Thursday, March 6, 2008

Praying for the World: Exploring Asian hymnody

By C. Michael Hawn

The gospel came to us as a potted plant. We have to break the pot and set the plant in our own soil.— D. T. Niles

During the summer of 1996, I attended a conference with Asian Christians in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Approximately fifty Asians gathered from over twenty countries to investigate the topic “Doing Theology with Asian Resources.” I was the only non-Asian observer at this event sponsored by the Programme for Theology and Culture in Asia, a theological forum growing out of the Christian Conference of Asia. As we listened to the diverse stories of those assembled, a recurring theme emerged: How can we be Christian and still be Asian?

Asian Christians experience a conundrum between feelings of gratitude to Euro-American Christian missionaries for a legacy of the good news of Jesus Christ and a sense of frustration because they often feel like cultural aliens in their own land. Euro-North American influences remain stifling to some, especially in the areas of liturgical ritual and congregational song.

At one point in the conference, a Malay woman stood and reframed the dilemma this way: “We need to remember that Jesus was born in western Asia and sought refuge in northern Africa. He never visited the United States.” Not many of our liturgical practices in the United States reflect the cultures in which the gospel originally took root—Asia and Africa.

The Sounds of Asia

While Christianity is growing rapidly throughout Latin America, Africa, and Asia, Asia is different from the other two in many ways. First of all, Christians generally comprise no more than 3 percent of the total population of the vast territory we call Asia (exceptions are the Philippines, which is largely Roman Catholic, and South Korea, which is at least one-third Protestant—primarily Methodist and Presbyterian).

Second, regardless of how broadly one considers Asia as a geographic entity (some include the South Pacific Islands and even Australia and New Zealand in Asia’s sphere of influence), it is culturally the most complex and diverse region of the world. And Christianity is not new to this region; the good news first took root here through the early missionary movement, not long after Christ’s ascension. The Church of South India, the Mar Thoma Church, the Nestorians, and others are evidence that the gospel reached deep into Asia.

From a musical perspective, many Asian cultures have long traditions of art and folk music. Ethnomusicologists generally recognize five major musical notation systems complete with written theories and philosophies. One is from the West, three are from eastern Asia (India, China, and Indonesia), and a fifth, the Persian system, is from the Middle East (Iran and surrounding Middle Eastern countries). Viewed within the broader perspective, Western musical traditions do not begin to reflect the diversity or, in many cases, the complexity of those found in Asia.

When visiting Christian churches in various parts of Asia, however, the lack of Asian musical resources used in worship and the similarity of respective liturgical traditions to those in the United States might be surprising. The quotation that begins this article by D. T. Niles, the great Sri Lankan churchman and ecumenist, expresses a minority position concerning the incorporation of indigenous Asian musical traditions into Christian liturgy. By the middle of the twentieth century he suggested that Asian Christians needed to find their own voice. Niles cultivated the liturgical soil of Asia by writing hymns and developing the first hymnal to make significant use of Asian music and original texts. I-to Loh, president of the Tianan Theological College and Seminary in Taiwan, has assumed the mantle of D. T. Niles, collecting and developing indigenous Asian hymns for over thirty years. The results of his efforts to set the plant of the gospel into indigenous musical soils throughout Asia appear in many recent hymnals (see box on pp. 32-33).

Comparing the number of Asian hymns in recent Euro-North American hymnals with those from Latin American and African sources, one may draw several conclusions:

  • There are relatively few of them.
  • While many appear to imitate Western musical styles extensively, others are extremely foreign to Western ears.
  • The process of translating Asian texts, especially from languages that use characters, makes it difficult to produce singable, accurate translations.
  • Western musical notation is often inadequate for indicating complexities of rhythm and melody, especially for those musical styles that incorporate glides when approaching notes.
  • Harmonizations found in current hymnals often eliminate distinctive Asian sounds by using standard Western harmonic progressions.
Praying with Asian Christians

In spite of these potential difficulties, some wonderful Asian hymns that are quite accessible to Western congregations can enhance our understanding of sung prayer. Although compromises always take place when music is borrowed from its original culture and incorporated into a new context, we can gain insight into the aesthetic sensibilities of many Asians and, in doing so, enhance our ability to pray for the world. I have found that congregations are more open to attempting music that is far from their cultural experience when they think of it as sharing sung prayers with Christians from around the world, and, in doing so, learning to pray in new ways.

