at the midpoint on the 4th beat.
As already stated, Jauk keras is an improvised dance performance. Musically, this means that the
number of gong cycles of each musical part is not confined to a certain number of repetitions, but depends
on the dancer. While the musical material of all the metallophones and gongs of the accompanying gamelan
is predefined, the only musician having to some extent the freedom to improvise is the kendang player.
His/Her task during a Jauk keras performance is, as stated by my kendang teacher I Gde Made Indra Sadguna,
to “translate the dance into rhythm” (personal communication, April 2018) as well as to react to and interpret
certain cues provided by the dancer. Further, the kendang player is responsible for passing these cues on to
the other gamelan musicians, so that the appropriate musical change in terms of dynamic or structure is
executed. These cues are called angsel or ngopak.
Angsel/Ngopak in Jauk Keras
An angsel, as stated by Tenzer (2000), is a “[s]trongly articulated dance movement and/or musical rhythm,
cued and coordinated by an active drumming pattern” (p. 449). Sadguna (2012) describes them as “signs, or
cues of change” (p. 39). What might be added to these definitions is that every angsel has a start and ending
point, which are not arbitrary but have to fall on certain points in time during the gong cycle. In Jauk keras,
the dancer is responsible for initiating and ending angsels at the right point. The kendang player, who is
constantly monitoring the dancer’s movements, follows the dancer’s cues while also making sure that the
gamelan musicians do the same. He/She does this by playing louder and providing the appropriate cue and
drumming pattern, which might differ depending on which kind of angsel is executed by the dancer.
From a musical point of view, there are basically four different kind of angsel found in Jauk keras,
which largely correspond to the kinds of angsel in the Barong dance as described by Sadguna (2012). The
most basic kind of angsel is called angsel bawak, although in practice it is most often just referred to as
angsel. This kind of angsel is characterised by taking up 8 beats if performed during the pepeson or pekaad,
although its start and ending point do not line up with gong or klentong, but lie between those colotomic
markers. In theory, the dancer gives the cue for this angsel between the 5th and 6th beat, while the kendang
player responds between the 6th and 7th beat. The rest of the gamelan follows the cue of the kendang player
by increasing their volume with the approaching gong on the 8th beat. The gamelan continues to play loud
until the 5th beat where it sounds a last open note, but remains calm until the next gong. The angsel is ended
by the dancer with an appropriate eye movement—most commonly accented eye movements to the side,
although variations are possible—finished around the 6th beat, while the drum responds to it in between the
6th and 7th beat. During this kind of angsel, the movement of the dancer is unbroken until he reaches his final
posture before performing the accented eye movement (see Figure 2).
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FOLLOWING THE WHIMS OF THE DEMON: THE FUNCTION AND USAGE OF ANGSEL/NGOPAK IN JAUK KERAS
Figure 2. Angsel bawak and angsel kado ([i]ncomplete/[c]anceled) in relation to the gong-pattern and each other.
G = gong; t = klentong.
A second kind of angsel found in Jauk keras is angsel kado, which has been described to me in two different
ways. While Sadguna (2012) explains angsel kado as an incomplete angsel, starting after gong and ending
in the same gong cycle it was initiated, taking up only about 4 to 5 beats, I Wayan Budiarsa defines it as a
cancelled angsel, which starts and ends at the same time as angsel bawak, but incorporates a pause in
movement by the dancer (see Figure 2).
Angsel numpuk, or stacked angsel, refers to a sequence of angsel chained together without a pause
in between them, so that after finishing the first angsel, the dancer immediately initiates the next one.
Theoretically this could be done an infinite number of times, although in practice up to 4 angsel are chained
together at most.
The fourth and most elaborate kind of angsel in Jauk keras is called angsel lantang or ngopak
lantang, which means long angsel. As its name already suggests, this angsel takes up several gong cycles,
while its definite length is very much depending on the dancer. Since the dancer has the freedom to do as
he/she wishes after initiating ngopak lantang, a turn marks the approaching end of it. Whereas the three kind
of angsel described before can be used countless times during a performance, having the basic function of
providing accents in the performance and giving shape and character to the dancer’s rendition of the Jauk
figure, ngopak lantang can only be executed four times at most. This is because it is used to initiate either
certain angsel sequences, the pengawak, or the end of the performance.
From the dancer’s point of view, several kinds of angsel should be added to this list. If dancers talk
about angsel, they often describe them from an action-oriented perspective, meaning that the movements
incorporated in an angsel should express some kind of action or emotion, bringing their personified character
to life. One of the most important ones, which appears in every complete performance of Jauk keras and is
commonly understood by dancers and musicians, is ngalih pajeng. Ngalih pajeng means search the umbrella
and can be defined as an angsel sequence that is performed to the right and left side of the stage. As described
by Suteja, this angsel sequence consist of three actions, namely touch, observe and return the umbrella
(personal communication, June 2018).
Conclusion
In conclusion, it can be said that angsel in Jauk keras have the function of providing accents to the
performance as well as to give character to the dancer's rendition of the Jauk keras figure. By means of
angsel, the dancer not only has control of certain musical parameters, but is able to express actions and
emotions by varying the movements incorporated in the execution of the different kind of angsel and chaining
them together. Furthermore, as in the case of ngopak lantang, angsel can be used to progress the performance
and/or music structurally, placing the dancer in charge of the overall course of the performance.
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References
Bandem, I. M., & Deboer, F. E. (1995). Balinese dance in transition: Kaja and Kelod. Kuala Lumpur,
Malaysia: Oxford University Press.
Covarrubias, M. (1937). Island of Bali. New York, NY: A. A. Knopf.
Dibia, I. W., & Ballinger, R. (2005). Balinese dance, drama and music. Singapore: Periplus.
Hood, M. M. (2016). Persistent mutualisms: Energizing the symbiotic relationship between Balinese dancer
and drummer. In Mohd, A. M. N., & Stepputat, K. (Eds.), Sounding the dance, moving the music:
Choreomusicology in maritime Southeast Asia (pp. 42-56). London, UK: Routledge.
Sadguna, I. G. M. I. (2012). The kendang bebarongan in Balinese music: An organological study. Denpasar,
Bali: UPT Penerbitan.
Tenzer, M. (2000). Gamelan gong kebyar: The art of twentieth-century Balinese music. Chicago, IL:
University of Chicago Press.
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INNOVATION OF TEMBANG BALI WITHIN AN EVER-CHANGING
LOCAL-GLOBAL DOMAIN
I Komang Sudirga
ISI Denpasar, Indonesia
Background
In many instances, the rise of globalization and advanced technology have diminished and ruined traditional
arts. One form of Balinese art also affected by globalization is the art of singing or nembang. Tembang Bali
is a Balinese musical expression using vocals. Before the 1980s, Tembang Bali was marginalized and
gradually abandoned given modern culture. Attention and interest from the younger generation diminished
following the mindset gap that contrasts tradition with modernity. Such cognitive mapping influenced the
rise of a younger Balinese generation lacking the confidence to present Balinese tembang in their daily social
activities. Ardika (2005, p. 18) asserts that such social ambiguity will in turn produce psychological unrest
and identity crisis. Traditional confidence needed for self-development becomes uncertain, nevertheless
counterproductive (Suseno, 2006, p. 24). The lapse or absence of Balinese traditional singing in economically
oriented cultural events has also contributed to the decline of Tembang Bali, thus the art form is not able to
take part in professional creative and economic activities. As a result, the more ‘devotion’ oriented Tembang
Bali was unable to become a creative commodity that increases the living qualities in economic terms, and
bring social pride to performers, especially in the domain of the younger generation. Concerning that issue,
this article focuses on the struggle of Tembang Bali in this global age in particular: why is Tembang Bali
seemingly uncompetitive in this era of globalization? How do we actualize Tembang Bali in order to make it
more competitive in this era of globalization? What kind of innovation must be performed to ensure that
Tembang Bali exists in this local-global dominion?
Discussion
Pragmatic Mindset
A large number of youngsters view Balinese traditional vocal music as mellow, lacking zest and being more
suited for the elderly. Furthermore, the spiritual orientation of texts seems distant to the contemporary
youthful spirit. The moral codes contained are perceived as useless in the pursuit of happiness. Such bleak
comprehension mandates that traditional arts are only suitable for spiritually charged traditional customs. As
a result, neglect and abandonment of traditional Balinese vocal music by the younger generation becomes
the norm. While the newer generation is aware that moral codes of Balinese tembang evolve on values
promising inner peace and spiritual pleasure, those values are perceived as insignificant in fulfilling more
urgent economic wants and needs. The demand to satisfy economic objectives has placed modern-pop music
as a more promising, popular and faster outlet in contrast to being preoccupied with traditional singing.
Individuals have the notion that mastering and being successful in modern music will stimulate popularity,
admiration, media exposure and celebrity treatment in comparison to a singer in a sekaa santi ‘singing group’
even though the individual is highly proficient.
Figure 1. Mabebasan for ritual.
(Photo by I Komang Sudirga)
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The above conviction asserts how modernity has shifted the viewpoint of a younger generation in sustaining
and comprehending their own cultural traditions. The broadcasting of popular music, dangdut twerking and
other contemporary forms in an industrial scale are far more glamourous and spectacular to attain instant
popularity and fulfil dreams. Without a local frame of mind in the practice of arts, it can be assured that the
younger generation as the main bearer of tradition will look elsewhere and embrace modern culture, mostly
because it is perceived as trendy, superior and guarantees a better future.
The demise of tradition caused by the overpowering global forces during the aftermath of the Bali
Bombing I (2002) motivated various social components of Bali—pioneered by Bali Post Media Group—to
assemble and revive local wisdom through a seminar titled “Menuju Strategi Ajeg Bali” held on August 16,
2003 (Ardana, 2004). The “Ajeg Bali” discourse became a trigger, mandating Balinese people to rethink and
reconstruct their identity based on the formula of custom, culture and religion (Sudirga, 2012, p. 394). Ajeg
Bali as a cultural movement became a widespread phenomenon throughout all levels of society including
intellectuals and the general public. Groups disseminated this discourse at the grass roots level, spreading
Ajeg Bali as a massive cultural movement (Bawa Atmaja, 2010, p. 3). Overall, Ajeg Bali clearly became a
platform to realise the ever-changing milieu of social and cultural life.
Developing Local Spirit and Innovative Packaging
Appadurai in Ritzer and Goodman (2011, p. 598) asserts five cultural flows that define a global culture as
ideoscapes, technoscapes, mediascapes, ethnoscapes, and finanscapes. These five ‘scapes’ are very hard to
resist. In relation to Tembang Bali, ideoscapes concern political notions such as freedom, democracy,
sovereignty, prosperity and hegemony. Technoscapes pertain to the rapid and borderless flow of technology,
while mediascapes relate to the vastness of information disseminated by media all over the world.
Ethnoscapes and finanscapes are influential to aspects of cultural tourism and economy.
Post the New Order era saw the rise of democratization and freedom of speech that provided a
medium for the Balinese to speak their mind and express various perspectives as well as ideas through vocal
music and singing in groups called sekaa santi. The rapid progress of scientific and technological
advancement in broadcasting including radio and television became a strong impetus for traditional
communities to establish aesthetic connections and communication through the development of interactive
tembang/kidung programs on numerous radio and television channels (Creese, 2009; Darma Putra, 2009).
Both mediums strongly influenced the establishment and rise of numerous sekaa shanti that emerged
sporadically around the island.
One particular radio program that continues to entice a wide spectrum of Tembang Bali fans and
audiences is the innovative interactive program called Dagang Gantal, broadcasted by RRI Denpasar (Darma
Putra, 1998, pp. 18-29). The supporters of Dagang Gantal not only come from Bali, but also from
neighbouring regions such as Banyuwangi (East Java), Lombok, Sumba and Sumbawa (West Nusa Tenggara
Province). The renowned Dagang Gantal slogan is “Batan Sinar Bagi Rasa Den Lomba Pelecing” a strung
together acronym which represents the broadcast or listening range of the districts Badung, Tabanan,
Singaraja, Negara, Bangli, Gianyar, Amlapura, Semarapura, Denpasar, Lombok, Banyuwangi, Sumbawa,
Penida, Lembongan, and Ceningan.
On the other hand, there are many innovative Tembang Bali programs on television, including
Gegirang on TVRI (1999), Gita Santi on Bali TV (2003), and Mageguritan on BMC TV (2010). However,
a particular TV station that continues to innovate the presentation of Tembang Bali on television is Dewata
TV (2008), presently known as Kompas TV. In the program called Tembang Guntang, the art form is not
solely presented as the usual session of mabebasan ‘singing and interpreting’ but more creatively the
audience are presented with dramatization that acts as a visualization upon the story being sung by the singer
and recited by the translator. Dewata TV has managed to air numerous stories in such a theatrical format,
including popular stories of Bagawan Dharma Swami, Tuung Kuning, Sampik Ing Tai, and Ki Balian Batur.
This approach has grown into a popular alternative package and continues to gain high ratings from the public
following the highly proficient singing by the professional tembang singers, but also from the greatly
entertaining format of additional text subtitles, animation and artistic dramatization.
In addressing the problems and challenges faced by Balinese vocal music in this global age, the
government and various community elements of Bali have worked together to revive local eagerness through
art festivals among students, Gita Santi, Utsawa Dharma Gita, and the Bali Arts Festival. Among many, the
principal spirit being revived through these festivals is jengah (competitive pride), which underlines the
Balinese fervour for contest and competition. When it comes to competition whether in the form of
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INNOVATION OF TEMBANG BALI WITHIN AN EVER-CHANGING LOCAL-GLOBAL DOMAIN
mabarung, parade, competition or festival, the Balinese will exert and channel all of their economic, social,
cultural and symbolic resources to ensure winning. A professional and qualified contest ensures the birth and
rise of better and finer creative works. The prestigious Bali Arts Festival has proven to be an extensive
medium for creativity, particularly in terms of innovative showcasing of the art form through sandya gita,
gegitaan and taman penasar.
One specific outlet that recently has been gaining plentiful public interest for the showcasing of
contest winners and experts alike is the Taman Penasar. Stemming from arja negak, this particular form is
engaging and allows exploration of local wisdom and potencies that are synonymous with global trends or
issues. While it may sometimes stand as a middle ground, Taman Penasar empowers the presentation of
traditional arts in contemporary aesthetic propensities. Since the early 2000s, Taman Penasar continues to
boast innovation. For instance, Taman Penasar of Denpasar won first prize during the Bali Arts Festival 2017
and combined elements of a chamber ensemble of drums and percussion called gamelan geguntangan and
an archaic set of instruments called gamelan gambang. With its sacred and magical conception, gamelan
gambang creatively reinterpreted an elegant synergy between past and present musical modes and forms,
inducing a strong taksu ‘stage presence’ and aesthetic prowess. The resourceful combination of vocals with
gamelan geguntangan and gambang managed to build a new musical atmosphere. The dialogue among
participant and moderator created an enthralling dramatic performance, focusing the philosophical teaching
of ulun danu or the role of water in life.
In general, there are stark differences between the presentation of taman penasar in contrast to gita
santi. The main structure of taman penasar is still mabebasan, however it incorporates theatrical aspects to
stage and convey profound social issues that may be recent, conflicting and disrupting. Taman penasar is
performed under the direction of a central figure called penyegjeg who takes on the responsibility as
moderator.
The conflicting ‘pros and cons’ discourse enacted by the protagonist and antagonist figures leads to
heated discussion. Themes such as social conflict caused by environmental exploitation and destruction
present a contemplative reflection about harmony expressed through moral codes and spiritual cleansing
contained within the ‘text’. The moderator plays an important role in mediating and interpreting the message
in a straightforward and concise manner to sustain a logical discourse and comprehension toward the theme.
The strong and vivid imaginative play constructed by the moderator directs the audience to conduct
self introspection and to reassess the matter at hand, in this case the contemporary issue of water and its
integral purpose for sustaining life. This discourse continues to examine the impacts of exploitation toward
the balance and harmony of the ecosystem and nature. The proportional management of dialogue between
the protagonist and antagonist characters makes the scenography alive and interesting. Stage setting and
decorations are prepared accordingly to ensure an aesthetic imagery that flows with the environmental
harmony theme. It is no surprise that these one hour long performances appeal to audiences. The use of
comedy and humour to accentuate moral messages amid the serious situation provides refreshing and
entertaining food for thought.
Innovation of Tembang Bali
In other publications I have compared innovations relating to Balinese vocal music that are not much different
to the innovations of Balinese gamelan (Sudirga, 2017, pp. 5-7). The innovation comprises the structure of
musicality, ideology and production.
Observing the livelihood of Tembang Bali within an ever-changing global domain shows that it
exists and dominates within the realms of ritual. But because form follows meaning, it also thrives within the
realms of social and media. Concurrent to Piliang (2003, p. 223) that innovation is a drive to answer boredom
and revolt against establishments by illusive means, forms of innovation are full of sensation, weird, enticing,
and unusual. Other convictions such as the drive to seek identity and self-significance through artworks are
also the means to revive Tembang Bali.
The shift of emphasis in Tembang Bali relates to changes in compositional structure, content, and
appearance. These flexibilities have encouraged a spectacular growth in the number of performers. In recent
years, there has been a drastic increase from 626 sekaa santi in 1992 to 3141 sekaa santi at the end of 2011
(Sudirga, 2012). Although in the past eight years Bali has experienced diminishing intensity, in general
pasantian continues to exist, and there are no days without pasantian in Bali.
Artist innovation ensures that Tembang Bali continues to play a significant role in ritual, social and
media domains. With regards to ritual, there has been much change in the presentation format, not only
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I KOMANG SUDIRGA
maintaining the mabebasan form (sing-translate), but also embracing other forms including gita santi, arja
negak and taman penasar. In a social context, profound innovation occurred in aesthetic presentations and
re-contextualization of musical elements, accompanying ensemble, and content. Meanwhile, live and
interactive performances on electronic media such as radio and television continue to provide significant air
time for the art form. The use of animation technology provides an artistic and cinematography angle to
present the variances of the ensemble from called tembang guntang.
Such varied formats of tembang guntang show that the vastness of information and communication
technology actually revives and thrusts the local enthusiasm and spirit upon traditional arts to a new level
and direction. Kumbara (2008, p. 201) asserts that globalization not only pulls up to create homogeneity, but
also pushes down creating new emphasis for local autonomy stimulating distinct ethnic cultures. Davis (in
Geriya, 2008, p. 170) mentions that cultural resilience depends on the attitude of its main pillar; the people.
In this age of globalization, defensive capabilities counter negative influences in a dynamic and
procedural manner. This defence relies on the creativity and vitality of Balinese artists in furthering
traditional art forms, especially the form and content of Tembang Bali as a stimulant to strengthen a unique
cultural identity. A dialogue of elements takes place where the global is localized and the local is globalised,
to which amasses what is referred to as glocality (Robertson in Barker, 2005, p. 158). Such discourse signifies
the challenges faced by Balinese vocal music in an ever-changing global domain. Globalization is not
necessarily an ultimate hegemony that destroys local traditions, but actually can revive and revitalize the
local spirit as a unique and distinct stance demarcating Balinese-ness in a borderless world.
Based on the discussion above, a number of innovations relating to Tembang Bali can be identified
as follow:
New-Fangled Themes
The thematic inspiration of traditional music stems from the appreciation of beauty, in particular nature.
Nowadays, the themes are diverted to unearth critical discourse and moral messages relating to social unrest
and injustice, environmental exploitation, democratization, and the realization of local wisdom as a challenge
to hegemonic-culturally imperialist global issues. The themes being developed focus on diversity and
democratization of a pluralistic reality.
Musical Aspects
The innovation relating to musicality in Tembang Bali is a deconstruction of structure (Norris, 2008: Piliang,
2018) that repositions structure to the point that musical form can be disassembled, rearranged. For example,
the tripartite musical form called triangga ‘upright posture’ may be modified to become triangga sungsang
‘inverted posture’. The conventional flow of melodies is assembled by playfully arranging the motives and
exploring tones outside a given mode called pemero. Exploring mode or patet by playing slendro tuning on
instruments with pelog tuning. This method is employed to produce new-fangled modes. Since the 1990s,
rhythmic structures also receive creative treatments, from being very symmetric to asymmetric and
mathematically mechanic to develop a more complex and dynamic feeling.
Figure 2. Taman Penasar of Denpasar during the 39th Bali Arts Festival, 2017.
(Photo by the author)
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INNOVATION OF TEMBANG BALI WITHIN AN EVER-CHANGING LOCAL-GLOBAL DOMAIN
Furthermore, Tembang Bali employs pitch pairings or ‘harmony structures’ that are conventional following
established karawitan systems (ngembat, ngempyung, nyintud, nelu, ngempat, ngumbang-ngisep). In recent
times, the harmony exploration includes sruti or intervals, combination of sounds from two distinct gamelan
characters or incorporating sounds from non-gamelan instruments. These innovations are performed to
provide new flavours and creative challenges in Tembang Bali to maintain an engaging appreciation and
consumption of Balinese vocal music. Innovation in terms of musicality includes:
1. New musical arrangements by reorganizing the existing musical structure by transforming
traditional songs using new mediums of expression and new artistic arrangements. Novelty
arrangement does not diminish traditional music. It must be utilized as a means to enrich the existing
musical mosaic. This allows a parallel realm where traditional music continues to exist along its
roots, while new music with its contemporary form, spirit and function will stream on a different
path.
2. Departure from outdated concepts by providing new interpretations and significance. Tradition is a
wealth of inspiration, and reengineering the potencies of tradition will escalate tremendous passion
and approaches, which enables the art form to sustain itself in a new context. The concept of renewal
with an emphasis on aesthetic-artistic freedom can alter the outdated image and stigma of traditional
music within the constellation of diverse modern-contemporary music.
3. Exploring new techniques and soundscapes, for instance processing vocals from unisons to
polyphony as well as conducting numerous experimentations on the combination of vocals and
instruments. Exploring body sounds such as handclaps, foot stomping, clicks and hisses, and orally
reproducing sounds of musical instruments (a cappella music) such as cak, genjek, cakepung, body
tjak, and cak ganjur are also incorporated. Arya Sugiartha (2012, pp. 119-120) also states that
composers have adapted the a cappella music style into Tembang Bali by combining various sounds
as multi-layered voices. The latest multi-layered vocal composition can be heard as Cak Ganjur
presented as a final exam by a student from the Performing Arts Faculty of ISI Denpasar on May
13, 2018 at Taman Ayun Temple in Mengwi Badung. In Cak Ganjur, the composer playfully
employs vocals to reproduce the sounds of instruments and combine elements of Cak and Balaganjur
in a dynamic manner that is further accentuated by body movements. The combination of body and
vocal music, not only excites the ears but also indulges the eyes through an intense and vivid visual
presentation.
4. Implementing new presentation plans that see significant and fantastic alterations of stage layout and
decoration in taman penasar competitions. In the spirit of festivals and large-scale performances,
staging and lighting are increasingly glamourous with elaborate decoration for the ensemble and
stage properties. Costumes are designed to present the nuances of classical modern Bali. The
arrangement of musical instruments follows respective functions, no one instrument is more
important than the other. The concept of equality is promoted using balanced musical functions for
all instruments.
Summary
The anomaly of Tembang Bali relates to a cognitive map by the younger generation that elevates celebrities
and modern art ahead of their own artistic legacy. The powerful disruption of global culture through vast
electronic media and information technology is viewed as a challenge in the development and progress of
local cultures and traditional art forms including Tembang Bali. As a response, innovative measures and
realizations are implemented such as promoting the revival mindset of Ajeg Bali, the utilization of electronic
media (radio and television) and information technology, as well as the development and implementation of
new-fangled themes for performances, competitions and festivals. Numerous innovations are performed to
ensure the livelihood of Tembang Bali in this global era, especially by placing Tembang Bali as the focal
point and main medium to unearth a local-global discourse, and to correlate the global phenomenon from a
Balinese perspective.
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I KOMANG SUDIRGA
References
Anom Kumbara, A. A. (2008). Ajeg Bali dalam arus pusaran globalisasi kritik epistimis. In Ardika D. K.
(Ed.), Dinamika sosial masyarakat Bali. Denpasar: Fakultas Sastra Universitas Udayana.
Ardhana, I. K. (2004). Kesadaran kolektif lokal dan identitas nasional dalam proses globalisasi. In Ardika
and Dharma Putra (Eds.), Politik kebudayaan dan identitas etnik. Denpasar: Fakultas Sastra Unud
and Balimangsi Press.
Ardika, I. W. (2005). Strategi Bali mempertahankan kearifan lokal di era global. In Darma Putra & Windhu
Sancaya (Eds.), Kompetensi budaya dalam globalisasi. Denpasar: Fakultas Sastra UNUD dan
Pustaka Larasan.
Barker, C. (2005). Culture studies: Teori dan praktik (6th Edition). Yogyakarta: Penerbit Bentang.
Bawa Atmadja, I. N. (2010). Ajeg Bali: Gerakan identitas kultural, dan globalisasi. Yogyakarta: LKIS.
Creese, H. (2009). Singing the text: On-air textual interpretation in Bali. In J. van der Putten & M. K. Cody
(Eds.), Lost time and untold tales from the Malay world. Singapore: Nusa Press.
Darma Putra, I. N. (1998). Kesenian Bali di panggung elektronik: Perbandingan acara apresiasi budaya RRI
dan TVRI Denpasar. Mudra Jurnal Seni Budaya, Denpasar: UPT Penerbitan STSI Denpasar.
Darma Putra, I. N. (2009). Kidung interaktif: Vocalising and interpreting traditional literature through
electronic mass media in Bali. Indonesia and the Malay World, 37, 249-276.
Geriya, I. W. (2008). Transformasi kebudayaan memasuki abad XXI. Surabaya: Paramitha.
Pilliang, Y. A. & Jaelani, J. (2018). Teori budaya kontemporer: Penjelajahan tanda dan makna. Yogyakarta:
Aurora.
Norris, C. (2008). Membongkar teori dekonstruksi Jacques Derrida (Trans. Inyiak Ridwan Muzir).
Yogyakarta: Ar-Ruzz Media.
Ritzer, G. & Goodman D. J. (2008). Teori sosiologi: Dari teori sosiologi klasik sampai perkembangan
mutakhir teori sosial postmodern. Yogyakarta: Kreasi Wacana.
Sudirga, I. K. (2012). Kebangkitan pasantian dalam era globalisasi (Doctoral dissertation). Universitas
Udayana, Denpasar, Bali, Indonesia.
Sudirga, I. K. (2017). Inovasi dalam gamelan Bali. Paper presentation. 12th Graduation Ceremony. ISI
Denpasar.
Sugiartha, I. G. A. (2012). Kreativitas musik Bali garapan baru perspektif cultural studies. Denpasar: UPT
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
MEGURU GENDING: I KETUT SUKARATA’S MUSICAL CONCEPT FOR PLAYING
KENDANG TUNGGAL (SOLO DRUMMING)1
(Lightning Paper)
I Gde Made Indra Sadguna2
Indonesian Arts Institute, Indonesia
Meguru Gending, a Musical Concept for Playing the Balinese Kendang
I Ketut Sukarata was born in Banjar Belaluan, Denpasar on April 12, 1954. He is the son of the late I Wayan
Berata and Ni Made Sukri. His father, I Wayan Berata, is one of the most influential Balinese artists in the
20th century. His grandfather I Made Regog was a pioneer in Gamelan Gong Kebyar, especially in the
southern part of Bali. He is a descendant from a family filled with talented musicians, all with prestigious
reputations.
Sukarata is a famous drummer with a unique style. Many musicians from all over Bali and abroad
have studied drumming with him. The question of what makes Sukarata’s kendang style so distinctive has
become a major discussion among Balinese scholars. Until now, people have tried to guess why it “tastes”
like Sukarata, but without defining the musical and logical reasons. In this paper I am proposing a new
musical concept called Meguru Gending—literally, “song as teacher in playing”—that explains the
distinctive musical feel of Sukarata’s drumming.
This musical concept can only be applied to drummers at a high professional level. In order to
achieve that level, drummers must have good fundamental techniques such as being able to produce a proper
drum sound and having a wide range of stock phrases. According to Bakan, “stock phrases are defined as
standard idiomatic kendang patterns and short forms that can be employed in many different compositions”
(1999, p. 287). Usually one of the indicators of a drummer’s expertise is the number of stock phrases they
have. In this case, Sukarata has a tremendous number of stock phrases.
Every drummer has their own vocabulary of stock phrases, but what makes Sukarata different is how
he positions the precise pattern according to the song, a process which I refer to as meguru gending, or to
make the song guide your patterns. According to Sukarata, in order to perform this concept, there are five
elements that a drummer must possess. First, a drummer must have a wide range of stock phrases; second,
an understanding of the tempo; third, a capability to identify musical structures; fourth, an understanding of
the melody; and fifth, an understanding of the dance. The entire concept of meguru gending may seem very
simple, but to understand the fundamental values of kendang takes years to develop.
Analytical Investigations on the Pengecet Part of Kebyar Duduk
To explain the Sukarata’s concept of meguru gending, I will analyse his drum patterns for the pengecet part
of Kebyar Duduk. I chose this song because it is considered to have a refined character and requires a high
quality of kendang tunggal.
Before I analyse Sukarata’s drumming patterns, it is important to give an overview about the basic
sounds on a Balinese drum. There are three basic or “main” sounds that can be produced on the kendang.
The first sound produced on the right hand is called Cedit or Dit or Dag, which notated as “D”. The second
sound produced on the right hand is called kuncung or cung which notated as “C”. The third sound is Keplak
or Pak, which will be notated with “P”.
There are also minor sounds called suara maya. These sounds are played softer than the basic sounds
and are played between the basic sounds as transitional and fill-in sounds. There are five suara maya sounds,
all sounds are notated using lowercase letters. The first one is called dit cenik “d”. The second sound is called
tep or ketep notated as “t”. The third sound is produced on the left hand, which is called Kung notated “k”.
The forth sound is called the keplak cenik “p”. The last sound is called Dit Kiwa notated “g”. These notations
are based on my interpretations of the sound. Until present, there is not a fixed method to notate the drumming
pattern, every musician has their own way to notate it. Each individual drum stroke is equivalent to a sixteenth
note. The melody notes are played on each consecutive quarter note beat.
To notate the melody, I use letters from the Penganggening Aksara Bali (Balinese Letters). It
consists of five melodic symbols that represent the sounds of the gamelan. Besides the melodic symbols, I
will use other symbols to represent the colotomic (time-marking) instruments which are the kajar, gong,
kemong, and kempur. The symbols are summarized as follows:
171
I GDE MADE INDRA SADGUNA
No.
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
Symbol
3
4
5
7
1
+
*
( )
.
Explanation
read as nding, closest to the pitch D
read as ndong, closest to Eb
read as ndeng, closest to F
read as ndung, closest to A
read as ndang, closest to Bb
kempur strike
kemong strike
gong strike
rest sign
The parts of the transcription that are written in bold are patterns that are played loudly, and the patterns nonbold are played more softly.
1
2
3
4
5
6
3
PtPd
3
DP.D
1
tPtP
7
..Ck
7
tPPP
5
PCkD
4
CP.D
4
.CkD
7
CktP
3
CP.D
3
tP.D
4
.CkD
3
tPtp
3
tPtp
1
tPCk
7
tPtp
7
tPtp
3
tPtp
1
PtP.
1
PtP.
3
tPCk
1
P.Ck
1
PtP.
1
PDPC
7
D.tP
4
D.Ck
1
D.Ck
7
.D.C
7
DP.D
7+
.DPC
5
tPtp
5
..Ck
7
D.tP
5
k.P.
5
.CkD
5
.DPC
7
PCkC
1
..Ck
3
tPCk
7
tP..
3
.tPC
7+
.DPC
1
.tP.
7+
tPtP
1
..Ck
1*
..tP
4
kD.t
(1)
tPtp
I will explain how the meguru gending concept is applied. First of all, Sukarata shows a wide variety of stock
phrases. On every single line, there is always a different pattern. Second, he understands that this song is to
accompany the Kebyar Duduk dance which has a refined character (halus). Sukarata will control the tempo
at the range of 120 bpm – 140 bpm.
The third element is the understanding of structure, it also corresponds to the fourth element which
is melody. The melody of this song is played on a high octave which refers to a more refined character. To
make a certain pattern synchronize with the melody, the drummer must understand what sound makes a
certain mood. In any music structure the amount of “P” will always be dominant because it functions as the
bridge between the “D” and “C” sound. If a pattern has “D” sounds more often than “C” it would likely be
played for a keras (stronger) character, but if there is almost a balance between “D” and “C,” or even more
“C” then “D,” it will likely lead towards a halus (refined) character.
If we add up every line per sound, it will have as result as follows. The total of “P” sound is 46, “C”
sound is 25, and “D” sound is 21. The “P” sound is always dominant, and it is evident that this sound is
mostly between “C” and “D” sounds. The “C” sound only occurs 4 strokes more often than the “D” sounds.
This is not a significant difference. From the amount given, we can deduce that Sukarata is intending to make
patterns to support a refined character.
Sukarata always leads the music by giving dynamic changes ahead of the entire ensemble. Before
the end of the 2nd line, Sukarata already plays softer as a signal for the other musicians to follow his lead.
This change is done before the strike of the kempur. The second change we can notice is on the 4th line.
Before the end of the line, Sukarata leads the group by playing louder before the strike of kemong. After he
plays louder, it will be a sign for other musicians to follow his lead. The rest of the instruments will play
louder or softer after he makes the changes from the drums.
It is very interesting to analyse the 6th line where the gong is struck. The gong is the most powerful
accent in the gamelan and Sukarata understands that clearly. In order to make the gong strike more powerful,
he gives more stress on his patterns. The process is started from the 5th line. The 3rd and 4th line patterns are
very different from the 5th and 6th line patterns. In 3rd and 4th there are more “C” sounds, which also takes
into account that the song is played softer. But when the 5th line starts and the playing is louder, there is an
172
MEGURU GENDING: I KETUT SUKARATA’S MUSICAL CONCEPT
FOR PLAYING KENDANG TUNGGAL (SOLO DRUMMING)
increase of “D” sound. The three stroke repetition which is notated as “.DPC” also signifies a strong accent
which is played towards the gong. The purpose of that is to make the approach of the gong more noticeable.
The fifth element, which is an understanding of the dance, is usually applied in dances with a nonfixed choreography such as the Baris, Jauk, and Barong dances. While in the Kebyar Duduk dance, the
choreography is more fixed, which means that this fifth element can be ignored.
Conclusion
The connection between the stock phrases, tempo played, structure understanding, and fitting the proper
rhythmic patterns with the melody is the essence of the Meguru Gending concept. Sukarata knows how fast
he wants the song to be played, and also recognizes the places to make the dynamic changes towards the
kempur or kemong strikes. The patterns that are given leading towards the gong strikes are different from the
softer ones, in order to support the strong accent and end point of one cycle. This is the basic and key musical
concept if a drummer wishes to play the kendang tunggal in Balinese music well.
Endnotes
1 Presented at the 5th Symposium of the ICTM Study Group on Performing Arts of South East Asia (PASEA)
in Sabah, Malaysia on 21 July 2018.
2 I Gde Made Indra Sadguna is a lecturer at the Karawitan Department at Institut Seni Indonesia (ISI)
Denpasar.
References
Bakan, M. (1999). Music of death and new creation: Experiences in the world of Balinese gamelan
Beleganjur. Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press.
Sadguna, I Gde Made Indra. (2012). The kendang bebarongan in Balinese music: An organological study
(Trans. I Gde Agus Jaya Sadguna). Denpasar: UPT Penerbitan ISI Denpasar.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
GAMELAN GONG KEBYAR AS COMMUNICATION MEDIA
BETWEEN BALINESE AND SASAK ETHNICITIES IN LOMBOK
(Lightning Paper)
I Gede Yudarta
Indonesian Institute of the Arts, Indonesia
Gamelan gong kebyar is both a genre and ensemble in Balinese society that developed rapidly over the course
of the 20th century. Its existence not only developed in Bali but also in several areas of Indonesia and even in
numerous countries in the world. It serves as a communication media among ethnic groups in Indonesia, and
also among nations that embrace cultural exchange. In this way, the gamelan gong kebyar has experienced
relatively rapid growth even on the neighbouring island of Lombok. On this island, gamelan gong kebyar is
owned and played by a diasporic Balinese society as well as Sasaks.
This article observes that the recent surge of interest in gamelan gong kebyar in Lombok makes both
a social and cultural impact. The social impact can be observed where gamelan gong kebyar serves the
interests of each ethnicity as a liaison media allowing neutral ground for social interaction between
ethnicities. This facilitates an intense affiliation that enables a communicative relationship between the
Balinese and Sasak. While the cultural impact that arises is the emergence creative and artistic variations
from performance artists reflect the identity of each ethnicity, it simultaneously is a collaboration between
them.
Background
Kakebyaran art is one of the cultural works of the Balinese society in the field of music. It has not only
developed and been popularized in Bali but has also developed in various areas in Indonesia. One of the
locations or places of development under purview in this article is Lombok Island. The development of
kakebyaran art in the area of Lombok Island originally began in 1923 when a group of artists came from
Paketan Village, Singaraja held performances in Karang Jangu, Cakranegara in order to perform for a life
cycle ritual ceremony called manusa yadnya. The host of the ceremony was very interested in the gamelan
gong kebyar, and eventually purchased the gamelan brought from Paketan Village. This became the first
gamelan gong kebyar in Lombok.
The existence of kakebyaran art in Lombok has its uniqueness where it is not only played by Balinese
but also played by Sasak performing artists. This phenomenon is remarkable when considering Sasak
Muslims are obedient to the teachings of the religion. It is noteworthy because Muslims participate actively
in playing kakebyaran music which is associated with the culture created by the people of Bali.
In the midst of problems and conflicts that may occur between multiple ethnicities and religious
followers who occupy the same geographic space, the phenomenon that occurred in Lombok is telling
evidences that the arts, especially traditional music, have become an important bridging media of culture. It
is a medium to establish communication, cooperation, and tolerance between divergent groups in an effort to
create harmony between people.
As Media Communication and Interaction
The use of gamelan gong kebyar in the cultural activities of Balinese and Sasak in Lombok became one of
the causes of interaction and communication between these two ethnic groups. Jean Paule says
communication is a transmission of information and transmission of understanding that use shared symbols
(Liliweri, 2002, p. 7). If referring to that concept, communication within the cultural context also has a sense
of the same linkage of information and understanding when there are two ethnicities with different cultural
backgrounds using the same symbols. When these cultural symbols are used together, it is possible to interact
or even have interaction happen between different ethnic groups.
In Lombok, there are similar cultural elements between Balinese culture and Sasak society. One of
them is the similarity in artistic life especially in playing kakebyaran. As a Balinese cultural products
expressed in a diasporic community, in its spreading in Lombok, gong kebyar gamelan is not only used by
the Balinese but also played by the Sasak people. Gong kebyar gamelan is used as one of the media in the
cultural activities of the Sasak community and widely used in various types of Sasak arts such as dance
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GAMELAN GONG KEBYAR AS COMMUNICATION MEDIA BETWEEN BALINESE AND SASAK ETHNICITIES IN LOMBOK
accompaniment, dance drama and as a new medium of creativity among Sasak artists. The use of kakebyaran
by both ethnic Balinese and Sasak signifies the use of the same symbol in two related cultural activities.
The togetherness of ethnic Sasak playing gong kebyar orchestra and kakebyaran music is reflected
in the ceremony held at Lingsar Temple, West Lombok. As this tradition has been inherited since the reign
of the Kingdom of Karangasem (Bali) in Lombok, Lingsar Temple is a sacred place that is jointly shared
between the Sasak ethnic community and ethnic Balinese. In addition, there is Gaduh Temple which is a
place of worship for Hindus. There is also a place of worship for the Sasak ethnic community called Kemaliq,
which is an integral part of the structure of the temple building as a whole. As a sacred place that is shared
together, the execution of various types of ceremonial processions and rituals is always carried out
simultaneously.
In the execution of ceremonial ritual processions at Lingsar Temple, the presentation of traditional
music is mandatory. Various types of traditional Balinese and Sasak musical instruments are played which
are related to the procession being carried out. Among the Sasak, there is one of group called Seka Gong
Mekar Jaya, from Montor village of the Narmada sub-district which has always played and accompanied the
ceremonial procession at Lingsar Temple. For the people of Montor village, especially among artists,
accompanying the ceremonial procession in Lingsar Temple is an inherited obligation carried out for
generations.
In carrying out these obligations there is often communication and interaction with Balinese artists
who also play traditional musical instruments. In the Sasak group there are often artists from Balinese ethnic
groups who help to play some repertoire. Both ethnic groups can interact because the repertoire played is
kakebyaran music that has become very popular and well known between them.
Intense communication and interaction between these two ethnic groups indicates that the art of
kakebyaran becomes a very important media in helping to establish more harmonious relations between
ethnic groups. In a broader perspective, shared performative culture contributes to connecting people in
tangible and meaningful ways.
Social Impact
Since the 1960s, the Sasak ethnic community has been interested in the art of kakebyaran. The government
in power in the era of the 1960s often used gong kebyar gamelan and kakebyaran music and dances to
entertain official guests and invitations who visited the region. With the use of kakebyaran, this indicates that
the art gets a very high appreciation from the government. As noted in the book West Nusa Tenggara
Regional Monograph II (1977), in 1963 the West Lombok Culture Office carried out on mass Balinese dance
rehearsals. From this program, kakebyaran dances became more popular among elementary school (SD) and
junior high school (SLTP) children in the regions of Cakra, Mataram and Ampenan. This 1960s program
made kakebyaran art more widespread among the Sasak community. Various activities related to Sasak
traditional ceremony were regularly presented using kakebyaran. It is assumed that presenting the art of
kakebyaran in Sasak traditional ceremony activities raised the degree of the ceremony held.
The high social and economic value of gamelan gong kebyar among the Sasak ethnic community
saw many ethnic Balinese buy gong kebyar instruments to form gamelan groups as well. Some of these
groups or sekaa have been around since the 1960s. In the city of Mataram, there was once a very famous
group called “Seka Gong Lalu Bayaq.” This sekaa was pioneered by a Sasak nobleman named Lalu Bayaq.