While many Asian church musicians are highly influenced by Western harmonies and hymn styles, especially gospel songs, a growing body of literature draws more deeply from the roots of Asian musical soil. It is impossible to summarize the complexity of the diverse musical styles of Asia in this short space. But I would like to offer some recommendations that might enable worship leaders to help their congregations pray for the world through Asian song and with some understanding of Asian aesthetic sensibility. My comments will focus on suggestions that are most appropriate for traditional music found in northeastern Asia (China, Japan, Taiwan, and Korea) and some parts of the Indian subcontinent (Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, Pakistan, and India). To date, most of the Asian music that appears in hymnals published in the United States comes from northeastern Asia. As an introductory guide, I offer the following four general guidelines:

  • Much traditional Asian music is monophonic, using only a single melodic line. While this may seem stark to the Western musician who is oriented to vertical harmonies, congregations can appreciate the simplicity of monophonic, unaccompanied singing and its power to unify the body of believers gathered (ekklesia) for worship. Asian hymnody often calls for us to listen to the “still, small voice,” a welcome alternative to the contemporary Western emphasis on fuller volume, more instruments, and more technological sophistication.
  • When harmony is used, it is best to use a more polyphonic texture rather than traditional homophonic chords. (Examples will be given below.) Furthermore, if instruments are used, especially string and woodwinds, rather than playing traditional Western vertical harmonies, the effect is one of heterophony, with each instrument embellishing the melody idiomatically according to the nature of the instrument, the scale of the melody, and the style of the music. This is usually not written down, but is done in a semi-improvisatory manner.
  • Many of the melodies, especially in southeastern Asia, make use of glides, most often sliding into a tone from below. These are part of the style and should be taught intentionally. With the appropriate introduction and repetition, I have found that many people are moved by the quiet power and authenticity of these sounds, especially when supporting the text of the Kyrie (Lord, have mercy) or some other prayer text.
  • Percussion is often used, but I would avoid it unless it is indicated on the page.
Three Asian Hymns

Let us look briefly at a few examples that illustrate these points to some degree. Both the text and the music of “Here, O Lord, Your Servants Gather” (see p. 28) are Japanese. In this case the pentatonic (five-tone gapped scale) melody has been harmonized by the composer himself. Note the use of open fifths in the bass part and a simple counterpoint, especially on the second score. This accompaniment is suitable for the organ and might be enhanced by use of reed stops. I have found this hymn to be one of the best poetic exegeses of John 14:6. It is perfect for occasions such as World Communion Sunday.

“Sheep Fast Asleep” (see p. 30), also from Japan, uses a complete diatonic major scale as a basis for the melody. This melody is supported by simple half-note progressions with occasional restrained counterpoint.

Perhaps the best place to find music in the style suggested by the guidelines above is in the hymns of I-to Loh. Dr. Loh enjoys setting hymn texts, especially those of New Zealand hymn writers Shirley Erena Murray and Ron O Grady, in various Asian traditional musical idioms. “A Loving Spirit” (see p. 29) derives its melody from an Indian scale (similar to the “gypsy” minor in the West). The added drum part is reminiscent of the tabla, a pair of drums played with the fingers and palms found in India. The meter (3+4 over 8) symbolizes the mystery of the Holy Spirit. Note the polyphonic character of the accompaniment.

Experience the Mystery and Awe of God

By all means, avoid the temptation to add organ or piano to monophonic material and then harmonize the melodies in a Western manner. When encountering Asian hymns that appear with Western harmonizations in some hymnals, try singing them unaccompanied or in a monophonic manner (melody only).

Even these simple steps may seem somewhat daunting and risky at first. However, Asian hymns may be a vehicle for experiencing the timeless God of mystery and awe. News reports from Asia range from political strife and natural disasters to recent democratic elections and the resolution of deep conflicts. Singing a Christian hymn that has been nourished by the rich aesthetic and spiritual soil of Asia allows us to pray in solidarity with these Christians, lamenting their sorrows and celebrating their joys. Though different from us in worldview and far removed in geography, we are united in Jesus Christ.

Excerpt
NOTES

1 See works by John C. England for an introduction to the early spread of the gospel to Asia including “The Hidden History of Christianity in Asia: the Churches of the East before 1500 C.E.”; Doing Theology with Asian Resources, John C. England and Archie C. C. Lee, eds. (Programme for Theology and Cultures in Asia, 1993), 129-161; and “Early Asian Christian Writings, 5th to the 12th Centuries: An Appreciation,” The Asia Journal of Theology 11:1 (April 1997), 154-171.