To manifest this group, the nobleman invited several artists who were mostly selected artists from the
Balinese community to join in the sekaa he founded. This group was well known for its presentation of works
by I Wayan Berata’s compositional works for gamelan (Palguna Warsa, Kosala Arini, Purwa Pascima,
Swabhuana Paksa, Gesuri) so that these works seemed to be the hallmark of this sekaa.
Besides Lalu Bayaq many groups today have members or artists of Sasak ethnicity such as the Mekar
Jaya group from Dasan Montor village in Narmada sub-district and Mekar Budaya of Bongor village, Gerung
District which is currently the leading group within the ethnic Sasak circle. Their technical abilities are not
inferior to Balinese artists. Similarly, the Mekar Jaya group has a large kakebyaran repertoire in the form of
extended instrumental compositions called lelambatan, new creations and various types of dance
accompaniment.
The emergence of gamelan groups among the Sasak ethnic community further strengthens the
relationship between the Sasak ethnic community and ethnic Balinese. To improve the performance or
presentation, several groups often invite Balinese artists to provide training. Sometimes a sense of
togetherness is created when Sasak and Balinese perform in the same ensemble. Borrowing each other’s
175
I GEDE YUDARTA
musicians or artists between both ethnic groups is something very common. The occurrence of intense
communication and interaction in artistic activities especially in playing kakebyaran gives a very positive
social impact on harmonization of relations between these two ethnic groups.
Cultural Impact
The existence of kakebyaran among the Sasak ethnic community contributes to the excavation, preservation
and development of Sasak arts. Gandrung art that had experienced a period of decline and almost became
extinct was successfully reconstructed in 1990. Similarly, the Cupak Gerantang dance drama which became
rare, until now can still be presented in the midst of society. The success of maintaining art forms is closely
related to the flexibility of kakebyaran. By using the gong kebyar gamelan, the Gandrung dance and Cupak
Gerantang dance drama have been successfully maintained. Even the Gandrung Dance is currently an icon
of Sasak dance.
In addition to playing a major role in the excavation and preservation of Sasak arts, the existence of
gong kebyar gamelan is also a medium of artistic creativity among artists in Lombok. Collaborations between
gong kebyar gamelan with vocal music have given birth to several works such as Gugur Mayang, Kidung
Dalem, Pemban Seleparang, and some vocal music which is commonly known as Pasasakan songs that are
very popular. In the field of dance arts, the results of creativity appear in several dances such as: Kembang
Sembah Dance, Bala Anjani Dance, Briuk Tinjal Dance, Dare Ngindang Dance, Gagak Mandiq Dance among
others.
Figure 1. Kembang Sembah Dance.
(Photo by I Gede Yudarta)
Of the above phenomenon, a very important observation is the emergence of new variants of kakebyaran
music as David Harnish (2005) says:
Lombok Balinese music styles can be seen as being one of three types: 1) those with antecedents in
Bali, 2) those with antecedents from the Sasak majority of Lombok and 3) those co-created with the
Sasak. The first type comprises the majority of traditions, including the most popular gamelan in
both Bali and Lombok, the gamelan gong kebyar. Gong kebyar exploded on the artistic scene in Bali
in the 1920s and 1930s; it had a similar impact in Lombok during the 1950s. This form has linked
Lombok Balinese to Bali and inspired people to greater artistic involvement on both islands. The
vast majority of 20th-century dance and theatre innovations employs gong kebyar and form part of
the kebyar movement. (p. 10)
The statement provides an overview of the existence of gong kebyar gamelan and kakebyaran style that has
existed in Lombok and is one style of kakebyaran besides the style of North Bali and South Bali style. This
style is a cultural configuration of the local culture of Sasak with immigrant culture (Bali) which is thoroughly
assimilated and forms a new style. Pasasakan style emerged from the adoption and processing of form and
musicality so that it gave birth to kebyar musicality nuanced by Sasak culture.
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GAMELAN GONG KEBYAR AS COMMUNICATION MEDIA BETWEEN BALINESE AND SASAK ETHNICITIES IN LOMBOK
Kakebyaran Nuanced Sasak Music
The two cultural communications between ethnic Sasak and Balinese also gave birth to a new creativity in
Sasak music. The immense popularity of kakebyaran music among the Sasak community raised a strong
desire to be able to present the repertoire. One of the creative efforts is to play kebyar music using traditional
Sasak musical instruments which distinguishes it from its Balinese predecessors.
Creativity increasingly evidences kebyar music flexibility. Kakebyaran music not only can be played
using gong kebyar gamelan but can also be played with other instruments. Some of the songs in the form of
instrumental music and dance accompaniment have been transferred to Sasak musical instruments such as
Klentang and Rebana Gending.
Figure 2. The Gamelan Klentang.
(Photo by I Gede Yudarta)
Conclusion
After observing the above case study, it can be concluded that kakebyaran is a cultural work of Balinese
society but has an important role in connecting two ethnic groups namely Sasak and ethnic Balinese in
Lombok. This flexible and adaptive art form contributes greatly to the development of harmonious
communication and interaction amidst the inter-ethnic differences and feuds that often arise today.
In addition, the existence of kakebyaran music in Lombok makes an impact both socially and
culturally because ethnic Sasak gong kebyar gamelan has become a prestigious icon for Sasak ritual
ceremonies lifting the prestige of the ritual. The art of kakebyaran has become social capital in raising the
distinction, prestige and dignity of artists. The cultural impact sees the existence of kakebyaran utilized in
the excavation, preservation and cultural development of Sasak culture as instrumental to strengthening
traditional Sasak arts.
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Yaningsih, S. (1991/1992). Deskripsi tari gendang Beleq, Daerah Nusa Tenggara Barat. Departemen
Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan, Kantor Wilayah Provinsi Nusa Tenggara Barat. Proyek Pembinaan
Kesenian NTB.
Yudarta, I. G. & Ardini, N. W. (2010). Potensi seni pertunjukan Bali sebagai penunjang industri pariwisata
di Lombok Barat. Hasil Penelitian Hibah Bersaing. Fakultas Seni Pertunjukan, Institut Seni
Indonesia Denpasar.
Yudarta, I. G. & Ardini. N. W. (2011). Potensi seni pertunjukan Bali sebagai penunjang industri pariwisata
di Kota Mataram, Nusa Tenggara Barat. Hasil Penelitian Hibah Bersaing. Fakultas Seni
Pertunjukan, Institut Seni Indonesia Denpasar.
Yudarta, I. G. (2013). Eksistensi seni kakebyaran dalam kehidupan masyarakat di Kota Mataram, Nusa
Tenggara Barat Hasil Penelitian Hibah Disertasi Doktor. Dibiayai oleh: DIPA Institut Seni
Indonesia Denpasar. Nomor Surat Perjanjian Penugasan Pelaksanaan Penelitian No.
19/IT5.3/PG/2013 Tanggal 6 Mei 2013.
Yudarta, I. G. (2016). Reproduksi seni kakebyaran di Kota Mataram, Nusa Tenggara Barat (Unpublished
doctoral dissertation). Universitas Udayana, Indonesia.
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ANSWERING QUESTIONS, QUESTIONING ANSWERS: INTELLECTUALITY IN THE
CREATIVE PROCESS OF BALINESE GAMELAN COMPOSITION
I Wayan Sudirana
Indonesian Arts Institute, Indonesia
Introduction
Change is a constant universal that spreads across all of the world’s cultures. In accordance with
modernization, situational change in culture is developing, reflecting new mindsets influenced by new
knowledge. In Balinese traditions, changes are mostly oriented toward desa (place), kala (time),
and patra (situations). For the Balinese, to think about desa, kala, and patra in relation to a given activity
means to select the appropriate place, time, and situation to do so (Sudirana, 2013, p. 26). It is a Balinese
value system and island-wide approach to regulating behaviour. Traditionally, changes in music are always
associated with ritual needs, with the basic foundation of the desa, kala, patra concept. Musicians are given
the “freedom” in musical innovations, but at the same time are framed within desa, kala, patra.
A wide range of musical changes happen in Balinese cross-musical genres that are oriented
toward the desa, kala, patra concept. This paper will focus on the imagination of the future of New Music
for Gamelan in Bali, and to further address some of the problems that arise in developments of Balinese
music. Local wisdom becomes the foundation and the assimilation of global culture. It allows musicians to
innovate and develop without leaving their identity and desa, kala, patra.
Balinese composers are not only accepting, recreating, and changing established traditional or
older musics and ideas, but are now developing deeper, more intellectual methods of composition, expanding
possibility, and individual creativity to new levels. Older music is part of a new musical construction tailored
to the way composers create their works. The music that exists now is a detailed connectedness, which may
be against, continuing, or passing through each other, allowing the creative process to continue developing to
a deeper level of detail.
“Imaginasi” and “Nalar”
In 2012, senior composer Slamet Abdul Syukur made an analogy about the process of creativity in music:
Kalau menunggu perintah otak, dalam silat, kita akan kehilangan momentum atau terpukul duluan.
Pasukan pemadam kebakaran harus bergerak cepat tanpa nunggu perintah. Demikian juga tukang
copet. Mereka harus tak ragu ketika menemukan saat yang tepat untuk bertindak. (Syukur, 2012)
If you wait for the command from your brain, in martial arts, you will lose the momentum or be hit
first. Firefighters must move quickly without waiting for orders. It is a similar situation for the pickpocketer. They should not hesitate when finding the right moment to act. (Syukur, 2012)
The process of creation starts from an intention to create, all the way through to the completion of the work.
Syukur reminds us to quickly respond to all forms of imagination that comes into our minds. Imaginings and
inspirations cannot be planned or designed. They come suddenly. This is the case with composers. Composers
need to be ready to process their imaginings into concrete musical forms using their experiences and technical
skills. No matter how big the imaginings are if the mind does not have a sufficient ability to process them,
no concrete musical ideas will be established.
The ability to process imaginings and inspirations into some patterned musical language needs nalar,
a logical reasoning of the composer: nalar shapes imaginings of the unconscious mind into the concrete
forms of musical ideas. As Wayan Gede Yudane said, “Imaginings will not be able to form concrete musical
ideas. We need “nalar” or intellectuality, which leads to the process of realizing all forms of imaginations or
inspirations” (personal communication, July 12, 2018). “Nalar” for Yudane, is the knowledge he has earned
from developing his critical thinking, research and experiences in life. Knowledge is important in realizing
and organizing ideas imparted into the unconscious mind.
Imagination also plays an important role in the creative process. Albert Einstein quoted (1929),
“Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited, whereas imagination embraces
the entire world, stimulating progress, giving birth to evolution.” This quote is precious and most people
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would agree with it. While we are nothing without knowledge, imagination is the source from which new
knowledge springs. Imagination is a waste if it is not transformed into something useful. It is like unlocking
hidden doors in which inventions lay behind. Both play important roles in the human creative processes.
Graham Wallas (1926) states that there are four stages of creative processes: preparation, incubation,
illumination, and verification. These stages became popular among Balinese academic composers in
expressing their creative processes on paper. They convey close cooperation between the conscious or
rational/logical/analytical thinking brain (preparation and verification), and the subconscious or
intuitive/imaginative thinking brain (incubation and illumination). Erie Setiawan states that intuitive thinking
plays a prominent role in solving problems of composing music, not inferior to rational thinking. Intuition is
responsible for 50-70 % of the creation method, while logical and cognitive considerations occupy the rest.
In composing music, determining the proportion and the character of the work is far more important than just
thinking systematically (2015, pp. 39-43). Thinking systematically is standard instruction or compositional
technique, and intuition is the source of ideas of all compositional techniques. As Suka Hardjana explains,
Musik bermutu hanya bisa lahir dari bakat, kecerdasan, dan kerja keras. Sebab kita tahu bahwa
ilham atau inspirasi hannyalah sepercik embun yang menetesi bakat. Itu bukan segala-galanya.
Intuisi, naluri-naluri dalam, perasaann hanyalah determinan yang melengkapi kecerdasan. (2003,
p. 89)
Great music can only be born out of talent, intelligence, and hard work. We know that inspiration is
only a sprinkling of dew that spills on talent. That is not everything. Intuition, inner instinct and
feeling is merely a determinant of intelligence. (2003, p. 89)
Accessing both intuitive and rational (analytical) thinking in the creative process of composing is inevitable.
Imagination and intellect always interact together in the musical experience, just as aesthetic considerations
(intuition) are always intertwined with artistic (knowledge).
Answering Questions, Questioning Answers: Composers’ Method
Traditionally in Bali the compositional process in music was more intuitive than conceptual. The re-creation
of beauty in nature through musical expression and melodic ideas was [and still is] enough for many to form
a musical repertoire. As a renowned senior composer, Nyoman Windha argued that almost all of his works
are based on intuitive exploration of the beauty of nature and the process of intuitively imagining melody
and rhythm,
Proses penciptaan biasanya diawali dengan perenungan (berimaginasi) sesuai tema (biasanya tema
keindahan alam). Hal ini bisa terjadi di awal penciptaan atau pada saat karya itu terwujud. Saya
biasanya langsung memikirkan musiknya dengan atau tanpa tema. Jadi semuanya dari hasil
perenungan. (personal communication, July 14,2018)
The process usually begins with contemplation (imagining) in accordance to the selected theme
(usually natural beauty). These (imaginings) can happen at the beginning or when the work is
realized. I usually write the music with or without initial themes. Everything is a result of
contemplation. (personal communication, July 14,2018)
One of his works entitled “Wahyu Giri Suara”, the first piece he composed for a gong kebyar competition, is
claimed to be inspired by the abstract “celestial sound of the great mountain,” with the exploration of new
musical ideas at the time. Windha explains that wahyu means revelation or inspiration (also the name of his
first-born child), giri means mountain, and suara means sound. According to Windha, with the intention to
create new musical ideas, ironically, he started writing the music without clear musical concepts in mind. He
followed the “flow” while writing the music, depending on his experiences and direction of the beauty of
nature perceived by his mind (personal communication, July 16, 2018). The source of his musical ideas is
intuitive thinking. When investigating the conceptual process of transforming his intuitive thinking into the
concrete form of musical ideas, Windha faced difficulties in expressing his concepts or analytical thoughts.
His form may be perceived as naïve, straightforward, or simplistic expressions in comparison to newer styles
of Balinese musical composition.
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OF BALINESE GAMELAN COMPOSITION
For many contemporary Balinese composers, dissatisfaction with what has been obtained from the
past and the need for change and new ideas is a reflection of the developmental process in the culture. When
questioned about how to compose, senior musicians typically respond, “It has always been that way” or “by
seeking inspiration in nature.” But young composers are no longer content with these responses and are
questioning these answers. When questioning conceptual processes, that of music making, the image of the
composer, is often intellectual and spiritual. However, Yudane states that those who wish to become
composers must be aware that the composers are “the condemned”—those doomed to an endless search
throughout life; innovation is relentless (personal communication, July 12, 2018).
Most Balinese composers voiced ‘innovation’ in composing new music. Innovation is usually linked
to creativity and intellectuality. These two closely depend on how composers translate their intuitive thinking
into concrete works—Setiawan states that compositional works are actually intuitive works (2015, p. 45).
Windha’s compositional processes also involves intuition, although he was consciously unable to break down
his steps in composing. Balinese traditional composers usually have a passive knowledge. It can be argued
that the combination of intuitive (spiritual) and cognitive (intellectual) thinking underlies the compositional
processes of Balinese traditional composers.
Hardjanna said that composers have confidence in their character, are mysterious, as well as full of
curiosity and surprises. This leads them to always focus on subjectivity, uniqueness, and breakthrough—the
important trilogy to measure the composers’ personal responsibility (Setiawan, 2015, p. 47). Subjectivity is
a reasoning within the composers’ mind, which absorbs all experiences and knowledge. From here, ideas are
melted down to a concrete form of work by referring to uniqueness and breakthrough as the primary intention.
Uniqueness is a quality of the composers’ own identity, while breakthrough [in composing] is the innovation.
Composing new music for gamelan for most Balinese contemporary composers requires subjectivity,
uniqueness, and innovation. Moreover, technical skills, taste, and inspiration also play an important role in
realizing unique and innovative works. In other words, composers must formerly master the technical skills
and optimize their musical senses, equipped with imagination, before being able to seamlessly perform
compositional mechanisms.
Komponis Kini
In order to achieve the above-mentioned trilogy, Balinese contemporary composers are inquiring into the
answers (compositional theory) they acquired from their seniors: young composers are more critical of the
answers (theory) they learnt from elders or schools. One of the well-known traditional texts entitled prakempa
is becoming an authoritative source of [compositional] theory and required conservatory (institutional) text.
Prakempa maps the tones of Balinese scale systems (pelog and selendro) into the pengider bhuana (the
concept of the revolving world or nine directions of the universe). Explanations in prakempa tend to be
abstract and are beyond human reasoning. As Andrew McGraw explains,
The prakempa revels in mystical taxonomy without ever explicating the exact relation between
theory and practice. Music is presented as an aspect of the divine or an expression of its agency;
gods express unique aesthetic preferences and are associated with specific ensembles and tunings.
Syllables associated with pitches are imagined to be intrinsically rather than arbitrarily related to
their meanings. (2013, p. 116).
Young composers are [privately] questioning the nature of the text. They do not understand when professors
direct them to use prakempa as a compositional tool. For young composers, the theory elucidated in
prakempa is irrelevant to their practical experiences in gamelan.
As they were not satisfied with the responses they received, contemporary composers continuously
explore their identity (uniqueness) and innovations. With the belief that identity is innate and is constructed,
and with modern technology providing easy access to information, they are exposed to the wide range of
world musical cultures and, directly or indirectly, form their own understanding of compositional
methodology. These composers want to be a “true composer,” a composer who dares to face challenges, and
seek for identity and innovations, as opposed to the penata tabuh or music arranger associated with kebyar
and tradisi forms (McGraw, 2013, p. 125).
In 2016, a new movement entitled Komponis Kini emerged in the Balinese compositional scene, held
in Bentara Budaya Bali (Kompas Gramedia Cultural Institution).1 This movement was conceived as an
attempt to reform, giving new formats and meaning [or re-interpretation] of classical and/or existing music,
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as well as forming music creations that are [entirely] new. This event is open to young composers to pour out
their thoughts in composition. Together with the curators I Wayan Gede Yudane, Dewa Alit, and I Wayan
Sudirana, this event became the only music event that focused entirely on the musik baru untuk gamelan
(new music for gamelan) movement in Bali.
Komponis Kini is a planned and sustainable educational event and also a “contest arena” of new
ideas for young composers. This planned and sustained effort is intended to not only provide enlightenment,
but also to share appreciation for the community to celebrate new art forms with high quality artistic
achievements. Komponis Kini is also an arena for new gamelan composers to express their latest
achievements that reflect the authenticity of their creative journey. In addition to musical performances, the
event will also be enriched with a post-performance dialogue with the composers; as an educational and
creation accountability session of the music performed.
Journey
Syukur’s analogy reflects a clear and systematical methodology in any given situation. In any case,
composers have to be ready to put down ideas and systematically transform them. Putu Adi Septa Suweca
Putra (ala Kuprit), a young multi-talented musician and composer explained, “ide-ide bisa saja datang secara
tidak terduga, kapan saja, dan dimana saja.” (ideas come in unexpected ways, anytime, and anywhere)
(personal communication, July 12, 2018). These ideas, for Kuprit, come in abstract form. He then compiles
and assimilates them into more concrete forms of musical elements. Experiences as a music appreciator, and
knowledge and understanding of other musical culture (or composers) methods are the key to success.
Discovering uniqueness and innovation in creating melodies, rhythms, harmony, elaborations, etc. depend
on, and are limited to the composers’ own nalar. From here, new musical creations for gamelan generate
their own authenticity: subjectivity, uniqueness, and breakthrough.
One of the pieces premiered at the Komponis Kini event was entitled “Journey,” a new form of
music for gamelan composed by Wayan Gede Yudane.2 Yudane introduced the concept of a new gamelan
orchestra with a truly new achievement; utilizing the space of silence, and breathing in rhythm with the music
to create musical union. Thus for Yudane, the Balinese gamelan succeeds in becoming an art form that
continues to live and breathe with the 21st century. Yudane’s works are the result of creatively exploring a
wide range of new musical creations to enrich the possibility of gamelan music, and reflect the courage of
the creator to address something that has been standardized and traditionalized, in order to give birth to
original (authentic) work.
According to Yudane, he makes comparisons with Morton Feldman's music and/or the gamelan
tradition of Central Javanese gamelan, with the soft and very slow melodies revealed in the first part of this
piece. The concept utilizes elasticity; stretching time, tempo, and sonority (personal communication, July 12,
2018). Responding to the waves/vibrato of ngumbang-ngisep concept (the higher and lower frequencies of
paired pitches) in Semarandana gamelan, he creates a meditation space where the pitch organization of the
melody is connected in the mind of the listener. The first part of the piece is marked at various points with a
soft beat on jegogan (the bass metallophone). He also added floating tones and a flute that created the aural
‘halo’ (the sense of a ‘halo’), while kantilan and pemade (the metallophone) added elements of nervous
squeaks and suggestive tremolo. He feels that these subversive sounds are meant to prevent the work from
becoming too flashy or “precious.”
Yudane works systematically in organizing musical elements used in his piece. The selection of
pitches, tempo, and rhythm is thoughtfully organized, and in accordance with the idea planned from the
beginning; the intentions of melodic movements are fit to the specified theme. This is the result of Yudane’s
subjectivity in composing. The uniqueness of Yudane's compositions lies in the new form and structure of
the piece, the unusual rhythmic and melodic patterns of gamelan Semarandana instruments, and the new
function given to the standardized roles of each instrument within the ensemble.
Moreover, we are discussing a compositional method in an oral tradition, where music is
[traditionally] passed down without the use of musical notation. The aural experience of performance
interaction and groove is paramount. However, Yudane’s breakthrough lies in the combination of the use of
complete Western notation in writing his music (as well as teaching the music) and the synchronization of
bodies and groove in new kinds of interaction, resulting from the use of musical notation. This is a key
achievement of such art music.
“Journey” is a piece that ‘includes’ listeners beyond their expectation, and it breaks new territory
with innovation and passion. Often this kind of music introduces new techniques for traditional instruments
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OF BALINESE GAMELAN COMPOSITION
as well as presenting traditional instruments in new ways. This music challenges the traditional foundations
of melody, harmony, rhythm, texture, structure, dynamics, notation, timbre, length, size, and form that
perfectly stand-alone.
Concluding Thoughts
In the creation process of finding musical innovations, Balinese composers are overshadowed by a strong
institutional intimidation with regards to the continuation of Balinese gamelan traditions. For many years,
Balinese gamelan scholars have always placed traditions against innovations. Old gamelan pieces have to be
preserved, and new innovative works were (are) labeled merusak tradisi (“destroying tradition”). Fearfulness
of losing tradition is the main cause of this situation.
Understanding the meaning of “tradition” in this situation is paramount. Murgiyanto states “sesuatu
yang diwariskan tidak berarti harus diterima, dihargai, diasimilasi atau disimpan sampai mati” (something
that is inherited does not mean that it must be accepted, appreciated, assimilated or kept to death) (2004, p.
2). The people who accept the inherited activities/material objects/beliefs/societies/phenomenon do not see
them as inherited “tradition.” The accepted “traditions” are part of the people’s daily life. They have been
maintained until now and have the same position as new innovations. With this understanding, tradition
should not be placed against innovation (Singer, 1972; Wagner, 1975; Kealiinohomoku, 1979; Shils, 1981).
Tradition is changing and is developing, and it has to be placed in parallel to the innovation.
Musical innovations in Balinese gamelan, especially by Balinese composers like Yudane, involve
an intimate cooperation between the accepted (ongoing) traditions of compositional methods and a new
flourishing/innovative compositional method. Both require “imagination” and “intuition” as an initial
compositional process. The difference is whether the imagination and intuition are actively or passively
understood by the composers. Yudane introduces two terminologies in addressing new compositional
method: “productive imagination” and “intellectual intuition.” Yudane said that “intuition is the presentation
of imagination, and the development of the concept of ‘productive imagination’ to explain the actual art
creation. Whereas ‘intellectual intuition’ is an object of reason that can be accounted for and not human
cognition” (personal communication, August 12, 2018). By transforming this transcendental concept into
cognitive exploitation and explaining all cognition experience, therefore, the role of the productive
imagination lies in the artistic creation of new artworks, and the role of intellectual intuition, as productive
imagination, lies in the scientific discovery of the new scientific hypothesis. In the pragmatic epistemology,
artists use their productive imagination differently to build various ways of representing reality.
Endnotes
1
Bentara Budaya is a cultural institution of Kompas Gramedia, which means cultural messenger. As cultural
envoys, Bentara Budaya accommodates and represents the nation's cultural rides, from various backgrounds,
and horizons, which may be different. The Hall seeks to display cultural forms and works that may have
traditionally been created or the art forms of mass ever popular and populist. Also new works that seem to
have no place and do not deserve to appear in a respectable building. Bentara Budaya serve as a meeting
point between existing aspirations and growing aspirations.
2 Composer I Wayan Gede Yudane has garnered a reputation for his breathtakingly diverse music, cutting
across Balinese gamelan, western string ensembles, electro-acoustic performances, choir, film, art installation
and theatre. He has created pieces for ensembles as diverse as: The New Zealand Trio; New Zealand Strinng
Quartet; Australian Art Orchestra and ‘Theft of Sita’; gamelan ensemble such as Gamelan Wrdhi Swaram
and many more. His composition embraces and open exploration of new ideas, crossing musical and cultural
boundaries and referencing both Eastern and Western traditions. In his compositions, often characterized as
fast moving, sweeping soundscapes, he continually experiments and explores creative processes of new
music.
References
Hardjana, S. (2003) Corat-coret musik kontemporer dulu dan kini. Jakarta: MSPI.
McGraw, A. C. (2013). Radical traditions reimagining culture in Balinese contemporary music. New York,
NY: Oxford University Press.
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Murgiyanto, S. (2004). Tradisi dan inovasi beberapa masalah tari di Indonesia. Jakarta: Wedatama Widya
Sastra.
Setiawan, E. (2015). Serba-serbi intuisi musikal dan yang alamiah dari peristiwa musik. Yogyakarta: Art
Music Today.
Sudirana, I. W. (2013). Gamelan gong luang: Ritual, time, place, music, and change in a Balinese sacred
ensemble (Doctoral dissertation). University of British Columbia, Canada.
Syukur, S. A. (2012). Virus setan. Yogyakarta: Art Music Today.
Viereck, G. S. (1929, October 26). What life means to Einstein: An interview by George Sylvester Viereck.
The Saturday Evening Post.
Wallas, G. (1926). The art of thought. New York, NY: Harcourt, Brace, and Company.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
BORDER CROSSING OF POPULAR PERFORMANCE GENRES AND THE SEARCH FOR
IDENTITY: A CASE STUDY ON INDONESIAN DANCE PERFORMANCE
(Lightning Paper)
Madoka Fukuoka
Osaka University, Japan
Introduction: Considering Identity
The purpose of this study is to consider the relationship between the practice of popular performance genres
and the artist’s searching for identity in society through the case study of an Indonesian female-impersonator
dancer Didik Nini Thowok. As a researcher of cultural studies Stuart Hall defined identity as, “the result of
a successful articulation or ‘chaining’ of the subject into the flow of the discourse” (Hall, 1996, pp. 5-6). The
characteristic of this definition is the focus on the constant process of reconciliation with discourse.
Anthropologist Ariel Heryanto pointed out the multiplicity and fluidness of identity in his study on
Indonesian popular culture (Heryanto, 2008). Following these studies, identity in this study is not only
considered as the explicit matters such as someone’s birth, current affiliation or the appearance of the body.
Rather, it also concerns the artists’ constant endeavour to interconnect or negotiate their artistic practice with
various kinds of values and social discourses. In this study, the multiplicity and the changing dimension of
the identity are also considered.
The Artist
The artist Didik Nini Thowok is an Indonesian female-impersonator dancer based in Yogyakarta on the island
of Java, Indonesia. In Yogyakarta, Didik is famous for his original creative activities that are based on the
revitalization of the transgender dance tradition. He is a unique dancer known for his original comical works
and plays, especially his performances on television programs since the 1980s.1
Didik was born in 1954 in Central Java to a Chinese father and a Javanese mother. In the 1960s,
Indonesians of Chinese descent began to experience many difficulties in Indonesia because of the
government’s so-called assimilation policy, and for more than 30 years severe restrictions were placed on
their cultural expressions. Didik’s artistic expression of female-impersonation has a close relationship with
his expression as a Chinese Indonesian artist.
Female-Impersonation
Although Didik’s artistic activities are widely accepted in Indonesian society, there is criticism and negative
perceptions about him. The artistic practice of female-impersonation is a Javanese performing art tradition.
Anthropologist James Peacock pointed out in his study of the East Javanese popular theatre ludruk that
transvestite singers and dancers had a special position and their existence was considered to be “refined” in
appearances and acting (Peacock, 1987, pp. 52-53, 168-172). Also, there was a tradition of female–
impersonation in Javanese court dancing.
However, female-impersonation is still considered to be vulgar and in some cases, an uncultured
practice. We can also see the influence of Islamization, the enhancement of consciousness of Islam, in today’s
Indonesia. Sometimes the traditional elements in performing art forms are criticized as the deviation from
religious piety and as a symbol of being backward.
There are the influences of the Western LGBT concept too. Besides female-impersonator performers,
there have been transvestite men in Indonesia called waria. Although they are considered to be a part of a
different category as dance and theatre performers, they can be considered as similar to female-impersonator
performers because they are skilled as dancers or singers (Oetomo, 1996). Anthropologist Tom Boellstorff
pointed out that the important skills and knowledge (ilmu) of waria is in their practice of transforming
people’s appearances (Boellstorff, 2003, p. 22). Their sexuality had not been always focused on. However,
cross-dressing or female-impersonation is often criticized from the point of view of the performer’s sexuality
in today’s social discourse.
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MADOKA FUKUOKA
Some Changes on Gender Expression
Being aware of various kinds of criticism, there are some changes in Didik’s artistic activities. The first
change is seen in the increase of dance works involving serious themes. Didik had been active as a comedian
until the 1990s, however since the 2000s he had begun to create serious works.2
The second change is Didik’s efforts to show that the female-impersonator performance as one of
Asia’s arts traditions. For his 60th birthday in 2014, Didik held a special event named REBORN in Yogyakarta.
Many female-impersonator performers from different Asian countries participated in the event. This event
showed that there are diverse traditions of men playing female roles in many Asian countries. Also the event
was an opportunity for Didik to show a large audience a creative collaboration based on Javanese court dance
and Japanese noh theatre. Through this event, Didik established his artistic practice as part of Javanese artistic
traditions, as well as one of the artistic traditions found in Asian countries.
Figure 1. Didik performs the collaborative creation entitled “Bedhaya Hagoromo” in the event REBORN, in Bangsal
Kapatihan, Yogyakarta, December 2014.
(Photo: M. Fukuoka)
Ethnicity of Chinese-Indonesian
Although Didik emphasizes that he is an Indonesian artist and does not focus on his Chinese descent, we can
see some changes in Didik’s recent activities. Since 2010, Didik has begun to devote himself to create the
work that has explicit Chinese elements, and he has also begun to work collaboratively with Chinese artists
and producers. In 2013, he participated in the celebration of the 15th day of the Chinese New Year in
Yogyakarta.
Abroad, Didik’s collaborations with Chinese artists and stage directors have been increasing. Since
2016, Didik has participated in a theatrical project held by the Japanese NPO cooperation (Fukuoka, 2018, p.
104). In 2016 and 2017, Didik created the collaborative works with the artists of Chinese theater kunqu. The
important point is that his artistic forum expanded to the broader area where the Chinese artists and stage
directors are dominant. Recently, Didik has been training and rehearsing with Chinese artists and stage
directors in many places such as Taiwan, Hong Kong and Singapore.
Conclusion
Popular culture studies (studies on popular performance genres) have focused on the cultural politics in a
society. Cultural politics include the rivalry of high culture and mass culture, traditional values and modern
or contemporary values, religious or ceremonial functions and the commercialization of the art products.
Therefore, the negotiation between the artist’s practices and social discourses is one of the important research
topics in the study of popular culture.
Dance performances are the artistic expressions of the dancer’s searching for their place in society,
as well as the representations of their bodies. Didik knows well that there are various opinions about his
artistic works, including negative perceptions as well as warm and positive support. The artist, if accepted by
society, can expand their influence. Didik, as a female-impersonator dancer as well as an artist of Chinese
and Indonesian descent, has endeavoured to position his creative activities in Indonesia by negotiating with
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A CASE STUDY ON INDONESIAN DANCE PERFORMANCE
the various kinds of discourses. We can see the artist’s realistic and pragmatic ways of negotiating with
various values and social discourses, as well as developing their artistic expressions.
Endnotes
1
The author started the study of Didik’s activities in 2004. His works have been observed by a number of
researchers since the 1990s and there are some suggestive studies on Didik’s artistic activities, including Jan
Mrázek’s study on the artist’s masked performance and identities (Mrázek, 2005), Felicia Hughs-Freeland’s
study on the gender expression of the artist’s activities (Hughs-Freeland, 2008).
2
For a more details refer to Fukuoka, 2018, pp. 63-72.
References
Boellstorff, T. (2003). Dubbing culture: Indonesian gay and lesbi subjectivities and ethnography in an already
globalized world. American Ethnologist, 30, 225-242.
Fukuoka, M. (2018). Indonesian cross-gender dancer Didik Nini Thowok. Osaka, Japan: Osaka University
Press.
Hall, S. (1996). Introduction: Who needs “identity”? In S. Hall & P. Du Gay (Eds.), Questions of cultural
identity (pp. 1-18). London, UK: Sage Publications.
Heryanto, A. (2008). Pop culture and competing identities. In A. Heryanto (Ed.), Popular culture in
Indonesia: Fluid identities in post-authoritarian politics (pp. 1-36). London, UK: Routledge.
Hughs-Freeland, F. (2008). Cross-dressing across cultures: Genre and gender in the dances of Didik Nini
Thowok. ARI Working Paper No. 108, 3-37. Retrieved from https://ari.nus.edu.sg/Publication/Deta
il/1264
Mrázek, J. (2005). Masks and selves in contemporary Java: The dances of Didik Nini Thowok. Journal of
Southeast Asian Studies, 36(2), 249-279.
Oetomo, D. (1996). Gender and sexual orientation in Indonesia. In L. J. Sears (Ed.), Fantasizing the feminine
in Indonesia (pp. 259-269). Durham, NC: Duke University Press.
Peacock, J. (1987). Rites of modernization: Symbols and social aspects of Indonesian proletarian drama.
Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press.
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D’ ACADEMY ASIA: CROSSING BORDERS THROUGH DANGDUT CONTEST
(Lightning Paper)
Michael HB Raditya
Universitas Gadjah Mada, Indonesia
Introduction
A middle-aged woman was sitting back and relaxing. She was watching television, singing or following the
song for a while. All of a sudden, a boy came and changed the TV channel. The woman, shocked, asked the
boy to change the channel back to the channel before. The woman said, “Son, change it (the channel) to
Indosiar, you go and do your homework, I am watching Fildan, he's about to sing.” She said again, “change
it quickly, he’s competing with foreigner” (personal communication, November 17, 2017).
The activity of television watching after conducting domestic chores is done mostly by women in
Indonesia. Television is their medium in releasing tiredness from various daily activities. It is interesting that
mothers fall in love with Dangdut singing talent contest shows that are regularly aired on the private
television station, Indosiar. In the last three years, Indosiar incessantly presents talent contest shows, from
stand-up comedy to singing. It is recorded that Dangdut is the most popular in Indonesian society with its
contest such as: D’Academy, Liga Dangdut (Dangdut League), Bintang Pantura (Pantura Star), to a concert
show with Dangdut legends. Alternately, what is presented on television has the duration of more than 3
hours daily. As a result, these contest shows occupy the leisure time of mothers until they sleep. Thus, do
these singing contests really make the mothers stay with these shows? Taking a look at it, these contest shows
are not only about singing competition, but also contain life dramas of the singers and comedy actions from
the presenters.
From the number of Dangdut shows aired on the television station, Indosiar, what is interesting is
D’Academy Asia. This show is interesting because Indosiar presents a singing competition of an Indonesian
genre, Dangdut, with contestants from other countries in Southeast Asia. In brief, we can see what the
competition resulted in, from three seasons that have been aired. Indonesia always won and there was only
one foreign contestant—from Malaysia—who got into the big-three round. Not only that, the interesting
thing is from the ethnographic data above, when the woman was having conversation with her son that her
favourite singer would compete with a singer from other country. In this matter, it can be seen that the contest
show does not speak only about individual competition, but is about other things such as competition between
countries.
Starting from that, the border crossing of Dangdut and countries and representation bring
implications with problems created as discussed in this paper. In answering the problem, I will discuss it
using two methods, ethnography and literature study. I elaborate on the data with the theory of collective
memory and imagined community by Benedict Anderson (2006). The analysis articulates the construction of
Asia D’Academy Asia from and for audiences.
Dangdut and Television
Dangdut is an Indonesian Popular Music that emerged since 1960. Ellya Khadam said that the term Dangdut
had been used for private community (Raditya, 2013). Before the term Dangdut, this music was known as
Melayu Orchestra. Dangdut became a popular genre in Indonesian society. Andrew Weintraub (2010) states
that:
Dangdut was commercialized in the 1980s, resignified as a form of national and global pop in the
1990s, and localized within ethnic communities in the 2000s. With roots in popular music of urban
post-colonial Indonesia, Dangdut is a privileged site for narrating stories about the modern nationstate of Indonesia. (pp. 11-12)
Adding to Weintraub’s statement, William Frederick (1982) mentions that:
Dangdut, the style of music here defended by contemporary Indonesia's best- known popular
entertainer, has been of enormous influence in much of the post- Sukarno period, especially the years
1975-1981. Aimed directly at youth, it is dominated by a pulsating dance rhythm, and a populist
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message, with both Islamic and secular variants. It has produced Indonesia’s first true entertainment
superstars; played a large role in creating a market for the mass media in Indonesia (no only cassette
tapes but radio, movies, and television); made a mark on other areas of cultural activity, especially
literature; sparked open and often heated debate over the state of Indonesian culture; and given
Indonesian Islam a new kind of public identity. (p. 103)
Following Weintraub and Frederick, people like Dangdut for various reasons, but the important reasons are
lyrics and musicality. If we consider the year of Dangdut’s emergence, there are some genres that mix one
to another—Indian movies, Melayu Orchestra and Middle Eastern influences. In 1971, the appearance of
Oma Irama, known as Rhoma Irama, mixed Western Rock music with Dangdut. Sometime after Rhoma
Irama, Reynold Pangabean and Camelia Malik mixed cha-cha in Dangdut (Weintraub, 2010). Around the
2000s, West Java and Jakarta also mixed house music. Since the 1990s, Dangdut was also mixed with
traditional music, for example in East Java with Dangdut Koplo since 1996, Dangdut Saluang in West
Sumatera, Dangdut Melayu in Riau that was “baptized” in Jakarta in 2003, etc.
Then, what about Dangdut and television? Regarding Lono Simatupang (1996) during the 1990s, in
a show named Aneka Ria Safari on TVRI that was shown twice a month, 50% to 60% of all shows with a
duration of 55 minutes are Dangdut music (p. 67). Furthermore, Dangdut on television was developed more
during 1988-1996 with the television show called Panggung Gembira with a stage form in the television
studio. In 1994-1996, television showed video clips from Dangdut singers followed by interactive quizzes
and telephone calls. In 1996-2005, singers were recorded in the studio. Along with studio recordings, in
2000-2005, the tendency of recorded live performance became a trend. In 2005 until now, talent competitions
became a program that is highly favoured. Along with talent competitions, in 2013-2018, Dangdut became
associated with reality shows and comedy shows and from 2015-2018, local television studios also made
artificial live performances.
Dangdut and Television
1988-1996
Stage in Television’s Studio
1994-1996
Video Clip
1995-2005
Studio Recording
1998-2015
Live Performance
2005-2018
2012-2018
2015-2018
Television Competition
Comedy Show or Reality Show
Artificial live performance that recorded in studio
Revealing D’Academy Asia
In 2014, Indosiar created a talent show program at the national level known as D’Academy. Obtaining good
ratings and great attention from the community, then it makes it seem as if Indosiar wanted to create a
breakthrough for Dangdut. In 2015, instead of making a national-level competition, Indosiar created a singing
talent show competition with wider level in Southeast Asia. Looking at three years of performances, the
competition contestants came from the following countries:
2015
2016
2017
Indonesia, Malaysia, Brunei Darussalam, and Singapore
Indonesia, Malaysia, Brunei Darussalam, Singapore, Thailand, and Timor Leste
Indonesia, Malaysia, Brunei Darussalam, Singapore, Thailand, and Timor Leste
From data in each year, the last two years experienced a good surge, where in 2015, the number of participants
from each country was 4, while in 2016 and 2017 the number of contestants from each country was 6.
Commentators and judges from each country were invited to give feedback and evaluation after contestants
sang.
Every competition ran for 3 months, usually in October to December at 240 minutes for every show.
The system of the show is that each singer from a different country would be put in one group, so there were
6 singers from different countries. They would compete for the highest points. A singer with the lowest
number of points would be eliminated. Surviving contestants performed in what are called the Big 30
Concert, the Big 24 Concert, the Big 20 Concert, the Big 15 Concert, the Big 10 Concert, the Big 8 Concert,
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MICHAEL HB RADITYA
the Big 6 Concert, the Big 5 Concert, the Big 4 Concert, the Grand Finale, and then the Championship
Concert. Each singer from each of the six countries would sing one song, and would be given comments by
each of the commentators. At the end of the show, the judges would give their total scores. The lowest scoring
contestant would be eliminated, and so on.
In reality, Indonesia was often the winner. It was nearly impossible that a participant from outside
of Indonesia would be the winner. The best achievement from contestants from abroad included a contestant
from Malaysia at the Grand Finale Concert (the Big Three Concert) in Asia D’Academy 1, a contestant from
Timor Leste in the Big Four Concert in Asia D’Academy 2, and another contestant from Malaysia in the Big
Five Concert in Asia D’Academy 3. Therefore, what narrative carries through D’Academy or Indosiar about
Dangdut music?