2 I-to Loh, “Transmitting Cultural Traditions in Hymnody,” Church Music Worship 4:3 (Sept.-Dec. 1994), 2.

3 See Ion Bria and Dagmar Heller, eds., Ecumenical Pilgrims: Profiles of Pioneers in Christian Reconciliation (Geneva: WCC Publications, 1995), 168-171 for an introduction to D. T. Niles. In addition to writing many hymns, Niles edited the E.A.C.C. Hymnal in 1963 for the East Asian Christian Council, an organization he founded. His translation of a Philippine hymn, “Father in Heaven” (also translated “O God in Heaven”) is found in many North American hymnals (e.g. Psalter Hymnal 252).

4 For an introduction to the work of I-to Loh, see C. Michael Hawn, “Sounds of Bamboo: I-to Loh and the Development of Asian Hymns,” The Hymn 49:2 (April 1998), 12-24. This article also notes the inclusion of hymn tunes written by Loh in current North American hymnals.

5 I recommend Simon Broughton, et al, Eds., World Music: The Rough Guide (New York: Penguin Books, 1994), chapter five: “The Indian Subcontinent,” 205-240, as an excellent readable introduction to the broad range of styles in this region. A helpful discography is also included.

PSALM 131

Jesus, You have helped me.
Because of You I don’t have to be right all the time.
I don’t have to pretend I know all the answers.
I don’t have to win every game.

Now I feel good about myself.
I am at peace—
like when I was a little kid
sitting on my mother’s lap.

—Eldon Weisheit, Psalms for Teens Book II (Concordia, 1994). Used by permission.

SELECTED ASIAN HYMNS IN RECENT HYMNALS PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES AND CANADA

Note: All examples listed are set to Asian tunes; some of the texts are from other sources

Key to Hymnals Cited

BP: The Book of Praise (1997)
CH: The Covenant Hymnal: A Worshipbook (1996)
HWB: Hymnal: A Worship Book (1992)
NCH: New Century Hymnal (1995)
PH : Presbyterian. Hymnal (1990)
PsH: Psalter Hymnal (1987)

RL: Rejoice in the Lord (1985)
SFL: Songs for LiFE (1995)
TWC: The Worshipping Church (1990)
UMH: United Methodist Hymnal (1989)
VU: Voices United (1996)
WOV: With One Voice (1995)

Author

C. Michael Hawn

C. Michael Hawn is associate professor of church music at Perkins School of Theology, Southern Methodist University, Dallas, Texas.

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

An Experiment in Sumba: The difference four gongs and a drum made in worship

by Octavianus Anduwatju, Emily R. Brink

Last summer Pastor Anduwatju was in Grand Rapids, Michigan, the site of the 1996 meeting of the Reformed Ecumenical Council a group that includes thirty denominations in twenty-one countries. During a break in the meetings, I had the opportunity to meet him and learn something about worship in his Indonesian setting.

—Emily R. Brink

RW: Please describe your church in Indonesia.

Anduwatju: I belong to the Christian Church of Sumba. Sumba is one of the many islands of Indonesia, located west of Timor and south of Flores [a bit smaller than the state of Connecticut]. Our church has around 170,000 members out of a total island population of about 700,000. The rest are Roman Catholic and animists; about 40 to 45 percent are animist. Our church has seventy-four local congregations. And we have around 660 places of worship, local places where people worship every Sunday.

How did your church begin?

The Christian Church of Sumba began in the middle of the 1800s with missionaries from the Dutch Reformed tradition. We have had our own synod since 1957 and are now an independent denomination and a member of the [Indonesian] National Council of Churches.

Most of our members are poor and not very educated, but that hasn't prevented us from growing steadily. During the past ten years we've added between five hundred and a thousand newly baptized members every year.

What is worship like in your churches?

Now I must mention a great problem. People are not finding what they need in our services. For the first two or three months after they are baptized they are very happy and attend regularly. But after awhile they stop coming, or only come on the Sundays when we celebrate Holy Communion. I dare to say that one of the main reasons they stop coming is because the liturgy has not been entrusted to them. They are not feeling at home in the liturgy because it's been Westernized.

But are things beginning to change? Are your churches beginning to develop their own music and patterns as the churches in Africa are doing?