From the ethnographic notes at the beginning of this paper, we can see that for the woman watching
Asia D’Academy, television is a contribution medium for her country. She is a living witness to the victory
of the singer winning the competition and defeating other countries. Furthermore, it can be seen as a
stimulation to nationalistic thickening. This thickening implies pride for Dangdut music, fans, and actors that
are known, even winning the competition. In this matter, we can see that a popular product can be a medium
of certain messages and refers to John Fiske’s observation that television plays as a stimulus and meaning
distributor (1992, p. 1).
Conclusion: Imagined Dangdut as Power Relation
Regarding Dangdut as a competition beyond borders, I see that there are important point to make: First, there
is a musical reference similarity with a Melayu element that certainly becomes the main stimulation to
audiences in the four countries who can relate one to another; secondly, old Dangdut song such as those
created by Rhoma Irama and his colleagues built Dangdut massively, so the album was released. Because of
the musical reference similarity, the old Dangdut song or Rhoma Irama era became widely spread. Rhoma
and Dangdut often performed in Malaysia and other Southeast Asian countries, referring to a statement by
Norman, one of the singer contestants in Dangdut Academy Asia 3. Departing from the musical similarity, I
suggest another element- collective memory. The societies in each of the six countries have one similar
memory about popular music. Thus, they can connect to each other. Even during the 1990s, a singer named
Yus Yunus, sang a song entitled “Gadis Malaysia” (Malaysian Girl). It certainly would be different from
other genre.
From this kind of competition, we can see that musical references can cross administrative borders
of a country. In addition to musical references, the contestants are usually from Melayu societies spread
across the five countries although they live in the border, such as Thailand. Meanwhile, Timor Leste is a
different case because it was formed by the Indonesian diaspora in that country, or by a number of workers
from Indonesia who work in the countries represented by Dangdut Academy Asia contestants. In this matter,
they made Dangdut music as a culture representation of Indonesian society abroad.
Thus, Dangdut certainly generates pride. However, from another point of view, I see that
D’Academy Asia was used to strengthen class taste as the “production team adopts spectacular stage concept
of talent show that has been very successful in some countries, with the expectation that the class Dangdut
music would be also lifted”. Additionally, there is the practice of imagined communities from Benedict
Anderson, applied in the case of Dangdut Academy Asia. Dangdut Academy Asia became the imaginary
space for Dangdut music fans wherever they are and that increases pride and love for Dangdut music. They—
both the Indonesian audience and audiences in the other five countries—would continuously imagine that
they are not alone. They are many, spread, and need to be glad that they live in Dangdut.
References
Anderson, B. R. O. (2006). Imagined communities: Reflections on the origin and spread of nationalism (Rev.
ed.). London; New York: Verso.
Frederick, W. H. (1982). Rhoma irama and the dangdut style: Aspects of contemporary Indonesian popular
culture. Indonesia, 34, 102-130.
Fiske, J. (1992). Television culture. London and New York: Routledge.
Raditya, M. H. B. (2013). Esensi senggakan pada Dangdut Koplo sebagai identitas musical (Unpublished
master’s thesis). Performing Arts and Visual Arts Studies, Graduate School, Universitas Gadjah
Mada, Indonesia.
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D’ ACADEMY ASIA: CROSSING BORDERS THROUGH DANGDUT CONTEST
Simatupang, L. L. G. R. (1996). The development of dangdut and its meanings: A study of popular music in
Indonesia (Unpublished doctoral dissertation). Department of Anthropology and Sociology Monash
University, Australia.
Weintraub, A. N. (2010). Dangdut stories: A social and musical history of Indonesia’s most popular music.
New York, NY: Oxford University Press.
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KULINTANG IN PHILIPPINE ETHNIC POP:
IDENTITY AND AESTHETIC COSMOPOLITANISM
(Lightning Paper)
Teresa A. Montes
University of the Philippines, Philippines
Introduction
The kulintang is an indigenous instrument from the southern Philippines consisting of a set of bossed gongs
laid horizontally on a wooden frame. Of all indigenous instruments in the Philippines, the kulintang has
become the most popular. Thus, the kulintang is an iconic indigenous instrument that is incorporated into
Philippine popular music as an aural and visual representation of Filipino culture. Filipino musicians explored
urban popular music such as rock, funk and jazz by incorporating the indigenous kulintang of Mindanao to
their own compositions. Ryan Cayabyab, a sought-after Filipino composer, arranger, and former instructor
at the University of the Philippines College of Music, affirms that the kulintang is already an accepted
instrument in the pop idiom and well-embraced by many Filipino musicians (Cayabyab, personal
communication, May 27, 2018).
Beginnings
As a musician who plays and “jams” with the kulintang, this study came out of a personal interest in how it
all began: Who was the first to use the instrument in Philippine popular music, what was the first song with
kulintang, etc.? I examine the early use of the kulintang in the local popular music scene specifically during
the late 1970s until early 1980s in urban Metro Manila. I argue that this period of the 70s and 80s marks the
beginning of “Philippine Ethnic Pop.” During this time, the nationalist fervor of local pop musicians and
bands became most intense (Lockard, 1998). While the 70s was considered “dark times” in Philippine
modern history due to martial law (Reynante, 2016), significant developments in Philippine popular music
emerged, such as rock songs using local languages and indigenous music instruments as well as the birth of
“Manila Sound”. These developments defined “OPM” to mean “Original Pilipino Music,” a label now used
to refer to all Filipino Pop music (Osias, 2011).
Kulintang Cosmopolitanized
The role of the kulintang in “Filipinizing” popular music highlights not only the Filipino musicians’ efforts
to strengthen national identity, but also brings with it a kind of aesthetic cosmopolitanism to Philippine local
Pop. Motti Regev defined “aesthetic cosmopolitanism” as the “condition in which the representation and
performance of ethno-national cultural uniqueness are largely based on art forms that are created by
contemporary technologies of expression, and whose expressive forms include stylistic elements knowingly
drawn from sources exterior to indigenous traditions” (Regev, 2007, p. 126).
In the context of Philippine Pop, the key concept is “cultural uniqueness.” Filipino musicians take
pride in singing, performing and interpreting pop excellently. At the same time, there is the desire to
“perform” Filipino. Specifically, the kulintang, as it is incorporated into popular music, has become valuable
in bringing out that cultural uniqueness. The kulintang’s character, rhythms and sonic qualities inspire
Filipino musicians to adapt the instrument and use it in urban musical settings. In the process of incorporating
the kulintang into urban local Pop, the instrument becomes cosmopolitanized.
“Kulintang Pop”
For practical purposes, I use the term “Kulintang Pop” to refer to all popular music that incorporates the
kulintang and/or its traditional stylistic features. It covers a broad spectrum of popular music genres such as
Folk Rock, Funk, Latin and Jazz. The degree and manner to which kulintang is borrowed in popular music
may vary. There are songs and pieces in which the role of the kulintang may seem minor and subservient.
This, however, does not diminish the prominence as well as the cultural and aesthetic impact of the kulintang
in these pieces and, consequently, in Philippine Pop. Hence, I also consider them “Kulintang Pop” insofar as
the kulintang instrument and/or its traditional stylistic features are visually/aurally present.
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KULINTANG IN PHILIPPINE ETHNIC POP: IDENTITY AND AESTHETIC COSMOPOLITANISM
This study looks at some of the Kulintang Pop repertoire that were composed, recorded, and
performed by well-known Filipino popular artists during the late 70s and early 80s. I now present four
examples of what I call “Kulintang Pop.”
Pinoy Funk (Jun Regalado, Eddie Munji III)
“Pinoy Funk” is an instrumental funk tune by Filipino drummer Jun Regalado and Jazz artist Eddie Munji
III. As printed on its 45rpm, “Pinoy Funk” was released in 1977 under the label “Jem Recording Co.,” one
of the leading recording companies during that time (Manalo, personal communication, May 29, 2018). As
of this writing, this is the earliest recording that incorporates Kulintang in Philippine popular music.
Regalado and Munji are both considered “giants” in the Philippine popular music scene. The late Eddie Munji
III was a multi-instrumentalist and arranger, while Jun Regalado is a famous drummer who is still active in
the Philippine music industry, performing with famous pop artists in the country (Concepcion, 2017).
Regalado and Munji were frequent collaborators who were regarded as some of the top session musicians of
the country (Policarpio, 2012).
As the title suggests, “Pinoy Funk” was an attempt to localize funk through the use of the kulintang.
According to Regalado, the foundation of the piece is the kulintang melody, created and recorded by
Regalado himself. (Regalado, personal communication, 2017). Regalado also recorded some coconut shells
as steady pulse, also adding to the Filipino flavour that Regalado wanted (Regalado, personal communication,
2017).
According to Regalado, all the parts of “Pinoy Funk” are recorded in analogue on a 2-inch tape. The
other musicians in the recording are also among the country’s most sought-after session musicians (Regalado,
personal communication, 2017). “Pinoy Funk” has the standard qualities that characterize funk: a heavy bass
line, a catchy and intense groove, and brass parts that “burst” to provide some accents. While the light,
“ethnic” texture of the kulintang may seem to contrast with the heaviness of urban funk, it is in this contrast
that a Filipino aesthetic in funk is highlighted. “Pinoy Funk” is unique because of its inclusion of kulintang
in the disco music culture that was trending in Manila in the 70s.
Ang Bayan Kong Sinilangan (Asin)
The second example of Kulintang Pop is by a folk-rock band called Asin, which is Filipino for “salt”. The
band’s name was derived from the Mick Jagger song “Salt of the Earth” (“NOY and ASIN,” n. d.). Asin
claims to be the first folk-rock band to incorporate Philippine indigenous instruments into Philippine rock
(“NOY and ASIN,” n. d.). They are considered to be among the pioneers of ethnic pop (“Ethnic Pop,” n. d.).
They are known for their songs with socially oriented themes such as environmental awareness and
nationalism (“NOY and ASIN,” n. d.). They also advocate for respect for Philippine indigenous instruments
(“NOY and ASIN,” n.d.).
The band released their first album in 1978, with one song incorporating the kulintang, titled “Ang
Bayan Kong Sinilangan.” “Ang Bayan Kong Sinilangan” (“Land Of My Birth”) is a song about a place in
southern Philippines called Cotabato, where violence is often reported in the news. Cotabato is also one of
the places with an active kulintang tradition. The kulintang can be heard in specific parts of the song—in the
introduction, towards the end, and in fills between the verses. Furthermore, the tuning of the kulintang seems
different from the key of the song, which is in A minor. This presents one of the challenges of the fusion
process in Kulintang Pop: Unlike western instruments with standard tuning, the kulintang has varied set of
tones that may seem limiting to integrate into pop music. On the other hand, in spite of the tuning issues, the
distinct sound of the gongs effectively achieves the desired effect of putting a local stamp to pop music.
Sinta (Bong Peñera)
My third example is “Sinta” by Bong Peñera. Bong Peñera is a Filipino Jazz pianist who is known for his
Brazilian-influenced style. He is regarded as the “samba king” of the Philippines (Peñera, n. d.) composing
songs such as “Batucada sa Kalesa.” His self-titled album in 1978 included an instrumental samba jazz piece
called “Sinta” (“Love”), which is a rearrangement of the song “Alalahanin” (“Remember”) from a 1976 film
called “Sinta, Ang Bituing Bagong Gising” (“Love, A Star Awakened”). The kulintang can be heard in the
introduction and the end of “Sinta.” According to Peñera, the kulintang was played by Dingdong “Boogie”
Pangindian (Peñera, personal communication, March 26, 2018), a leading famous percussionist and, like
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TERESA A. MONTES
Regalado and Munji, was also a top sessionist. In the piece, the role of the kulintang is mostly textural and
rhythmic, using only 2 gongs. Its distinct, prominent tone, however, gives the piece a certain novelty. As of
this writing, this is the earliest known Latin/Samba piece with kulintang.
Narito ang Eden (composed by Ramon Faustmann/Betsy Romualdez, arr. Eddie Munji III)
My last example is “Narito ang Eden” (meaning “Eden is Here”), a song composed by Ramon
Faustmann/Betsy Romualdez, and arranged by Eddie Munji III (Himig, “Narito ang Eden”, n. d.). “Narito
ang Eden” was recorded by Filipino pop singer Kuh Ledesma in 1983 in her album “Ako ay Pilipino” (“I am
Filipino”). The song mixes many interesting musical sonic textures and popular stylistic features—a long
rock guitar solo, slow funk sections, strings, female back-up voices, electronic samples of Indian percussion,
a flute, drums and bass, and some Philippine indigenous instruments. At its core though, the song uses the
rhythm of a traditional Maranao dance called singkil. This singkil rhythm is the thematic material of the song,
and is accompanied by the kulintang.
Summary
To summarize, these four examples, namely “Pinoy Funk”, “Ang Bayan Kong Sinilangan”, “Sinta” and
“Narito ang Eden” show integration of the kulintang in Philippine popular music culture during the late 70s
to early 80s. The efforts by the various musicians and composers from different popular genres to create a
Filipino and modern sound through kulintang highlights the aesthetic cosmopolitan attitudes prevailing in
Manila music scene at that time.
References
[Eric Balajadia]. (2011, December 7). Asin “Ang Bayan Kong Sinilangan” 1978. [Video File]. Retrieved
from https://youtu.be/guZtORILDUM
Concepcion, P. (2017, September 27). 50 years of drumming: Jun Regalado marks milestone with all-star
free concert. INQUIRER.net. Retrieved from http://www.google.com.ph/amp/lifestyle.inquirer.net/
274364/jun-regalado-50- years-of-drumming/amp/
Ethnic Pop (n. d.). Retrieved from http://www.himig.com.ph/features/43-ethnic-pop
Faustmann, R., Romualdez, B., & Munji III, E. (1983). Narito ang Eden [Recorded by Kuh Ledesma]. On
Ako ay Pilipino. Retrieved from http://open.spotify.com/Track/6ZJgV6pxGJseecL1D0IHIX?si=
LtAATX-dSIWMsJDotIMy1w
Lockhard, C. A. (1998). Dance of life: Popular music and politics in Southeast Asia. Honolulu: University
of Hawaii Press.
Narito ang Eden (n. d.). Retrieved from http://www.himig.com.ph/songs/2683-narito-ang-eden
NOY and ASIN (n. d.) Retrieved from http://noypilloramusic.blogspot.com/p/Noy-and-asin.html
[OPM Vinyl Playlist]. (2016, May 24). Sinta by Bong Penera. [Video File]. Retrieved from https://you
tu.be/It7KUzyhYxl
Osias, P. (2011, November 21). Hotdog: An enduring legacy of OPM hits. Philstar.com. Retrieved from
https://philstar.com/entertainment/2011/11/21/750028/hotdog-enduring-legacy-opm-hits
Peñera, B. (n. d.) Retrieved from http://m.bradelias.wix.com/bpmusic
Policarpio, A. (2012, November 22). The genius of Eddie Munji III. INQUIRER.net. Retrieved from https://
www.google.com.ph/amp/entertainment.inquirer.net/68595/the-genius-of-eddie-munji-iii/amp
Regalado, J. (1977). Pinoy Funk. Retrieved from https://www.google.com.ph/amp/s/pinoygrooves.
com/2018/04/18/regalado-pinoy-funk/amp/
Regev, M. (2013). Pop-rock music: Aesthetic cosmopolitanism in late modernity. Cambridge: Polity Press.
Regev, M. (2007). Cultural uniqueness and aesthetic cosmopolitanism. European Journal of Social
Theoryvol, 10(1), 123-138.
Reynante, R. (2016, June 23). Martial law: The bright side of the martial law era. One MusicPh. Retrieved
from http://www.onemusic.ph/news/in-spite-of-Martial-law-manila-sound-shown-1052
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
THE BIRTH OF IBAN POPULAR SONG IN THE 1960S
(Lightning Paper)
Connie Lim Keh Nie
University of Malaysia Sarawak, Malaysia
This paper examines the rise of Iban popular music from the 1960s after the establishment of Iban radio
broadcast under Radio Sarawak. The Iban is the largest indigenous ethnic group in Sarawak and the Iban
radio station in 1954 disseminated information to the Iban. The Iban radio station also become one of the
most important platforms for Iban popular songs to reach young urban Iban youth who were eager to create
a form of Iban songs that to responded to modernity. In this paper I ask the following questions: who were
the urban elite that contributed to the rise of Iban popular song? How did their songs reflect both the new
nation and modernity for Iban? What themes emerged in song lyrics that related to a shared history for
Sarawakians?
Theoretical Framework
Most social science theories depict the concept of modernity as a recognizable historical rupture (Appadurai,
1996). However, Joel S. Kahn (2001, 2003) suggests that in Asia the concept of modernity is different from
the West as an exemplary modernity. Building upon this Bart Barendregt (2014) and others see an ‘alternative
modernity’ in Southeast Asia’s global and local approaches to popular music. Modernity is seen as the
production of new fashions, markets and lifestyles that offer “a glimpse of how and why people have taken
up ideas of the modern, how it is made, unmade and remade, paying ample attention to how such
reconfigurations may serve various claims and are constantly haunted by yet others” (Barendregt, 2014, p.
66).
In terms of musical style and vocal expression, modernity also has the power to transform popular
aesthetic expression, often to the detriment of indigenous vocal styles (Hood, 2014). As demonstrated in this
study below, change had extended to expressions of Iban identity through modernity and its reflection in the
creation of popular music. In this way ‘alternative modernities’ show how the Iban through song lyrics
responded to their surroundings, experiences and viewpoints.
The Impact of British Empire and Christian Missionary towards Modern Music
The British Empire and Christian Mission laid the foundation for Iban to adapt Western arts towards the
creation of Iban popular music. Both sectors are interconnected in spreading modernization and globalization
in Western culture. The Brooke monarchy had established its network, particularly by means of
communications, the usage of English language and setting up a ranger’s band by bringing in musicians and
band director from Manila, Philippines.
Social Interaction of Upper Class Iban in Urban Kuching
My paper starts at a pivotal point in the emergence of Iban popular music that involves two upper class Iban
families from the urban Kuching city known as the Linang and the Bayang. Their father was once a
government officer during the Japanese occupation and British colonial era. Since the early 1940s, both
Bayang and Linang families were members of the urban society residing in Sekama (known as Mendu Road).
They owned radiogram, vinyl records, guitars, a violin and a drum set. In my interview with Senorita Linang
(2017) she said,
We used to have radiogram. We used to buy records (vinyl) like Elvis Presley, Connie Francis, Cliff
Richard, Skitter Davies and many other(s), I used to listen to the songs during my school days as
loud as possible, full blast. Because my neighbour, the Mason family also got radiogram, I also
want(ed) to compete with them!” (parentheses mine).
Senorita Linang’s experiences speak to the young upper class urban Iban who were educated in mission
schools were very inclined to western popular culture.
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CONNIE LIM KEH NIE
Radio Sarawak, the Rise of Iban Popular Music
The Iban section of Radio Sarawak was indeed searching for modern Iban music to cater to modernity. Radio
Sarawak had given the Linang and Bayang family members an opportunity to create Iban songs. Jazz music
in the style of swing, Western music in the tango style, Malay and Hindustani rhythmic elements could be
found in this early Iban pop music. It was also strongly influenced by swing, bebop, boogie woogie, joget
modern, American Jazz, keroncong, film music from Malay and Hindustani film music rendered by Alfonso
Soliano Orchestra which had dominated the air waves of Radio Malaya (Saidah Rastam, 2014).
In order to cater to the needs of Radio Sarawak in producing new Iban songs, Terabak Tawas (Break
of Day), a new Iban band was formed in 1957. Esther Bayang, Vida Bayang and Pauline Doreen Linang were
among the pioneer Iban female singers. These musicians catered to the needs of the time and wrote for
entertainment purposes. However, their songs were also modern media used for nation building within the
Iban territories. Iban popular songs ‘Bujang Malaya’ and ‘Ranyai Berjuang’ written in the late 1950s were
songs of praise for the Iban Trackers and Sarawak Rangers for their bravery fighting against the communist.
Besides songs of praise, Iban songs were written as expressions of modernization in Sarawak. For example,
the song written by Joshua Suin Lawat,‘Tanah Ai Menua Ka’ (‘My Land, My Country’), pays tribute to the
government of Sarawak for constructing schools for the Dayak. Similarly, the song ‘Menua Sarawak’ (‘The
Country of Sarawak’) sung by Vida Bayang acknowledges the governorship of Sarawak under the supreme
of Council Negeri and Temenggon and Penghulu community leaders who led Sarawak on the road towards
modernity. Suffice it to say, Iban songs written during 1963-1965 articulated Sarawak as a new country under
self-government.
Iban Pop songs marked significant national developments such as Sarawak’s membership into the
Federation of Malaysia. Responding to the formal Proclamation of Malaysia on 16 September 1963, Myra
Esther Adam wrote a song ‘Malaysia Baru’ (‘New Malaysia’). Other songs include ‘Menua Sarawak’ (‘The
Country Sarawak’) sung by Rosana Bichu and ‘Oh Sarawak’ written and sung by Myra Esther Adam. It is
not surprising to find songs that were used as tools to express national values. Sarawak consists of multiple
ethnicities, faiths and backgrounds that were united under new government. But it is important to note that,
similar to the case in Indonesian popular music, Iban popular music was created to cater to political changes
and this continued to expedite government agendas for decades (Barendregt & Zanten, 2002).
Conclusion
Since 1954, Iban popular music through Radio Sarawak has played a fundamental role in amplifying and
disseminating ideas about Iban culture’s response to modernity. Historically, the Iban are a cultural group
located geographically and politically on the periphery of the multi-cultural nation of Malaysia. Articulating
alternative modernities in popular music, the appearance of being ‘modern’ and appeal of ‘modernity’ are
often connected with the lifestyle of postcolonial Southeast Asia. Encountering modernity, the Iban have
traversed periods of institutional change from the Pre-Brooke Era to British colonization (1946-1963) until
the Malaysian nationalism era. Thus, the agents of change that are expressed in popular songs introduced the
Iban to a world driven by cash economy and capitalism where Iban experienced a rapid influx of change. As
demonstrated in this paper, Iban popular music lyrics contain closely linked poetic and expressive narratives
of historical events happening during 1950s to 1970s when the bravery of Iban Trackers were recognized in
fighting against the communist during the Malayan Emergency (1948-1960). On the other hand, the Iban
popular songs also commemorated Sarawak as a member of the Federation of Malaysia.
References
Appadurai, A. (1996). Modernity at large: Cultural dimensions of globalization. Minneapolis, MN:
University of Minnesota Press.
Barendregt, B. (2014). Sonic histories in a Southeast Asian context. In Sonic modernities in the Malay world:
A history of popular music, social distinction and novel lifestyles (1930s-2000s) (pp. 1–43). Leiden:
Brill.
Barendregt, B. & Zanten, W. V. (2002). Popular music in Indonesia since 1998, in particular fusion, indie
and Islamic music on video compact discs and the internet. Yearbook for Traditional Music, 34, 67–
113.
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THE BIRTH OF IBAN POPULAR SONG IN THE 1960S
Hood, M. M. (2014). Voicing the nation, negotiating tradition: Popular music influences on traditional
Balinese vocal styles. Mudra, 29(3), 342-347.
Kahn, J. S. (2001). Modernity and exclusion. London: SAGE Publications.
Kahn, J. S. (2003). Islam, modernity, and the popular in Malaysia. In V. Hooker & N. Othman (Eds.),
Malaysia: Islam, society and politics (pp. 149–166). Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies.
Rastam, S. (2017). Rosalie and other love songs. Kuala Lumpur: Khazanah National Berhad.
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JOURNEY ACROSS BORDERS: THE UNFULFILLED DESIRE OF MEGAT NORDIN
(Lightning Paper)
Raja Iskandar bin Raja Halid
Universiti Malaysia Kelantan, Malaysia
Introduction
Although ethnomusicologists have been engaging with musicians for many years, little has been said about
individuals in music (Nettl, 1983, p. 278). Biographical writings in ethnomusicology have now become
increasingly important and according to (Stock, 2001, p. 6) are largely based on four main themes: history,
advocacy, voice and hermeneutics. Ruskin and Rice (2012) observe that ethnomusicologists are drawn
towards the study of individual musicians due to, among others, their exceptional musical qualities, attempts
in creating new individual identities and roles in their musical societies. They suggest that four types of
individuals should be studied: the innovators in a tradition, key figures who occupy important roles in a
musical culture, ordinary individuals and anonymous audience members and those involved in music
production.
Stokes (2010) for example, looks into Turkish modern history in his biographical “case studies” on
three central figures of Turkish popular music, framed within the idea of ‘cultural intimacy’. In Malaysia,
the celebrated puppeteer, Hamzah Awang Amat was given due recognition through a biography written by
Ghulam-Sarwar Yousof (1997). A book was also written on P. Ramlee, a Malaysian film and music icon, by
Harding and Ahmad Sarji (2011), largely looking into his creative works rather than his personal life.
Biographical works on Malaysian artists, either modern or traditional are still scarce and more research needs
to be done. In this paper I would like to introduce one of the most influential and best loved dikir singers in
Kelantan, to investigate how he negotiated the economic, political and religious aspects that influenced his
career and how he reinvented himself as a mainstream singer in an effort to gain nationwide popularity. This
is part of a research on the localized popular music of Kelantan, with its own recording and entertainment
industry.
Pak Gat
On September the 11th 2017, a dikir barat show was organized by a local politician in Melor, just outside of
Kota Bharu, Kelantan. It was one of the many shows organized by political parties in the run-up to the 14th
General Elections expected to be held in a few months’ time. Dikir barat, a popular musical genre, is
frequently used to attract crowds for political campaigns by both sides of the political divide in Kelantan.
Megat Nordin was one of the singers invited together with eight other local artists and, as usual, was the main
crowd puller. But on that night, he had to be carried on and off the stage as he was too weak to walk. He was
seriously ill. He managed to deliver his famous song Titih Pusaka to the delight of the audience, but it was
going to be the last time the song was sung by Megat Nordin, in fact it was the last show of his singing career.
Megat Nordin was virtually unknown outside of the state of Kelantan. Known as Pak Gat among his
friends and fans, he is considered the best among his generation and elevated the art of dikir singing to a new
level. He was known for his smooth high-pitched voice, beautifully improvised melisma, delivered with
soothing dynamics and vibrato. Many of his songs were spiritually mesmerizing, so that there were cases
when people went into a trance. Megat was not only known for his singing talent but also his humility and
generosity.
Many of his songs are about longing and unfulfilled wish or desire. His lyrics talk about and as if
they were stories of his personal life. Titles of some of his songs would give us some idea:
1. Derita Seorang (‘Suffering Alone’)
2. Ku Bertepuk Sebelah Tangan (‘Unrequited Love’)
3. Serabut Perot (‘Worrying Mind’)
4. Angan-Angan Jadi Kayo (‘Dreaming to be Rich’)
5. Kembara Sepi (‘Lonely Journey’)
6. Tinggalah Kasih (‘Goodbye My Love’)
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The Beginning
Nor Din bin Yusoff was born on the 27th of October 1961 in Kubang Kerian, Kota Bharu. His father was a
well-known jogho or main singer in a dikir barat group, going by the stage name Yusoff Kara. His father
was also a Qur’an teacher who once taught the present Yang Dipertuan Agong, Sultan Muhammad V. It was
obvious that Megat inherited his father’s talent both as a singer and qur’anic reciter.
Megat began singing in a dikir barat group when he was 19 and learned from some of the best dikir
singers of the 1980s such as Aripin Ana, Salleh Jambu, Jusoh Kelong and Daud Bukit Abal. In those days
the dikir barat performances called ‘Dikir Padang’ (field dikir) were held on football fields and tickets of
MYR2.00 were sold. Besides learning from his dikir masters, Megat also listened to a number of Malaysian
popular mainstream singers such as Hail Amir, DJ Dave, M. Nasir and Jamal Abdillah. However, some of
his most influential artists came from across the border—such as the keroncong singers Mus Mulyadi and
Sri Widadi, and the Sumateran pop singer Eddy Silitonga. Megat began to develop his own style, combining
the high-pitched singing style of Eddy Silitonga, melismatic improvisations of Arabic maqams and the
musical style from the traditional Kelantanese theatre known as mak yong.
His talent was noticed while working as a bus conductor and he started to make a name in the local
music industry in the early 1990’s. He began recording under Sin Chong and Sincere record labels and was
paid a one-off payment of between MYR1000-2000, without any royalties. Megat had lost count of the
number of songs he recorded but it amounted to “hundreds”. Up to 1994 his album sold more than 100,000
copies and one of his hit songs was “Tunggu-Tunggu Tak Kelik”.
Pak Ngah
In the early 2000s, Megat was introduced to the late composer/producer Pak Ngah and an album was released
soon after with a hit song “Ambo Raso Bekene” (‘I Felt Enchanted’). Another album followed entitled Dikir
Lebaran, with another hit song “Puasa Puasa Puasa” (‘Fast Fast Fast’) composed by Pak Ngah himself. The
2000s was also a period of a booming recording industry in Kelantan. Countless albums were released usually
with accompanying music videos sold in VCD format. Raunchy female folk singers were the craze and a
number of male artists would record duet numbers with these popular singers to boost their own popularity
and record sales. Megat however, resisted the temptation and upheld his dignity as a true dikir artist.
As a full-time artist, Megat had to maintain good relationships with both PAS and UMNO political
parties in Kelantan. Although there are artists who openly support either one of them, Megat however
remained neutral. He was a member of the local dikir organization which, like many organizations in
Kelantan, is controlled by UMNO. Megat voiced out against what he saw as corrupt practices in the
organization. He wanted to run for president and as a result, he was accused of being a supporter of PAS (the
Islamic party that rules the state of Kelantan) and his songs were banned by the state radio.
The biggest break of his career was when he entered the 4th edition of Kilauan Emas singing
competition in Kuala Lumpur in 2014. Kilauan Emas is a popular reality TV competition open to singers
aged 40 and above. Organized by Malaysia’s biggest satellite TV and radio broadcaster, Astro, the
competition offers up to MYR50,000 for the winner. In Kilauan Emas, Megat changed his name to just
Nordin and altered his singing style to suit the mainstream Malaysian audience. He not only crossed the
political border of Kelantan but also his artistic boundaries. He had to shed his “kampung” (village) look to
portray a more ‘urban’ one, to the extent of wearing suits and neck ties. His technique and tone are more akin
to Jamal Abdillah’s than the Megat Nordin that everyone knew. But this did not stop Kelantanese all over
Malaysia from tuning in to their Astro channels and there were claims that there was an increase in Astro
subscriptions in Kelantan during the period.
Depression
Late 2016 and early 2017 was a period of depression for Megat. He moved to Jerteh, Terengganu into selfexile. Megat was frustrated with his own state of Kelantan which he felt had betrayed him, even though he
was just honoured as Tokoh Seni Negeri Kelantan (‘Prominent Artist of Kelantan’) and given a house in Kota
Bharu. There were also stories of some disagreement with his family members regarding a piece of family
land where the house was to be built. He felt that the honour would provide him with better financial rewards,
but it wasn’t the case. He built a wooden house near the Terengganu forest reserve and felt more spiritually
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connected with nature there. When I visited him there in early 2017, he was wearing a jubah, a long white
Arabic robe, while holding prayer beads. He looked more like an imam than a popular singer.
Conclusion
In October 2017 Megat was diagnosed with liver cirrhosis and hospitalized. Charity shows were held by dikir
artists all over Kelantan. On his hospital bed, for religious reasons, he requested that the songs “Titih Pusaka”
and “Dewi Menjelma”, two of his famous songs, not to be performed or played. “Titih Pusaka” is a song
with lyrics derived from the Main Pateri healing performance, which is banned by the state government.
There is a Malay saying that an artist is like “lilin yang membakar diri” or “a candle that burns itself”
while giving light to others. Megat gave joy to his fans but struggled financially and emotionally as an artist.
His frustration was conveyed in his own words:
We ran away from Kelantan, came to live here, a secluded place, yes I was recognized… this title
that title… after the recognition then what? I am jobless… do you want me to eat the trophy…
The recent accolades and sudden rise in popularity were too much for Megat to handle. According to
Thompson and Jacque (2017), one of the common psychiatric disorders related to performing artists is social
anxiety, which is marked by fear of negative evaluation and avoidance of social interaction. Gross and
Musgrave (2016) find that one of the major issues related to depression among musicians include “money
worries” and “dealing with precarious and unpredictable pay.” It seems that music’s universality here
includes problems faced by those who practice it. Megat Nordin died on the 27th of October 2017, on his 56th
birthday.
References
Ghulam-Sarwar Yousof (1999). Angin wayang: Biografi dalang wayang kulit yang unggul: Hamzah Awang
Amat. Kuala Lumpur: Kementerian Kebudayaan, Kesenian dan Pelancongan.
Gross, S. A. & Musgrave, G. (2016). Can music make you sick? Music and depression: A study into the
incidence of musicians’ mental health, Part 1: Pilot survey test. Middlesex: MusicTank Publishing.
Harding, J. & Ahmad Sarji (2011). P. Ramlee: The bright star. Petaling Jaya: MPH Group Publishing.
Nettl, B. (1983). The study of ethnomusicology: Twenty-nine issues and concepts. Urbana and Chicago:
University of Illinois Press.
Ruskin, J. D. & Rice, T. (2012). The individual in musical ethnography. Ethnomusicology, 56(2), 299-327.
Stock, J. P. J. (2001). Toward an ethnomusicology of the individual, or biographical writing in
ethnomusicology. The World of Music, 43(1), 5-19.
Stokes, M. (2010). The republic of love: Cultural intimacy in Turkish popular music. Chicago, IL: University
of Chicago Press.
Thompson, P. & Jacque, V. S. (2017). Creativity and the performing artist: Behind the mask. London:
Elsevier.
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TANGO IN PARADISE: WHY DANCE TANGO ARGENTINO ON BALI?
Kendra Stepputat
University of Music and Performing Arts Graz, Austria
Four years ago I planned a trip to Bali and when I saw that tango argentino dance events (milongas) are
organized regularly in the villages of Seminyak and Ubud, I was excited. Having lived on Bali for some time
and been a tango dancer for more than a decade, this seemed like a dream come true. While packing my tango
shoes, I became curious about the circumstances: Who dances tango on Bali? If there are Balinese among the
dancers, what drives them to dance this dance that is seemingly so different from all other music or dance
forms manifest in present day Bali?
Tango Argentino Music and Dance—A Short Overview
Tango argentino has its genesis more than 100 years ago at the turn of the 19th to 20th century in the Rio de
la Plata area of Uruguay and Argentina. The capital cities Montevideo (Uruguay) and most importantly
Buenos Aires (Argentina) were places where migrants from Europe, Africa and native South/Latin
Americans met. They brought their diverse cultures with them, combining, experimenting, and developing
something new. The tango came into being, bearing elements from a variety of cultures (see Torp, 2007).
Dance, music, and lyrics developed in parallel, and all three are still closely related in tango argentino
practice today.
Two forms of tango argentino dance practice currently co-exist: the staged, choreographed tango
(escenario) and the social dance tango (pista) (see Cara, 2009). The focus of my research is solely on the
social dance tango pista. It is an improvisational couples’ dance based on a common movement repertoire
that allows both tango dancers to jointly improvise instantly, even if they have not danced with each other
before. The challenge of dancing with new partners and having a physical connection to somebody unknown
is at the core of the dance experience. Learning to dance tango is a long-term and never-ending endeavour;
it takes years to properly master both parts (the lead and the follow).
Tango music for social dancing is mostly taken from recordings made in the “golden age” of tango
in Buenos Aires (1930s-1950s). The tango orchestras of that time (orquesta típica, consisting of piano, bass,
violins, and bandonéons) were mostly known under the name of the orchestra leader, for instance Juan
D’Arienzo, Carlos Di Sarli, and Hanibal Troilo. Tango music of the golden age makes use of functional
harmony and tonal melodic constructions, employing more minor than major scales, and are mostly
composed in a song structure with two alternating main parts (A and B). Sometimes a female or male singer
is part of the arrangement (see Link & Wendland, 2016). Even today, the vast collection of recordings from
the golden age is considered to be the main corpus of tango music for dancing by most social tango dancers.
Some contemporary tango ensembles and orchestras focus on playing tango music for dancing, either
interpreting golden age compositions for dancing or composing new pieces in the golden age style.
Tango is a cosmopolitan performing arts genre, practiced today in cities around the world (see Fares,
2015). In countries where economic stability allows for such an intensive hobby, performing arts practices
are politically and culturally accepted, and physical contact in public between man and woman, woman and
woman, man and man, are officially allowed and not culturally frowned upon. Tango dancers come from a
variety of cultural and regional backgrounds and are of all ages and genders. The cosmopolitan tango network
remains connected primarily through traveling and social media (Stepputat, 2017).
The Tango Community in Bali
Many urban centres in Southeast Asia have a lively tango argentino scene, Manila, Jakarta, Bangkok or
Kuala Lumpur being prominent examples. The tango community on Bali, in contrast, is small, but the
structures are the same as in any other tango community I have encountered. A few key people organize
milongas and practice evenings (prácticas) or invite guest teachers and are surrounded by a fluctuating
number of people who are involved to a varying degree, ranging from active assistance in organizing tasks
and regular participation to temporary or seldom appearances. Currently there are two locations where
milongas and prácticas are regularly organized, the Blu Café and Restaurant in Ubud on Sundays and the
Casa Artista1 in Seminyak on Fridays. The tango dancer most active in keeping the Ubud community together
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KENDRA STEPPUTAT
is Kirill Shapran from Russia. Together with two fellow tango dancers (Michelle Navarro and Valentino
Luca), he started building the tango community in Ubud in 2014 and has continued ever since.2
Figure 1. Milonga in the Casa Artista (left) and Hujan Locale (right), July 2014.
(Photographs by K. Stepputat)
The owner of the Casa Artista in Seminyak is Stefani Kang, who must be considered the mother of tango in
Bali. Stefani is from Germany and has lived on Bali continuously for 36 years. Stefani invited the first tango
teachers to Bali in 2002, since which the tango community has grown slowly but steadily to approximately
20-30 people. She founded the Tango Bali Club in 2006 and organizes weekly milongas and prácticas. She
also organized the annual “Tango Bali Festival” from 2005 to 2015 and regularly invites professional guest
teachers to Bali.3
The two tango communities in Ubud and in Seminyak overlap, and active dancers go to events in
both places. Between 10 and 20 dancers show up at the regular milongas and prácticas; approximately two
thirds are women. The tango community on Bali is an expatriate culture. According to Stefani, members
come from a wide variety of countries, ranging from the neighbouring island Java to Japan, Australia, Korea,
and also including European countries and the Americas. While some of them continuously live on Bali,
others go back and forth on business but spend a considerable amount of time there. In addition to this local
tango community, tourists who are already tango dancers might drop by and go to a milonga while on
vacation in Bali. Stefani stated that over the years, only a very few Balinese, male and female, have started
to dance tango, and none of them have stayed in the community for a longer time. Obviously, my initial
research question needed to be adjusted: why are the Balinese not as interested in dancing tango as the
expatriate community?
I do not intend to give a final answer to this. The perspective I take in this small research project is
that of the tango practicing expatriates on Bali and their ideas, insights, interpretations, and speculations on
why the Balinese are not drawn to tango. This approach sheds light on two aspects; first, what tango dancers
consider important in tango culture and what their own priorities are, and second, their insights into “Balinese
culture” and how it supposedly differs from “their own” or, in Turino’s terms, the cultural cohort they are a
part of (see Turino, 2008). For this purpose, I informally talked to dancers at the milongas and prácticas in
Bali, chatted with Kirill Shapran through social media, and conducted formal interviews with Stefani Kang
and Robert Jahr.4 In addition, I asked for feedback from Balinese who are not tango dancers concerning these
speculations.
Both Stefani and Robert identified several issues they consider relevant for why the Balinese are
generally not interested in tango argentino. I will sum up the most prominent ones here. The first issue is
related to the music. For tango dancers, it is important to have an intimate relationship to the music and be
able to interpret it through their dance and have at least a basic knowledge of tango music structures and the
most important orchestras of the golden age. Of course, tango music is very different—its structure,
organization, sound quality and so on—from Balinese music, but also from other musics that a general
Balinese audience is acquainted with. Tango dancers on Bali agreed that for someone with such a different
listening experience, it is probably hard to “get into the feeling” of tango music. My interlocutors thereby
addressed the problem of the Balinese being unfamiliar with the music and, thus, the difficulties in relating
to it emotionally, which they consider one of the most important elements in tango dancing.
The second issue is the “missing fun.” This statement actually relates to two separate aspects of
tango culture. First, tango dancers mentioned the “sad quality” of tango music (minor scale, straight beats),
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which is not as flashy and fun as other dance music with a major scale and upbeat structure. Second, they
agreed that it is “no fun to learn tango.” Robert stated that salsa, for instance, “…can be learned on the dance
floor.” Salsa dancing has a steep learning curve, which is in stark contrast to tango, where dancers will train
for several years until they feel competent enough to go dancing at a milonga for the first time.
The third and possibly most important issue was the embrace. Tango is danced with a lot of physical
contact; arms, torsos, and sometimes legs touch in a close embrace. For many people, it is strange to separate
physical proximity from physical attraction, especially if the culture in which they were brought up restricts
physical closeness to strangers, in particular those of the opposite sex. My interlocutors all agreed that it is
probably very difficult for Balinese to maintain—let alone enjoy—constant physical closeness with strangers.
These were the three main issues tango dancers addressed when speculating why there were no Balinese in
the local tango community.5 I would like to add another aspect that none of the interlocutors mentioned yet
all the Balinese I spoke with found to be relevant.6 Both tango communities and their venues are in areas that
have a strong tourist infrastructure and at the same time are geographically removed from urban areas mainly
populated by people with higher education and wealth. The Balinese with such backgrounds who might be
interested in dancing tango may either not know of the existence of tango on Bali or (if they knew) think that
these events are not meant for them.
The Economic Factor
Dancing tango argentino is expensive. A dancer needs shoes, proper clothing, money for lessons, and entry
fees. Is tango argentino too expensive for the Balinese? It is not as easy as saying that expatriates have more
money and therefore can afford to dance tango while the Balinese cannot. Many expatriates on Bali can
barely afford to live properly in their countries of origin and are subject to precarious working conditions.