I spent several months in Africa and saw how [the African churches'] using their own music has made all the difference. But I am sad to say that has not happened in Sumba—maybe because most of the church leaders are graduates of Westernized theological schools.

What kind of music do you have in your culture and your worship?

I want to tell you about an experiment I conducted when I was pastor in the village. For years and years, I had been wondering about why the people lose interest in coming to church. And I came to the conclusion that it is because the liturgy is very dry. Many of our churches use no musical instruments in worship.

So I tried this experiment. I spoke to the congregation one day after the Sunday service.

"How about buying a set of gongs and drums to use in church?" I asked. Spontaneously they answered yes.

That very week, they sold maize, chickens, and eggs. They even borrowed money from their relatives. They collected the money, and the very next Sunday they had four gongs and one drum—a set of traditional musical instruments. So we tried to use them in the liturgy.

The first time we used them, many people came to our service. The next time I was scheduled to preach in that post was a month later. Even more people came. So I came to the conclusion that only when we touch the soul and spirit and heart of the people will they like to come to the church. If I used guitar, an instrument I learned when I left the island, I am not sure they would be interested. But when we used the traditional instrument, the gong, the people were really touched.

How did they use the gong? Before the service, to call people in, as a sort of call to worship?

Yes. But I wanted it used in other parts of worship too. When I introduced the idea, I was thinking of using these instruments not only for "entertainment" before the service but in the main part of the liturgy as well. I was convinced that only when you touch the people in their heart, soul, and spirit, can you reach them. I saw it as my responsibility as a pastor to use the instruments appropriately in the liturgy.

Different instruments use different rhythms and are used for different purposes. I myself cannot play the gongs, even though I am a graduate of a theological school. But the people do it automatically; the heritage and skill is passed down from their ancestors, from age to age and before. It is a part of the culture—something people learn without going to an academy of music.

Are you saying that this musical culture is not your own?

I have been removed from my culture. I have become Westernized. I can speak English. I can even play the guitar a little bit. I have been alienated and uprooted.

But I'd like to tell you more about my experiment. For the offering, we bring not only gifts of money (inherited from the Dutch tradition) but other things as well—chickens, for example. I urged the group to reflect more of their tradition by dancing as they brought their offerings. In fact, dancing is an offering in itself. In our culture, music is dance, and dance is music. I wanted to let the congregation know that offering can be a dance. That is what I call a really spiritual offering.

When we dance and when we hit the gong, our dance and our music is a spiritual offering to God. We are what we are. We need to transform and reform and acknowledge our culture as it conforms to God's Word.

You are dealing with many of the same questions that we face here in North America—questions about culture, contemporary music, and church attendance. How has your experiment developed?

I want to share something awful with you. The church actually is the killer of the people's feelings. I am not afraid to say this, and you can write it in your magazine. The church in Sumba is unconsciously and systematically killing the spirituality of the people.

Let me give you an example. When the people in the villages go to church, they are quiet and timid, maybe shy. I lead the service and say, "Let us lift up our hearts in song," but there is no music to lift them up. Their spirit is distressed. They are passive, looking down, not involved.

But when I introduced the gong, they woke up, they became alive. Shouting is very typical in our culture. Spontaneously, the men began to shout, and the women to uvulate [the ecstatic sustained high pitch tremulo generated in the back of the throat].

But when the church leadership does not encourage the people to become involved, they contribute to what I call their spiritual death. The church is too concerned with being religious instead of spiritual. The religious and the spiritual must come together.

What is your hope? Are there others like you?

Change is very slow. We can talk about faith and culture and what has happened in Africa. But sometimes our Sunday services are like funeral services. Sometimes I cry in my heart.

Note: Recently Pastor Anduwatju reluctantly left his congregation for a denominational leadership position in hopes that he could encourage other congregations and expand his experiment.

Authors

Octavianus Anduwatju

Emily R. Brink

Emily R. Brink (embrink@calvin.edu) is Senior Research Fellow for the Calvin Institute of Christian Worship and former editor of Reformed Worship.