On the other hand, members of the Balinese middle class—especially those in urban areas—can be
considered economically stable enough to afford a hobby like tango. The classical argument of rich
expatriates versus poor Balinese falls short.
I mentioned earlier that some Javanese are part of the tango community in Seminyak. I talked to two
of them—both male dancers—and both reported that they had learned to dance tango from Stefani because
she needed more male tango dancers. One of them used to be a salsa dancer and switched to tango at some
point. Both of them added that they are paid as “taxi dancers” by the Casa Artista to come to milongas and
“dance with the ladies.”7 Stefani confirmed this; in 2014, they got 250,000 Rp per evening, which is a
considerable sum. Dancing tango provides them with additional income; both have stable daytime jobs.8
Stefani stated that of course some of them genuinely like to dance tango, but because of the established taxi
dancer system, they make sure they get paid for all of their dancing and will not show up to a milonga without
payment. She laconically added: “In a way I understand it, but at the same time, I don’t.”9
As a last point, I want to address another aspect of tango dancing on Bali related to an innerIndonesian economic imbalance. Since 2002, the tango festival “Tango in Paradise” has been organized on
Bali by the tango club “Tango Lovers Jakarta.”10 For this large festival, mainly tango dancers from Jakarta
fly to Bali to dance and enjoy the surroundings. For them, the “exotic resort” factor is the most prominent
reason to come to Bali for dancing. According to several dancers from the Balinese scene, the mostly female
tango dancers from Jakarta usually bring their own taxi dancers and do not mingle with local dancers.11 The
Jakarta tango crowd is perceived as coming for short holidays in an enclosed luxury resort and then leaving
again, as any other standard tourist would do. Compared to this, the non-Indonesian tango scene on Bali
suddenly looks very local.
Summary and Conclusion
The tango argentino community on Bali is composed of expatriates from other Asian countries, America,
and Europe. The organizational structure of the tango community on Bali is the same as in tango communities
elsewhere in the world with one addition: the taxi dancer phenomenon, which is established in some local
dance communities (mainly in Asia) but generally not common in cosmopolitan tango argentino. The
Balinese are only a very small part of the tango scene on Bali. Tango dancers on Bali speculate that this is
mainly due to the unusual physical closeness in tango, the missing fun in music and dance, and the
unfamiliarity with tango argentino music, which causes a difficulty in emotionally relating to it. An economic
imbalance between expatriates and the Balinese is less relevant than that between tango dancers from Java
and those living on Bali, and it is probably not the reason why the Balinese don’t dance tango. It is possible,
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KENDRA STEPPUTAT
however, that the disinterest in tango argentino arises from the fact that all tango venues are located in tourist
areas away from Balinese urban life.
I would like to end with the statement that although in general, very few Balinese are drawn to tango,
the small but stable expatriate tango argentino scene has become a part of Balinese performing arts practice.
Expatriates are a part of the Balinese community, and if they dance tango, it should be considered a part of
Balinese, cosmopolitan, contemporary culture. Whether the community will grow and include more people
from Bali as wished by currently active tango dancers remains to be seen.
Endnotes
1
See the Casa Artista website www.casaartistabali.com (last accessed 9th October 2018).
The organizers of the Ubud community moved their milonga location in September 2018. The places in
Ubud keep changing over the years and have included the Gana Hotel and Restaurant in Ubud, Menari shared
dance space, Rondji Restaurant, and the Hujan Locale. (Personal conversation Kirill Shapran 5th September
2018, also see the “Tango in Ubud, Bali” Facebook page www.facebook.com/groups/TangoInUbud/about/
(last accessed 9th October 2018).
3 Interview with Stefani Kang, 19th July 2014, updated information from http://stefanikang-tango.com (last
accessed 9th October 2018).
4 Robert is an Austrian tango dancer who has a small clothing business and lives 3 months a year on Bali.
Interview with Robert Jahr, 4th July 2018.
5 All my interview partners were very aware of their own generalizing and speculating; their statements by
no means imply that they think the Balinese would not be able to dance tango because of insurmountable
cultural differences. On the contrary, their speculations were just a way of trying to understand with the hope
of getting more people on Bali—and particularly more men—involved with tango, be they of Balinese or of
any other background.
6 Among others, I Wayan Sudirana and Palupi Warananingtyas (informal conversations July 2018).
7 Personal conversation Agus Setiawan, guest relation officer of Tango Bali Club, and an anonymous
Javanese tango dancer, 18th July 2014.
8 Stefani added that by now (2018), some taxi dancers are able to make a living of it and have no additional
jobs (chat on social media, 11th October 2018).
9 Interview with Stefani Kang, 19th July 2014, updated.
10 http://www.balitangoinparadise.com (last accessed 9th October 2018).
11 Having a personal, male taxi dancer is common in Jakarta social dance venues.
2
References
Cara, A. C. (2009). Entangled tangos: Passionate displays, intimate dialogues. The Journal of American
Folklore, 122(486), 438-465.
Fares, G. (2015). Tango’s elsewhere: Japan. The Journal of the Midwest Modern Language Association,
48(1), 171-192.
Link, K. & Wendland, K. (2016). Tracing tangueros: Argentine tango instrumental music. New York, NY:
Oxford University Press.
Stepputat, K. (2011). Tango journeys – Going on a pilgrimage to Buenos Aires. In K. Stepputat (Ed.), Dance,
senses, urban contexts: Proceedings of the 29th Symposium of the ICTM Study Group on
Ethnochoreology. Herzogenrath: Shaker Verlag.
Torp, J. (2007). Alte Atlantische Tangos. Rhythmische Figurationen im Wandel der Zeiten und Kulturen.
Hamburg: LIT Verlag.
Turino, T. (2008). Music as social life: Politics of participation. London and Chicago: University of Chicago
Press.
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THE DANCER’S IMAGE AND THE VISUAL DISCOURSE ON TOURISM
AND SUSTAINABILITY IN BALI
Elizabeth A. Clendinning
Wake Forest University, USA
In Bali, images of traditional dancers decorate everything from airport welcome murals to playing cards. The
images are common in advertisements for tourists in both the Balinese and international contexts; even
browsing the New York Times yields a familiar-looking snapshot of the dancers’ eyes and headdress, used
to advertise a whole cruise line. Surveys of visual media items depicting Balinese subjects from the 1930s to
the present show the same thing. Images of dancers, mostly female, are everywhere, employed not only in a
historical context to attract visitors to Bali, but in the present day to protest commercial development that
might impact Balinese culture.
This article examines the use of the Balinese dancer’s image as a historically important trope in
public discourses about economic, cultural and environmental sustainability in Balinese tourism. Following
a brief overview of dance performance in Bali, guided by Kaeppler’s (2010) concept of “the beholder,” I
investigate the means through which Balinese dance became a metonym symbolic of Bali, and how the
dancers’ image has been deployed both to build the tourist industry and to protest tourist developments
viewed by the Balinese as unsustainable. I contrast the image of the Balinese dancer as a historically
important trope—one evoked in poster advertisements for Bali and in 20th century fine art interpretations of
Balinese culture—with a recent outpouring of depictions of Balinese dancers associated with the Tolak
Reklamasi movement, an environmental movement of the 2010s that protested a proposed reclamation of
land from Benoa Bay to build upscale tourist facilities. Finally, in dialogue with Lysloff’s (2016) concept of
“worlding,” I argue that the Tolak Reklamasi posters constitute a local reclamation of the dancer’s image
that brings together multiple levels of discourse about how the dancers are perceived.
Dance and Tourism in Bali
Dance is an internationally affective art form that may have multiple meanings for those who experience it.
Adrienne Kaeppler uses the term “beholder” to refer to everyone who has witnessed a performance and
differentiates between the ways that three different types of beholders witness dance (Kaeppler, 2010). Dance
performances in Bali, both contemporary and historical, can be understood through Kaeppler’s paradigm.
The first category of beholders—gods and ritual supplicants—are a primary audience for dances performed
for Balinese Hindu religious rituals, including temple ceremonies. The second—beholders with
“communicative competence”—are engaged audience members who “have the music/dance systems in their
heads;” in this case, they could be understood to be native Balinese and knowledgeable outsiders. Finally,
beholders-as-spectators do not hold the music/dance systems inside their heads; they view performance
primarily as spectacle, not as a manifestation of a cultural form.
Over the past century, Balinese dance itself and images of Balinese dance as spectacle have served
as a means for attracting foreign tourists, now at a rate of over 5 million per year. This image creation for
non-Balinese consumption began following the completion of the Dutch conquest of Bali in the 1910s, when
specific efforts were made by the government to preserve Balinese Hindu culture as a “living museum.” In
the 1920s and 1930s, shortened versions of dance performances held in secular settings at times convenient
to travellers began, eventually growing into the significant tourist attractions found in Bali today. The
writings and photographs of a new class of European expatriates who largely settled around the Ubud area
brought descriptions and images of Balinese life to readers and viewers around the world. Bali became
advertised internationally as a paradise destination using advertisements that in many cases featured images
of dancers, such as ones from the Legong and the Calonarong dance-dramas. More modest by European
standards than other contemporary advertisements for Bali—many of which featured bare-breasted women—
these posters captured the female form alternatively as youthful or magical and monstrous, in the case of the
depictions of the female witch Rangda. Through their subject matter, bright colours, or accompanying text,
they are presented unabashedly as the exotic.
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ELIZABETH A. CLENDINNING
Figure 1. “Advertisement for an Empress of Britain World Cruise” (July, 1938).
Following Indonesian independence and the earmarking of Bali as a zone for tourist development under
President Suharto’s initial five-year plan, tourism boomed; both local and international constituencies feared
that environmental and culture loss would be an inevitable result. However, in the 1970s, LISTIBIYA (The
Council for Cultural Consideration and Development) developed a three-part classification system for
dances—wali, bebali and bali-balihan; roughly, sacred, semi-sacred and secular—that allocated specific
dances to appropriate contexts where they would be viewed by the appropriate types of audiences. Traditional
dance performances developed for tourists have in some ways helped sustain Balinese culture by providing
incentives to maintain specific artistic forms, as well as providing monetary and other forms of resources to
support the continuation of other forms of performing arts (Dunbar-Hall, 2015).
In addition to dance performances aimed towards foreign audiences and posters featuring dancers
designed to attract them in the first place, art by Balinese-interested Western artists and members of Balinese
art schools of the 20th century also capitalized on the image of the dancer, further codifying it as a subject
extraordinaire. Dancers were popular representational art styles in works, such as those by Desak Putu
Lambon from the 1930s, and were favoured in illustrations and paintings by Mexican artist Miguel
Covarrubias and Dutch artist Rudolf Bonnet. Dancers were a featured subject in and continued in post-war
works of other artists working within styles of traditional Balinese schools, whose output was directed most
centrally towards tourist markets in the 20th century (Vickers, 2012).
The portrayals of Balinese dance have served both as a point of cultural and artistic pride and a
marketing technique for not only Bali but for Indonesia as a whole. Who uses these images and how is
consequential. For example, in 2009, a Balinese Pendet dancer appeared in a television tourism advertisement
for Malaysia created by a Singaporean television station. A multi-month furore erupted first over this
misrepresentation, then over the perceived lack of a sufficiently sincere apology from the television network
and from Malaysian governmental officials. Under the guise of protesting this misrepresentation, antiMalaysian protests took place across Java. Though the tensions were eventually defused, the portrayal of the
emblematic Balinese dance remains contested.
Posters within the Tolak Reklamasi Movement
Within contemporary Bali, images of dancers have been employed not only in tourist advertisements, but
also in protest art including posters and t-shirts for the Tolak Reklamasi movement. The movement protested
the proposed reclamation of Benoa Bay, a shallow coastal area that in 2011 was designated an environmental
buffer zone and green belt area. The project, spearheaded by the corporation PT Tirta Wahana Bali
Internasional, would create new land for developing high-end tourism facilities but also displace local
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THE DANCER’S IMAGE AND THE VISUAL DISCOURSE ON TOURISM AND SUSTAINABILITY IN BALI
fisherman and, according to scientific studies, potentially trigger natural disasters. In May 2014, after two
years of petitions by different constituencies, Indonesian President Yudhoyono’s presidential decree 51/2014
reclassified the shallow underwater zone as available for “revitalization” by business, which officially
allowed for the implementation of the new development to begin.
The reaction to this proclamation came swiftly, spearheaded by the organization Forum Rakyat Bali
Tolak Reklamasi (ForBALI), which began to coordinate both political and social action in August 2013. The
organization consisted of institutions and individuals who care about the environment and believed that the
reclamation project is “a step towards the destruction of Bali.” Their website, ForBALI.org, offered
information and updates on the development and protests, providing a resource not only for locals but also
interested individuals who have been following the movement from afar.
Visual and performing artists have played a significant role in the movement through live
performances, creating images and giving interviews. The protest artists active in Tolak Reklamasi have been
eclectic in their forms of expression, employing everything from the pop-styled “Tolak Reklamasi Song” to
performing gamelan beleganjur and kecak at demonstrations to undergoing extreme performance art, such
as the 2014 piece in which artist Made Bayak was symbolically buried under soil dumped from a backhoe.
Unlike previous generations of protest artists, however, the ability to move content online to individual
websites and social media has provided a global reach to their voices. Poster art has become a particularly
visible medium with designs both posted in Bali and available online.
The posters of Tolak Reklamasi feature a widely diverse set of artistic styles and subjects. However,
a frequently recurring subject is that of the traditional Balinese dancer. Though some designs are neutraltoned, primary colours plus green dominate the artwork. Dancers, including those from legong and topeng
dalem dances, are depicted with their faces symbolically aged or destroyed by symbols of development
projects. Currency signs, especially the dollar sign, appear as recurrent symbols of commercial corruption—
in one case dropping as bombs behind a dancer’s face in profile. The crane and hammer repeat as motifs
signifying development with the crane often portrayed as menacing each posters’ main figure, and the
hammer employed in self-defence. In yet another poster, the baris tunggal warrior dancer raises a hammer
where he would usually have an open hand; his arm, raised in the traditional agem dance position, also
presents a palm-forward “stop” gesture, warding off potential destruction.
Figure 2. “Tolak Reklamasi poster featuring a Baris Dancer” (Ambara, 2015) Retrieved from https://posteraksi.org/
Ambara’s Perspectives
The posters for Tolak Reklamasi were often portrayed without attribution, making it difficult to track which
artists have created what. However, one of the central figures of the graphic representations is Alit Ambara,
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ELIZABETH A. CLENDINNING
a Balinese poster artist who has produced over 800 posters in the past twenty years and whose design is
printed on the most popular Tolak Reklamasi t-shirts. A graduate of the Jakarta Arts Institute and Savannah
School of Arts and Design, Ambara began designing political posters in the mid-1990s at the time of the
overthrow of President Suharto. Since then, his artwork has represented several Indonesian environmental
and social justice movements, including Tolak Reklamasi, as well as the Occupy Wall Street movement and
the Arab Spring. His works feature a variety of artistic styles and images, including current internationally
recognized symbols of resistance such as the raised fist and the Guy Fawkes mask. Ambara shares his works
freely under a creative commons license at nobodycorp.org and posteraksi.org, meaning that the images can
be used and shared without need to gain copyright clearance. The website features eighteen of his posters for
the Tolak Reklamasi movement, including several that depict dancers.
Ambara explains that he has not intended for his work to be in dialogue with other, specific historical
images of dancers; that he combines styles based primarily on feeling, rather than association with different
historical artistic schools that have left visible footprints in his work. Because images of dancers have become
instantly identifiable symbols of Bali through their repeated use by outsiders and the Balinese alike, they are
also effectively employed to symbolize the threat to Bali and the corresponding resistance of the Balinese
people. The baris dancer is particularly effective, he says, since its warrior image urges people to melawan
dan menang—to fight and win.
While live and recorded performances effectively capture and disseminate the aims of the movement,
Ambara notes that the posters are important because “Posters are easy to make and distribute. [They are] an
attractive, easily accessible platform for expressing the mind, engaging people in debates, and creating
discussions that can traverse the entire spectrum of society” (A. Ambara, personal communication, June 26,
2018). The distribution of these images locally was crucial to spreading the word about the protest and as a
way of showing support. However, the widespread distribution of the posters online added an additional layer
to the discourse, since non-Balinese viewers were able to understand the movements’ concerns. Though close
analysis of each of these works could reveal specific artistic and social themes that would speak to individuals
knowledgeable about global art history and/or Balinese dance, the symbology also can speak to viewers who
behold them as spectators. The Balinese traditional dancer, iconic symbol of Bali, opposes internationally
recognizable symbols for commercial development and environmental destruction.
Conclusions
In writing about musical culture in Jogjakarta, T.A. Rene Lysloff coins the term “worlding” to describe the
process by which two young performing artists of his acquaintance reinterpret and even defy preconceived
categories of traditional and modern, classical and popular, local and global. Lysloff’s protagonists are
acutely aware of ways in which local cultural practices have been employed and exploited on a global stage.
They have kept current with contemporary technology, social and artistic discourses as employed by their
original creators. But, rather than “globalization” acting upon them, they have taken active control of these
symbols and means of communication, dialectally communicating against forces that would seek to
pigeonhole their artistic practices.
The same could be said for Balinese artists portraying dancers. Through early and mid-20th century
depictions of Balinese dance, certain dances have attained visually symbolic status, capable of signifying
“Bali” simply through their evocation. Yet, though many depictions of these dances are meant to attract
tourists, their deployment in protest art demonstrates how local artists also employ the multiple associations
that the dancers’ image has form internationally affective forms of visual protest. The free distribution of
poster images further accelerates both local and global awareness of the issue.
On August 26, 2018, PT Tirta Wahana Bali Internasional’s license to reclaim and develop parts of
Benoa Bay expired. The governor-elect of Bali declared the project to be dead due to overwhelming concerns
about its environmental and economic impact; he specifically cited the rampant protests as a reason for this
decision. Though protest posters depicting dancers may begin to be removed from Balinese streets, Balinese
culture as depicted by the dancers’ image continues to be preserved.
References
[Advertisement for an Empress of Britain world cruise]. (July, 1938). Fortune Magazine, 7, 19.
Ambara, A. (2015). [Tolak Reklamasi poster featuring a baris dancer]. Retrieved from https://posteraksi.org/.
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THE DANCER’S IMAGE AND THE VISUAL DISCOURSE ON TOURISM AND SUSTAINABILITY IN BALI
Dunbar-Hall, P. (2016). Balinese gamelan: Continual innovation, community engagement, and links to
spirituality as drivers for sustainability. In C. Grant & H. Schippers (Eds.), Sustainable futures for
music cultures: An ecological perspective (pp. 145-178). Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Kaeppler, A. L. (2010). The beholder’s share: Viewing music and dance in a globalized world (Charles
Seeger Lecture presented at the 51st Annual Meeting of the Society for Ethnomusicology, 2006,
Honolulu). Ethnomusicology, 54(2), 185-201. doi:10.5406/ethnomusicology.54.2.0185
Lysloff, R. T. A. (2016). Worlding music in Jogjakarta: Tales of the global postmodern. Ethnomusicology,
60(3), 484-507. doi:10.5406/ethnomusicology.60.3.0484
Vickers, A. (2012). Balinese art: Paintings and drawings of Bali 1800-2010. North Clarendon: Tuttle
Publishing.
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WHO ARE THE COMMUNITIES INVOLVED IN INTANGIBLE CULTURAL HERITAGE?
A CONSIDERATION OF THE “BEAUTIFUL INDONESIA MINIATURE PARK”
PROPOSAL AS BEST PRACTICE
(Lightning Paper)
Yukako Yoshida
Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, Japan
Introduction
The Beautiful Indonesia Miniature Park (Taman Mini Indonesia Indah, hereinafter TMII) is a theme park
located on the outskirts of Jakarta. It was opened under the leadership of President Suharto and his wife in
1975. The idea was to make a miniature version of Indonesia. Each province has a pavilion in TMII, and each
pavilion houses a traditional building that represents the cultural richness of the province. Inside, handicrafts
and traditional costumes are exhibited, and performing arts are staged. Visitors learn about the diversity and
richness of their own country’s culture, religion, natural environment, and technology.
In 2014, the Republic of Indonesia proposed TMII for inclusion in the Register of Best Safeguarding
Practices for intangible cultural heritage (hereinafter ICH). However, the proposal was not approved by the
UNESCO Intergovernmental Committee. Taking this case as an example, this paper discusses the
problematic concept of “community” with regard to ICH and the difficulty in identifying or defining it.
“The Register of Best Safeguarding Practices for ICH” is a list of safeguarding practices that the
intergovernmental committee considers to best reflect the principles and objectives of the convention of ICH.1
The convention emphasizes that communities involved in ICH should participate voluntarily in safeguarding
activities to prevent these activities from being simply imposed by the state or scholars. Considering the spirit
of the convention, one might think that it is a strange idea to propose this politically charged urban theme
park as best practice.
This paper considers this proposal’s background by focusing on Indonesian reasoning and
circumstances. Further, the case of Balinese dance is examined to review the actual transmission of ICH at
TMII. These discussions clarify that the matter of the identity of the community involved in ICH is not as
simple as one might assume.
The Committee’s Perspective
For the committee, the main reason for not including this park in the best practice list was the “decontextualization” of heritage. The TMII program was criticized as being “oriented mainly to tourists and
visitors … rather than towards strengthening transmission within communities” (Examination of proposals,
2014, p. 8). Citing the spirit of the convention, the committee repeatedly stressed the importance of the
participation of the community and criticized Taman Mini for lacking this participation. Two questions arise
from this committee’s discussion: Who are the members of a community and what are its boundaries?
The Indonesian Perspective on the Concept of “Community”
The Indonesian proposers’ perspective on the concept of community is actually very different from that of
the committee. In the proposal, they repeatedly insist that the practice in this park is led by heritage-bearing
communities. However, at the same time, they use the word “community” in an inconsistent and ambiguous
way. In some parts, “community” means everybody involved in the park, including visitors and staff, as well
as related ministries and agencies (e.g. Nomination file, 2014, section G). In other parts, the word refers to
the ethnic groups represented in each pavilion (e.g. Nomination file, 2014, section 1.a). Further, the term
“local community” is used to refer specifically to nearby residents who visit the park often (Nomination file,
2014, section 6).
To understand these inconsistencies and ambiguities, it would be helpful to recall the history of
Indonesian nation-building and Anderson’s idea of “imagined communities” (Anderson, 1991). After its
independence in 1945, this country struggled to unite a population made up of hundreds of different ethnic
groups, and to create a national culture. Taman Mini was an outcome of efforts to resolve these problems. By
showcasing the range of ICH in a harmonious way, it encourages Indonesian citizens to understand cultural
diversity and to “imagine” their harmonious co-existence. In a sense, Indonesia is creating a community by
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WHO ARE THE COMMUNITIES INVOLVED IN INTANGIBLE CULTURAL HERITAGE?
A CONSIDERATION OF THE “BEAUTIFUL INDONESIA MINIATURE PARK” PROPOSAL AS BEST PRACTICE
utilizing their ICH. By contrast, the committee simply assumes an existing community with a definite
boundary and the transmission of ICH within it.
Figure 1. Different ways of conceptualizing “community”.
(Chart prepared by the author)
Transmission of ICH in Taman Mini: The Case of Balinese Dance
When we consider Balinese dance, the identification of the “community” becomes even more complex. For
example, the Dutch colonial government’s cultural policy, the rise of international tourism, and the
intervention of foreign artists have all significantly influenced the preservation and invention of Balinese
dance.
With regard to Balinese dance, many shows, workshops, and competitions are held in TMII. In
addition, several dance lessons are regularly held in Balinese pavilions. These lessons bring a joyous mood
to the pavilion, and sometimes tourists visiting the pavilion join the lessons. While the committee criticized
TMII as tourism oriented, this kind of occasional participation by tourists is not rare in lessons on the island
of Bali.
However, there are some differences between the dance lessons held at TMII and those in Bali.2 Let
me introduce three of them: (1) Reflecting the religious composition of Jakarta, the majority of the
participants are mostly girls who are Muslims with various ethnic backgrounds. (2) Balinese dance is reinterpreted in order to make it more acceptable and accessible to non-Hindu people. For example, the dance
called pendet involves movements that replicate Hindu prayer. To teach non-Hindu learners, an instructor of
TMII interprets this movement. He told me that the motion is not taught as a prayer but as a symbol for
collecting knowledge and passing it to others. It is also important to note, however, that the Balinese dance
taught in Taman Mini is not completely detached from the Balinese Hindu context. The instructors often
invite non-Hindu learners to dance in Hindu temple festivals held in and around Taman Mini. Through this
type of learning, people are partly introduced to Balinese Hindu culture and eventually to Balinese Hindu
communities in Jakarta. (3) The characteristics of Balinese dance movements are sometimes explained and
understood in terms of their difference from other traditional dances in Indonesia. For example, the quick
and energetic movements of Balinese dance are often contrasted to the slow movements of Javanese dance.
Instructors, learners, and their parents are familiar with the various traditional dances showcased in this park.
These people compare them, relate to them, and find similarities and differences between them. Furthermore,
people in TMII told me that if a person masters Balinese dance, they can easily learn other dances as well. In
this respect, a Balinese dance lesson offers a kind of basic or necessary skill not only for Balinese dance but
also a wide range of dances that have been developed in this country.
Conclusion: Dance Practice in TMII and Community Formation
The way people practice and transmit Balinese ICH in TMII is not the same as that in Bali. Inside of this
park, there are no “local communities” in the conventional sense. Rather, in the Indonesian context, ICH is
utilized as a source of imagination about and creation of the “community” (meaning the nation state). The
case of the Balinese dance lesson suggests that in this park, dance functions as a medium that connects people,
relates them to cultural others, and introduces them to the wider range of ICH that this country has developed.
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YUKAKO YOSHIDA
The focus of this paper is not to insist that TMII should have been included in the list of best safeguarding
practice. However, it is still important to keep in mind that the way an ICH is related to a community can be
different in each case and is changeable over time.
Endnotes
1 Although
the list is now called “good practice” rather than “best practice,” the principle aims and conditions
for registration remain the same.
2
Some parts of my discussion in section 4 were recently published with some details of these differences in
Yoshida (2018, pp. 84-87).
References
Anderson, B. (1991). Imagined communities: Reflections on the origin and spread of nationalism. London
& New York: Verso.
Examination of proposals. (2014). Examination of proposals to the register of best safeguarding practices.
(ITH/14/9.COM/9.b) Ninth session UNESCO Headquarters. Retrieved from http://www.unesco.
org/culture/ich/doc/src/ITH-14-9.COM-9.b+Add.-EN.doc
Nomination file. (2014). Nomination file no.00621 for Inscription on the Registration of Best Safeguarding
Practices 2014. Retrieved from http://www.unesco.org/culture/ich/doc/download.php?versionID
=30277
Yoshida, Y. (2018). Balinese dances in multi-religious Jakarta: A preliminary study of Muslim learners and
Hindu instructors. In T. Hideo & T. Ikuya (Eds.), Islam and cultural diversity in Southeast Asia
(Vol.2) (pp.77-89). Tokyo: ILCAA Tokyo University of Foreign Studies.
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BASANG TUNDUN: COMPOSITIONAL CONCEPT IN BALINESE GAMELAN
(Lightning Paper)
I Wayan Diana Putra
Indonesian Institute of Arts, Indonesia
Introduction
Basang Tundun is a term in Balinese gamelan that represents a musical phrase or palet. Basang literally
means the abdomen, and it is analogous as the front part of the melody, while tundun means the back of
human body that represents the back (ending) part of the melody. The basang and tundun are two distinct
parts, but they constitute a whole musical framework, as the abdomen and the back body as important
elements of the human body part. Sukerta states that basang-tundun (or also called mebasang-metundun) is
usually directly translated as “the front and the back” (1998, p. 105).
The concept of Basang Tundun constitutes the unity of the melodic phrase. It is also a melodic dialog
between the beginning part and the ending part of the melodic phrase. In terms of the colotomic structure,
Balinese traditional melodies are usually divided into two parts that represent intentional direction: nyujuh
kemong or reaching the kemong (the smallest gong played at the middle of the melody, and nyujuh gong or
reaching the gong (the large gong played as the ending of the cyclical gong unit). The nyujuh kemong part is
associated with the question sentence,’ and the nyujuh gong is the answering sentence.
At the practical level, the concept of basang tundung is used by musicians to memorize the plot of
any given melodic phrases. The system is the conscious understanding of the two melodic divisions of the
question and the answering sentences. Therefore, the long melodic phrases will be remembered with ease.
Basang tundun concept can also be placed as the scheme of melodic formation; the basang and tundun parts
are the smaller scale of the melodic entity’s larger scale. In other words, the basang and tundun is the unit of
the melodic phrase. This melodic unit, with the intentional direction of nyujuh kemong placed at the beginning
and nyujuh gong placed at the ending, then constitutes the unity of the larger-scale melodic phrase.
In the compositional context, basang tundun is used to sort out the compositional direction of the
scheme. This method is to form the middle and ending directions of the intended tonality. The intention for
tonality is strongly based upon the concept of basang tundun in order to produce more varieties of
thoughtfully organized melodic phrases. The beginning part (basang) introduces the intended direction that
will later be answered “correctly” at the ending part.
Basang tundun is used to construct a melody within the framework. The working system of basang
tundun in constructing the melody will be examined using three tools: one is analysis it is used to understand
compositional methodology. Second is semiotics which is a science of signs (Ricoeur, 2012, p. 30) and is
used here to examine the colotomic structure. And the third tool is hermeneutics. Hermeneutics/hermeneuein
is the science of interpretation (Sumaryono, 1999, p. 23) and it is used to interpret the function of the
compositional method of basang tundun.
Legod Bawa, as the object of analysis, is one of the Balinese melodic forms that is used as an
analytical object. It is selected to prove the function of the basang tundun concept in composition, more
specifically in constructing the melody. Its colotomic working system is similar to dividing two units, such
as in basang tundun.
Table 1. Gending Legod Bawa from I WM. Madra Aryasa
.
u
.
e
.
u
.
e
.
u
.
o
.
u
.
e
.
U
.
I
.
U
.
U
.
U
.
A
.
u
.
A
.
o
.
o
.
i
.
o
.
e
.
i
.
a
.
i
.
u
.
a
.
u
.
a
+
a
√
u
+
e
( )
u
213
I WAYAN DIANA PUTRA
The Function the Basang Tundun’s Concept in the Form of Gending Legod Bawa
The first function of basang tundun is dividing the melodic phrase into two: the first half is called nyujuh
kemong (reaching the kemong/the smallest gong played a half-length of the melody), and the second half is
nyujuh gong (reaching the gong as a final cadence). This arrangement makes a clear perception and intention
of the melodic progression.
The second function of basang tundun is to construct the tonal direction of each eight-beat melody
that is marked by the colotomic instruments (the kempur, kemong and gong). For instance, if we take a look
at the last sixteen-beat as shown in the slide, we will see the first line is a melody reaching the kempur, and
the second line is a melody reaching the gong (final cadence). The questions that emerged: how do we know
which notes are selected? Are they selected randomly? Or is there a particular system is selecting the notes?
The notes are selected based on the basang tundun directional concept. For example, in the traditional melody
of Legod Bawa (quoted from Madra Aryasa’s book “pengetahuan karawitan”), we can see the concept of
upper and lower neighbour progression. The last note of the first eight beat (or the kempur note) is e (deng),
and the note on beat four (the jegogan note) is u (dung). The progression from u (dung) to e (deng) shows
the progression to the lower neighbour note. The progression from e (deng/the kempur note) to a (dang/the
second jegogan note) is called nelu (a note progression leaping one note). And last, the progression from a
(dang/second jegogan note) to u (dung/the gong note) is a progression to the lower neighbour note.
Traditionally, we can see two options in selecting the notes used on each division: one is upper and
lower neighbour notes, and two is nelu or leaping one note (going up or down). In addition to this, there is
another option in selecting the note based on the basang tundun concept: it is called ngempat, or it literally
means “four”, and its progression is leaping two notes (going up or down).
Forming the character of the melody is becoming clear, for example: the character of ngubeng and
mejalan, and the combination of the two. Ngubeng is a melody that stays on one note (stasis), and mejalan is
a melody that moves from one note to another (linear). In the example shown in the slide, the character of
the melody is ngubeng, mejalan, ngubeng mejalan, and mejalan.
The Structure of Gending is Easy to Arrange
‘Gending structure’ is a groove and a system in a gending. Structure is a sequence that should be directed.
The structure is the basis for the preparation of a gending. As with the concept of basang tundun, with a
system of punctuation signs, the gending structure can be arranged through several stages:
1. Step 1: constructing a gong note
2. Step 2: deciding the kemong note based on the gong note
3. Step 3: selecting the first kempul note
4. Step 4: selecting the second kempul note
The next step is selecting notes every beat four on each line. In other words, we are diving each line into two.
The selection of the notes on beat four of each line is using the concept of the upper or lower neighbour note,
and is based on the selected final note on each line.
The last step is filling the notes on the empty beats (beats 1 – 3 and beats 5 – 7). The common system
used in selecting these notes is the concept of ngubeng and mejalan. Traditionally, ngubeng is used first, and
mejalan is the concept after ngubeng.
Conclusion
By using the concept of basang tundun, hence the activity of composing a melody becomes directed and
much easier by focusing on the parts and the overall flow of the melody. This becomes a formula for
composing a traditional melody in a dialogical form with systemic flow and scheme. It also gives the
composer guidelines on to how to make melodic character, and makes it easier to know punctuation positions.
Within this dividing technique, forming a melodic progression within the colotomic system becomes easier.
214
BASANG TUNDUN: COMPOSITIONAL CONCEPT IN BALINESE GAMELAN
References
Aryasa, I. W. M. (1984/1985). Pengetahuan karawitan Bali. Diterbitkan oleh Departemen Pendidikan dan
Kebudayaan Direktorat Jendral Kebudayaan Proyek Pengembangan Kesenian Bali. Denpasar:
Departemen Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan Direktorat Jendral Kebudayaan Provinsi Bali.
Rahardjo, H. M. (2008). Dasar-dasar hermeneutika, antara intensionalisme & gadamerian. Jogjakarta: ARRUZZ Media.
Ricoeur, P. (2012). Teori interpretasi. Jogjakarta: IRCiSoD.
Sumaryono, E. (1999). Hermeneutik, sebuah metode filsafat. Edisi revisi.
Sukerta, P. M. (1998). Ensiklopedi karawitan Bali. Penyunting F. X. Widaryanto, Diterbitkan atas kerjasama
Masyarakat Seni Pertunjukan Indonesia dengan The Ford Foundation. Bandung: Sastrataya-MSPI.
215
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
REASSEMBLING MUSICAL HERITAGE: THE AGENCY OF WAYAN PANDE TUSAN AND
GAMELAN SELONDING CULTURE IN BALI
(Lightning Paper)
Akiko Nozawa
University of Michigan, USA
This article highlights the increasing agency of local ethnomusicological practice through the case of
independent researcher Wayan Pande Tusan and his influence on gamelan Selonding culture in Bali. The
focal point is the restoration of Selonding instruments and its contextualization at Besakih temple as part of
a reshaping of cultural identity in response to globalization.
Gamelan Selonding and the Study by Wayan Pande Tusan
Selonding is an older form of gamelan played primarily for ritual occasions. The ensemble consists of a set
of metallophones made of iron, while other gamelans are made of bronze. Since Indonesia’s colonial period,
Selonding has been described by foreign researchers as a sacred and rare ensemble particular to the
indigenous Balinese communities termed Bali Aga (Kunst, 1968, p. 78; Tenzer, 1991, p. 93; Dibia &
Ballinger, 2004, p. 28).
However, a cross-investigation by Wayan Pande Tusan brought a new perspective to such prevailing
discourse. Tusan is an independent Balinese researcher who has sustained an interest in Selonding since his
childhood as a descendant of blacksmiths (pande besi). He started his research in 1992 and published a
comprehensive study in 2001, which is titled SELONDING: Tinjauan Gamelan Bali Kuna, Abad X – XIV
(Selonding: A study of the classic Balinese gamelan from the 10th to the 14th century).
While he is not a professional scholar, Tusan’s skills as a local researcher provide us with a vast
amount of field data documenting an amazing variety of local Selonding instruments differing in size, number,
and scale tones (Tusan, 2001). In addition, Tusan identifies 61 sites related to Selonding, which can be
classified into five categories (Figure 1): A) Usable instruments, B) Remains of instruments, C) Historical
records, D) Oral information, E) Artificial or natural sites named ‘Selonding.’ Interestingly, when compared
to the distribution map of Bali Aga presented by Thomas Reuter (Reuter, 2002, pp. 32-33), less than half of
the sites belong to the so-called Bali Aga.1 Tusan also avoids using the term Bali Aga in his book and, as the
title represents, he concludes that Selonding prevailed from the 10th to the 14th centuries according to the
years of origin noted in local manuscripts.
The Revival of Selonding at Besakih Temple
Tusan also had a significant influence on Selonding culture through his ethnomusicological practice; namely,
the restoration of Selonding instruments at Besakih temple. Besakih temple was built in the 9th century and
is the centre of Balinese Hinduism. Over the centuries, Besakih developed a complicated ritual culture
supported by local communities. However, at the beginning of the 1970s, a team from Bali Museum found
hundreds of Selonding keys kept in a small temple, Pura Melajang Selonding, at Besakih. Tusan reports that
a team from Denpasar restored some of the keys in 1979 but the instrument was left unused thereafter (Tusan,
2001, p. 210).
216
REASSEMBLING MUSICAL HERITAGE: THE AGENCY OF WAYAN PANDE TUSAN
AND GAMELAN SELONDING CULTURE IN BALI
In light of this situation, Tusan launched a project in 1991 to revive Selonding culture at Besakih. As he
explains in his book (Tusan, 2001, pp. 207-243), after obtaining approval from the Besakih priests, he
organized a team of Balinese scholars to restore Selonding instruments, ultimately producing two sets. Then,
in 1993, they realized the first performance of the restored Selonding in a large ceremony at Besakih called
Karya Tri Bhuwana.
Through this process, it could be said that the agency of Wayan Pande Tusan reshaped the Selonding
culture at Besakih not only by restoring the instruments but also by contextualizing them into ritual practice.
The development aftermath is noteworthy as well. At the beginning of this century, Tusan organized an NPO,
‘Yayasan Selonding,’ in collaboration with a private Selonding group in Denpasar, Mekar Bhuana, which was
founded by a man from New Zealand and a Balinese woman. Significantly, this group took over the Selonding
performance at Besakih that was established by Tusan’s group in 1993.2 Today, thanks to their continuous
dedication, Selonding is becoming a part of Besakih’s culture as ritual music for the annual ceremonies (e.g.
Batara Turun Kabeh).
As background to this Selonding revival, it is beneficial to refer to Tusan’s motivation, as
communicated to me via interview (see Nozawa, 2017): ‘The fact that the discourse on Selonding has been
constructed by foreign scholars actually fired my passion to promote deep understanding on Selonding,
because it is Balinese people who must know what Selonding is.’ However, though Tusan was motivated to
articulate Balinese identity via Selonding as a symbolic medium, his book presents sufficient references to
past studies by foreign scholars. It also presents his own data and interpretation seen in his attitude to
developing Selonding by cooperation with local, national, and global networks. Tusan’s activities could thus
be defined as reconstructions of the past within global interactions, which are reminiscent of Michel Picard’s
argument on the consistent Balinese recasting of cultural identity ‘in response to the colonialization, the
Indonesianization, and the touristification’ (Picard, 1999, p. 21).
Conclusion
In the colonial period, western scholars interpreted Selonding as a part of Bali Aga culture. Globalization in
the late 20th century, in turn, generated various local agencies who reconstructed alternative values of
Selonding as Balinese cultural heritage in the present, as represented by Tusan’s activity. Considering the
increasing number of Selonding groups in Bali today,3 it could be said that Wayan Pande Tusan played a
crucial role in expanding the cultural meaning of Selonding from ‘Bali Aga’s tradition’ to ‘Balinese identity’
by embodying a conceptual shift that integrated three elements: place (Besakih), material (Selonding keys),
and practice (ritual performance).
217
AKIKO NOZAWA
Acknowledgement
This research was supported by JSPS KAKENHI Grant Number15K02104. This article is presented upon
approval by Mr. Wayan Pande Tusan (August, 2017). The author thanks Mr. Tusan and his family for their
sincere cooperation with this research.
Endnotes
1
The validity of defining Bali Aga as ‘indigenous’ or ‘pre-Hindu’ culture remains tenuous, with Brigitta
Hauser-Schaublin criticizing Reuter’s description of Bali Aga as a society enclosed from other Hinduized
societies (Hauser-Schäublin, 2004, p. 321).
2
This group also transmits their Selonding activity to the world through their website and by uploading videos
of their performances on YouTube (eg. https://www.youtube. com/watch?v=nBL24L6jhUw&t=7s).
3 With the emergence of ‘Selonding replica’ and cassettes/CDs in the 1980s, a new Selonding culture was
generated in Bali; especially in the south-central area (Nozawa, 2017). The number of new Selonding groups
has increased rapidly since the late 1990s, adopting Selonding music into various contexts: temple festivals,
wedding ceremonies, and family rituals for ancestors.
References
Dibia, I. W. & Ballinger, R. (2004). Balinese dance, drama and music. Singapore: Periplus Editions.
Hauser-Schäublin, B. (2004). Austronesian aboriginality or the ritual organization of the state? A controversy
on the political dimension of temple networks in early Bali. History and Anthropology, 15(4), 317344.
Kunst, J. (1968). Hindu-Javanese musical instruments. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff.
Nozawa, A. (2017). Beyond the value of reproduction: The imagined revival of the sacred gamelan Selonding
in Bali, Indonesia. In P. Matusky & W. Quintero (Eds.), Proceedings of the 4th Symposium: The
ICTM Study Group on Performing Arts of Southeast Asia (pp. 211-215). Penang: Universiti Sains
Malaysia.
Picard, M. (1999). The discourse of kebalian: Transcultural constructions of Balinese identity. In R.
Rubinstein & L. H. Connor (Eds.), Staying local in the global village. Bali in the twentieth century
(pp. 15-49). Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press.
Reuter, T. A. (2002). The house of our ancestors: Precedence and dualism in highland Balinese society.
Leiden: KITLV Press.
Tenzer, M. (1991) Balinese music. Washington, WA: University of Washington.
Tusan, I. W. P. (2001). SELONDING: Tinjauan gamelan Bali kuna abad X-XIV. CV. Denpasar: Karya Sastra.
218
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
ROUNDTABLE: THE MALAY SHADOW PLAY (WAYANG KULIT) IN TRANSITION:
SUSTAINABILITY/VIABILITY OF A TRADITIONAL MALAYSIAN PERFORMING ART IN
THE 21ST CENTURY
INTRODUCTION TO THE ROUNDTABLE PRESENTATIONS AND DEMONSTRATION
Patricia Matusky
National Academy of Arts, Culture & Heritage (ASWARA), Malaysia
The shadow play in Malaysia, as part of the Southeast Asian shadow puppet tradition, features the use of
small-sized puppets, a single puppet master (dalang) who is puppet manipulator and story teller, and a music
ensemble.
In Peninsular Malaysia the shadow puppet theatre is a very old folk tradition with two distinct styles
known and documented by scholars (Sweeney, 1972), which are the wayang kulit gedek in the northwest
coast state of Kedah, and the wayang kulit Kelantan (formerly called Wayang Siam) originating in the
northeast state of Kelantan. Today, with the passing away of the last puppeteer in Kedah the wayang kulit
gedek has ceased to be performed, but the wayang kulit Kelantan style is still active. The focus of this
roundtable discussion, the wayang kulit Kelantan, is a theatrical existing in a folk tradition, in which the
puppeteers from the state of Kelantan trace their lineage back through many generations. The wayang kulit
Kelantan was extremely popular and flourished throughout the northern Malaysian states (Kelantan, Kedah,
Perak) and southward along the east coast of the Peninsula (Terengganu and Pahang) from at least the late
19th century until about the 1970s (Sweeney, 1972). However, as performed by professional puppeteers, today
its distribution is mainly limited to the state of Kelantan, and even there the performances have severely
decreased and the form is seen in a state of serious decline (for many social, political and cultural reasons).
This roundtable presentation acknowledges the endangerment of the shadow play tradition but more
importantly examines the possible sustainability and viability (and ‘vitality’; Grant, 2004, p. 11) of this type
of theatre, puppets, stories and music in the second decade of the 21st century.
The five presenters in this roundtable represent a range of approaches in studying and performing
this traditional theatre form. They will attempt to put forward their views on the ways in which a shadow
play tradition can sustain its theatrical medium as ‘shadow play’ in the 21st century, and at the same time be
vital and viable in developing new stories, making new puppet characters and composing new music that
appeals to the sensibilities of 21st century Malaysian audiences. While the historical aspects of the shadow
play are important and have been documented with regard to stories, puppets, medium of performance,
puppeteers and music (Sweeney, 1972; Ghulam Sarwar, 1994, 1997; Matusky, 1980, 1993), the speakers and
the Tok Dalang Pak Dain in this roundtable are specifically addressing not only sustainability which considers
the heritage and historical aspects of the form coming forward in the 21st century, but more importantly the
viability and vitality, and perhaps a ‘creative regeneration’ (Grant, 2004, p. 11) of the art form in relation to
contemporary society in Malaysia in the 21st century, whether it be in the urban, suburban or village context.
This roundtable will present (a) some background on the late 19th and 20th century style of the
wayang kulit Kelantan (Patricia Matusky), (b) developments in wayang kulit music using digital technology
(Hamdan Adnan), (c) recent developments in early 21st century stylistic features of this theatrical form
(Christine Yong), (d) design and production of new puppet characters (Tintoy Chuo), and finally (e) a short
performance of an episode from a story adapted from a global perspective demonstrating the use of a new
story, new puppet characters, and the use of new technical projections and dimension on the shadow play
screen (Dalang Pak Dain bin Othman).
219
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
ROUNDTABLE: THE MALAY SHADOW PLAY (WAYANG KULIT) IN TRANSITION:
SUSTAINABILITY/VIABILITY OF A TRADITIONAL MALAYSIAN PERFORMING ART IN
THE 21ST CENTURY
THE 20TH CENTURY STYLE OF WAYANG KULIT KELANTAN
Patricia Matusky
National Academy of Arts, Culture & Heritage (ASWARA), Malaysia
In an attempt to establish a pattern and style of wayang kulit Kelantan in the 20th century, comments on the
style of this shadow play emerge from a reflexive perspective, based on my practice-based research and
participant-observation experience with this theatre form and especially its music four decades ago (1975present) in the field in Kelantan. My comments are also based on observations in the late 20th and early 21st
centuries in revisits to the same field research site (and to additional urban sites) in an attempt to understand
the condition of the art form today. In the process of watching and examining this theatrical form for nearly
4 decades, in effect I have done an ethnographic revisit in the reflexive sense. And, as sociologists and
anthropologists have noted that “…when we ‘revisit’…our purpose is…to understand and explain variation
[and change], in particular to comprehend difference over time” (Burawoy, 2003, pp. 646-647).
While we know place and condition of the wayang kulit Kelantan in past times, we also know that
changes and contestations in Malaysian societal, economic and political thinking have occurred over the past
three decades, that have seriously affected this and other traditional musical-theatrical arts in the country. We
can note political and social changes in the state itself (i.e., the state of Kelantan) to which the wayang kulit
Kelantan has strong ties, and we can also observe influences of outside hegemonies that affect local and
national changes. These influences are substantial and require another research paper focusing on the
sociological, economic and political changes that have occurred over the past three to four decades in the
said state and country as a whole. This roundtable discussion, however, focuses only on the performative
aspects of the specific shadow play as noted above.
As a performative genre, the essential elements of the wayang kulit are: 1) the theatrical conventions
such as special staging, use of a white screen (kelir) on which shadows are cast, and a lit hanging lamp
between the screen and the puppeteer for casting the puppet shadows on the screen, 2) the drama or verbal
expression and enactment of the story, 3) the puppet itself representing many kinds of creatures (both human
and animal types), 4) the movements or gestures of the puppet bodies—considering how and when they move
and, 5) the music ensemble and musical pieces, both vocal and instrumental that accompany the puppet
movements.
To establish a ‘bench mark’ for the style of this shadow play in the 20th century, including its
theatrical conventions and style of shadow play dating from at least the early 20th century, I would like to
briefly note some aspects of its 20th century style based on my field research, focusing on the performance
style of a renowned puppeteer, the Late Tok Dalang Hamzah Awang Mat (1940-2001) and his style of
wayang kulit from the 1960s to the time of his passing away. In addition, it is important to note that the Tok
Dalang Hamzah’s style originates from his teacher/guru (the Late Tok Dalang Awang Lah, d. 1972-73)
whose style of shadow play dates from the very early 20th century when Awang Lah was a young dalang.
20th Century Conventions of the Kelantan Shadow Play
The wayang kulit stage is a small building built about 3 to 4 feet above the ground consisting of 3 solid walls
and a 4th open wall that is filled with a white screen (kelir) slanted slightly toward the audience who watches
the show from outside the small building. The stage building holds all the puppets, two banana tree trunks
placed parallel to and at the base of the white screen used to hold the puppets during performance, the dalang
who is seated on the floor at mid-screen, and the music ensemble of 7 instruments with 7 or 8 musicians. A
small lamp hangs between the screen and the puppeteer slightly lower than mid-screen and the puppets are
operated between the lamp and screen to cast shadows on the screen (see Figure 1). The musicians sit directly
behind the dalang so that they see all the physical movements of the puppets on the screen as well as hear all
the cues for music as given by the dalang.
220
THE 20TH CENTURY STYLE OF WAYANG KULIT KELANTAN
Figure 1. The dalang moves the puppets between the lamp and screen (kelir) during a wayang kulit Kelantan performance.
(Photo: P. Matusky)
The Stories
Dating from ancient times, the main ‘trunk’ story was a modified version of the Ramayana epic, originally a
Hindu epic from India but modified greatly in Southeast Asia by puppeteers throughout the region. As
modified in the Malay wayang kulit Kelantan theatre, it was known as the Cerita Maharaja ‘Wana (The Tale
of the King Rawana). However, the more popular stories were the branch (or ranting) tales, using many of
the puppets from the Story of the King Rawana, but with episodes centring on different characters, situations
and events not from the trunk story. A good example is a branch story that Tok Dalang Hamzah performed
often—a tale entitled ‘Kerak Nasi’ (‘A Crust of Rice’), featuring the two clown-servants named Pak Dogol
and Wak Long and their antics as they try to scrape and eat the burnt rice from the bottom of a cooking pot,
and in the process they make so much noise they wake up their King (Seri Rama) who was taking a nap.
Rama the King annoyed with them, banishes them to the forest but they eventually get back at him in various
ways and become re-instated in the palace (see further Ghulam Sarwar, 1994, pp. 304-305).
Puppet Characters and Design
Throughout the 20th century, a typical set of puppets numbered around 60 or so which would include all the
main characters for the main ‘trunk’ story (noted earlier) and also for the branch stories (Sweeney, 1972;
Ghulam Sarwar, 1994, 1997). Some of the usual characters are the Pokok Beringen (tree of life)—a highly
important puppet used to begin and end the shadow play. When it first appears and moves on the screen it is
said to awaken the wayang kulit universe, and when it is replaced on the screen at the end of a story it subdues
the universe and puts it to sleep. This puppet also serves as a sign of wind and other strong elements as they
occur in a story.
The puppets of specific characters and animals appear only in profile with one moveable arm, with
the feet usually standing on an object such as a tree branch, a dragon or other creature (see Figure 1 above).
Some common characters from the Ramayana story are Seri Rama (a king), his brother Laksamana, his wife
Siti Dewi, the King Rawana (who still carries the 10 heads as in the Rama story), Hanuman the White Monkey
king, and several ministers and warriors. Other newly created puppets have two moveable arms but still
appear in profile only.
In addition, there are two clown-servants to the king who are called Pak Dogol (the wise old one)
and Wak Long (the clever, witty one). These two clowns are local creations from many decades ago, along
with some country bumpkins, local Indian and Chinese characters, as well as ogres, animals and several
weapons (bows, arrows, clubs and so on). With the creation of new, local stories some dalang have designed
and carved figures with dress and head gear that resemble contemporary village or even modern royal
characters. Specific colour for specific puppets has remained consistent over the past decades of the 20th
century.
An important change in the costume of two major puppet characters took place around the mid-20th
century involving the headpiece and trousers for the characters Seri Rama and Laksamana, initiated by the
dalang Awang Lah who imitated the headpiece and costume from the Thai manora theatre. In the early 20th
century the puppet Seri Rama wore a headpiece of cloth wrapped around the head with a short piece of
221
PATRICIA MATUSKY
material protruding vertically at the side of the head (called tengkolok, still worn by men today in Kelantan).
The changes that Tok Dalang Awang Lah made were to use a headpiece similar to that of the Thai Menora
actor and to change the back of the usual Malay sarong to the ‘wing-like’ Menora actor’s trousers. These
changes were considered to be very attractive at the time and remain so to this day. The various character
types and characters themselves require specific kinds of movement as the puppet is held by the dalang
between the lamp and the screen (Matusky, 1980, 1993; and in Mohd. Anis & Steputtat, 2017, pp. 108-121).
Performance Structure
The performance structure of the wayang kulit Kelantan throughout the 20th century featured a formal
‘opening of the stage’ (buka panggung) which involved offerings of prepared foods and prayers said by the
puppeteer to ensure a successful performance and for other related purposes. A shadow play taking place for
the first time in a given stage required that all musical instruments be set up on the ground and a short version
of the lagu Bertabuh (piece for announcing the shadow play to the local audience) was played. Then all the
instruments and puppets were put in place on the stage for the performance.
After the formal opening of the stage, a series of musical pieces (like an ‘overture’) alerted people
in the village that a shadow play was about to begin, and also served as a warm up piece for the musicians.
Subsequent to the ‘overture’, the deputy puppeteer performed the opening prologue which is called the Tok
Dalang Muda (the young dalang’s piece) that is often performed by one of the experienced musicians in the
troupe. The prologue is a set of specific pieces each with a specific function such as to introduce characters,
to set the mood, to give news and so on (Matusky, 1980, 1993). After that follows the piece for changing the
dalang (lagu Tukar Dalang) who performs the main story for the evening. In the days before the 1980s, a
given story would take 3 or 4 nights to complete, therefore a dalang could look forward to receiving a
substantial payment from the given host of the performance. By the late 20th century, performances took only
three to four hours to tell a complete tale.
Music Ensemble & Musical Style
In this shadow play tradition, the movement of puppets usually requires specific musical pieces played by
the orchestra. All instruments in the music ensemble of the 20th century, were acoustic (Matusky, 1980,
1993). There were no electric instruments such as electric guitars, keyboards and so on. The percussiondominated Kelantan music ensemble of drums, gongs, cymbals and a serunai reed aerophone continues to
play all of the music required for the wayang kulit Kelantan.
The idiophones are the tetawak (a pair of large, hanging knobbed gongs producing two different
pitches at the musical interval of about a minor third to a fifth apart), the canang (a gong-row of two knobbed
gongs producing two different pitches), and the kesi (two pair of hand cymbals, producing two different
timbres of sound).
Three types of drums, appearing in small and large sizes, comprise the membranophone section of
this ensemble. The gedumbak is a goblet-shaped single-headed drum struck with the hands, the geduk small
barrel drum is struck with drumsticks, and the gendang hand-hit double-headed and elongated barrel drums
produce resultant rhythmic patterns played in an interlocking style by the two gendang players, or by the
small gendang and the gedumbak players.
The final instrument in this ensemble is the aerophone called serunai which features 7 finger holes
and a free-beating reed made of 4 layers of palm leaf. The serunai player uses a circular (continuous)
breathing technique to perform melodies that are improvisatory in nature and provide continuous sound until
a piece comes to an end.
A specific music repertory comprises around 30 or more different pieces used in different dramatic
situations (Hamzah Awang Mat & Matusky, 1998); the dalang draws on this repertory as needed in his and
the puppets’ enactment of a given story. Some basic musical characteristics of this repertory in the 20th
century include the use of cyclical and repeated periodic gong units (or colotomic units) that give structure
and form to a piece of music played on the large hanging tetawak gongs, the canang gong-row and the kesi
hand cymbals. The drum rhythmic patterns and the serunai melodies are played within the structure and form
of the periodic gong units (Matusky, 1980, 1993).
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THE 20TH CENTURY STYLE OF WAYANG KULIT KELANTAN
Summary
Noting the existence of this shadow theatre as a thriving tradition in the past centuries to its near demise in
more recent times during the late 20th and early 21st centuries, we can note that very few puppeteers still
perform today in Malaysia. This roundtable explores some of the major changes and developments taking
place in this shadow play and its potential for endurance, viability and vitality in a modern, 21st century
world.
Some very creative puppeteers from the late-20th and early 21st centuries (such as the Dalang Dolah
Baju Merah from Kelantan) and puppeteers today contrive completely new stories based on local
people/characters or on events in the villages or towns in which they live and about which most audiencegoers would know. One such contemporary dalang from Kelantan and his performing colleagues have
created new puppet characters to perform episodic stories from the ‘Star Wars’ adventures and have put these
into action on the shadow play screen. It is from this perspective that we examine change and viability in the
21st century Malaysian shadow play tradition.
References
Brunet, J. (1971). Wayang kulit aus Kelantan, Schattentheater aus Malaysia. Berlin: Veroeffentlichung des
Internationalen Instituts fuer vergleichende Musikstudien und Dokumentation.
Burawoy, M. (2003). Revisits: An outline of a theory of reflexive ethnography. American Sociological
Review, 68, 645-79. Retrieved from burawoy.berkeley.edu/Methodology/Revisits.ASR.pdf
Ghulam-Sarwar Yousof. (1994). Dictionary of traditional South-East Asian theatre. Kuala Lumpur: Oxford
University Press.
Ghulam-Sarwar Yousof. (1997). The Malay shadow play: An introduction. Penang, Malaysia: The Asian
Centre.
Grant, C. (2014). Music endangerment, how language maintenance can help. New York, NY: Oxford
University Press.
Hamzah Awang Mat & Matusky, P. (1998). Manual wayang kulit. Penang, Malaysia: The Asian Centre.
Matusky, P. (1980). The music of the Malay shadow play (Doctoral dissertation). University of Michigan,
Ann Arbor, Michigan, USA.
Matusky, P. (1993). The Malaysian shadow play and music: Continuity of an oral tradition. Kuala Lumpur,
Malaysia: Oxford University Press.
Matusky, P. (2017). Shadow puppets, drums and gongs: Movement-music relationships in a theatrical genre.
In Mohd. Anis Md Nor & K. Stepputat (Eds.), Sounding the dance, Moving the music:
Choreomusicological perspectives on maritime Southeast Asian performing arts. SOAS Musicology
Series. London: Ashgate and Routledge.
Sweeney, P. L. A. (1972). The Ramayana and the Malay shadow play. Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia: National
University of Malaysia Press.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
ROUNDTABLE: THE MALAY SHADOW PLAY (WAYANG KULIT) IN TRANSITION:
SUSTAINABILITY/VIABILITY OF A TRADITIONAL MALAYSIAN PERFORMING ART IN
THE 21ST CENTURY
DIFFERENT APPROACHES TO NEW SHADOW PLAY (WAYANG KULIT)
MUSIC IN MALAYSIA
Hamdan Adnan
International College of Music (ICOM), Malaysia
Introduction
The music of Wayang Kulit is music to accompany the storytelling process of the Malay shadow puppet play.
Dating from the 20th century and earlier, it has about 35 songs and instrumental pieces (called lagu), and
these consist of overture pieces, music for the appearance of specific characters, for breaking of news, music
to accompany activities and music to specify mood or special intentions.
Wayang kulit exponents have been looking for ways to sustain this dying art. There have been
modern composers and music technologists joining the fray with various interpretations of wayang kulit
music and the wayang kulit performance itself in order to attract the younger crowds. This paper will look at
two different compositional approaches for two different shadow play puppeteers (Tok Dalangs) with
different approaches to wayang kulit performance today in the early 21st century.
Performance Practice
The wayang kulit is performed on a stage with approximately ten square meters of floor space with a white
screen (or ‘kelir’) at the centre front of the stage. The stories told in traditional wayang kulit performances
(especially from the 20th century and earlier) consist of modified versions of the stories from the Hikayat
Ramayana, locally known as ”Cerita Maharaja Rawana” (‘The Tales of the King Rawana’). The more
frequently performed stories are the branch stories (cerita ranting). The storytelling process involves the
puppeteer manipulating the puppet characters to create shadows on the screen or kelir, and using his voice to
narrate, play characters and sing. He also cues the musicians when music is needed.
The music, which traditionally consists of about 35 songs, is played by a specific music ensemble.
This ensemble comprises two tetawak large-hanging bossed gongs (of two pitches) as shown in Figure 2
below, the kesi small hand cymbals, a pair of small bossed gongs (of two pitches) called canang set
horizontally in a rack, a large and small sized gendang 2-headed and hand-hit barrel drums, a pair of
gedombak goblet-shaped hand-hit drums, a pair of geduk small barrel drums hit with sticks, and the only
instrument playing the melodies is the serunai quadruple-reed aerophone. The music repertoire can be
categorized by the function of the music in the story. As noted above, these musical pieces can consist of
overtures, music for the appearance of specific characters, the breaking of news, music to accompany daily
activities and music to specify mood or special intentions.
Fusion Wayang Kulit (Peperangan Bintang)
Pak Dain is the Tok dalang (master puppeteer) for the story Peperangan Bintang, a fusion wayang kulit
performance that uses the traditional lamp at the screen to cast the puppet shadows on the screen, and also a
projector that casts other visuals on the screen to give the viewer more depth and texture to the images. The
fusion wayang kulit stories are episodes based on the ‘Star Wars’ stories with the characters from ‘Star Wars’
that are given new or slightly modified names as noted below.
Fusion Wayang Kulit is about using new stories and creating new puppet characters as well as
enhancing the visual aspect of wayang kulit performance, while at the same time keeping to its traditional
roots of performing with a kelir (screen) and using traditional instruments in the music ensemble. The
characters in today’s fusion wayang kulit are taken from the ‘Star Wars story line and given modified names
such as Sang Kala Vadeh for Darth Vader, Puteri Lea for Princess Leia, CP Long for C3PO and Ah Tu for
R2D2 (Figure 1).
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DIFFERENT APPROACHES TO NEW SHADOW PLAY (WAYANG KULIT) MUSIC IN MALAYSIA
Figure 1. Puppets of Fusion Wayang Kulit, including some characters from Peperangan Bintang (‘Stars Wars’) such as the
Sang Kala Vadeh (Darth Vader) puppet on the far left.
(Photo by the author)
The visual enhancements during a performance include using a back projector to give a textured background
to the whole scene. The puppets are stylized versions of the ‘Star Wars’ characters, as the performance of the
art of shadow play is based on the non-traditional, outside stories.
The music and instruments used are the traditional wayang kulit instruments (as noted above). The
musical pieces (instrumental and vocal song) consists of the standard wayang kulit repertoire such as the
pieces entitled Bertabuh (to ‘beat the drums’), Hulubalang (for ‘warriors’ appearing) and Perang (for’
battle’), however, for the Sang Kala Vadeh motif (used when the puppet appears on the screen) the serunai
plays a version of the melody of the ‘Imperial March (for Darth Vader)’.
To enhance the music further, original rhythmic patterns’ from the traditional pieces can be
combined with a new melody played on the serunai. The combination of different original rhythmic patterns
can result in new rhythms, while the voice and serunai provide solo or accompaniment melodies to the music.
Also, interesting to note is the use of an audio effects processor to deliver the voice of Sang Kala Vadeh and
sound effects to emulate the robotic sounds of C3PO. In the case of Fusion Wayang Kulit, then, there is new
story repertoire and new puppets, but much of the traditional wayang kulit music continues to be used with
the enhancements as noted above.
Digital Wayang Kulit
Another dalang, Pak Rahim (of Kampung Mesira, Kelantan, Malaysia), is the son of the late Pak Hamzah
Awang Mat, the legendary tok dalang. Pak Rahim is looking to break away from the traditional musical
sound, but at the same time keeping the essence of wayang kulit stories such as the branch or ranting stories
and also some new additions to his repertoire, but still keeping old characters and so on. Therefore, he is
looking for new musical forms and sounds to accompany the standard and new stories.
Performance Approach
The Digital Wayang kulit utilizes the traditional screen or kelir and also 3 screen projections instead of
projection exclusively to the single kelir. The 3 screens can visually become an extension of the kelir or
duplicate the kelir. The dalang can perform from behind the kelir using the traditional performance methods,
or he can perform in front of the kelir with prepared visuals projected on the 3 screens. The show can be
performed in an auditorium using surround sound with live musicians, or for smaller venues, just the Tok
Dalang and an audio and visual crew operating the computer on cue from the Tok Dalang.
This concept of wayang kulit performance was prototyped in 2015 at the National Academy of Arts,
Culture and Heritage (ASWARA) with the dalang and musicians placed on stage and the wayang kulit
characters projected onto a large screen at the back of the stage.
Musical Approach
For digital wayang kulit, the music comprises new music that combines traditional and western instruments.
The composition process involves the use of digital samples of the traditional instruments. The samples
include single notes of the various instruments and loops of the percussion instruments. Using a digital audio
workstation, the samples can be combined with samples of western instruments or electronically generated
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HAMDAN ADNAN
sounds. This approach gives the flexibility to create new melodies using the serunai sound. It will also allow
actual serunai melodies to be mapped to electronic sounds, resulting in new sounds for actual serunai
melodies used in wayang kulit. The sampled serunai melodies can also be reconstructed to create new
melodies. By triggering the serunai tone through a sample playback keyboard, new melodies with different
phrasings and dynamics can be created.
The song ‘Scorpion Walk’—based on the traditional piece ‘Berjalan (to walk’)’—demonstrates the
use of a clarinet in place of a serunai playing on top of the traditional wayang kulit percussion instruments
playing the Lagu Berjalan.
Another approach is using the original serunai melodies with a sampled drum kit, bass guitar and
synthesized sounds. In the digital piece ‘Ritchie’s Strut’ (conceived from the traditional piece entitled
‘Maharisi, the old sage’), sampled serunai melodies are converted to MIDI and assigned to an electronic
sound, thus giving the serunai melody a new sound. It is then combined with actual serunai melody samples.
The sampled tetawak large bossed gong (see Figure 2) is doubled with that of an electric bass sound and this
is combined with a drum kit to give the music a modern groove.
Figure 2. Sampling in process of a pair of the Tetawak large-sized bossed gongs.
(Photo by the author)
Conclusion
The digital approach to producing wayang kulit music has many advantages. New melodies can be created
from scratch using synthesized sound or original melodies can be reconstructed from recorded serunai
melodies. Elements of dynamics, phrasing and articulation can be added to the new serunai melodies. New
instruments can be added to the music, while adding drums and bass can produce ‘grooves’ that are more
accessible to younger listeners.
By sampling the percussion sound of the wayang kulit, new rhythmic patterns can be constructed
while maintaining the original sounds of the ensemble. Western and electronic percussion sounds can be
added to give a different texture. Original and new rhythmic patterns can be combined, creating new gong
unit (gongan) cycles and written with different time signatures. This would also require the dalang to modify
his puppet movements to suit the different feel and time signatures of the new music.
The new musical pieces can be performed by live musicians or triggered via computer depending on
budget. A surround sound audio can be employed to create a different audio dimension to the performance.
The narration and character voices can be delivered from different speakers to create a larger more immersive
environment for the audience.
With the aid of computer generated images and animations, the dalang is free to perform behind or
away from the kelir, extending the role of the dalang from storyteller to an actor, which would require the
dalang to practice and adapt to a scripted performance.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
ROUNDTABLE: THE MALAY SHADOW PLAY (WAYANG KULIT) IN TRANSITION:
SUSTAINABILITY/VIABILITY OF A TRADITIONAL MALAYSIAN PERFORMING ART IN
THE 21ST CENTURY
A NEW HOPE: PEPERANGAN BINTANG WAYANG KULIT
Christine May Yong
Wesleyan University, USA
Introduction
I want to begin my roundtable discussion today by firstly stating that efforts in sustainability and viability of
Wayang Kulit Kelantan is not new. As we have heard from Patricia Matusky and Hamdan Adnan’s papers,
various individuals have introduced and incorporated different performative elements into Wayang Kulit
Kelantan in their attempt to create interest within the performance form. These individuals include Wayang
scholars, activists, and most importantly, practitioners themselves. One of the most important points of
departure in creating interest in Wayang has been the introduction of Wayang stories not connected to the
Ramayana epic, which originally forms the core repertoire of the practice and performance of Wayang Kulit
Kelantan.
On this note, I must begin by firstly acknowledging the role in which master puppeteers or tok
dalangs of Wayang Kulit Kelantan have played. Even when Wayang was at the peak of its popularity in the
1960s and 1970s, Wayang puppeteers were always finding ways to attract more audiences to their
performances; among themselves, tok dalangs made very visible attempts to set themselves apart from each
other. The late Dollah Baju Merah for instance, was a puppeteer known for interjecting irreverence and
humour into performances while the late Pak Nik Mat was well known for his voicing and characterisation
of a wide variety of Wayang characters. Other puppeteers, including Eyo Hock Seng, continues to use
characters from the Southern Thai version of shadow play called nang talung to add variety and interest in
his performances.
Numerous Wayang stories outside the standard Ramayana repertoire were also used by Wayang
puppeteers, and these stories came from a variety of sources; some came from the Wayang Jawa, a form of
shadow play now extinct, the nang talung, and a host of other stories created by Wayang puppeteers
themselves. These stories all contributed to the popularity of Wayang Kulit in Kelantan especially in the
1970s and the 1980s, reaching a wide range of audiences across the state.
Wayang scholars and activists have also played their role, often in collaboration with Wayang
puppeteers. Ghulam Sarwar-Yousoff, a scholar of Kelantanese performance forms, worked collaboratively
with the late Hamzah Awang Amat to create Wayang Kulit Malaysia in 1979, which incorporated folk stories
from Malay, Indian, and Chinese origins such as Hikayat Raja Muda, Sang Kancil, Gulbakawali, and the
Monkey King onto the Wayang screen. Ghulam Sarwar also collaborated with Mak Yong practitioner Saari
Abdullah—who was also his field assistant at a time—to create Wayang Kulit Semangat Baru in 2004. This
was based on the Japanese Occupation of Malaya. Music was drawn from the Wayang Kulit Kelantan,
although Ghulam Sarwar notes that other instruments such as the violin and keyboard were used.
Unfortunately, the collaboration came to an end with the passing of Saari Abdullah (G. Sarwar-Yousoff,
personal communication, May 17, 2017).
Despite setbacks, attempts at collaborative Wayang Kulit performances have still occurred, albeit
sporadically. For instance, in September 2015, a performance between Wayang Kulit Kelantan and the
Japanese marionette Edo Ito Ayatsuri Ningyo was staged in conjunction with an arts festival in Kuala Lumpur.
The performance’s storyline was invented by both puppeteers while the music comprised a combination of
solo shamisen, music vocals, and some standards of Wayang Kulit Kelantan repertoire.
Emergence of Fusion Wayang Kulit
Against this backdrop, I will now speak about a current and ongoing collaborative project in Wayang Kulit
Kelantan known as Fusion Wayang Kulit. This project, to me, is incredibly significant because it is one of
the most visible and active attempts to bring Wayang Kulit Kelantan to the urban stage at present,
consequently shaping the visibility and viability of Wayang Kulit Kelantan. We are incredibly fortunate
because we have two of the co-founders of Fusion Wayang Kulit joining us at this roundtable today—Tintoy
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CHRISTINE MAY YONG
Chuo, who is a multimedia and character designer and Muhammad Dain Othman, a master puppeteer or tok
dalang of Wayang Kulit Kelantan, who traces his lineage back to revered Wayang puppeteers such as Tok
Awang Lah, Jusoh Hassan, Hassan Omar, and Hamzah Awang Amat.
Fusion Wayang Kulit initially began as an individual effort by Chuo, who in May 2012 was invited
to showcase his work at an exhibition featuring Malaysian designers and artists. Chuo engaged the skills of
his friend, Teh Take Huat, an art director, to be his co-creator for the upcoming project and together they
came up with prototypes of Star Wars’ Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader (see Figure 1), which were designed
based on the visual aesthetics of Wayang Kulit Kelantan.
Figure 1. Chuo and Teh’s Star Wars-inspired Wayang Kulit Kelantan puppets of Darth Vader (right)
and Luke Skywalker (left), exhibited at Designers Weekend in 2012.
(Image source: Fusion Wayang Kulit. Used with permission)
The exhibits garnered attention from members of the public, and photographs of their designs soon began
making its way around social media such as Facebook and YouTube. Soon, the images found their way to
Muhammad Dain Othman or Pak Daim as he is known by his community in Kelantan,1 who reached out to
Chuo via Facebook Messenger to inquire about their project. Pak Daim would eventually come on board as
the Wayang Kulit Kelantan expert and consultant for Fusion Wayang Kulit’s endeavours.
In his role as a key Wayang Kulit Kelantan resource, Pak Daim spends much time ensuring Fusion
Wayang Kulit’s work conforms to the aesthetics and principles that govern the Wayang Kulit Kelantan. For
instance, designing new puppets for the Wayang screen forms a major part of Fusion Wayang Kulit’s work,
but the process involved in making the puppets are stringent; first, Chuo and Teh will design a Fusion Wayang
Kulit character. The design will be sent to Pak Daim for inspection. If modifications and corrections are
needed, the three men will go back and forth until Pak Daim gives his approval. Only then will the puppets
be made, carved by Pak Daim’s group of puppet makers in Kelantan.
Fusion Wayang Kulit has since created an extensive set of Star Wars characters. Chuo will be
speaking in greater detail about his creations but I want to point to two characters—R2-D2 (called Ah-Tuh)
and the Stormtroopers (Hulubalang Empayar), which were made using a pliable synthetic plastic as opposed
to the more typical cow or goat hide. In effect, when projected onto the Wayang screen, it allows for more
vivid colours to be seen by the audience, substantially changing the visual aesthetics of Wayang Kulit
Kelantan.
At the very core of Fusion Wayang Kulit’s work is a 20-minute Star Wars-inspired Wayang Kulit
performance called Peperangan Bintang Wayang Kulit. The performance of Peperangan Bintang was based
on the first few scenes of the original Star Wars’ Episode IV: A New Hope. This was accompanied by a script
written in the standard Malay language as opposed to being memorised and performed in the local
Kelantanese Malay dialect. Music was largely taken from Wayang Kulit Kelantan repertoire although Ahmad
Azrai, a writer and musician who assisted Fusion Wayang Kulit during the planning stages of Peperangan
Bintang, also aurally taught John Williams’ Imperial March to Pak Daim’s Wayang troupe. This piece, called
Lagu Vedeh (Vader’s Song), would eventually be adapted to become a recognisable part of Peperangan
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A NEW HOPE: PEPERANGAN BINTANG WAYANG KULIT
Bintang’s musical repertoire, alongside standard Wayang Kulit Kelantan pieces such as Perang and Lagu
Hulubalang.
Once the characters, script, and musical repertoire were finalised, Chuo added technological
enhancements to Peperangan Bintang Wayang Kulit, incorporating a projector to provide animated
backgrounds and colours, a customized app for sound effects for the character of R2-D2, and a voice changer
for the character of Darth Vader. A key component of Peperangan Bintang has been the use of a modified
projector, which is hung above the above Pak Daim’s seating position during performances (see Figure 2).
This projector functions primarily to project animated background scenes used throughout the performance
of Peperangan Bintang, which includes the opening crawl closely resembling Star Wars’ Episode IV, the
Star Destroyer, Darth Vader’s (Sangkala Vedeh) spaceship travelling through the galaxy, and the brewing
storm clouds during Darth Vader’s entrances. When animated background scenes are not used, the projector
goes on standby mode and Pak Daim reverts to using his usual Wayang Kulit light bulb.
Figure 2. Setting up Peperangan Bintang Wayang Kulit. Pak Daim (second from right, seated) looks on as his Wayang light
is adjusted. The modified colour projector is hung above him on a metal frame (left).
(Photo: Author)
Yet, despite major shifts in the staging and visuality of Peperangan Bintang Wayang Kulit, it is important to
note that the core of Wayang Kulit Kelantan has largely been retained. Peperangan Bintang Wayang Kulit
performances always begin with the pivotal Buka and Tutup Panggung—the opening and closing of the stage,
where the Tree of Life (Pohon Beringin) is waved to signify the beginning and end of the performance—a
key scene that must be present in a typical Wayang Kulit Kelantan performance. The music of Wayang Kulit
Kelantan is also largely retained, as does the style of presenting the dialogue and narration, even if standard
Malay is used. Character movements including walking styles and battles are likewise drawn from the
Wayang Kulit Kelantan. Retaining these core elements has been deliberate because the core of Peperangan
Bintang is still Wayang Kulit Kelantan, albeit developed through a contemporary lens that would resonate
with a larger audience based beyond the borders of Kelantan.
Peperangan Bintang has since been staged in urban areas all over the country including Kuala
Lumpur, Penang, and Johor, to much acclaim (Cheang, 2013; Shanin, 2014; Tan, 2014). Visibility remains
an important element to Fusion Wayang Kulit; alongside performances, their puppets are often displayed to
members of the public in a variety spaces such as universities, galleries, private halls, and even malls. If
budget permits at any given time, performances are also staged alongside puppet making workshops which
are run by Pak Daim’s team of puppet makers from Kelantan, much to the delight of its younger audiences
and the young at heart.
Away from performances and exhibitions, Fusion Wayang Kulit’s work continues with the creation
of new Wayang characters from a variety of sources, including superheroes from the DC Universe, folk
stories such as the Monkey King, and just very recently, Malaysia’s new (and returning) Prime Minister Tun
Dr. Mahathir, which received a fair bit of attention in the press (Cheang, 2018). While performances have
not yet been created around these new characters, they are frequently uploaded onto social media,
subsequently showcasing and making visible Fusion Wayang Kulit’s work—and role—in the sustainability
of Wayang Kulit Kelantan.
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CHRISTINE MAY YONG
In effect, the efforts made by Fusion Wayang Kulit demonstrates the ability and creativity of
practitioners and collaborators to shape Wayang Kulit Kelantan into a performance form that is highly
innovative and accessible to a wide range of audiences. At a deeper level, such innovations reflect the
concerted and persistent efforts taken by practitioners to work through their challenges, going beyond the
dichotomy of resistance and conformity, beyond religious and cultural politics, in order to seek ways to
ensure the sustenance and viability of Wayang Kulit Kelantan.
Endnote
1
Henceforth referred in this article as Pak Daim.
References
Cheang, M. (2013, October 27). Shadows of the empire. The Star Online. Retrieved from https://www.
thestar.com.my/lifestyle/entertainment/arts/on-stage/2013/10/27/shadows-of-the-empire/
Cheang, M. (2018, July 11). Tun Dr. Mahathir…as a wayang kulit puppet! The Star Online. Retrieved from
https://www.star2.com/culture/2018/07/11/dr-m-wayang-kulit-shadow-puppet/
Shanin, S. (2014, September 22). Star Wars comes alive in ‘wayang kulit.’Astro Awani. Retrieved from
http://english.astroawani.com/entertainment-news/star-wars-comes-alive-wayang-kulit-44439
Tan, V. (2014, June 12). Star Wars meets wayang kulit. The Star Online. Retrieved from https://www.the
star.com.my/news/community/2014/06/12/star-wars-meets-wayang-kulit-traditional-shadow-pup
pet-art-reenacts-epic-scifi-series-to-the-delight/
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
ROUNDTABLE: THE MALAY SHADOW PLAY (WAYANG KULIT) IN TRANSITION:
SUSTAINABILITY/VIABILITY OF A TRADITIONAL MALAYSIAN PERFORMING ART IN
THE 21ST CENTURY
SHADOW OF CHANGE
Tintoy Chuo
Fusion Wayang Kulit, Malaysia
Introduction
In probing into the issues of sustainability and viability of the traditional Malaysian theatrical art known as
wayang kulit (shadow puppet theatre) in the 21st century, the concept and organization known as FUSION
WAYANG KULIT (FWK) was created in 2012. Fusion Wayang Kulit was founded by Tintoy Chuo & Take
Huat, who collaborated with (and still do) the puppet master (Tok Dalang) Pak Dain who is the 13th accredited
Tok Dalang (Master Puppeteer) of the Kelantan Traditional Malay Shadow Play. The major point of this
collaboration is to revive this fading theatrical art form by merging many of its traditional features with new
and contemporary elements, and thereby creating a fusion shadow play and enhancing it with various
multimedia components.
We constantly make new sets of puppets to create movement and show people that we are very
serious and versatile. We have created sets such as: Star Wars-inspired puppets, DC superheroes, Bruce Lee,
Halloween and Christmas puppets, and most recently Japanese anime robots. Our puppets have been
displayed in Australia, Singapore and Germany, followed by performances in Singapore, Germany and
Austria as well as at home in various towns in Malaysia.
The Fusion Wayang Kulit Team
Tintoy Chuo (full name, Chuo Yuan-Ping) is a multimedia design graduate from Malaysia who uncovered
his true passion in character creation. Tintoy is the founder and primary concept creator of FWK, he continues
to oversee the project's main creative direction for overall design, working diligently to promote the fusion
movement to a wider audience.
Take Huat (full name, Teh Take Huat) is the co-founder and a senior art director with the local
branch of an international advertising agency in Malaysia. Take Huat is the co-creator of FWK, who helped
Tintoy undertake the art direction of the project.
Tok Dalang Pak Dain (full name, Muhammad Dain bin Othman), a former teacher and civil servant,
is the 13th accredited Tok Dalang (“Master Puppeteer”) of the Kelantan Traditional Malay Shadow Play
(“Wayang Kulit Kelantan”, or “WKMTK”) art school. With more than 30 years of experience in the field of
wayang kulit, Pak Dain is the traditional art authority and Tok Dalang for FWK.
The Project
The impetus and beginning of this concept of FWK happened back in June 2012, when I was invited to a
Designers’ Weekend Exhibition, at the Publika Shopping Mall in Kuala Lumpur Malaysia. It was here where
I decided to create something based on Malaysian culture and I chose wayang kulit (shadow puppet play)
because it was easy for me to relate to it and to the puppet characters. I am a character/mascot designer, and
each wayang kulit puppet is an individual character.
To proceed with my ideas in developing something new in the wayang kulit art form, I decided to
use the motto ‘THINK DIFFERENT’ that led to the idea of combining the Malaysian wayang kulit with
something related to science fiction, which tends to attract both young and old audiences. In the realm of SciFi I chose the stories and characters from ‘Star Wars; to which I am strongly attracted. Therefore, we created
our very first project called, in the Malay language, Peperangan Bintang which is the ‘Star Wars’-inspired
wayang kulit. I asked my good friend Take Huat to do this together with me as he is a very skilful art director.
The exhibition was very successful and eventually resulted in the project Fusion Wayang Kulit.
In October 2012 through social media channels, I was introduced to a very famous Tok Dalang
(master puppeteer) from Kelantan, Pak Dain Othman, who is the 13th accredited Tok Dalang (“Master
Puppeteer”) of the Kelantan Traditional Malay Shadow Play. After initial conversations, we were both
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TINTOY CHUO
excited about the possibilities of such a project and we are now working together as a team called FUSION
WAYANG KULIT (FWK). We have much respect and admiration for the Tok Dalang and we hope to
continue on this journey together to bring wayang kulit back into the mainstream of Malaysian theatrical arts.
We believe that, after all, such a wonderful traditional art form should be preserved and developed for
generations to come.
In October 2013, we performed our very first fusion-type wayang kulit performance based on
Peperangan Bintang (as noted above). We had applied for and gotten permission from Lucasfilms USA (the
creator of the ‘Star Wars’ stories on film) to do this project (NOTE: it is permission, not license). For the first
performances of Peperangan Bintang in 2013 we achieved major local and international media coverages,
such as The Wall Street Journal, NZZ Folio Switzerland, Asashi Shimbun Japan, History Channel, Al-Jazeera
America, Asia Calling Channel, and The British Broadcasting Channel (BBC2) and other media.