Sumber: http://www.reformedworship.org/magazine/article.cfm?article_id=743

Local, Global, Or National? Popular Music on Indonesian Television


Local, Global, Or National?
Popular Music on Indonesian Television
(1)

R. Anderson Sutton, University of Wisconsin-Madison


How does a centralized, non-interactive medium such as television contribute to the negotiation between local particulars and global cultural flows? To what extent can nationwide television broadcasts in a country as diverse as Indonesia accommodate local elements in its broadcasts of performing arts, including music, and to what extent can they localize global popular forms? This chapter offers introductory remarks on the content and audience reception of popular music broadcasts on Indonesian television. By "popular music" I mean music that is packaged, commercially promoted, and disseminated as commodity through the mass media and intended primarily as entertainment. The closest term in Indonesian might be "musik komersial" (lit. "commercial music"), as the loan-word "pop," even in its broadest usage, refers to only one (albeit major) category of popular music, distinguished by elements of musical style from other popular genres.(2)

In Indonesia, as elsewhere, television is a powerful sign of the modern. It is expected to connect the viewer with an imagined modernity that, for Indonesians, is foreign-derived, but reinterpreted and refashioned to fit internal needs. Popular music is a major arena for participation in modernity as well, and its prominent place in the programming schedules of all six Indonesian television stations attests to its importance in Indonesian cultural discourse.

Critically situating television within contemporary Indonesia has barely begun. Several recent collections of essays by Indonesian scholars have offered a promising set of perspectives, ranging from personal reflections to social theory (see esp. Siregar 1995, Nugroho 1995, and Mulyana and Ibrahim 1997). Yet few of the essays even mention music, popular or any other. Indonesian artists and writers have occasionally written about the representation of traditional arts on television (Suryadi 1994:161-173; Sapada 1997:59-64; Soemanto 1997) usually complaining about its shortcomings. Several foreign scholars have written on Indonesian popular music (Frederick 1982, Yampolsky 1989, Hatch 1989, Pioquinto 1995, Lockard 1998), and a few have considered traditional/regional performance on Indonesian television (Hughes-Freeland 1995, among others). But only in the Indonesian press does one find writing on popular music on Indonesian television,(3) and this coverage is necessarily brief and generally more informational than critically reflective.

In this chapter I consider three spheres of popular musical activity on Indonesian television: MTV (music video clips from both Indonesian and foreign performers employing predominantly Western idioms), dangdut (a national genre, with roots in Indian film music and regional music from Sumatra), and Dua Warna ("Two Colors," a mix--some would say a post-modern pastiche--of mainstream Indonesian pop and experimental "ethnic" music drawing on assorted Indonesian regional idioms). Each sphere involves creative dialogue between local and global forces, but in different ways. I will argue here for a view of televised music as both subject to and resistant to global homogenization--subject to it in the pervasive borrowing of aural and visual idioms from abroad, resistant in the incorporation of local elements in musical broadcasts. Countering the arguments warning of global homogenization, Arjun Appadurai writes,

What these arguments fail to consider is that at least as rapidly as forces from various metropolises are brought into new societies they tend to become indigenized in one or another way; this is true of music and housing styles as much as it is true of science and terrorism, spectacles and constitutions." (Appadurai 1996:32)

But going a step further, I contend that some instances of what is touted as "local" may also be interpreted as tokenistic--mere ethnic tinge, reinforcing the hegemonic cultural order in which global, Western-based forms dominate.

The "reading" (i.e., the formation of meaning) of Indonesia's television texts is subject to multiple interpretations, particularly because of the extremely diverse social locations of the foreign and domestic producers and performers who fill its programs (diverse along lines of ethnicity, nationality, and social class). As media scholar John Fiske has argued,

Textual studies of television now have to stop treating it as a closed text, that is, as one where the dominant ideology exerts considerable, if not total, influence over its ideological structure and therefore over its reader. Analysis has to pay less attention to the textual strategies of preference or closure and more to the gaps and spaces that open television up to meanings not preferred by the textual structure but that result from the social experience of the reader. (1987:64)

My interest in the popular music on Indonesian television arose during a period of research in 1997-98, when I was studying the broadcast representations of what are generally referred to as "traditional" performing arts. In Indonesia, the term "traditional" (Ind. "tradisional" or "tradisi") is used widely to indicate forms of expression linked to a particular ethno-linguistic group and its regional homeland. While the newest private station, Indosiar, broadcasts various genres of Javanese and Sundanese traditional arts on a weekly basis to much of the nation, the other private stations seldom offer any traditional performing arts at all. It is simply not economically viable, I was often told, given the ethnic diversity of their audience and their reliance on advertising revenues. Broadcast of traditional arts on the branches of the national television station, TVRI, range from relatively frequent, e.g., in Yogyakarta (Java) and Den Pasar (Bali), to rare, e.g., in Ujung Pandang (South Sulawesi). Yet all stations, including TVRI, broadcast forms of popular music.