The Process and Results
In the process of creating and making the new puppets for the Peperangan Bintang shadow play, I did most
of the concept drawing which was first taken to the Tok Dalang Pak Dain for his input. Once Pak
Dain approved the drawing, then I drew it again in detail and passed it back to Pak Dain at his wayang kulit
studio in Kg. Morak, Kelantan. It was there that his master craftsmen would then constructed it into an actual
puppet using the traditional animal hide or a synthetic material. These puppets, then, would be used in the
performances of the Peperangan Bintang stories, and many of these puppets are on display today at Pak
Dain’s studio in Kelantan (Figure 1).
A notable comic character created for the Peperangan Bintang stories (and based on the character
3-CP0 of ‘Star Wars’) can be seen in the Figure 1 below, while more Peperangan Bintang puppet characters
may be seen in the figures in the articles by Hamdan Adnan and Christine Yong presented in this roundtable.
Figure 1. Si-P Long comic puppet character from Peperangan Bintang stories.
(Photo: Tintoy Chuo)
In addition, we at Fusion Wayang Kulit are not limited to only the ‘Star Wars’ characters as can be seen in
the variety of puppets in Figure 2.
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SHADOW OF CHANGE
Figure 2. Puppet characters based on DC comics, from left to right: Green Lantern, Wonder Woman, Superman,
Batman, and The Flash.
(Photo: Tintoy Chuo)
As my narrative above has told about the journey of how we came together and how we emerged with this
particular fusion concept, the design process and the challenges we face continue today as we are creating
even more new characters for new stories in the context of the Malaysian theatrical that has become known
as Fusion Wayang Kulit.
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
ROUNDTABLE: THE MALAY SHADOW PLAY (WAYANG KULIT) IN TRANSITION:
SUSTAINABILITY/VIABILITY OF A TRADITIONAL MALAYSIAN PERFORMING ART IN
THE 21ST CENTURY
PEPERANGAN BINTANG (‘STAR WARS’ INSPIRED WAYANG KULIT)
Notes on the Performance
Tok Dalang Pak Dain (Muhammad Dain bin Othman)
Galeri Wayang Kulit, Malaysia
As a performance demonstration in this Roundtable, Pak Dain and his assistant will be performing a short
preview of PEPERANGAN BINTANG, the ‘Star Wars’-inspired shadow puppet theatre (wayang kulit), which
is a 25-minute fusion type wayang kulit performance based on Act 1 of the ‘Star Wars’ Episode 4 movie
entitled ‘A NEW HOPE’.
In this episode one of the main characters, PUTERI LEIA (see Figure 1) is holding a very critical
plan which could save the universe, and she is trying to escape from her capture by the evil SANGKALA
VEDEH. (See Figure 2).
Figure 1. Puteri Leia in Peperangan Bintang.
(Photo: Tintoy Chuo)
Figure 2. Tok Dalang Pak Dain performs a scene from Peperangan Bintang, with Sangkala Vedah and Hulubalang Empayer
(‘Warriors of the Empire’) on screen, with computer projections to enhance the sky above the characters.
(Photo: Tintoy Chuo)
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PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
POPULARIZING THE INDIGENOUS AS AN ALTERNATIVE MODERNITY:
THE DEVELOPMENT OF DERO IN CENTRAL SULAWESI, INDONESIA
Mayco A. Santaella
Sunway University, Malaysia
This paper investigates the dero genre as a popularized indigenous form (Sutton, 2002) that is both product
and producer of an alternative modernity (Gaonkar, 2001) in Central Sulawesi. The music-dance genre
popularly known as dero is representative of the Pamona ethnic group specifically, the district of Poso, and
Central Sulawesi province at large located in the region of eastern Indonesia. The marginality of the Pamona
people within the province, Central Sulawesi and eastern Indonesia within the country makes the popularity
of dero a thought-provoking case study of an indigenous form popularized and consumed initially within and
presently beyond Central Sulawesi. The genre, in its traditional form, involves sung verses accompanied by
a drum and gong rhythmic ostinato surrounded by a circle of participants executing a recurring circular
movement pattern. The new dero genre was developed and popularized during the 1990’s through the
inclusion of the dero rhythm in the karambangan local music genre, and the production of new songs
influenced by the dangdut national genre and electronic beat songs disseminated through the new VCD and
CD platforms at the time. This new genre, now consumed in other neighbouring provinces, became
representative of a Central Sulawesi soundscape. Although dero is commonly sung and performed with
electronic keyboards or simply with MP3 players using large speakers at high-decibel levels, dero continues
its traditional function as a platform for social cohesion and local solidarity despite the influence of national
and commercial music genres. This investigation will look at the development of dero from a ceremonial
tradition to a popular performance genre, and its contributions as a regional popular performance genre to
the conceptualization of popularized indigenous forms as alternative modernities within Indonesia.
Alternative Modernities and the Popularization of the Indigenous
The popularization of the indigenous as an alternative modernity for dero in Central Sulawesi considers two
theoretical discourses. At the macro level is Gaonkar’s (2001) recognition of alternative modernities and the
distinction between social and cultural modernity. Social transformations make reference to economic
developments of the state that take place in increasingly larger urban centres. Looking at alternative
modernities “from a specific national/cultural site” (Gaonkar, 2001, p. 15), social transformations in Central
Sulawesi (particularly within urban centres) mirror the national modernization phenomena, although to a
significantly lesser extent than Indonesia’s capital of Jakarta. Parallel to this, Gaonkar recognizes the
presence of cultural modernities, the realm where dero in Central Sulawesi is negotiated as a form (both in
urban and rural areas) that maintains intrinsic customary elements and signifiers while adapting to new
musical and cultural influences of the nation. Gaonkar articulates, “Just as societal modernization…produces
difference through creative adaptation or unintended consequences, so also cultural modernity…produces
similarities on its own borders. This double relationship between convergence and divergence, with their
counterintuitive dialectic between similarity and difference, makes the site of alternative modernities also the
site of double negotiations” (Gaonkar, 2001, p. 23).
The site of dero as an alternative modernity is both producer and product of the popularization of
the indigenous phenomena in Indonesia. In his essay “Popularizing the Indigenous or Indigenizing the
Popular? Television, Video and Fusion Music in Indonesia,” Sutton (2002) discusses the development and
mass dissemination of new genres and ensembles. He presents a number of case studies referred as “ethnopop fusion” for music that combines elements of one or more indigenous “traditional” music with elements
of western-style pop music. The analysis focuses on genres that combine local cultural elements through the
use of traditional instruments and/or genres with what is labelled as “western-influenced pop” disseminated
through television and VCDs during the 1990’s and 2000’s. The development of dero was part of the national
popularization of the indigenous phenomena through the production of new songs and albums disseminated
largely through VCDs at the end of the 20th century, and eventually MP3’s at the beginning of the 21st century.
Unique to dero compared to campursari and other Javanese “pop-fusion” genres discussed by Sutton, is its
development as a popularized indigenous form both as an alternative modernity (musical genre) and within
an alternative modernity (its production site) in the marginal region of Poso within the marginal Central
Sulawesi province.
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MAYCO A. SANTAELLA
The Ende Tradition among the Pamona in Central Sulawesi
The Pamona ethnic group resides mostly in the district of Poso with some communities in neighbouring
districts within Central Sulawesi. The ethnic group is linked historically to the kingdom of East Luwu and
live alongside other ethnicities in Poso such as the Mori, Lore, Bada, and Napu, among others. The Pamona
are mostly Christian practitioners, given the late 19th settlements of Dutch missionaries commenced by Albert
Kruyt, who established a residence in Poso. Along with Nicolaus Adriani, Albert Kruyt produced the earliest
ethnological and sociological publications specifically on Poso communities and Central Sulawesi at large.
Some of the first photographs and documentation of ende among the Pamona were taken by German
ethnologist Albert Grubauer during his journeys in Central and South Sulawesi in the 1910’s and 1920’s.
Ende (in its ceremonial setting) is a structured communal round movement and sonic system carried out
during ceremonies and festivities executed in a circular motion, at times while holding the hand or elbow of
the person to the side of each participant, accompanied by a gong and one or two double-headed drums. From
Grubauer’s documentation, and compared to the execution of the traditional ende form at the village level,
the form has remained relatively unmodified.
The ende tradition is not exclusive to the Pamona. Structured communal round movement and sonic
systems is a phenomena present in the geographical region of Central Sulawesi. In this sense, ende is related
in form, practice and context to the rano among the Kaili (Central Sulawesi), raego in Kulawi (Central
Sulawesi) and other traditions in Toraja (South Sulawesi), such as the ma’badong during a rambu solo (death
ceremony) and the ma’nimbong during a rambu tuka (thanksgiving ceremony). The communal singing differs
in each place, such as the different types of polyphony (homophony and drone polyphony) found among the
Toraja communities in South Sulawesi and the counterpoint polyphony among the Uma speakers in Kulawi,
Central Sulawesi (Yampolski, 1999). Similarly, the movement execution differs among the different
communities, from gentle right and left foot alternations to stamping motions among the Toraja, to patterned
footwork among the Kaili. Three examples of movement patterns of ende among the Pamona include the
ende ntonggola (two steps to the right and one to the left, slightly backwards), the ende ntoroli (two steps to
the right and one to the left) and the ende ada (similar to ende ntoroli but without the hand-holding).
Figure 1. Ende accompanied by a gong and a drum.
Figure 2. Basic recurring dero rhythm.
From a Pamona to a Central Sulawesi Identity Signifier
The popularization of the new dero genre in Poso based on the ende tradition was largely carried out in three
forms. The main popularization came from new regional pop-influenced songs using the characteristic dero
rhythm. These songs are mostly accompanied by electronic keyboards and often include harmonized
melodies, influenced by church choirs in the region. The new pop-influenced songs maintain, explicitly or
implicitly, the conventional dero rhythmic pattern commonly performed between 140 and 150 BPM to
accompany dero movements. The second popularization of dero took place through new dance
choreographies in the new genre of kreasi baru or new creation. The movements largely maintain cyclical
features and wrist patterns that mark the beat in the traditional dero form. The choreographies use new
regional pop versions of dero or newly composed repertoire that maintain the traditional gong and drum
accompaniment also commonly performed between 140 and 150 BPM. The popularization of dero also took
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POPULARIZING THE INDIGENOUS AS AN ALTERNATIVE MODERNITY:
THE DEVELOPMENT OF DERO IN CENTRAL SULAWESI, INDONESIA
place through other local popular(-ized) genres such as karambangan (guitar plucking accompanied by the
execution of extemporaneous verses). At times, the dero rhythm is included (largely implicitly) following
the conventional tempo of karambangan between 90 and 100 BPM.
The popularization of dero does not only serve as an ethnic identity signifier through the three forms
mentioned above. The popularization of the genre using electronic beat songs and their dissemination through
VCD’s and MP3’s resulted in larger consumption—initially in neighbouring districts, and eventually
throughout the province and beyond. The performance of dero during closing ceremonies in numerous
governmental events and provincial festivals further support its dissemination. The form serves as a new
platform among neighbouring ethnic groups for the gathering of young community members as a secular
activity outside its ceremonial context. Consequently, dero has outgrown its Pamona-specific identity to
signify the cultural landscape of the political boundaries of the Central Sulawesi province. This phenomenon
has resulted in the use of dero in new music compositions and dance choreographies both among the Pamona
and other ethnic groups to represent Central Sulawesi in national festivals and competitions. Thus, dero has
become a regional signifier of the province, and at times of Sulawesi, when performed outside the island.
Concluding Remarks
Despite being an Indonesian (and Southeast Asian) phenomenon, the popularization of the indigenous is
specific to the cultural site of production; their alternative modernity. Similar to the development of “Dua
Warna” (two colors) music, dero music avoids the recycling of traditions (Sutton, 2002) and attempts to be
“Indonesian” in a new and fresh way. However, opposite nationalization signifiers might be taking place
within Central Sulawesi. In national genres (i.e. largely produced in Java), the “Indonesianization” of “Dua
Warna” or “Ethnic Pop” music takes place with the incorporation of ethnic sounds (using traditional
instruments) into largely dominated western-style pop music foundations. Within these marginal regions (i.e.
marginal sites of alternative modernities) the opposite might take place. The development of “Ethnic Pop”,
even regional pop music (pop daerah) in marginal regions, adapt leading trends in the music industry that
mainly take place in Java and are consumed in other regions (such as dangdut). Thus, the dominating
“western-style pop basis” standard of “Ethnic Pop” acts, to a degree, as the actual “Indonesianization” of
regional popular performance genres (such as dero) that indigenize/regionalize the form through the
incorporation of local, or traditional, melodic and rhythmic features. While the popularization of the
indigenous serves as a useful process-oriented discourse to discern national and regional developments of
music industries, a look at regional and marginal sites reveal distinct experiences of alternative modernities
that both adapt and negotiate national genres. In this sense, dero continues to serve as a local experience to
the Pamona, a source for new compositions and choreographies for the Pamona and other ethnic groups, and
a popular performance genre within Central Sulawesi that negotiates national popularization strategies while
serving and producing a regional experience and an alternative modernity in situ.
References
Gaonkar, D. P. (2001). Alternative modernities. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.
Sutton, R. A. (2002) Popularizing the indigenous or indigenizing the popular? Television, video and fusion
music in Indonesia. Wacana Seni/Arts Discourse, 1, 13-31.
Sulawesi: Festivals, Funerals, and Work. (1999). Music of Indonesia 18. Philip Yampolsky. Smithsonian
Folkways Recordings.
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MULTI-HYBRIDITY IN INDONESIAN KERONCONG MUSIC
IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY
(Lightning Paper)
Mei Artanto
University of Jember, Indonesia
Introduction
Talking about keroncong music in the Indonesian music constellation today seems unable to escape the view
that this music is folk music. Besides history has noted the emergence of this music that comes from the
people, or in Andjar Any is called a product genius which in development is influenced by Portuguese, Dutch,
and Japanese (Widjajadi, 2007, pp. 14, 23), in fact not from the aristocracy (colonial) or in the palace area.
It was also conveyed by Suka Hardjana that meeting Indonesian people with music from Western culture,
such as Portugal in the 16th century did not come from the parent art of European music (like classical music)
but only the outer skin that functioned only as entertainment and solace (Hardjana, 1995, p. 6). We can see
this musical function which is only for entertainment since the 1920s, when colonialism was still happening,
where to eliminate and entertain themselves from fear, anxiety, and saturation they made music groups, one
of which was keroncong music when it was played all night in the village streets (2007, p. 21).
Besides that, in the same era, keroncong music performances can also be found in public events such
as the famous market events, such as in Semarang, Solo, and Yogyakarta (2007, p. 19). And even now we
can still find such performances, especially if we visit Solo, Central Java. According to Andi Prihtyas Toko,
a keroncong musician, we can meet keroncong music performances every day both on stage and at home
(personal communication, March 4, 2018). Whereas in Yogyakarta alone, we can now find this music
displayed as entertainment in hotels and in places to eat (Wicaksono, June 3, 2018). In addition, keroncong
music also penetrates into music programs on local and national television, such as in JTV Surabaya with
Keroncong Larasati, on national TVRI with Gebyar Keroncong, and on TVRI Yogyakarta with Keroncong
Pilihanku, and on RTV with Keroncong Masa Kini.
Besides being massive in the area of musical practice, keroncong music also received attention from
academics who were interested in studying keroncong from the scientific side, such as Victor Ganap, Philip
B. Yampolsky, R. Agoes Sri Widjajadi, and many more, even a practitioner like Budiman BJ co-authored a
book about keroncong music. The presence of writings on keroncong music from academics and practitioners
as above, for writers to be an important effort to understand the keroncong music journey to this day whose
presence is so diverse. From the 1600s until the 1950s, there have been forms known as original keroncong,
stambul, langgam, Javanese langgam, and extra songs (Yampolsky, 2010, pp. 11, 12, 16-23; Budiman, 1979,
p. 101). Furthermore, from the 1950s to the 2000s emerged keroncong beat, keroncong garapan, keroncong
style, and modern keroncong (Suharto, 1996, pp. 44-45; 2007, pp. 23-24; Widyanta, 2016, pp. 44). And until
today, the types of keroncong music mentioned above are still widely enjoyed by the people. Given that,
what about keroncong music now? With the development of the music genre occurring so rapidly, is there
something new in keroncong music now? Or does it still show the existing keroncong music.
Is there Anything Different from Keroncong Music Today?
This question makes the writer feel the need to trace the development of keroncong music, because then we
become aware of the extent to which keroncong music develops. According to the findings in the field, now
keroncong music is walking in a new direction. New, here refers to the emergence of forms of music,
instrumentation, rhythm/nuance, and creative processes that are different from before. We can see these
through the following three examples: Singgih Sanjaya’s Clarinet Concerto for Keroncong Music and
Orchestra, 1st and 2nd Movement; Djaduk Ferianto with Orkes Sinten Remen; and Ubiet dan Dian HP with
Keroncong Tenggara. In my observation of these three pieces, I found them to combine various idioms and
musical mediums such as Western classical music, jazz, rock, blues, and country into keroncong music.
Singgih Sanjaya’s Clarinet Concerto (2009)
Clarinet Concerto was premiered in the Unforgettable Keroncong event on 29 July 2009, at the Taman
Budaya Yogyakarta concert hall. In 2012, this work was played again in the Solo Keroncong Festival (SKF),
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MULTI-HYBRIDITY IN INDONESIAN KERONCONG MUSIC IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY
14 September 2012, in Solo, Central Java, but with different instrument soloist, namely oboe and English
horn.1 Even this work could be spelled the first work for keroncong music. Singgih confirmed that, until the
completion of this work, he could not find any instrumental work for keroncong music, because instrumental
keroncong music repertoire were only forms adapted as instrumentals from vocal works (Mucharom, 2013,
p. 30). For Clarinet Concerto,2 it combines Western classical music and keroncong music. This mixing lies
in (1) a musical form that uses a concerto musical form in Western classical music in which there is a cadenza
which features a typical musical voorspel melodies of keroncong music, and (2) incorporates Western
classical music instruments and keroncong music in one piece and its play techniques.
Ubiet and Dian HP with Keroncong Tenggara
According to Ubiet, regarding Keroncong Tenggara: it is through a combination of various genres, such as
classical, jazz, pop, and tango, that this group brings the extraordinary to keroncong music to strengthen the
keroncong spirit and enriching the listener’s appreciation.3 And one his songs, Aksi Kucing, by Oey Yok
Siang in the 1950s,4 is extraordinary for me in a couple of aspects: (1) the arrangements that combine
elements and nuances of jazz music through its unisono rhythm play in the accordion, cello, saxophone, and
harmonic alternation between jazz and keroncong styles; and (2) an instrumentation that uses different
playing techniques, such as heard in the cello part. Generally, the cello in keroncong music has three strings
and is played pizzicato. Keroncong Tenggara calls for the cello to be played using Western classical music
techniques such as arco and pizzicato.
Djaduk with Orkes Sinten Remen
Beginning in 1997, previously known as the Orkes Keroncong Taman Budaya (OKTB), the group offers a
fresher approach to keroncong music. In Djaduk words, it was ‘made more fun,’ meaning they are not
restricted to only playing conventional keroncong music (Agnesia & Bejo, 2016, pp. 3, 8). For Djaduk, an
important effort today is to make keroncong fresher or more extraordinary, because the music will then return
to being close to the public’s heart, especially among youngsters, and not merely be seen as a klangenan
music (music for nostalgia or solace) meant for older people (Agnesia, 2016, p. 3). This kind of spirit that
continues to be pursued by the Orkes Sinten Remen in presenting keroncong music today. For Djaduk, by
promoting the concept of a twenty-first century “crazy” or “spoiled” keroncong music, the Orkes Sinten
Remen,5 incorporates various musical idioms, such as jazz, blues, rock, country, samba and dangdut into
their creative space (2016, p. 8).
By combining a mix of idioms and musical mediums from various cultures, or referred to henceforth
as “multi-hybridity”, they succeeded in giving a new enjoyable aesthetic experience to twenty-first century
keroncong music. Multi-hybridity in this context refers fundamentally to the concept of hybridity as set out
by Homi K. Bhabha. For Bhabha, hybridity is a new space that results from the meeting of two cultures
(within the context of colonialism), where the boundaries between meeting cultures can melt together and
produce new forms (Bhabha, 1994, p. 7; Mufidah, 2014, p. 24).
And multi-hybridity in this context suggests that today’s keroncong music, such as heard in Clarinet
Concerto, Keroncong Tenggara, and Orkes Sinten Remen, is the result of mixing music from different genres
and making keroncong music more complex. Before the mixing of idioms and mediums of music in the ‘new’
keroncong music, conventional keroncong music was also the result of a mixture of two different musics:
Portuguese and Indonesian. Even for Yampolsky, what was brought by the Portuguese and mardjikers like
the cavaquinho, adufe, singing, melodic music, and the harmonic foundations—all important elements in
keroncong music—may have resulted from mixtures with other cultures such as those from Africa and India
(2010, p. 17).
Through the existence of multi-hybridity (e.g., in the musical form, the use of instruments,
combinations of style and nuance, etc.), contemporary keroncong music gives listeners a different experience
from conventional keroncong music. And this different listening experience, for Herbert Marcuse obtained
from emancipation sound efforts, or he called by the emancipatory power of art. This emancipatory power
of art—in this case, music—refers to the process of combining various idioms and musical mediums as a
way for the musicians, composers, arrangers to present their views of today's reality, where the rapid
development of technology and knowledge facilitates intercultural interactions, especially music that today
does not exist again restricting bulkheads to interact with each other (Suryajaya, 2016, p. 639). In addition,
multi-hybridity also offers a new experience in keroncong music. For Clement Greenberg, a new experience
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MEI ARTANTO
in keroncong music today can be obtained when musicians, composers, and arrangers explore the ‘sensory
basis’ of music, seeking the form of artistic expression in music through the exploration of ‘uniqueness of
the rides’—idiom and medium—from keroncong and others music (2016, p. 641). And this kind of effort has
been done by Singgih with Clarinet Concerto, Ubiet and Dian HP with Keroncong Tenggara, and Djaduk
Ferianto with Orkes Sinten Remen.
Conclusion
Keroncong music’s encounters with various other musical genres in times like this cannot be inevitable
anymore. The rapid development of technology, knowledge of music (theory and practice), and the need for
diverse musical experiences make keroncong music necessary for self-actualization. Actualization efforts of
this kind have actually been done by previous musicians, such as Tanci Paleo (songs extra), Brigadier General
Pringadi (keroncong beat) and Budiman BJ (keroncong garapan) adapted to the context of that time. As a
result, the community can not only enjoy the original keroncong, stambul, style, and Javanese style but can
enjoy extra songs, keroncong beat, keroncong garapan, keroncong style, and modern keroncong, which in
different aspects of music. The spirit of actualizing keroncong music is continued by Singgih Sanjaya, Djaduk
Ferianto with Orkes Sinten Remen, Ubiet and Dian HP with Keroncong Tenggara. In their hands, keroncong
music can be transformed into ‘new’ music. Based on this explanation, this novelty lies in the presence of
multi-hybridity in keroncong music, in which the musical form, the use of instruments, the combinations of
rhythm/nuance, and the creative process is quite different from conventional keroncong music. Multihybridity as the tendency of musical concepts in keroncong music in the early 21st century is presumably an
effort that needs to be explored again. Because then, in an era like today, keroncong music is not just
klangenan ‘nostalgic’ music, but can show a new direction and provide new experiences for the community.
Endnotes
1
www.timlo.net
2 https://dennysakrie63.wordpress.com
3
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZYZRXO-7VVc
4 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YkdgmIGJizg
5
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TaILgKAqtC0
References
Achmad K. (2012, September 15). Solo keroncong festival: Orkes keroncong tak mesti tampilkan penyanyi.
Retrieved from https://www.timlo.net/baca/38219/orkeskeroncong-tak-mestitampilkan-penyanyi
Agnesia, R., Selvi, M., Rinakit, & Bejo, A. H. (2016). Indonesia Kita edisi keduapuluh. Jakarta.
Bhabha, H. K. (1994). The location of culture. London: Routledge.
Budiman, B. J. (1979). Mengenal keroncong dari dekat. Jakarta.
Denny S. (2010). Keroncong tenggara mendulang musik hibrida. Retrieved from https://dennysakrie
63.wordpress.com
Hardjana, S. (1995). Catatan musik Indonesia fragmentasi seni modern yang terasing. Jurnal Kalam, 5.
Korniawan, A. (2016). Sinten remen “Ayun-Ayun” djaduk Ferianto. Retrieved from https://www.
youtube.com/watch?v=TaILgKAqtC0
Mucharom, H. A. (2013). Skripsi: Analisis clarinet concerto with keroncong and orchestra accompaniment.
Yogyakarta: Jurusan Pendidikan Musik, Fakultas Bahasa dan Seni, Universitas Negeri Yogyakarta.
Mufidah, F. (2014). Konstruksi identitas di dalam novel Desirable Daughters karya Bharati Mukherje:
Tinjauan pascakolonial (Thesis). Yogyakarta: Program Pascasarjana Ilmu Budaya.
Official NET News. (2015). Performance Ubiet dan keroncong “Aksi Kucing”-IMS. Retrieved from https://
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YkdgmIGJizg
Singgih Sanjaya. (2008). Singgih Sanjaya clarinet concerto 1st LKO 2008. Retrieved from https://www.
youtube.com/watch?v=ZYZRXO-7VVc
Soeharto, A. S. & Sunurpraptomo, S. (1996). Serba-serbi keroncong. Jakarta: Penerbit Musika.
Suryajaya, M. (2016). Sejarah estetika. Yogyakarta: Indie Book Corner.
Widjajadi, R. & Agoes, S. (2007). Mendayung di antara tradisi dan modernitas: Sebuah penjelajahan
ekspresi budaya terhadap musik keroncong. Yogyakarta: Hanggar Kreator.
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MULTI-HYBRIDITY IN INDONESIAN KERONCONG MUSIC IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY
Widyanta & Nugrahanstya, C. (2016). Gaya musikal lagu keroncong garapan orkes keroncong tresnawara
Yogyakarta (Thesis). Yogyakarta: Program Studi Pengkajian Seni Pertunjukan dan Seni Rupa,
Sekolah Pascasarjana, Universitas Gadjah Mada.
Yampolsky, P. B. (2010). Kroncong revisited: New evidence from old sources. Archipel, 79.
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ROUNDTABLE: SUSTAINABLE TOURISM POTENTIAL FOR THE WEST JAVANESE
PERFORMANCE PRACTICES
PUTTING AN OLD SILAT CULTURE OF BANTEN AND ITS MUSIC
BACK INTO THE PUBLIC
Uwe U. Paetzold
Robert Schumann University of Music, Germany
From the mid-sixteenth century to the early-nineteenth century, the Sultanate of Banten had been of major
importance for the trade in the Malacca Straits and beyond. During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries,
the rulers of Banten developed and adapted translocal and international trade strategies to match their
seafaring competitors: the Portuguese, Danish, Dutch, and British. The Sultanate of Banten had started to
gain a foothold in an early global economy.
The Dutch VOC trade company, and its successor, the Dutch colonial government, took particular
measures to confine the trade activities of their opponents. After having deprived Banten of its sovereignty
in 1682, their final blow came on 21 November 1808, when Dutch General Daendels annihilated the
Sultanate’s court at Surosowan. It seemed for a long time that Banten would never fully recover from this
devastation. Decapitated politically and economically, Banten transformed from a prosperous kingdom, into
a region where somewhat obscure forces dwelled under the surface of everyday life. Banten turned towards
metaphysics—the last realm of strength that the Dutch could not deprive them of—and became one of the
first addresses in matters of religion, spirituality and magic in Java and beyond. And Banten became a region
that experienced numerous internal political upheavals, and hardships arising from natural disasters (i.e. the
Krakatau volcano eruption of 1883).
It was small wonder the performing arts of that region to a certain degree reflected an aesthetically
less ‘bright’ or less ‘open’ performance appearance for a long time. What particularly became prominent
amongst the arts in “good-Mohammedan Banten” (Kunst, 1973, p. 379) was the heavily Islam-tinged debus—
a demonstration of faith and an act of spititual belief I am reluctant to label with “performance art”, an
intentional physical behaviour in front of others to show abilities of spiritual strength, i.e. invulnerability—
intertwined with silat (fighting arts) on several levels. In some cases, we find contextual relations between
silat masters (pendekar) and the spiritual leaders of debus (syekh). These relations are seen particularly
among the local strongmen of this region, the so-called jawara. Members of these groups sometimes played
an ambivalent societal role during the transitional phase between the Orde Baru to the Era Reformasi periods.
And, with their ambivalent societal role, we are back to what I describe above as an “esthetically less ‘bright’
performance appearance.”
My characterisation of an “esthetically less ‘bright’ performance appearance” hence does not apply
to the Silat Terumbu, nor Silat Bandrong: two old local fighting styles of (pencak) silat,1 accompanied by the
gendang patingtung music ensemble. These arts are served with an unmistakable attitude of local pride and
self-confidence.
Brief History of the Performance Settings Described
The Terumbu and Bandrong styles2 of silat are jointly performed with the music of the gendang patingtung.
According to local history, the Terumbu style is held to be the older pattern of combined movement and
music performance. Because of this reason, the music ensemble is referred to as Gendang Terumbu
sometimes as well. The conjunction of Silat Terumbu and Gendang Patingtung is reported to have existed
since the reign of Sultan Maulana Hasanudin in the sixteenth century. During this founding era of Islam in
Banten, the Terumbu style is said to have been used by the sultanate’s military forces during land-based
operations, including against the then still-existing Pajajaran kingdom until its demise around 1579 CE, and
later against the Dutch and the Javanese kingdom of Mataram (II).
The Terumbu style is said to have been founded by Kiai3 Terumbu from Terumbu village in what is
today the Kasemen/Banten Lama subdistrict. As an important early patron of the style, Sultan Abdul
Mafakhir Aliyuddin (1777-1802 AD) is named. Van Bruinessen (1995, p. 185) notes a close relationship
between this Sultan Aliyuddin and the tarekat Rifaiyah.
The Bandrong style is said to have been used by the Sultanates’ military forces within sea-based
operations against the Portuguese and Dutch. This style’s founder is said to have been Kiai Santri,4 a sea
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PUTTING AN OLD SILAT CULTURE OF BANTEN AND ITS MUSIC BACK INTO THE PUBLIC
commander during the reign of Sultan Maulana Hasanudin. Kiai Santri is said to have lived in what is today
the Bojonegara subdistrict, west of Banten.
The Music Element of the Performance: Gendang Patingtung
The gendang patingtung ensemble is composed of the following instruments: a multiple reed instrument
tarompet, three small drums gendang kecil, a medium-sized gendang sedang, a small goong
panyeluk/pemanggil, a medium-sized goong tengah, a goong bende/besar, a horizontally suspended goong
panggang, and a kecrek rattle. Furthermore, within this ensemble’s sonic texture, a lively use of soloistic,
and choral alok(an) and senggak rhythmic vocal interjections can be heard.
The tarompet traditionally used in this setting deserves our attention, as the instrument is not
identical with the tarompet found elsewhere in West Java, such as in the kendang penca(k) ensemble. The
tarompet used in the gendang patingtung features a cone5 made of brass6—rather than a one-piece wooden
instrument7 as is common in West Java.8
Previous Literature on the Performance Arts Described
Literature on the performance arts described here is rare.9 However, Meijer (1890, p. 247) cites a variation
of the term patingtung:10
Padengdang: A dance performed by men. Also the orchestra used to accompany it. As far I could
gather information, it is exclusively used in the “Wester-Regentschap.”
Shortly after, Jacobs & Meijer (1891, p. 99) cite the term “padendang” once more and lay open the source
they used: the lalakon Koedawangi, an epos from the Pajajaran era, orally handed down by the Baduy people
of the Lebak district:11
That in the old kingdom feasts were celebrated, whereby dances were performed, in which all the
kinds of music instruments were used, three things the Baduy consider as ‘taboo’, is shown to us
from the pantun: “without a stop, the goöng padengdang sounded,” as it is reported in the lalakon
“Kudawangi.” The padengdang is a dance executed by men.
There can be little doubt that in the named lalakon from the era of the “old kingdom” we find mention of the
(gendang) patingtung music ensemble. Nowadays it is no longer solely connected with a men’s dance of the
same name, but instead with two traditional local styles of silat, and as we will see later, with the Tari
Bandrong Ing Cilegon, a contemporary offshoot from these movement arts that can be observed in the region
of Cilegon. The phenomena reported in a lalakon12 can be assumed to have been accumulated and transmitted
orally as ‘encapsulated knowledge,’ considerably earlier than the period this epic has come from into our
times. Drawing from these considerations, I hypothise that with the “padengdang,” (gendang) patingtung,
and the men’s dance respectively silat movement art(s) connected herewith, we find the earliest sources on
silat and related music phenomena from at least the era of the Hindu-Sundanese kingdom of Pajajaran. In
other words, in the present conjunction of (gendang) patingtung with the Terumbu and Bandrong silat styles
from the Banten region, we find the heirs of the oldest performance combination of penca/silat and music in
all of Java. This hypothesis stands in contrast with the common belief that Penca Cimande and Gendang
Penca are the oldest forms.
Traditional Performance Settings
Performances of gendang patingtung and the two indigenous silat styles may take place during weddings
and circumcision celebrations. In addition, prior to the destruction of the Surosowan court, gendang
patingtung was used in the court’s military training.13
Gendang patingtung music accompaniment consists of two sections: an introductory part in medium
tempo, and a subsequent faster part called barung. These two sections are separated choreographically by an
interlude called mincid. This interlude uses the same rhythm pattern as the barung section that follows it.
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UWE U. PAETZOLD
Figure 1. Pak Haji Maktub performing a silat movement from the Bandrong style. Kec. Bojonegara, ds. Kartasana, kp.
Tunggak, 28.05.1995. The gendang patingtung instruments are (left to right): two gendang, the goong panggang, the goong
tengah and bende hanging from the traverse pole, and the tarompet Banten (musician: Pak Rebudin (white shirt), seated on a
chair); all musicians sitting around the traverse pole in the background.
(Still videography by the author)
During a performance, these choreographical sections alternate cyclically, with changes in tempo and
dynamics characterized by a speeding up at the start, and a slowing down at the end of the performance. The
introductory slower part serves as a musical ‘platform’ for showing off silat movements in an aesthetic and
powerful manner. The faster second section then leads into mock fighting or real duels.
Recent Performance Settings
Banten received the status of a province in year 2000. In 2010, the cultural administration and the Office for
Tourism and Culture14 of Cilegon City realized they needed some more open, ‘brighter’ performance art
more representative in regards to the local identity, for welcoming visitors. What was in demand was a
performance art qualified to express what characterises “being Bantenese,”15 without overly pronouncing
aspects of being a Muslim culture.
Drawing from approved arts transmitted “from generation to generation,”16 they choose elements
from the powerful and aesthetic Silat Bandrong to become the main choreographic source for a new
representational stage dance named Tari Bandrong Ing Cilegon after its place of development. The dance
was officially debuted and was promoted as a touristic asset in 2012. An official promotion video was made
available on the internet, wherein both the current presentation form and its traditional sources are displayed.
Figure 2. Still videography from the official promotion video by the Dinas Kebudayaan dan Pariwisata kota Cilegon (2012)
showing movements from Bandrong style as included in the “Bandrong Ing Cilegon” dance. The gendang patingtung
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PUTTING AN OLD SILAT CULTURE OF BANTEN AND ITS MUSIC BACK INTO THE PUBLIC
instruments are (left to right): gendang and kulanter, goong tengah and bende, horizontally suspended goong panggang,
tarompet Banten (musician: n.n.), and a terbang besar (in front of the car).
“Preservation” or “Safeguarding” of the Performance Arts Discussed?
The traditional performance arts discussed have been included into protective administrational structures of
different status and impact:
1. Whilst the Silat Terumbu and Bandrong have become a part of the parcel of the Traditions Pencak
Silat of Indonesia record that has been applied to the UNESCO ICH safeguarding programme at a
global level recently (March 2017), ...
2. ... the Silat Bandrong and the (Gendang) Patingtung have been registered as Warisan Budaya Tak
Benda (WBTB17) by the Ministry of Culture and Education on a national level in Indonesia.
The aspect of melestarikan is an important point of discussion in pencak silat circles in Indonesia nowadays.
It has strong connotations towards aspects of preservation here. There are some perspectives implicit in this
understanding that need to be discussed. In the case of Tari Bandrong Ing Cilegon, a sole focus on
preservation would not have been adequate. For what was in demand was a representative performance art
having grown out of physical and aesthetical approaches. Hence, following the idea of “safeguarding,” what
could be expected is an imperative on keeping the flow of public appeal, appreciation, and education on the
named performing arts—a focus on viability rather than on preservation—without compromising the ability
of future generations to meet their own needs.18
To some extent, the “Tari Bandrong Ing Cilegon” dance can be understood as a first step of
revitalization of various aspects from the old silat culture of Banten and its music, and putting them back into
the public. It certainly has to be viewed as a newly created, additional art form, and not as a proxy for any of
the traditional performance arts involved.
Endnotes
1 Related to the traditional styles discussed, the term “silat” is preferred locally instead of “pencak” or “pencak
silat”.
2 In BI: aliran
3 In Java, kiai is a generic honorary title for an outstanding spiritual teacher.
4 Facal (2016, pp. 164-191) names a “Ki Beji” from Gunung Santri as one possible founder of this style. He
notes that there are multiple versions of local oral history for both styles and their founders, see his detailed
accounts.
5 BS: corong
6 BS: kuningan
7 BS: surupan
8 See Paetzold (2011, p. 181, figure 5.7).
9 Details of the performance arts involved—((gendang) patingtung, silat Terumbu and silat Bandrong—are
discussed in Paetzold et al. (2000, pp. 258-269) and in Facal et al. (2016, pp. 143-191).
10 Dutch original: “Padengdang: Een dans uitgevoerd door mannen. Ook het orchest, dat daarbij gebruikt
wordt. Voor zoover ik kon nagaan, komt het uitsluitend in het Wester-Regentschap voor.” Translation:
Paetzold.
11 Dutch original: “Dat er in het oude rijk nog al eens feesten werden gevierd en dansen werden uitgevoerd,
waarbij alle soorten van muziekinstrumenten werden bespeeld, drie zaken die voor de Badoej's boejoet zijn,
blijkt ons uit de pantoens herhaaldelijk: «sok ngelak goöng padengdang» heet het o.a. in de lalakon
«Koedawangi» (aanhoudend luidde de goöng der padengdang); padengdang is een dans die door mannen
wordt uitgevoerd.” The term “buyut” in the Basa Sunda kuna can be translated with “taboo”: Matters declared
as buyut are restricted to certain persons only. Translation: Paetzold.
12 van Zanten (2016, p. 409) reports on the lalakon Kuda Wangi, that already Meijer had found these pantun
stories were “considered to be specific to the Baduy”, and that Meijer “also remarks that, beyond the Baduy
area, there were no pantun performers in Banten.”
13 BI: prajuritan
14
Dinas Pariwisata dan Kebudayaan
15 BI: kebantenan
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UWE U. PAETZOLD
16
BI: “secara turun temurun”
Lit.: Register of Intangible Cultural Heritage (of Indonesia).
18
According to the convention on “intangible cultural heritage” of the UNESCO (2003, p. 2), i.e.
“safeguarding” means: “…measures aimed at ensuring the viability of the intangible cultural heritage,
including the identification, documentation, research, preservation, protection, promotion, enhancement,
transmission, particularly through formal and non-formal education, as well as the revitalization of the
various aspects of such heritage.”
17
References
Bruinessen, M. (1995). Shari’a court, tarekat and pesantren: Religious Institutions in the Banten Sultanate.
Archipel: Etudes interdisciplinaires sur le monde insulindien, 50, 165-199.
Dinas Kebudayaan dan pariwisata kota Cilegon. (2012). Bandrong ing Cilegon. Tarian Selamat Datang Kota
Cilegon. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=33&v=gywyPu32Lcw
Facal, G. (2016). Keyakinan dan kekuatan: Seni bela diri Silat Banten. Jakarta: Penerbit Obor.
Guillot, C., Ambary, H. M., & Dumarcay, J. (1990). The Sultanate of Banten. Jakarta: Gramedia.
Jacobs, J. & Meijer, J. J. (1891). De Badoej’s. Gravenhage: Martinus Nijhoff.
Kunst, J. (1973). Music in Java (Vol. I & II). The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff.
Meijer, J. J. (1890). Bijdrage tot de Kennis van het Bantensch Dialect der Soendaneesche Taal. In: Bijdragen
tot de Negerlandsch-Indië. Koninklijk Instituut voor der de taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde van
Nederlandsch-Indië. Vijfde Volgreeks – Vijfde Deel, Eerste Aflevering, p.247. Gravenhage:
Martinus Nijhoff.
Paetzold, U. (2000). Blüte, Frucht und Kern. Bewegungsformen und Musikstile im Bereich des Pencak Silat
in West-Java und West-Sumatra [Blossom, fruit, and kernel: Movement forms and music styles of
the Pencak Silat in West Java and West Sumatra]. EthnomusiCologne, Bd. 2. Rüdiger Schumacher
(Ed.). Bonn: Holos-Verlag.
Paetzold, U. (2007). Band 7, Titel 0711, (Pencak) Silat Bandrong-Terumbu. In: West-Java. Tänze und
Bewegungskünste der Ibingan Penca / Tari Ronggeng-Familie. Traditionelles Kunst-Pencak Silat
und verwandte Bewegungskünste. Catalogue No. 2730. Köln: Deutsches Tanzarchiv. Retrieved
from http://www.sk-kultur.de/tanz/
Paetzold, U. (2011). Self-defence and music in Muslim contexts in West Java. In D. D. Harnish & A. K.
Rasmussen (Eds.), Divine Inspirations: Music and Islam in Indonesia (pp. 161-193). New York,
NY: Oxford University Press.
UNESCO. (2003). Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage.