Indonesian Television Stations and the Distribution of Popular Music Broadcasts

Each of Indonesia's six television stations has developed a distinctive profile, setting itself off in some way from the others, although none broadcast exclusively one type of programming in the manner of CNN for news or ESPN for sports. Television broadcast in Indonesia began with the establishment of the national station, TVRI (Televisi Republik Indonesia) in 1962 in Jakarta. Since then, TVRI has expanded both its reach and its ability to offer local programming through thirteen branch stations around the nation with broadcast and studio production capabilities and nine additional stations with mobile units. Much of the programming, however, is produced and disseminated nationally, forging and strengthening national unity through shared cultural experience. It is the official station of government's Department of Information, with the dual mission: to inform and to entertain.

After over a quarter century during which the government prohibited any television broadcast other than TVRI, the media laws were relaxed and the era of private television stations began, with the establishment of RCTI (Rajawali Citra Televisi Indonesia), founded in 1989 in Jakarta. This first private station sought to set itself apart from TVRI by creating a sophisticated image, aiming at upper and upper middle class audiences, with sophisticated productions and a mix of local and foreign programs. A second private station, SCTV (Surya Citra Televisi) was founded in 1990, first based in Surabaya, but shortly thereafter in Jakarta. SCTV aims at a middle class audience, especially young adults, with its own mix of local and foreign programs. At first conceived as a more "educational" alternative to either of the first two private stations, TPI (Televisi Pendidikan Indonesia--lit. "Indonesian Educational Television") began broadcasting in 1991, with its main office and studio located in Jakarta. For its weekday morning broadcasts it made use not only of its own frequency, but also the TVRI frequency, since TVRI does not begin its broadcast day until mid-afternoon, except on Sundays. Despite the initial emphasis on education, TPI's broadcast offerings have been largely entertainment, including Indonesian music and dramas, but distinguished from its private competitors by aiming at lower and lower-middle class audiences, all ages. Members of former president Suharto's family have had controlling ownership interests in these three private stations: Siti Hardiyanti Rukmana (Mbak Tutut) in TPI, and Bambang Trihatmojo and his wife Halimah, through the Bimantara conglomerate, in RCTI and SCTV.

The first station to be established through business interests not directly tied to the first family, ANteve (Andalas televisi) began broadcasting in 1993, with a rather different profile than of the other private stations. The name Andalas is a literary term referring to the island of Sumatra and this new station was originally conceived to be the first station whose main offices and studio would be located in Sumatra (Lampung, South Sumatra)--not only outside Jakarta, but off the main Indonesian island of Java. However, for business practicalities, it chose, like its competitors, to be located in Jakarta. It has emphasized sporting events and popular music among its main offerings, and in 1995 developed a cooperative agreement with MTV Asia (see further below), seeking a "trendy" image and aiming its broadcasts at middle and upper class urban youth. The fifth and youngest private station is Indosiar (= Indosiar Visual Mandiri), founded in Jakarta in 1995 by Chinese business tycoon Liem Sioe Liong (Sudono Salim). Indosiar broadcasts a range of talk shows, dramas, and traditional, regional arts--mostly popular and commercial Javanese theatrical arts, such as kethoprak, ludruk, and various forms of wayang (puppetry)--as well as other local content shows. It aims at a wide audience and has won a dedicated following among many of the majority Javanese and Sundanese, whose traditional arts are featured regularly. This station also occasionally broadcasts regional popular music (pop daerah) from other regions.

Indonesian Television broadcast time has been cut substantially since the beginning of the financial crisis that began in late 1997, the but morning and mid-afternoon to late evening periods offer a range of choices. And as of early 1999 at least several stations are broadcasting at all times except from late evening (post midnight) to early morning (pre-dawn). From early morning until late evening, then, with the exception of some primetime evening hours, one can almost always find, on at least one of these stations, one or more popular music shows, usually featuring music video clips. ANteve, in particular, devotes enormous blocks of time to pop music shows, some produced by the ANteve staff, many produced by MTV Asia, and all of which, regardless of the national identity of the performers, employ the styles and idioms of Western popular musics--rock, country, R & B, and the milder forms of rap. TPI emphasizes the throbbing sounds of Indonesia's widely popular dangdut genre, which is also featured in several shows on Indosiar, but seldom heard on the other private stations.(4) RCTI and others have produced and broadcast glitzy shows in which top-selling pop music stars perform in collaboration with performers of what is now being called "musik etnik" ("ethnic music"--i.e., music using instruments, scales, or styles of traditional musics, primarily but not exclusively Indonesian).