MISC/2003/CLT/CH/14. October 17, Paris. Retrieved from http://unesdoc.unesco.org/images/0013/
001325/132540e.pdf
Zanten, W. (2016). Some notes on the pantun storytelling of the Baduy minority group: Its written and
audiovisual documentation. Wacana, 17(3), 404–437. Retrieved from http://wacana.ui.ac.id/index.
php/wjhi/article/view/454/418
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LOCATING YOLŊU CULTURAL EXPRESSIONS OF HISTORICAL
MAKASSAN EXCHANGES IN NE ARNHEM LAND
Aaron Corn
The University of Adelaide, Australia
Introduction
Despite orthodox assumptions that Balanda (European) explorers discovered Australia, the Yolŋu people of
NE Arnhem Land had engaged in centuries of trade and cultural exchange before the 20th century with
seafarers from the port of Makassar on Sulawesi. Until steep Australian tariffs were imposed 1906, Makassan
perahu (boat) fleets had sailed annually to Australia’s north coast since the 1750s with the primary goal of
harvesting trepang (sea cucumber) for sale into China. These Makassan visitations have left an enduring
legacy upon Yolŋu culture, and remain recorded in Yolŋu law through ceremonial repertoires of song, dance,
and design that are practiced to this day.
In this paper, I explore how Yolŋu cultural remembrances of historical exchanges with Makassan
seafarers are recorded in the hereditary public ceremonial repertoires that remain incumbent with the Yolŋu
homelands and to which the manikay (song) tradition is central. I examine the engagements of Yolŋu
performers in ceremonial repertoires and derivate creative endeavours since the 1988 Australian Bicentenary
to celebrate and reignite their Makassan contacts, and show how musical expressions remain influential in
affirming Yolŋu autonomy and ownership of their homelands. I approach this study as an ethnomusicologist
who, since the mid-1990s, has collaborated with Yolŋu colleagues to explore the manikay tradition (Corn
with Gumbula, 2007) and its inspiration of derivative musical expressions (Corn, 2002, 2009 & 2014; Corn
with Gumbula 2005).
Background
Ever a persistent theme, I have been directly involved in two cultural initiatives that have celebrated YolŋuMakassan contact histories. The first of these brought the Makassan performance troupe, Takbing Siwaliya,
to Australia for collaborations with Yolŋu performers at the 2005 Garma Festival and Darwin Festival. Its
leader, Abdul Muin Daeng Mile, and manager, Halilintar Lathief, were keynote speakers at the 4th
Symposium on Indigenous Music and Dance hosted by the Garma Festival (Corn, 2006). Takbing Siwaliya
then appeared in Darwin with Yolŋu performers led by Brian Djangirrawuy Garawirrtja of the Birrkili
Gupapuyŋu clan, who holds a manikay repertoire that recounts historical Makassan contacts (Corn & Marett
with Garawirrtja, 2011). The second was the launch of the 2011 Trepang exhibition at the Capital Museum
in Beijing (Duschatzky & Holt, 2011; Langton & Sloggett, 2014), which arose through collaboration between
the Chinese artist, Zhou Xiaoping, and the Yolŋu artist, John Bulunbulun Ganalpiŋu. There, I was tasked
with playing didjeridu for Paul Pascoe, the son of Ganalpiŋu’s widow, as he sang manikay to launch the
exhibition (Bradley, 2012).
These have been various initiatives to reignite Yolŋu-Makassan relations since the mid-1980s. The
Northern Territory Museum historian, Peter Spillet, first conceived of building a traditional wooden
Makassan perahu, the Hati Marege’ (Heart of Arnhem Land), in 1986. Captained by Mansjur Muhayang,
son of the last known Makassan traveller to Australia, Mangnellai Daeng Maro, it sailed from Makassar to
the Yolŋu town of Galiwin’ku, for the first time in 82 years, to confound the Australian Bicentenary
celebrations of January 1988. Upon landing at Galiwin’ku, its crew was greeted as family through the
performance of Yolŋu ceremony in which their shared contact history was recorded (Ganter, 2013, p. 62).
The next trip from Arnhem Land to Makassar was led by Ganalpiŋu (Ganter, 2013, pp. 62-63). His paintings
often referenced historical Makassan contacts and, in 1993, he led performances of the Marayarr
Murrukundja, a traditional Yolŋu diplomacy ceremony centred around the construction and decoration of a
ceremonial pole to represent the mast and rigging of a Makassan perahu, over three nights at the Galigo
Museum (Garde, 1993; Eccles, 2010). Muhayang then returned to Galiwin’ku in 1996 to collaborate with
Yolŋu performers led by the Gumatj elder Charlie Mattjuwi Burarrwaŋa, whose family shares Makassan
ancestry, in the production of Trepang: An Indigenous Opera (Saint-Claire, director, 1997). Premièring in
Makassar in 1997 to mark the 667th anniversary of Gowa, it told their story of long lost family (Palmer, 2007;
Stephenson, 2007, pp. 40-57; Macknight, 2008, pp. 141-142; Langton, 2011, p. 49).
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AARON CORN
Renewed interest in Makassan contact history was also celebrated in the music of Arnhem Land
bands. Yothu Yindi’s original song ‘Macassan Crew’ (Yunupiŋu, Kellaway, Cockatoo Creed & Farriss, 2000,
p. 1) quotes traditional manikay of the Gumatj clan that records Makassan contact. Here, the Makassans are
brave peaceful traders of steel and tamarind seeds captained by Gurrumulŋa, who navigate by the Morning
Star and are saddened to leave for home. Yothu Yindi’s Gumatj lead singer and composer, Mandawuy
Yunupiŋu (A. Corn, personal communication, March 8, 2001), explained that, because the Makassans had
been Muslims, the repetition of the lyrics ‘Aa—e-yah’ in the song’s chorus represented their prayers to Allah
as rendered in traditional manikay, while the lyrics ‘Yendharama Birrapirra’ heard in the introduction are
names of a Makassan perahu recorded in the manikay of his mother’s mother’s clan, the Dhalwaŋu.
The Makassan Trepang Trade
The timing and identities of the earliest Asian visitors to Arnhem Land remain unknown. Through
radiocarbon dating, a pottery shard found on Groote Eylandt can be dated at 1107-1280 CE (Clarke &
Frederick, 2011, p. 151), rock art of a perahu in Wellington Range can be said to predate 1664 (Taçon, May,
Fallon, Travers, Wesley & Lamilami, 2010), and human remains of SE Asian origin found at Anuru Bay can
be said to predate 1730 (Theden-Ringl, Fenner, Wesley & Lamilami, 2011, pp. 41-45).
Evidence in Yolŋu ceremonial repertoires also suggests that Yolŋu contacts with Austronesian
peoples predate the start of commercial Makassan trepang fleets in the 1750s. These included possible
contacts with the Sama (McIntosh, 1995) with whom Garawirrtja (A. Corn, personal communication,
February 24, 2005) affirmed a shared ancestral affinity with whales, as well as a people remembered as
having beautiful golden skin, who might also have been Sama, and who later returned with the post-1750s
trepang fleets as slaves (McIntosh, 1999, pp. 155-166 & 2013, pp. 100-101). All are somewhat conflated in
ceremonial repertoires under the law of the ghost ancestor, Walitha’walitha, whose name is cognate with the
Islamic testimony, ‘Lā ʾilāha ʾillā llāh [There is no god but God]’ (McIntosh, 1999, p. 156). The
anthropologist Warner (1969, p. 420) observed that, in associated Yolŋu Wurramu mortuary ceremonies,
there was choral singing of ‘Wo ga Allah’ and offerings of ‘Serri makassi’ after the Indonesian phrase
‘Terima kasih [Thank-you]’, while Berndt & Berndt (1954, p. 46) later deduced that imams had accompanied
Makassan fleets to Australia. Further details of the post-1750s annual voyages of perahu fleets from
Makassar in the Sultanate of Gowa to the north Australian coasts of Kayu Jawa (the Kimberly) and Marege’
(greater Arnhem Land) were found in Dutch records by the historians Macknight (1972 & 1976) and Knapp
& Sutherland (2004). Macknight (2013, pp. 22-31) estimated that, during the first half of the 19th century,
some 30-60 Makassan vessels sailed to Arnhem Land each year crewed by at least 1000 men who mostly
spoke Makasar and Bugis.
Used in cooking since the 17th century, trepang was coveted by Chinese buyers in Makassar both
for its culinary and medicinal properties (Dai, 2002, p. 25; Macknight, 2013, p. 20). This trade ebbed in 1884
when South Australia, which had annexed the Northern Territory, imposed new charges upon Makassan
vessels. When steeper tariffs were levied in 1906, one single perahu, the Bunga Ejaya, became the final
Makassan perahu to legally harvest trepang from Australian waters bringing 15 decades of continuous trade
with Indigenous Australians to an end (Macknight, 2013, pp. 22; Langton, Mazel & Palmer, 2006, p. 313;
Clark & May, 2013, p. 2).
Maritime traditions remain significant in Makassan culture (Palmer, 2007, p. 5). At the 2005 Garma
Festival, Mile explained how instruments played by the men of Takbing Siwaliya were arranged to represent
a perahu heading out to sea. Accompanied by an oboe, slit-drum and gong, the syncopated rhythms of the
front drum represented its bow cutting through the waves, while the rear drum maintained a calm and steady
connection to home. As only men had sailed abroad, the troupe’s four female dancers surrounded these
musicians on the four compass points. Their feet never entirely left the ground representing a connection to
home soil (Figure 1) (Sutton, 2006, p. 5; Corn et al., 2011, pp. 75-77).
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LOCATING YOLŊU CULTURAL EXPRESSIONS OF HISTORICAL MAKASSAN EXCHANGES IN NE ARNHEM LAND
Figure 1. Takbing Siwaliya performs at the Garma Festival.
(Photo: A. Corn, 2005)
Influence on Yolŋu Culture
The influence upon Yolŋu culture of some 150 years of continuous Makassan trade was profound. Long
before the arrival of Methodist missionaries in 1922, the Yolŋu held extensive knowledge of their Asian
neighbours and Dutch colonisation in Indonesia. Some Yolŋu people accompanied Makassan vessels back
home with families such as Burarrwaŋa’s now sharing Makassan ancestry (Cooke, 1996). The Yolŋu
witnessed Islam as practiced by the Makassans (Berndt & Berndt, 1954, pp. 45-46; Warner, 1969, p. 420;
McIntosh, 1996; Ganter, 2013, p. 58), and received imported goods from them, including rice, tamarinds,
tobacco, alcohol, cloth, axes and knives, in return for rights to harvest trepang and other local resources (Earl,
1846; Macknight, 1976; Cooke, 1996; Clarke, 2000). When the Hati Marege’ landed in Galiwin’ku in
January 1988, Muhayang presented Burarrwaŋa with a bag of rice just as his ancestors had done (Ganter,
2013, p. 62).
Yolŋu languages retain many Makasar and Bugis loan words including rrupiya (money), bandirra
(flag), buthulu (bottle), lipalipa (canoe), dhamburra (drum) and baŋ’kulu (axe) (Cooke, 1996), while
Makassan customs and wares remain recorded in Yolŋu ceremonial repertoires, which evidence patrilineal
ownership of clan homelands through ancestral bestowal, yet can also accommodate new understandings of
the world including those introduced through Makassan contact (Knopoff, 1992; Magowan, 2007; Toner,
2000; Corn, 2013). It is chiefly in repertoires held by Yirritja-patrimoiety clans, such as the Warrimiri,
Dhalwaŋu, Gumatj, Wangurri, Munyuku, Madarrpa and Birrkili Gupapuyŋu, that Makassan influences are
found.
Garawirrtja (A. Corn, personal communication, February 24, 2005) explained that Yirritja clans had
made flags in their own distinctive colours from introduced cloth to mark beaches where Makassans had been
welcome to land that now symbolise clan authority over their homelands. Flags of various colours, including
black for Warramiri, red for Dhalwaŋu, yellow for Gumatj, green for Wangurri, white for Munyuku, white
over sky blue for Madarrpa, and navy blue for Birrkili, thus remain an iconic feature of Yolŋu ceremonies.2
When I performed manikay with Pascoe to launch the 2011 Trepang exhibition in Beijing, flags of red, yellow
and navy were carried aloft by our party through the Capital Museum’s foyer to represent the Ganalpiŋu,
Gumatj and Birrkili Gupapuyŋu clans (Figure 2).
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AARON CORN
Figure 2. Launching the 2011 Trepang exhibition in Beijing (Nirvana Films, 2011).
Flag protocols for Makassan landings on Yolŋu beaches were also a prominent theme when Garawirrtja’s
family and Takbing Siwaliya performed at the 2005 Darwin Festival. A navy flag was planted on stage to
signal the readiness of the Birrkili Gupapuyŋu clan to receive the Makassans at its ancestral homeland.
Assuming the role of a Makassan perahu, Takbing Siwaliya had made a flag of its own, which was red with
a large gold circle and raised to the sounding of a gong to signal their readiness to come ashore for trade
(Corn et al., 2011, pp. 75-79).
Conclusion
While further research into Asian records such as those in the Royal Museum of Gowa (Palmer, 2007, p. 5)
is required to further explore the earlier continuum of Austronesian contacts with Indigenous Australians
before the post-1750s Makassan trepang trade, it is nonetheless evident that this long and extensive history
of international exchanges remains influential to this day in affirming Yolŋu autonomy and ownership of
their homelands. This is demonstrated both in ceremonial repertoires to which manikay is central that record
these exchanges, and in derivate creative endeavours in which Yolŋu have engaged to celebrate and reignite
their Makassan contacts since the 1988 Australian Bicentenary. Enduring Yolŋu memories and expressions
of these historical exchanges date their international trading relationships before both the 1788 British
occupation of Australia and the arrival of resident Balanda missionaries in 1922. They reveal a long preexisting Indigenous history of Australia through which the Yolŋu engaged extensively with earlier visitors
to their shores in ways that maintained their autonomy and did not contest ownership of their homelands.
Endnotes
1
My spellings of Yolŋu words conform to those preferred by Yolŋu communities (Zorc, 1986).
This finding was first published with our permission by Langton and Sloggett (2014, p. 8). Garawirrtja (A.
Corn, personal communication, February 24, 2005) further explained that the earlier Austronesian whalers
known to the Yolŋu as the Bäpayili, Wuymu and Gelurru also possessed a distinctive flag of white over black
for Motatj, their camp in the Wessel Islands.
2
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Cooke, M. (1996). The Macassan influence. In M. Cooke (Ed.), Aboriginal languages in contemporary
contexts (pp. 1-20). Batchelor: Batchelor College.
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Corn, A. (2009). Reflections and voices. Sydney: SUP.
Corn, A. (2013). Nations of song. Humanities Research, 19(3), 148-160.
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(Eds.), The power of knowledge, the resonance of tradition (pp. 31-68). Canberra: AIATSIS.
Corn, A., with Gumbula, J. N. (2007). Budutthun ratja wiyinymirri. Australian Aboriginal Studies, 2, 116127.
Corn, A., & Marett, A. with Garawirrtja, B. D. (2011). To proclaim they still exist. In A. Duschatzky & S.
Holt (Eds.), Trepang (pp. 73-79). Melbourne: The University of Melbourne.
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252
PROCEEDINGS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM: THE ICTM STUDY GROUP ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
HUMAN/OTHER RELATIONS IN BURMESE PERFORMING ARTS:
DISSOLVING THE BOUNDARIES OF SELF
Gavin Douglas
University of North Carolina at Greensboro, USA
Introduction
Human relationships to the natural and spiritual world are rapidly changing as a result of population
movement, changes to local ecologies, and climate change. Regarding the relationships between humans and
non-humans in the Myanmar context I pose the following questions: What insights into these changes can be
offered through a close examination of the performing arts? What understandings can be gained from a
Buddhist epistemology that highlights interconnections among all things and illusion in the concept of
discrete identities or bounded selves?
Questioning the boundaries that divide humans from nonhumans, individual souls from others,
highlights uncertainties on the nature of humanity and of the self. In the early 21st century, these concerns are
ever more relevant beside the undeniable fact that our human relationships to the natural and spiritual world
are changing as the material conditions that support those relationships change. Transformation of global
capital markets, exchange of ideas, population movement, changes to local ecologies, rising sea levels and
climate change are a few of the dramatic, increasingly rapid, and likely-irreversible changes that influence
our understanding of our world and our place in it. In all societies the arts play a significant role in shaping
how we conceive of ourselves vis-a-vis these forces. Southeast Asia broadly and Myanmar specifically offer
a fertile setting to explore such questions as many in these locales have long acknowledged their
interdependent relationships with plants, animals, spirits and landscapes.
Countless Buddhist texts and practices that train mindfulness, meditation, and insight implore us to
develop loving kindness (metta) towards all living beings of all species. It is further recognized that one’s
own health and happiness is not separate from those of other species but, rather, our own situation is tied to
the health and happiness of all. For Buddhists, animals and humans share the same essential nature. Both
suffer as a result of attachment and return (samsara) after death to a new life. A soul may be reborn either in
a human body or in the body of a non-human animal. Humans are not a separate class of beings to whom a
separate body of etiological, ontological, and ethical rules applies.
I explore here some of the Buddhist inspired artistic traditions that for many years have reinforced
ideas of a permeable, mutable self. After a brief exploration of the ubiquity of animals and spirits in Burmese
arts, highlighting their agency and relations with human actors, I will discuss the jātaka tales, the stories of
the Buddha in his previous lives, and the various artistic vehicles used in telling these stories primarily the
yokthe marionette tradition and the zat theatre, followed by some reflections on the current standing of these
art forms.
In the Burmese context there exist thousands of examples of animal mimesis, animal iconography,
animal characters in dance, instruments made of animals, songs born of animist spirits, animal movements
in dance and stories of animals, spirits and other agents relaying messages to and blurring boundaries with
humans. Countless musical instruments are shaped in the form of animals or mythical creatures or label parts
with animal terminology. One can barely turn around in Myanmar without bumping into guardian images of
snakes, lions, and other creatures. Harps and xylophones are frequently carved into the shape of dragons,
peacocks, and other animals (see Simonson, 1987 and Williamson, 1968). A large carving of the mythical
pyinsinrupa—a combination of five animals: elephant, bullock, horse, carp, and dragon/snake—guards over
every hsaing waing ensemble, the primary ensemble of the country. The most prominent instrument among
the Mon people in southern Myanmar is the mijaung or crocodile zither. Likewise, multiple dance traditions
such as the Shan kinnari dance mimic animal movements or stories of mythical beings (Singer, 1995). Even
early attempts to codify Burmese music theory links animals associated with particular pitches and modes.
U Khin Zaw, for example, notes that the pitches of the Burmese scale are named for the animals believed to
produce those tones: bull, horse, peacock, goat, crane, cuckoo, elephant (1940, p. 719). These same animal
characters are then identified with the seven modes of Burmese music. These are just a few of dozens of
nonhuman representations embedded in the arts of the Burmese world. The volume of non-human creatures
represented in human expression is truly staggering.
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GAVIN DOUGLAS
Jataka Tales
Since before the founding of the Burmese kingdom jātaka tales that depict the previous lives of the Buddha
have been a staple of the traditional arts and literature (see Appleton, 2010; Luce, 1956; Lawergren, 1994).
Highlighting the wheel of samsara that brings us back life after life, the Buddha endured countless lives on
his path to enlightenment. In these stories the Bodhisattva is commonly (though not always) the central figure,
and may be a god, a farmer, a woman, an untouchable disposer of corpses, a merchant, and so on. The ten
most famous of the jātakas deal with his later lives as Brahman, ascetic, king, king’s aide and, until recently,
were well known among the populace (see Pannyawamsa, 2009). In practice jātakas are not simply folktales,
but stories that carry the core teachings of Buddhism and offer a hagiography of the Buddha.
The 550 catalogued stories blur the identity of a discrete bodied individual and relay a self that
travels through a multitude of different forms. Different characters (Boddhisatva and others) in different
bodies changes across and within lifetimes. Of the 550 codified jātaka tales half of these tales depict the
Buddha-to-be in other than human form. Characters depicted as fish, deer, birds, or any variety of other
animal are still actors or witnesses to khammically (karmically) significant action. For example, in the
Anusasika Jātaka, the Bodhisatta was king of the birds who lived with his followers in a forest and counsels
a greedy bird collecting grain on the road just before its death by carriage wheel. In the Suvannamiga Jātaka
the Bodhisattva is born as a golden stag and lives contentedly in the forest with his mate and other deer. One
day, a hunter sets a cruel snare in which the stag is trapped. The rest of the herd of deer flees, but his mate
approaches the hunter and offers her life in place of the stag’s, the king of the herd. Impressed by such love
and bravery, the hunter spares both creatures and is rewarded by the stag with a magic jewel. In the Mulata
Jātaka the human Boddhisattva communicates across species to resolve a dispute between a lion and a tiger.
In the Javasakuna Jātaka the Buddha to be is woodpecker that rescues an ungrateful lion. Still in other stories,
the Buddha-to-be takes the form of a tree, a shrub or a tree sprite, as in the Kusanjali Jātaka, where he is a
lowly clump of kusa grass yet still has the capacity as a moral agent to perform an act of life-saving kindness.
These many stories reinforce the idea that all living beings (animals, spirits, human) follow the wheel
of samsara from life to life as well as pointing to karmic interdependence between human and nonhuman
agents through themes of compassion, empathy, foolishness, sacrifice, and ecology. Within the Burmese
kingdom jātaka tales were significant and primary sources for artist material. Paintings, sculptures, dance,
song, theatre were all important conduits for relaying the stories. Between the 17th and early 20th century the
primary and most revered conduit for telling jātaka tales was yokthe marionette puppetry. Yokthe was
validated by both the court and the sangha (the monastic order) in order to provide realistic performances for
a conservative public. Moral constraints on human actors limited the acceptable behaviours of theatre. During
the 19th century it was inappropriate to have men and women dance within arm’s length, let alone touch.
Furthermore, human actors were restricted from portraying the Buddha or the King. These conventions
severely curtailed the ability of dramatic dancers and actors to successfully relate stories, mostly drawn from
the jātaka tales. Puppets were an ingenious way around this problem (Thanegi, 1994, p. 2). The illusion of
puppet agency is a combined product of the puppeteer, the puppet-singer, and the musicians. The sounding
(voicing, singing, growling, purring, etc.) of a puppet is not articulated by the puppeteer but, rather, by a
behind-the-curtain vocalist working in close conjunction with the hsaing orchestra and the puppeteer. Here
an identity conceived as singular—the marionette character—is brought to life through the composition, or
merging, of different forces; the voice, the puppeteer and the musicians.
The Burmese yokthe tradition draws extensively from jātaka tales and one half of the 30 to 40
marionettes are animals. In this setting several specifically Burmese characters show up in performances.
One of the more prominent is Zawgyi, an alchemist who grinds his medicine, turns dirt into gold, talks with
animals, levitates, and balances and bounces upon his staff with spectacular twirls. Zawgyi is adorned with
a gold and red cap, red trousers, and slippers and carries a magical staff. Interviews with Yangon based U
Shwe Gyi in 2018 and his teacher, Bagan based master U Maung Hla in 1999, highlight the blurred
boundaries between their own identities and those of the marionette characters in which they specialize.
Maung Hla was known throughout his illustrious career as Zawgyi Pyan U Maung Hla: the return or the
reincarnation of Zawgyi the alchemist (see Bruns, 2006). In his performances Maung Hla would dress and
dance as the marionette. Human mimics marionette that mimics human in stories that traverse lifetimes.
At the end of the 19th century the Burmese yokthe tradition was considered high art both literally and
metaphorically performed on a raised stage with the audience seated below. Human dramatics that did not
deal with such important subjects as Buddha birth stories were relegated to the ground. This changed in the
1920 through the work of The Great Po Sein who was the first to develop jātaka tales for human actors.
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HUMAN/OTHER RELATIONS IN BURMESE PERFORMING ARTS: DISSOLVING THE BOUNDARIES OF SELF
These human-performed tales came to be known as zat, taken from the word jātaka. Po Sein, a devote
Buddhist, worked in close consultation with monks (including the famous meditation master Leydi Sayadaw)
who lent monastic support to his radical transformations of theatre (Sein, 1965).
Drawing directly from the yokthe stage the stock Burmese dance gestures mimic the ideal motions
of jātaka characters as depicted by the marionettes. Thus, motions of ankles and wrists as if they were on
strings, high elbows, and circular swinging gestures. U Po Sein also introduces other radical contributions to
Burmese theatre including raising the stage and the use of slippers or stockings. In Burma the use of shoes
on a raised stage was particularly significant as the wearing of shoes in particular spots was a central rallying
point around anti- British resistance that grew during this time. In 1919, disputes over British soldiers wearing
shoes on the pagoda platform set off the beginning of the nationalist movement. For Po Sein to raise the stage
and wear shoes turns the zat stage into secular space, moves the tradition away from monastic oversight and,
with the celebrity status that soon followed, marks an anthropocentric turn in Burmese arts.
Today, Burmese zat performances have less and less jātaka presence and fewer and fewer
characterizations of animals as active characters. Modern performances are stage shows with pop songs,
comedians, and skits. In a play held today a truncated jātaka may be held very late in the evening or, more
often, not at all. U Chan Tha, the son of Shwe Man Tin Maung (the second most famous dancer of the 20th
century behind Po Sein) and the current leader of his father’s troupe relayed to me in a 2018 interview that
they often include jātaka stories when they are touring the villages. The knowledge of the stories is still
retained somewhat in the rural areas. In contrast, contemporary urban Mandalay and Yangon audiences are
happy to do without them.
The current situation for both yokthe and zat is troubled. The living artists mentioned here are
struggling hard to pass on the tradition while meeting audience demands for contemporary sounds. The
younger generations seem ambivalent while among older artists there appears to be great disappointment.
When I asked my friend, Mandalay based musician and producer Ko Tin Oo about jātaka tales he replied,
“Youth today don’t know the stories, they are distant from the Buddha stories and are, as a result, not
ethical…rude and impolite.” He continued, “Today people are too selfish. Jātaka tales cultivate a self-less
inter-connected disposition.”
U Kyaw Win who works to revive this tradition in Mandalay in the tradition of U Po Sein has
recently started the Inwa school for performing arts with artists in the region. With foreign funding the school
aims to combat the onslaught of foreign culture that has come from the sudden opening up of the country.
The school struggles with finding interested students from Mandalay and when I visited in the summer of
2018 most of the students in residence were of Kachin ethnicity students who were sent there by their parents
to escape the ongoing political conflicts in their home state. The future of the school and other initiatives like
it is quite challenged (see Diamond, 2009, 2012, 2017 and Foley, 2001 for detailed depictions of these
challenges).
What does the increased scarcity of jātakas, and their primary vehicles for distribution yokthe and
zat, indicate for future Myanmar arts and worldviews? How might these traditions that highlight nonhuman
actors effect our perception of the nonhuman world? I highlight here some traditions that have been central
to Burmese life for quite some time. All of these traditions are now challenged, and their futures look bleak.
As these traditions diminish, do we also lose epistemologies and ways of conceiving and understanding our
relationships with other beings? Do our ontologies also slide such that what it means to be changes? Are
Buddhist ideas of the self (a collection of aggregates with no identifiable core) less visible as these traditions
fade? With the decay or loss of these traditions do we misplace some ways of appreciating the fluid
boundaries between humans and spirits, human and animals, and our own past lives? Many of these Myanmar
traditions, offer us a (closing?) window into other ways of thinking about humanity.
References
Appleton, N. (2010). Jātaka stories in Theravada Buddhism: Narrating the Bodhisatta path. Burlington, VT:
Ashgate.
Bruns, A. (2006). Arts. The Drama Review, 53(1), 1054–2043.
Diamond, C. (2012). Communities of imagination: Contemporary Southeast Asian Theatres. Honolulu, HI:
University of Hawaii Press. ProQuest Ebook Central. Retrieved from http://ebookcentral.proquest.
com/lib/uncg/detail.action?docID=3413513
Diamond C. (2017). Drenched in victory, facing drought: Staging transitions in Myanmar's performing arts.
Asian Theatre Journal, 34(2), 347-371.
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GAVIN DOUGLAS
Foley, K. (2001). Burmese marionettes: Yokthe Thay in transition. Asian Theatre Journal, 18(1), 69-80.
Khin Zaw. (1940). Burmese music (A preliminary enquiry). Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African
Studies, 10(3), 717-54.
Lawergren, Bo. (1994). Buddha as musician: An illustration of a Jātaka story. Artibus Asiae, 54(3/4), 226240.
Luce, G. H. (1956). The 550 Jatakas in Burma. Artibus Asiae, 19(3-4), 291-307.
Ma Thanegi. (1994). The illusion of life: Burmese marionettes. Bangkok: White Orchid Press.
Maung Khe Sein & Withey, J. A. (2006). The Great Po Sein (2nd ed.). Bangkok: Orchid Press.
Pannyawamsa, Sengpan. (2009). Recital of the Tham Vessantara-Jātaka: A social-cultural phenomenon in
Kengtung, Eastern Shan State, Myanmar. Contemporary Buddhism, 10(1).
Sein, K. & Withey, J. A. (1965). The great Po Sein: A chronicle of the Burmese theatre. Bloomington, IN:
Indiana University Press.
Simonson, L. (1987). A Burmese arched harp (saùng-gauk) and its pervasive Buddhist symbolism. Journal
of the American Musical Instrument Society, 13, 39–64.
Singer, N. (1995). Burmese dance and theatre. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.
Williamson, M. C. (1968). The construction and decoration of one Burmese harp. Selected Reports in
Ethnomusicology, I(2), 45-72.
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BEYOND HYBRIDIZATION: JAVANESE BLACK METAL AND TRANSCULTURAL MUSIC
(Lightning Paper)
Gianluca Chelini
La Sapienza Università di Roma, Italy
Javanese Black Metal is a musical genre that originated in Java 10-15 years ago and that has become
widespread since then. It is characterized by the attempt to combine the musical genre of heavy metal with
elements of Javanese local music and/or traditions. In describing the Indonesian metal scene, Emma Baulch
(2003) and Jeremy Wallach (2008) noticed the almost complete lack of any attempt of hybridization between
metal and local music, pointing out how unusual this was in the context of Indonesian popular music.
During my own field work, however, I have encountered a completely different situation,
discovering that a hybrid metal genre with distinctive stylistic traits exists, and it has also started to split up
into many regional styles. In a recent article (Chelini, 2018) I described the Javanese Black Metal scene as a
whole, tracing its origin and its history within the socio-cultural Indonesian context. In this paper I intend to
describe a unique example of the Javanese hybridization of metal; so unique that I would question the validity
of the word hybrid to describe it. The piece in question is the song Cakra Bharawa (DJIWO, 2014) by the
Solonese one-man band Djiwo. I will analyse its lyrics and music, and I will then connect this analysis to the
theoretical ideas recently expressed by the Italian ethnomusicologist Francesco Giannattasio (2017).
In Cakra Bhairawa Djiwo uses a number of compositional strategies to create a lyrical and musical
structure by means of which he expresses certain aesthetic and political values, such that it can be considered
the musician’s “manifesto”. My analysis starts from the title of the song. The term Cakra refers to the
Sudarsana Chakra, the disk-like weapon associated Vishnu and used by Kresna in the Mahabharata epic.
The term Bhairawa means “frightful” or “terrible”, and refers to the fierce manifestation of Shiva, which is
associated with the annihilation of the universe.
In an interview I conducted with Djiwo he emphasized the connection between the terrible bhairawa
aspect of the deities and the pivotal concept of the metal subculture. He maintained that both these ideas
provide a means for imagining and conceptualizing the discussion and overturning of social norms. But due
to diametrically opposed conceptions of the relationship between good and evil and, in turn, of change and
renewal, these ideas entail very different attitudes towards the way in which social upheaval can be achieved.
Transgression is a concept based on Western dualistic philosophies, and it consists in a denial of the
prevailing culturally accepted social norms. Instead, according to the non-dualistic Hinduist conception, the
bhairawa manifestations of deities are not negatively opposed to good, but are an essential part of the divine
cosmic order, being necessary to maintain the balance of the universe.
Djiwo is completely aware of this simultaneous similarity and dissimilarity, and upon it he builds
all his artistic project. In fact, he converts the two different conception just described in two principles for
combining a series of minimal musical and textual elements to builds all the lyrics and the music of the song:
1) The inversion, which stands for the western dualist conception.
2) The circular development (circularity), representing the Hinduist conception.
As a result, the form of the music and the text could be summarised as follow:
Textual Circular Development
1) Each line consists of only two words, with the first syllable of each one identical to the last syllable
of the other (e.g. line 1: Yamaraja Jaramaya’). This hints at a possible endless loop.
2) In both the two stanzas, after the presentation of the 8 lines, the first 4 are repeated, representing
the potentially endless repetition of the stanza.
Textual Inversion
1) The first stanza of the lyrics presents the Javanese mantra ‘Raja Kalachakra’ in its original form (i.e.
line from 1 to 8) In the second stanza the lines order is inverted (from 8 to 1).
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GIANLUCA CHELINI
Music Circular Development and Inversion
The song is built using four basic motifs, which are arranged as follow:
A
B
C
D
C
D
C
D
C
D
C
B
A
The form of the song can thus be defined, and is defined by the author, in two different ways:
1) A symmetrical form, in which the third recurrence of motif C functions as the centre of symmetry
that divides the song in two halves, one articulated with the motifs sequence A B C D C D, and the
other composed by the inversion of this first sequence D C D C B A.
2) A circular form, with the third appearance of motif C as the centre point of a series of concentric
circles, each one with its circumference passing through two equidistant occurrences of the same
motif.
What is the meaning of such a musical and lyrical structure, in which two formative principles and, by
extension, their metaphorical meanings are not separable? The answer lays in the multi-layered and complex
identity and personality of the composer. Many scholars identified, as the core feature of almost all the
Indonesian popular music genres, the process of hybridization, namely the process of combination of two or
more genres to create a new music. This process, for Jeremy Wallach and Esther Clinton, “is linked to an
acceptance of contradictions and unresolved differences in the texture of everyday life” (2013, p. 5). But
Djiwo entirely participates both in his local culture and in the global metal culture, and both are of equal
importance to the formation of his identity. Djiwo is not a Metalhead and a Javanese but, through and through,
a Javanese Metalhead, and is not enough, for him, the process of juxtaposition of musical languages that
characterise most of the Indonesian hybrid popular music genres.
Rather than hybrid music, Cakra Bhirawa seems to match with the definition of transcultural music
given by the ethnomusicologist Francesco Giannattasio. He starts from the thought of the philosopher
Wolfgang Walsh, who described the contemporary world as one in which “Cultures de facto no longer have
the insinuated form of homogeneity and separateness. They have instead assumed a new form, which is to
be called transcultural insofar that it passes through classical cultural boundaries” (2017, p. 34). In other
words, cultural barriers are inexorably blurring and disappearing, leading individual and social group to the
creation of new cultural identities. Transcultural music are those new forms of musical creation that express
those new kind of identities and are, Giannattasio underlines “Not only metissage of musical instruments and
artefacts, but rather new creativity and new, shared musical languages” (2017).
References
Baulch, E. (2003). Gesturing elsewhere: The identity politics of the Balinese death/thrash metal scene.
Popular Music, 22(2), 195-215.
Chelini, G. (2018). Javanese black metal: Towards a definition of post-heritage music. In T.-M. Karjalainen
(Ed.), Sounds of origin in heavy metal music (pp. 95–116). Cambridge Scholars Publishing.
DJIWO. (2014). Cakra Bhirawa. Indonesia, Bandung: Persetan Record.
Giannattasio, F. (2017). Prospective on 21st century comparative musicology: An introduction. In F.
Giannattasio & G. Giurati (Eds.), Perspectives on a 21st century comparative musicology:
Ethnomusicology or transcultural musicology? (pp. 10–29). Udine: Nota.
Giannattasio, F. & Giurati, G. (Eds.). (2017). Perspectives on a 21st century comparative musicology:
Ethnomusicology or transcultural musicology? Udine: Nota.
Wallach, J. (2008). Modern noise, fluid genres: Popular music in Indonesia, 1997 - 2001. Madison:
University of Wisconsin Press.
Wallach, J. & Clinton, E. (2013). History, modernity, and music genre in Indonesia: Popular music genres in
the Dutch East Indies and following independence. Asian Music, 44(2), 3-23. Retrieved from
https://doi.org/10.1353/amu.2013.0020
Welsch, W. (2017). Transculturality - The puzzling form of cultures today. In F. Giannattasio & G. Giurati
(Eds.), Perspectives on a 21st century comparative musicology: Ethnomusicology or transcultural
musicology? (pp. 30-49). Udine: Nota.
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ABSTRACTS OF THE 5TH SYMPOSIUM OF THE ICTM STUDY GROUP
ON PERFORMING ARTS OF SOUTHEAST ASIA
MAKING SUNDANESE MUSIC LOCAL AGAIN: GALENGAN SORA AWI’S BAMBOO
MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS AND SUNDANESE MODERNITY
Henry Spiller
University of California, Davis, USA
Abstract
Bandung (the capital of West Java, Indonesia) has a profound sense of place, in part because of two important
landmarks. Bisecting the city is the Cikapundung River, and looming over the area is the volcano Tangkuban
Perahu. As Bandung’s population approached three million at the end of the 20th century, however, the
Cikapundung became little more than a sewer, and air pollution obscured the view of Tangkuban Perahu.
Bandung became indistinguishable from any other third-world city. In the first decades of the 21st century,
Bandung’s residents, inspired by green movements across the globe, initiated a grassroots environmental
movement. Interest in cleaning up the Cikapundung also spread to the poorer modern-day kampung residents
who lived right on the river and occupied the lowest rungs of Bandung’s economic ladder.
This paper introduces the bamboo musical group from one such neighbourhood—Galengan Sora
Awi (hereafter GSA)—and examines how the group expresses a bottom-up approach in reconnecting to a
Sundanese identity that is rooted firmly in a unique place—Bandung’s Dago neighbourhood on the
Cikapundung. They achieve this connection by performing an eclectic repertory of Sundanese styles and
genres, deploying idiosyncratic, homemade bamboo musical instruments for audiences and events that are
associated closely with the physical environment of Bandung. For GSA, the path to renewing and reviving
their connections to local human groups and to the landscapes that nurtured them, even in contemporary
Bandung, is paved with bamboo. It is the revival of this very old technology that enables them to produce the
musical instruments and perform a variety of genres once limited to specialists. Their musical activities fit
well with the post-modern “do-it-yourself” (DIY) principles that drive alternative music scenes all over the
world and are also associated with environmental and social reform movements.
MAATAW – THE FLOATING ISLAND: PERFORMING ECO-CRITICISM FOR TAO PEOPLE
THROUGH AN ARTISTIC APPLICATION OF RESEARCH FINDINGS
Lin Wei-Ya
University of Music and Performing Arts, Austria
Abstract
This paper is about the dance theatre production Maataw—the Floating Island (2016), a production based on
the indigenous Tao’s singing and dancing traditions by the Formosa Aboriginal Song and Dance Troupe (chi.
原舞者). The Tao (chi. 達悟 or Yami 雅美) are one of the sixteen recognized indigenous groups in Taiwan,
who live on Orchid Island (chi. Lanyu 蘭嶼) southeast of the main island of Taiwan. Their language is orally
transmitted. The traditional music of the Tao consists primarily of songs. Through singing, they transmit their
history, views of life, and taboos. Like among many other indigenous societies, keeping the balance between
the ecological environment and human society is one of the most essential perceptions of value in their
tradition.
Since the 1950s, many policies have been undertaken by the Taiwanese government, aiming to
support “development” and “modernization” for ethnic minorities. Consequently, the Tao veered away from
their traditional religion and practices, as for example by using the economic and monetary system imposed
by Taiwan since 1967, and in 1971 the island was opened for tourism. In 1980, an “intermediate deposit” for
“weak” radioactive waste was established on the island, with many scams and close cooperation between the
Taiwan Power Company and the government. In 2009, radioactive substances were found outside of the
dumpsite on Orchid Island.
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In order to integrate indigenous tradition into contemporary arts, such as in the production Maataw,
it is feasible to apply anthropological and ethnomusicological methods during the creative processes of
composition and choreography. Which problems emerge in such an endeavour, and which strategies can be
applied? How does the production Maataw interpret the Tao’s past, and how can political issues be transmutated into movements and sounds? These questions are addressed and discussed in my paper.
SOUND, POWER, AND DEATH: THE ROYAL FUNERAL OF HRH KING RAMA IX
(Lightning Paper)
Deborah Wong
University of California, Riverside, USA
Abstract
The funeral for King Rama IX was held in Bangkok on October 25-30, 2017 after a year of national mourning.
My presentation addresses three main points.
First, I propose an intermedia methodology for ethnomusicological research on huge, multifaceted,
public events. This historic funeral sprawled across days and locations; it defied any simple access. How can
ethnomusicologists address the opportunities and contradictions of mass information available through social
media and state media outlets? I propose an intermedia method that reaches purposefully across sources and
perspectives, showing how we can interpolate our on-the-ground ethnographic documentation with materials
gathered or generated by others.
Second, I address the musics and soundscapes of the five-day funeral, deploying my intermedia
methodology. Overlapping soundscapes are a mark of high social status in Thai funerals (Wong, 1998).
Multiple ensembles were featured in the King’s funeral (nang hong, bua loy, krabuan chalaung, military
bands, etc.) along with the amplified sound of Buddhist monks chanting. The night before the cremation,
three huge stages featured simultaneous performances of court dance drama, jazz bands, ballet, and more.
Songs composed by the late King were piped into malls and played by street buskers. The rhizophonic
character and recombinatoriality of these sounds and styles (Piekut & Stanyek, 2010) was not sonic worlds
colliding, but rather the very definition of royal power.
Third, I reflect on mourning, love, and anxiety in a time of political precarity and deep uncertainties.
The current prime minister—a general who staged a successful coup in 2014 and then installed himself as
the country’s leader—presided over the funeral along with the new King. Some people waiting on the street
to pay their respects to the late King said they were there because they “loved Father” (rak phau): grief and
love were comingled in the responses of ordinary people.