How pervasive are music shows on contemporary Indonesian television? If we include those shows that mix banter with music video clips, we find that in a total of 677.6 hours of broadcast on Indonesia's six stations from August 5-11, 1998 (a typical recent week--i.e., without special holiday or anniversary programming), 85.6 hours (12.6%) were music shows. These figures do not include the additional hours devoted to traditional arts (mainly on TVRI and Indosiar), 1-2 hour specials devoted to popular music (aired occasionally on all stations), nor do they include the sometimes lengthy (2-3 hour) Indian movies, which are almost always musicals. The distribution of popular music broadcasts is uneven. ANteve devotes 28 hours, or 24.1% of its weekly schedule to music shows; TPI is not far behind with 23 hours, 18% of its weekly schedule. The choice of programming is, of course, driven by market considerations, weighing viewer tastes against costs. The cost to television stations of the music shows they broadcast varies widely. Those produced by a station for its own exclusive broadcast can be quite expensive, but shows of music video clips in many cases represent income for the station as recording companies pay fees to have some artists's video clips aired.

Without going into detail on the quantitave side of the economic picture, we still need to keep in mind the market forces underlying most choices in television programming. My interest in this chapter, however, is primarily with the patterns of interaction in televised music between global and local (local in various senses). I would like to begin by focusing on the genre most readily seen as global--the music of MTV, one of whose station identification segments declares "One World, One Image, One Channel" (Goodwin 1993:62).

Both Sides Now: MTV on Indonesian Television

By far the most pervasive form of musical presentation on Indonesian television is the single-song video clip--most widely represented worldwide on music shows broadcast on MTV. Music video clips are seen on all Indonesian stations on a regular basis and are routinely used to fill an extra few minutes between shows, in lieu of commercials.(5) Single-song video clips, with singers lip-synching the lyrics and appearing in various scenes (rather than merely on stage), have been seen on Indonesian television for several decades.(6) The style and content of recent clips, however, bears the unmistakable mark of American and American-inspired music video clips seen on MTV. Though eschewing the "nastier" or "raunchier" side of some Western MTV clips, many of which are simply too lewd or too violent to pass Indonesian censorship, many of the clips now seen on Indonesian television involve the rapid sequence of images, the disjointed hints at and subversions of coherent narrative that pervade many MTV clips in the West. This is characteristic not only of the Western-made clips of Western groups seen on MTV in Indonesia, but of Indonesian videos of Indonesian groups. Producers, musicians, and viewers I spoke with saw a very strong and immediate impact of MTV on Indonesian video clip production style.

MTV has a major presence in Indonesia today. Beginning in 1991, satellite dish (parabola) owners in Indonesia were able to view shows produced by MTV when it was part of the Star TV platform, with headquarters in Hong Kong. MTV was attracted to Asia particularly "because it included several countries like India and Indonesia that were increasinlgy open to commercial media ventures." (Banks 1996:99). In 1994, MTV broke away from Star TV and, in 1995, set up offices in Singapore, where it was launched as MTV Networks Asia (personal communication, Shabnam Melwani, MTV Asia, 10 September 1998) This office manages three programming services: MTV Mandarin (for Taiwan and Mainland China), MTV India (for India), and MTV Asia (for Indonesia, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, and the Philippines, primarily, but seen in Brunei, Papua New Guinea, Vietnam, Hong Kong, and South Korea as well). MTV Asia shows can now be seen on the 24-hour MTV channel carried on the satellite Palapa-C2, and by regular "terrestrial" broadcast on Indonesia's ANteve, which in 1995 worked out a cooperative, revenue-sharing agreement with MTV Asia to broadcast a block of MTV shows, filling a significant portion of its broadcast day and shown with the MTV logo appearing in the upper right-hand corner of the screen through the entire duration of all MTV shows (video clips, announcing, interviews, even screen and sports news).