THE SONG OF SRI TANJUNG: A STORY OF SPIRIT JOURNEY
IN ANCIENT JAVANESE CULTURE
(Film)
Yohanes Hanan Pamungkas
Universitas Negeri Surabaya, Indonesia
Abstract
Illustrated by poetry and song which is taken from the Sri Tanjung Book, this film tells the story of the
meeting of Sri Tanjung with Sidapaksa who then becomes her husband. Sidapaksa works as a warrior for the
king Sulakrama, but the king wants Sri Tanjung for his own. Because of that, the king sends Sidapaksa to a
place far away in order to separate him from his wife. The life Sri Tanjung and Sidapaksa was inspired by
love and then death that almost separated them. Sri Tanjung experienced the dramatic period when she should
die by the hand of her husband to prove that she is a faithful wife. The death of Sri Tanjung takes this drama
to the world of spirits. Her spirit journey was finished when Sri Tanjung meets with a figure called Ra Nini,
that is, Durga who keeps the door of internal death. After Sri Tanjung related why she died, Durga refused
Sri Tanjung’s death and returned her to the living world. Sidapaksa, who still regretted killing his wife, was
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surprised and joy full because his lovely wife was alive again. Sidapaksa was very disappointed with the king
Sulakrama. Supported by the village population, he successfully beat the king. Sidapaksa and Sri Tanjung
finally became a king and wife.
This film is also uses dance to visualize some scenes of Sri Tanjung and includes some expertise on
Javanese culture about the concept of death in a Javanese community. The story of the spiritual journey of
Sri Tanjung is very popular from ancient times in Java, and recently in Bali also. The relief of Sri Tanjung
riding a fish while on the spiritual journey is found in several Hindu temples in Java from XII to the XV
Century. Recently the Sri Tanjung Story became a legend important to the city of Banyuwangi, East Java
Region, Indonesia.
SHARING K-POP CHOREOGRAPHY ACROSS THE BORDER: DANCE COVER ACTIVITIES
IN THE MALAYSIAN CHINESE DIASPORA
(Lightning Paper)
Sangwoo Ha
Universiti Pendidikan Sultan Idris, Malaysia
Abstract
This paper concentrates on K(orean)-pop dance cover activities conducted by the Malaysian young
generation, especially the Malaysian Chinese youth. Many of the Chinese youth in Malaysia have replicated
via social media (YouTube, Facebook and Instagram) and dance cover competitions hosted by K’Storm and
Dancedeets since the 2010s. My curiosity is aroused about how the Chinese youth re-make and re-perform
K-pop dances coming from across the border of Malaysia, where various races and cultures have co-existed.
Malaysia has been called the multicultural and multi-confessional country.
K-pop music belongs to South Korean pop-culture, but K-pop dance music is currently the most
prevalent among Malaysian young people. As more and more dance music is popular, the fandom of Korean
girls and boys dance groups, called idol groups, gets larger in the Malaysian Chinese community. Some go
into imitating performances of the idol groups, forming professional and non-professional cover dance teams.
What is noticeable here is that the Malaysian government countenances cultural opening by policy, which
allows the younger generation to open their mind to K-pop dance music and to be accustomed to producing
dance covers in their own bodies.
I collect oral testimony to dance cover activities of the Malaysian Chinese youth through interviews
of young participants who are active as members of several dance cover teams in Kuala Lumpur. This
investigation lets me explore why the youth turns away their eyes to K-pop dance coming from across the
border. It also enables me to look over what meanings the youth dissolve into their K-pop dance covers. This
research makes clear that dance is seen as a global communication medium beyond racial and cultural barriers
when being transmitted from one country to another.
MAJORITY OR MINORITY: VIETNAMESE MUSIC SCENE IN THE FIRST SQUARE,
TAICHUNG CITY, TAIWAN
(Lightning Paper)
Kuo Ta-Hsin
Tainan National University of the Arts, Taiwan
Abstract
Vietnamese music has become a part of the unique music scene in Taichung City located in central-west
Taiwan, and with an estimated population of 40,000 Vietnamese since the increasing population of
Vietnamese migrant workers and spouses from the 1990s. Based on my fieldwork from 2015 to 2017 in the
First Square, Taichung City, I have observed that Vietnamese music (Nhạc Vàng, Nhạc Bolero, Nhạc Trẻ,
etc.) is generally heard in restaurants and cafés where Vietnamese migrant workers from different regions
spend their leisure time.
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However, in accordance with the New Southbond Policy, the Taichung City government now not
only aims to transform the First Square to a more commercial and tourism oriented landscape, but also
emphasizes on the multicultural aspect of the city. Derived from this motivation, the Taichung City
government holds a series of festivals associated with Vietnamese culture in attempts to enhance ethnic
integration. As a result, tourists, students, and researchers flock to the place, bringing tremendous changes.
Also, political propaganda and Mandarin pop music disrupt our sensual perception of a Vietnamese based
community in the First Square.
This paper will focus on how Vietnamese migrant works and foreign spouses form the unique
Vietnamese communities in the First Square. The political involvement and the impacts on the Vietnamese
music scene will also be discussed. Is such music scene still the trending phenomenon in the First Square, or
has it become a part of touristic scene of Taichung City? Finally, I will represent the Vietnamese music scene
in the First Square with reflexive ethnography, and show the results of my involvement.
UNIQUELY SINGAPORE: NANYANG-STYLED COMPOSITIONS OF THE
SINGAPORE CHINESE ORCHESTRA
(Lightning Paper)
Lee Ming-Yen
Nanhua Univeristy, Taiwan
Abstract
Founded in 1997, the Singapore Chinese Orchestra (Xinjiapo huayue tuan 新加坡華樂團) is the youngest
professional modern Chinese orchestra in the Greater China region. Unlike the modern Chinese Orchestras
of mainland China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan that seek to celebrate “Chineseness” and collaborate with one
another across the straits, the Singapore Chinese Orchestra attempts to highlight the “Southeast Asianness”
of the Chinese diaspora in their musical performances.
This paper examines the Nanyang-Styled (Nanyang feng 南洋風) Compositions of the Singapore
Chinese Orchestra, focusing on their commissioned compositions as well as music pieces composed for
composition competitions. Drawing Tu Wei-Ming’s (1991) concept of “Cultural China,” which he argues
that the “periphery” displaced China as the cultural centre for the articulation of “Chineseness,” this study
demonstrates how Chinese musicians in the Southeast Asian “periphery” emerged as musicians of a “Cultural
China.” It argues that the Singapore Chinese Orchestra produces the Nanyang-Styled Compositions to present
the hybridized identity of the Chinese in Southeast Asia. By mixing elements of modern Chinese orchestra
with Southeast Asian musical styles, the Singapore Chinese Orchestra produces an uniquely Singaporean
Chinese music—modern Chinese orchestra music with Southeast Asian characteristics.
‘DISAVOWED FREEDOM’: THE DECONTEXTUALIZATION
OF IGAL (DANCE) TRADITION
Hafzan Zannie Hamza
Sultan Idris Education University, Malaysia
Abstract
Among the Bajau community in Semporna, Sabah, igal (dance) or mag-igal (dancing) is an integral element
in ritual performances as well as secular events such as weddings and festive celebrations, which includes
the annual Regatta Lepa Festival. During rituals, igal is performed by female or male spirit mediums, dancing
as a soloist. On the other hand, within non-ritual contexts, Bajau dancers can perform solo or in groups.
Outside the Bajau community, igal is performed by non-Bajaus for various occasions, usually as a showcase
item in a general program of cultural dance performances or as a commodity of tourism. Igal, or widely (and
wrongly) known as tarian igal-igal, has been presented as an indigenous dance tradition that is both
entertaining and aesthetically pleasing to the eye of the viewers. However, the changes in performance
spaces, from the inside-to-outside of Bajau culture, and from the sacred-to-secular context requires a
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culturally constructed structured movement system to be appropriately renamed, rearranged, recontextualized and reproduced in a coordinated, standardized and regulated manner in order to conform to
the multi-layered expectations of diverse audiences and patrons. This overhaul is needed due to the desperate
reliance on ‘imported’ trainers, limited resources and restrictions in collecting empirical material.
This paper asserts that igal, when performed outside its cultural context and understanding, has
resulted in the absence of underlying choreographic principles of performer-as-composer, which in turn has
consequently disavowed the freedom to create and to nurture individuality in innovative individual
techniques, styles and motif compositions.
THE RE-INVENTION OF THAI CLASSICAL DANCE: CHANGE AND THE NEW TRADITION
(Lightning Paper)
Pawinee Boonserm
Thammasat University, Thailand
Abstract
The period after the end of the World War II is seen as the beginning of a phase of revival of classical dance
in Thailand. The Fine Arts Department revival of Thai classical dance began a process of defining
classicalism and transformed the value and function of court dance. During this period, the Fine Arts
Department directly reconstructed dance-drama and become the most powerful patron of classical dance by
establishing the Office of Performing Arts with a specific remit to propagate classical dance-drama in Thai
society.
The main purpose of this paper is to examine how the government reinvented the classical Thai
dance and its practice, when a rising sense of Thai nationalism stimulated the redefinition of Thai classical
dance as national heritage. My central argument is that the traditional dance training as it occurs today is a
result of the productions of the neo-traditional dance-dramas reconstructed as part of this project of cultural
revivalism. In this paper, I specifically analyse the forms of Lakhon dance-dramas that were revived during
1940s-1960s and were promoted as representing the defining “classical” traditions of Thai dance. This dance
was the neo-classical dance which the Fine Arts Department reconstructed in the mid-1940s and which was
then transmitted to the new generation as if it were preserved tradition.
The Fine Arts Department also played an important role in setting a standard not only for classical
performances but also for the documents concerning those performances. The Fine Arts Department
propagated knowledge about Thai classical dance and theatre to the wider public, and changed what the
people understand by classical dance. The versions of the history of Thai dance-drama written during the
revivalist period were operative. These histories also produced a standardized version of Thai dance practice,
and the knowledge of Thai drama today has been conditioned by this historical writing.
BRINGING THE BANGSAL TO STAGE: PERFORMING THE URBAN MEK MULUNG IN
COLLABORATION WITH PERFORMERS OF KAMPUNG WANG TEPUS
(Lightning Paper)
Nur Izzati Jamalludin
King’s College London, United Kingdom
Abstract
Mek Mulung is a dance-drama that originates from Wang Tepus, Kedah; a state in the northern Peninsular
Malaysia. About over a decade, the performance of the concertized urban Mek Mulung has soared in
popularity within performing art enthusiasts in urban areas, mainly in the country’s capital, Kuala Lumpur.
Promoted through various platforms, positive responses of the performance reflect the demand of the urban
Mek Mulung. This indirectly created two forms of Mek Mulung, with their two separate identities. One is the
village or kampung performance, normally performed in bangsal or makeshift stage and the other, the urban
style. These two styles of Mek Mulung have existed separately over the period. The urban performances
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mainly dominate urban cities such as Kedah’s capital, Alor Setar and Kuala Lumpur, while the kampung Mek
Mulung remained almost exclusively in Wang Tepus. The “post-revival” (Howard, 2016) Mek Mulung in
urban areas allows Mek Mulung to appeal to urban audiences while helping the performance to expand
beyond its local territory of the kampung, Wang Tepus. The increased popularity of the urban Mek Mulung
however, caused a large number of people within the nation to associate the Mek Mulung with the urban
performance and neglecting the other.
This paper explores the possibilities of an initiative to bring a combined kampung and urban Mek
Mulung performance versions through a student performance at Universiti Malaya, Kuala Lumpur in
December 2016. The performance incorporated three main performers of Mek Mulung from Wang Tepus to
perform alongside the dance and theatre undergraduate students of Universiti Malaya. Discussions will
include the creative development process of the performance. An expected outcome of this process is more
improved collaborations between styles and the generations’ groups to help each other’s viability and vitality
in sustaining the performance for generations to come.
ICONS OF MALAY IDENTITY IN THE MUSICAL ARTS OF INDONESIA’S RIAU
ARCHIPELAGO: CONCEPTS OF SPACE, PLACE AND GENERATIVE MEMORY CODES
Margaret Kartomi
Monash University, Australia
Abstract
When the post-colonial state of Indonesia committed itself to democracy and local autonomy in 1999, the
Riau Islanders lobbied against decades of “internal colonialism” and neglect by mainland Riau of which they
were part, and were granted permission to establish their own autonomous Riau Islands Province. The new
Riau Islands government encouraged the province’s adat and artistic communities in its five regencies and
two metropolises to choose the music, dance and theatre forms of which they were most proud, and to
promote and revitalise them as their local icons of identity, including at the grand international Festival of
Malay Civilisation held in the capital, Tanjung Pinang, in 2013. Based largely on field work and a few
existing studies, this paper presents accounts of the hitherto unresearched history, functions and performance
styles of these icons and other significant repertoire, arguing that their changing performance styles to meet
contemporary needs are still based on traditional Malay concepts of space, place, and generative memory
codes.
DANCE PRACTICES AND COMPOSITION IN THE INDONESIAN-MALAY MENDU
THEATRICAL FORM OF RIAU’S NATUNA ISLANDS
Karen Thomas
Monash University, Australia
Abstract
This study examines the dance practices of mendu theatre, a relatively unknown Indonesian-Malay theatre
form performed in Natuna in Riau Islands province. It describes and compares the dance motifs from two
case studies based on mendu performances that I watched and recorded, firstly in Ceruk village near the
capital Ranai in 1984 where spirit generation and lifestyle events were central to village life, and secondly,
nearly 30 years later on the tiny offshore island of Sedenau, where an official revitalised form arose due to
socio-political change after autonomy. Comparisons show that the movements of dance motifs from Ceruk
and Sedenau performances appeared unrelated and were embodied by actors in stylistically diverse ways.
Yet a further comparative analysis between the dance practices of the two regions and eras showed that a
common method of composition, one that was generative and based on motifs has, in fact, remained firmly
intact and deeply embedded in the artists’ compositional psyche and practices. This research highlights that
while socio-political change demanded a significant revamping of mendu’s across-the-arts practices in
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particular dance, one area where actors did not comply-whether consciously or not-was in the generative
method of dance composition carried out on stage in real time.
HANDS PERCUSSION: PERFORMING COSMOPOLITANISM THROUGH
MUSICAL ALLIANCES ACROSS THE GLOBE
(Lightning Paper)
Clare Suet Ching Chan
Universiti Pendidikan Sultan Idris, Malaysia
Abstract
Hands Percussion is a percussion ensemble formed by the Chinese of Malaysia in 1997. Their performances
have transcended from ethnic seclusion of Chinese drumming rhythms to national inclusivity, as Hands
Percussion embraced the local soundscapes of Malaysia by incorporating Malay and Indian music into their
performances. In recent years, Hands Percussion has explored global soundscapes through their musical
alliances with performing artists around the world. In “Wind of Nomads” (2017), Hands collaborated with
Dafra Drums from the USA and Burkina Faso to introduce sounds from the djembes and kora of the Manding
Empire (West Africa), synchronizing the complex rhythms of the African talking drum with the Indian tabla
and the newly invented Swiss hang drum.
This paper explores the changing identities of cosmopolitan musicians whose opportunities for
international musical alliances are enhanced by 1) advanced technology in transportation, communication
and technology, and 2) embracing the concept of ‘cosmopolitanism’. I examine the term ‘cosmopolitanism’
through the notion of a ‘world citizen’, someone who is less bounded by traditional geopolitical and cultural
divisions derived from national citizenship and more global in their creative and conceptual frameworks for
performance compositions. Embracing this concept allows Hands Percussion performers to create new
musical productions that represent the contemporary identity of Malaysians today (2017). Through
interviews with Hands Percussion artistic directors and performers, this paper examines the learning process,
intercultural experience and creative production of a contemporary Hands Percussion.
ROUNDTABLE: ADVOCATING CULTURAL AND SOCIAL CHANGE THROUGH
THE PERFORMING ARTS
BUILDING INTERETHNIC PEACE AMONG YOUNG PEOPLE IN PENANG THROUGH
COMMUNITY MUSICAL THEATRE
Tan Sooi Beng
Universiti Sains Malaysia, Malaysia
Abstract
Stemming from concerns that Malaysian society is becoming more divided and segregated along ethnoreligious and cultural lines, I have actively searched for and created alternative bottom-up methodologies to
bridge intercultural gaps that are crucial for the construction of a more inclusive Malaysian nation and
sustainable peace. This paper attempts to elaborate on the strategies and challenges encountered in my own
musical-theatre projects for young people that emphasize devising local plays based on oral history and
observation among the local multiethnic communities.
In particular, the approach of crossing boundaries through the use of multiethnic casts who negotiate
the stage in multiple accents, languages, and performance idioms, makes the play accessible to all of the
ethnic groups in the audience, as they can understand the languages and identify with the scenarios in their
daily lives. Crossing boundaries and hybridity also helps the participants themselves to learn about the
cultures of other ethnic groups, respect differences and hence move beyond cultural and racial stereotypes.
My premise is that inter-ethnic peace occurs when divided groups begin to talk to and work with one another.
In this regard, community musical theatre workshops represent an ideal space for multiethnic young people
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to deal with issues of ethnicity through collaborative ensemble work. At the same time, audiences are able to
see and experience the complexities of race and cultural interaction being performed on stage.
ROUNDTABLE: ADVOCATING CULTURAL AND SOCIAL CHANGE THROUGH
THE PERFORMING ARTS
WAYANG KULIT PERFORMANCE AS A TOOL TO IMPROVE THE COGNITIVE
DEVELOPMENT IN CEREBRAL PALSY CHILDREN
Mumtaz Begum Aboo Backer
Universiti Sains Malaysia, Malaysia
Abstract
Wayang Kulit or shadow theatre is an ancient performance practice that continues to be sustained as a ritual
and secular performance by the Malaysian local community. This paper explores the possibilities of using
Wayang Kulit as an innovative learning medium or tool to enhance the cognitive development of cerebral
palsy children. As such, this research looks at how performative elements in Wayang Kulit can be employed
as devices to improve the ability of cerebral palsy children to learn, to sequence and to reason.
This article brings forth three key performance elements; “role-play”, “story-telling” and the “use of
space” as explorative assessment methods to study the cognitive improvement of these children through a
series of workshops leading to a full theatrical Wayang Kulit performance at the Cerebral Palsy Children’s
Association of Penang. Findings of this study show that there is a significant improvement in the children’s
abilities to: memorize the script, present the script in a story-telling manner, transcend between the dramatic
characters and present reality, and also understand the mechanism of the performative setting of the stage (on
and off stage).
ROUNDTABLE: ADVOCATING CULTURAL AND SOCIAL CHANGE THROUGH
THE PERFORMING ARTS
PERFORMANCE AS AN EXPRESSIVE TOOL TO VOICE CULTURAL IDENTITY AMONG
REFUGEE CHILDREN: A CASE OF ROHINGYA REFUGEE COMMUNITIES
Pravina Manoharan
Universiti Sains Malaysia, Malaysia
Abstract
Over the years, debates regarding refugee communities have attracted primarily negative and challenging
discourses, particularly those concerning issues of culture and identity. In light of their refugee status, these
communities often have limited excess to express aspects of their cultural and social identity. This paper is
part of a short-term research grant project that explores how music and drama function as mediatory tools
that empower the voices of refugee children aged between 10 and 14 years of age.
I refer to the Rohingya community as a case study to develop a music and drama program that
contains elements of Rohingya culture and music as an innovative tool to help these children improve social
skills and express their cultural identity as Rohingyas in Malaysia. The program is also aimed at helping them
build greater self-esteem and gradually overcome issues of social anxiety, a problem many of these children
face as members of a marginalised community. Music and drama programs have proven to be effective
expressive tools in allowing children to overcome their emotional and psychological turmoil (Dokter, 2005;
Hogan & Coulter 2014). However, in Malaysia, while such programs have been carried out within the
primary education system, its positive and promising influences have not reached the children of refugee
communities. Interviews were conducted with 15 adult representatives from the Rohingya community in
Penang to gather information on their traditional/folk musical and cultural practices. Following this, the
children were taught simple musical elements like rhythm and melody, which helped create a foundation
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from where elements of their traditional music could be introduced. Preliminary findings reveal that the
majority of these children demonstrate a keen interest in learning their traditional folk music. Children are
more vocal and willing to participate in musical activities rather than engage in verbal conversations.
ROUNDTABLE: ADVOCATING CULTURAL AND SOCIAL CHANGE THROUGH
THE PERFORMING ARTS
RAISING SOCIAL ISSUES THROUGH FOLK SONGS, LOCAL GESTURES
AND MOVEMENT IN DEVISED PLAYS
A.S. Hardy Shafii
Universiti Sains Malaysia, Malaysia
Abstract
Theatre performances are one of the best tools to inform, influence, entertain, educate and disseminate local
and scientific knowledge as well as to provoke the minds of the people about social issues. Theatre activists
like Augusto Boal have restored theatre to its place as a popular form of communication and expression
(Boal, 1992). Boal demonstrates the way in which theatre has come to reflect ruling-class control, drawing
on the theories of Aristotle and Machiavelli. More importantly, he stresses the need to make alternative
theatre that is entertaining, fun, and intrusive. According to Schechner (1992), this type of approach is social
therapy as it focuses the mind, relaxes the spirit, giving people a new handle on their situations.
This paper explores how local folk songs and expressions through gestures can be utilised in devised
plays to address socio-political issues or dissatisfaction towards higher authority, community or an individual
in power. Folk songs, originating among the people of a country or area and passed down by oral tradition,
is an appropriate tool for communication (Cambridge, 1995). However, the selection of folk songs and local
gestures must be studied, analysed and acted out to ensure the songs are related to the theme and concept of
the play. Lyrics of the songs and the theme song are also vital for a strong message to be communicated
through satirical acts or movements. In this discussion, Malaysian folk songs such as “Enjit-Enjit Semut”,
“Bangau Oh! Bangau” and “Lenggang-Lenggang Kangkung” are analysed in the devised plays entitled
“Reflections on anOTHER” (performed in Shanghai, 2014), “The Sound of Silence” (Singapore, 2015) and
“Kiri Kanan” (New Delhi, 2016). It is imperative to note that these folk songs are not only producing beautiful
melodies and rhythms but the message through the lyrics can be manipulated to express socio-political
commentaries.
TANDA DE VALSE AND ITS MODE OF PRODUCTION IN NINETEENTH-CENTURY MANILA
Arwin Q. Tan
University of the Philippines, Philippines
Abstract
This paper examines the proliferation of tanda de valse in Manila during the late nineteenth century, and its
eventual decline at the outset of American colonization in the early twentieth century. The evolving Filipino
middle class of the late nineteenth century established intertwining social relations that were enhanced in
private musical gatherings—tertulias—which were usually highlighted by waltz music, the favoured
instrumental dance form. A suite of waltzes known as tanda de valse was probably stylized and not really
meant as accompaniment for dancing. A number of Filipino composers—penínsulares, creoles, and
indigenas—participated in the production of this musical genre, utilizing the established forces of production
such as the rise of publishing companies and the emerging prominence of piano as a domesticated instrument,
for its circulation. By the end of the nineteenth century, tanda de valse became a standard genre in a Filipino
composer’s creative profile.
The transformation of taste and the concurrent changing mode of production for dance entertainment
music by Manila’s bourgeoning middle class, particularly the shift from the stylized tanda de valse to the
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preference for American dance music that flourished in public cabarets, reflect how a number of changing
relations and forces of production have resulted from the new overarching political and economic
superstructure of American imperialism. This study seeks to analyse why tanda de valse ceased to proliferate
during the American colonial period, and in lieu of it, what new instrumental genre/s flourished? Were the
new socio-political and economic changes imposed by the new imperial government instrumental in the
decline of its production?
FROM “LELENG” TO “NOVELTY SONG”: MOVEMENT OF A MUSIC ACROSS
CATEGORICAL DEFINITIONS IN THE PHILIPPINES
Jose S Buenconsejo
University of the Philippines, Philippines
Abstract
The term “novelty song” in the category of “popular music” in the Philippines is an ironic term for while it
is called “novel”, it is, however, central to the expressive culture of the majority of Filipinos. The seeming
marginalization of “novelty song” in the market can be commonly attributed to the effect of xenocentrism in
which locally produced recordings that mimic the sounds of the “imported” are better valued and appreciated.
I would however argue beyond this that part of the reason why “novelty songs” is termed “novel” has to do
with (1) its local style, which marks it too contrastive with the dominant styles of music produced by
mainstream music industry, and (2) that this type of music has affinity with a parallel genre that is practiced
by indigenous Filipinos. Most indigenous communities in the Philippines possess light-hearted songs that are
more or less metered and in syllabic style and sung for entertainment.
In this paper, I explore the continuity between the indigenous and folk, which terms are artefacts of
the country’s colonial histories. I investigate in particular the Tausug “leleng” genre from Southern
Philippines, a tune which was borrowed by the “novelty song” songwriter Max Surban from the Visayan
region. This became very popular throughout the Philippines at one point. The national popularity of this
song was unprecedented and thus the term “novelty song” becomes a misleading label for a marginalized
genre that was in fact hugely popular.
FIGHTING BACK VIA FLIPTOP: MANILA’S TAKE ON HIPHOP BATTLES
(Lightning Paper)
Lara Mendoza
Ateneo de Manila University, Philippines
Abstract
Using Tricia Rose’s contention that hiphop is a means for African-American youth from the inner cities to
express their resistance to smothering class and social conditions in America, my paper will contend that in
Manila’s teeming streets, hiphop battles known as fliptop offer not only the disenfranchised a platform in
which to express their bottled-up sentiments but also to create a space of refuge or community of practitioners
in the rhythmic ritual of rap.
The sample of hiphop artists in this paper will include university students as well as the average
bloke from urban poor enclaves in the city. It will note the popularity of such a medium that sprang from the
efforts of a young university graduate who sought to localize the rap battle scene he was exposed to in the
United States. Literary devices such as rhyme and word play determine what rap spiels resonate with spirited
fans; the witty master is one with a clear advantage in such battles. R-18 content involving body-shaming,
mother-insulting, and the unapologetic use of expletives, among others, are the spice that appeal and
entertain, echoing Bakhtinian carnivalesque in the enjoyment of ribald humour and guttural conventions of
Manila’s gritty streets.
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FILIPINO INDIE ARTISTS’ IMPACT TO POPULAR MUSIC AUDIENCES
(Lightning Paper)
Ma. Christina P. Cayabyab
University of the Philippines, Philippines
Abstract
This paper presents how significant 21st century Filipino indie artists based in Metro Manila have continued
to straddle between the ideological practices of the independent and popular music systems, eventually
reaching a different plane of renown to a wider reach of audiences in the Philippines as well as within
Southeast Asia. Through the case studies of vocally-identified Up Dharma Down, rapper and hip-hop artist
Abra, young folk-driven band The Ransom Collective, dance rock and electronica-based Autotelic, acoustic
guitarist and songwriter Bullet Dumas, and all-around artist Reese Lansangan, important factors from each
artist that are both unique from and similar to the others are identified as contributors to their impact in the
popular music market.
At least two of these indie artists, if not all, have worked within the avenues of (1) releasing an album
in physical and/or digital formats and having their music made available on Spotify and Apple Music, (2)
performing in venues beyond the gig circuit, such as in malls, major concert grounds, university events,
television and radio show appearances, and corporate-produced events, (3) making themselves visible
through various social media platforms, having their own websites as well, and garnering a significant
number of followers, (4) performing outside Metro Manila and having performances overseas, and (5)
receiving recognition from popular award-giving bodies. This study shows how an independent artist,
especially in the era of the indomitable Internet, can freely and successfully achieve popularity in a
mainstream sense, by being an active agent towards his/her chosen artistic direction.
PERFORMING RAMAYANA: CONTACT ZONE, SINGAPORE INDIAN DANCERS
AND THEIR REFLEXIVITY
(Lightning Paper)
Yoshiaki Takemura
National Museum of Ethnology, Japan
Abstract
The commercial and cultural exchange between India and other regions, especially Southeast Asia, that was
influenced by the historical process of Indianization, resulted in the introduction of the Great epic, Ramayana,
in these countries. In each of these countries, the Ramayana played a significant role in the development of
the written language and oral tradition, apart from transforming into other art forms including drama, dance,
shadow plays, paintings, sculpture, and architecture. Thus, over a long period of time, the Ramayana created
its own cultural sphere in India and the Southeast Asian regions. However, the situation is slightly different
in Singapore. Indian migration and settlement began in the early 19th century and the development of Indian
dance and music occurred over the 20th century in the region. Accordingly, the Ramayana traditions were
predominantly maintained among the Indian diaspora.
Culture and tradition play an important part in maintaining “Indianness” among the Indian diaspora
overseas. In the current situation of postmodernity and globalization, performing arts is increasingly drawn
from intercultural creativity and located in the multicultural context. Without exception, traditional
performing arts such as Indian dance are facing a new dimension in modern society. Today, Singapore Indian
dance groups often represent Singapore as a symbol of multicultural society at international events and arts
festivals, including the Ramayana Festivals both domestically and internationally. This paper will focus on
the dynamics of “contact zone” among the Singapore Indian dancers and their encounter with Southeast Asia
at the Ramayana Festivals in India and Southeast Asia. It will investigate the enjoyment of the Ramayana
tradition and the cultural policy in Singapore and also explore the reflexive processes that occur in the
construction and representation of identity among Singapore Indian dancers through their experiences.
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CROSSING BORDERS THROUGH POPULAR PERFORMANCE: A COMPARATIVE STUDY
BETWEEN SOUTHERN-THAI AND MALAY MENORA
(Lightning Paper)
Kanit Sripaoraya
University Malaysia Kelantan, Malaysia
Abstract
This paper focuses on the popular performance called ’Nora’ which is very well known among SouthernThai communities, in the provinces of Nakorn Si Thammarat, Phatthalung and Songkhla as well as in the
Northern states of Malaysia, namely Kedah and Kelantan. It functions as a ‘folk dance’ for entertaining
Siamese and Southern Thai people as well as a ’ritual performance’ in healing the illness caused by the spirits
and vow fulfilment. The performance elements and functions of Nora are quite similar from place to place
because it has shared some cultural roots in previous times, but each Nora was adapted in different ways
under new cultural, social and political conditions since the nation-states of Thailand and Malaysia were
mapped. Southern Thai Nora was influenced by the indigenous culture and the concept of ’Buddhist-Thai’,
while Malay Menora in Kedah and Kelantan were interweaved by the ancient Siamese culture together with
the new cultural interaction between Southern Thai and Malay.
This presentation will analyse the identity of Nora which was shaped and formed by the concept of
shared-culture and cross-culture, and participatory research in anthropological fieldwork is applied.
ASEAN POP: CONTEMPORARY POP MUSIC WITH RICH AND DIVERSE TRADITIONS
(Lightning Paper)
Isabella Pek
Academy of Arts, Culture and Heritage (ASWARA), Malaysia
Abstract
In conjunction with the 31st ASEAN Summit, the ASEAN Music Festival was held at the Ayala Triangle
Garden in Manila. Not only did bands from the Philippines perform, groups from Malaysia, Myanmar,
Thailand, Brunei, Laos, Vietnam and Indonesia joined in the festival, each presented their take of
contemporary popular music with traditional or cultural elements.
Inspired by the report by CNN Philippines, entitled ‘After K-Pop and J-Pop, what about ‘ASEANpop?’ wherein the reporter interviewed the performing musicians in this ASEAN Music Festival, I aim to
discuss what common traits these musicians share, why they were chosen by their respective ministries of
culture to perform at such a political platform, and what ASEAN Pop can possibly result from such regional
music festivals.
GOYANG KARAWANG: EXPLORATION OF WOMENS’ BODY BETWEEN RITES AND FIESTA
(Lightning Paper)
Citra Aryandari
Citra Research Centre, Indonesia
Abstract
This study discusses Goyang Karawang, which brings eroticism of a woman's body in its shows. Eroticism
presented through swaying hips is inseparable from the history that surrounds this performance. The shift of
Karawang district (32 miles east of Jakarta, Indonesia) from agriculture to industrial transformed the culture
of the area. During the agriculture period, almost the entire population of Karawang were farmers and a
performance known as Bajidoran was used as a fertility rite to celebrate the harvest. The swaying hips of the
dancers in Bajidoran later evolved into the cultural identity of the region and was later known as Goyang
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Karawang. In the 1990's Goyang Karawang was also known as a dangdut song title that described the
condition of the culture. Karawang has developed into an industrial city and Bajidoran adapted to the change.
The area now is popularly associated with Goyang Karawang that commodifies the female body and can be
found in numerous related texts. This simple presentation is about the cultural phenomena that occurred in
Karawang and Goyang Karawang’s existence as a cultural text cannot be separated from the study of music,
history, society and gender. This research and writing is within the scope of Cultural Studies and ethnography
which was used in data collection.
THE GENDERING OF GENDER: EXPLORING FEMININITY AND THE FEMALE ROLE
IN BALINESE SHADOW THEATRE MUSIC
Meghan Hynson
Duquesne University, USA
Abstract
Traditionally, Balinese music has been played and performed by men; however, in the past several decades,
women have started to occupy major roles in female gamelan groups and in Balinese music pedagogy. Ideas
of femininity in Balinese gamelan music are encapsulated in Balinese religion, philosophical concepts, and
music theory, lending to a multifaceted lens through which to explore gender in Balinese music studies.
This paper explores how gendered associations arise in the context of the music for the Balinese
shadow puppet theatre, gender wayang. The gendering of gender wayang is first explored through oral
accounts, esoteric written sources such as the Prakempa lontar (palm leaf manuscript) and other academic
works that present historical and ideological perspectives on the relationship between gender and Balinese
gamelan music. Interviews with present-day female teachers and professors of gender wayang, most notably
I Putu Hartini and Ni Ketut Suryatini, provide a native perspective on being female teachers of gender
wayang music. Their stories of modern gender wayang culture offer a look into the career opportunities that
gender wayang is providing for female artists. The author’s own stance as a female American
ethnomusicologist contributes ideas about gendered subjectivities to this paper, as does the work and
perspectives of other female ethnomusicologists who have studied gender wayang music. This paper suggests
a female gendering of gender wayang through its musical characteristics and in how it has emerged as a new
space for females to participate in defining and promulgating Balinese music.
CELLO-DRUMMING IN INDONESIAN KERONCONG
Andy McGraw
University of Richmond, USA
Abstract
Keroncong, the string-band music of Indonesia, traces its roots to the introduction of Western string
instruments to the archipelago beginning in the early sixteenth century. Although Yampolsky has provided
analyses of the harmonic structures of the asli, stambul, and keroncong langgam subgenres, detailed analyses
of the intricate keroncong langgam Jawa (KJW) style are rare. This paper redresses the lacunae. KJW is
deeply inspired by Central Javanese gamelan. It is performed in two modes, also called slendro and pelog,
and incorporates the tempo (irama) shifts characteristic of Javanese gamelan. The high ukulele (cak) is often
associated with the gamelan’s siter, the mid ukulele (cuk) with the colotomic instruments, and the cello (selo)
is analogous to the kendang drum. In the hands of an experienced performer of KJW, the selo can sound
almost indistinguishable from a kendang. Despite this similarity, I never encountered a selo player who could
actually play kendang.
The principal question I explore in this paper is: How is it selo players have absorbed the
sophisticated feel and timbres of kendang performance practice without direct experience? I present the first
detailed transcriptions and analyses of selo performances and compare them with common kendang playing
techniques and patterns. Kendang and selo performance practice converge in ways that appear difficult to
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account for by casual osmosis, as if the complex patterns were simply “in the air,” as one selo player
proposed. Whereas particular macro-rhythmic patterns are sometimes shared between selo and kendang, it is
more often the highly subtle forms of micro-rhythm at particular structural points that link the two practices,
suggesting a uniquely Central Javanese time-feel: a deep Javanese “groove” transcending style and
instrument. A challenge of this paper is to account for this congruence without falling into essentialist notions
of Javanese musicality.
NEW NOSTALGIA: YOGYAKARTA’S ANNUAL KERONCONG FESTIVAL
(Lightning Paper)
Hannah Marie Standiford
Fulbright Researcher, USA
Abstract
Yogyakarta’s annual keroncong festival, Pasar Keroncong Kotagede, started in 2015 with an aim to revive
an interest in this music for younger audiences. Keroncong is a traditional Indonesian string band music
which reached the peak of its popularity in the 1960s, and has since become a form associated with
Independence era nostalgia. Pasar Keroncong Kotagede is the brainchild of artist and event curator Pak
Djaduk Ferianto and Pak Natsir who runs a small NGO aimed at supporting cultural heritage.
This paper will examine the aims of the curators and how they intend to realize them. Pak Djaduk’s
vision was to include 70 percent newer, upcoming keroncong groups with 30 percent traditional, senior
groups. The curators wanted to emphasize innovations within the idiom and break the image of keroncong
as ‘outdated.’ Despite these aims, the posters and advertisements for this festival use fonts, filters and clothing
suggestive of a generalized nostalgia that mixes visual signifiers from several historical periods. This paper
will examine the aesthetics of nostalgia and the way keroncong may represent an abstract idea of nostalgia,
popular among youth, which is not anchored to any particular era.
ROUNDTABLE: SUSTAINABLE TOURISM POTENTIAL FOR THE WEST JAVANESE
PERFORMANCE PRACTICES
WAYANG GOLEK AND UNESCO’S INTANGIBLE CULTURAL HERITAGE LABELLING…
15 YEARS AFTER
Sarah Anaïs Andrieu
Centre Asie du Sud-Est, France
Abstract
Wayang golek is a rod puppet theatre extremely popular in West Java, Indonesia. In 2003, wayang golek was
proclaimed as a Masterpiece of the oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity by the UNESCO, as a
subcategory of the generic item “Indonesian Wayang”.
In 2008, after the Indonesian Republic ratified the UNESCO Convention for the Safeguarding of
Intangible Cultural Heritage, Indonesian Wayang was integrated to the Representative List of Intangible
Cultural Heritage of Humanity. In 2006-2009, I performed an extensive fieldwork research and tried to
understand how a local family practice could become an international heritage. I showed that this
international labelling had worked as an indicative of the many stakes behind the wayang golek practices,
mainly in terms of national and regional identity claims. It also turned out that the new labelling was only
extending a continuous effort of categorisation of the Indonesian performing arts, which started in the 19th
century in the context of colonisation and was continued by the national cultural politics of the new Republic
of Indonesia since 1945.
In 2009, wayang was declared “safe” again by the Indonesian National Secretary for Wayang (Sena
Wangi), and the question turned to how to make it profitable. This paper will study how this heritagization
process is still taking place and the impact of it on the local level. 15 years after the first Proclamation, it will
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focus on how wayang golek is nowadays “going international”. On the one hand, I will analyse wayang as
integrated (or not) into Indonesian touristic politics, underlining the shift between national and regional
(provincial) policies. On the other hand, I will explore how wayang golek is now subject to export,
questioning the notions of cultural diplomacy and performances abroad.
ROUNDTABLE: SUSTAINABLE TOURISM POTENTIAL FOR THE WEST JAVANESE
PERFORMANCE PRACTICES
PERFORMANCE AND SPECTACLE AS AN ELEMENT OF DOMESTIC TOURISM IN BANTEN
KIDUL, WEST JAWA, INDONESIA
Randal Baier
Eastern Michigan University, USA
Abstract
This paper explores performative aspects of sustainable tourism in Kesepuhan Ciptagelar, a mountainous
region of South Banten-Sukabumi, West Java, well-known for its musical performances and processions
performed in concert with traditional agricultural practices and spiritual practices. Large-scale annual
agricultural events and occasions such as Islamic and other calendric events attract a wide variety of
Sundanese domestic and other visitors from the cities of Jakarta, Bandung and other regions of West Java.
Virtually all ritual events are marked by music. Angklung, puppet theatre and percussion ensembles known
as jipeng are essential aspects of these events. Many harvest-related festivals attract jaipongan dance
ensembles or debus troupes. But apart from the obligatory music and spectacle, Ciptagelar culture holds
something possibly more essential: Sundanese and other Indonesian tourists go there to experience the “old
ways” of Sundanese life.
For the indigenous tourist, Ciptagelar attracts ecologists and artists from Bandung, GPS and drone
mapping experts from Jakarta, high school kids on know-your-traditions tours, amateur astronomers and
foresters, even motocross adventurers, all who visit as a kind of “roots” experience, and local practices of
everyday life tend to engage their personal interests. The region, however, is not isolated from modernity.
Ciptagelar has its own Internet-based free telephone system, a local TV channel, cell phones, and
hydroelectric power. To me, as an outsider, I’m curious how these traditions create a kind of brand for
Ciptagelar. By one definition, “indigenous tourism can be defined as a tourism activity in which Indigenous
people are directly involved either through control and/or by having their culture serve as the essence of the
attraction.” The question I’d like to explore in this presentation is how do performances and musical events
fit into this overall complex of cultural practices, and further to ask how this kind of tourism is constructed
or maintained.
‘MAID’ INVISIBLE: MARGINALISED AND RECLAIMED SOUNDSCAPES OF
FOREIGN DOMESTIC WORKERS IN SINGAPORE
Shzr Ee Tan
University of London, United Kingdom
Abstract
Migrants from the Philippines and Indonesia constitute an underclass serving as domestic workers in
Southeast Asia’s cities, including the economically-prosperous Singapore. Frequently referred to by the
derogatory term ‘maid’, members of these exclusively-female communities exist in state-legitimised
frameworks of socioeconomic oppression. Their de-voiced existences, manifest in the physical aspects of
their cut-off housing and constrained everyday lives, raise issues of visibility, representation and agency.
And yet, it is often in the invisible and sonic immateriality that agency is often reclaimed.
Channelling the work of Atkinson (2007) and DeNora (2013) this paper examines how seemingly
abstract but empowering worlds of sound and music shape the experiences, daily routines, identity politics
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and well-being of transient communities, even as they also discipline social orders and private/public spaces.
By this, I refer to how playlists of upbeat (or, conversely, nostalgic) tunes, stored in smartphones, provide a
consolatory rhythm to daily chores when played through earphones in a cocoon. I study how, in regulated
public appearances during the workers’ days off, diverse sound worlds co-created by workers and other
parties regulate public places, and foster notions of otherness, togetherness, tolerance and community.
I also investigate why high-volume tagalog or bahasa chatter in malls are construed as ‘noise made
by foreigners’ by locals using the same spaces, capitulating to xenophobic fears, even as Chinese families
use language to sonically exclude participants, hiding ‘in plain sight’ entire conversations at home. At the
same time, I acknowledge that the soundscapes created or reacted to by the workers stake out their own
important sonic public spaces. In the sanctuaries of churches and mosques, choirs and calls to prayer provide
specific community-bonding experiences. Different legitimisations of migrants’ Southeast Asian civic
identities within Singapore’s official multicultural society are also claimed via separate religious
identifications with the sister Christian and Muslim brethren.
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