What is the content of MTV shows broadcast in Indonesia? On a channel that boasts "One World, One Image, One Channel," we might expect to see shows made in the United States (MTV's "homeland"), like many other shows aired on Indonesian television, ranging from American cartoons to American serials and feature films. Many of the videos seen are American, European, or Australian, but the MTV shows themselves are conceived and produced in Southeast Asia--in Singapore and, most recently, in Indonesia. Indeed, the plurality of networks (MTV Asia, MTV India, etc.) is MTV's market-driven strategy to localize its global product. Video jockeys (VJs) speak on some shows entirely in English, on others in a mix of English and Indonesian, and on several of the newest shows almost entirely in Indonesian. The shows with English-language announcing are broadcast as such via satellite, but for ANteve broadcast some of these are taped, subtitled in Indonesian, and broadcast a week later. Three Indonesian VJs (all fluent in English as well as Indonesian) live and work in Singapore; two others work in Jakarta, announcing Indonesian MTV shows in Indonesian, with only occasional short phrases in English ("now listen up"; "or something like that, anyway"; "well, that's it"), as if to legitimize the show as part of MTV's global kingdom, where English is the operative language.(7)

The video clips played on MTV shows may be all or mostly of Western groups, but they are selected for (and sometimes by) Asian audiences. MTV Asia Hitlist, for example, presents a countdown of the top 20 videos, based on sales figures and viewer polls in MTV Asia's targeted countries (Malaysia, Singapore, the Philippines, Thailand, and South Korea, in addition to Indonesia). The list often consists entirely of Western artists. Yet there are numerous shows that offer either a mix of Indonesian and foreign artists, or exclusively Indonesian artists, including several shows seen only on ANteve (and not on the satellite). The foreign artists are almost entirely Western; very rarely are other Asian artists shown on MTV in Indonesia, except by satellite. But satellite reception constitutes an increasingly significant part of the market in much of Asia. Indeed, MTV programming on satellite clearly contributes to the internationalization of pop Indonesia, broadcasting a number of the Indonesian shows that play at least some Indonesian clips (including "MTV 100% Indonesia," "MTV Most Wanted," "MTV Ampuh," and "MTV Getar Cinta").

Two regular shows present clips of Indonesian performers only: "MTV 100% Indonesia" (produced in Jakarta) and "MTV Ampuh" (an acronym for "Ajang Musik Pribumi Sepuluh"--the top ten Indonesian hits of the week; produced in Singapore). And both of these shows are announced entirely in Indonesian, except for the occasional phrase in English. The opening segment of MTV Ampuh, prior to VJ Sarah Sechan's remarks, consists of a young "modern" Indonesian couple, dressed in hip, Western clothes, seemingly on the run from several characters from Balinese and Javanese theatrical and ritual traditions--monkey characters with tails and headresses as in Javanese dance drama (wayang orang), and the terrifying Balinese witch, Rangda. The segment ends with one of the monkeys triumphantly holding up a tablet, which then transforms into the show's title: "Ampuh" (meaning "magically powerful," "potent," in Indonesian and Javanese--a kind of local response to MTV's preference for "in-your-face" names: "MTV Wow," "MTV Most Wanted," etc.).(8) MTV Ampuh continues the Balinese reference by incorporating brief phrases of Balinese gamelan music each time the number (from 10 down to 1) representing the ranking of the forthcoming video clip hit is shown on the screen.

Thus, even on the MTV viewed in Indonesia--the most "global"/international/foreign of the three types of televised music I am considering here--local input is evident at a number of levels. At the most general, the tastes of Asian viewers determine content on some shows. And Indonesian input abounds, from the VJ banter in Indonesian to the inclusion of Indonesian video clips, and entire shows devoted to Indonesian groups.

We should note that both local and global content on Indonesian MTV represent a relatively narrow selection from what is possible. Many artists who appear frequently in American and European MTV broadcatss are excluded from the shows seen by Indonesian viewers, especially those shown on ANteve. African American artists appear relatively seldom; and those who do are mostly those who perform the softest varieties of soul, R&B, and, rarely, rap.(9) And Western video clips by heavy metal groups celebrating wildness and rebellion are also absent, due not only to government censorship, but to notions widely shared by decision makers across the Indonesian television industry concerning the tastes and tolerance of the Indonesian viewing public.

Also excluded are some major genres of Indonesian popular music. Pop daerah, popular songs in regional languages (Javanese, Minang, etc.), are not, to my knowledge, ever included on MTV shows, though TVRI and Indosiar broadcast entire shows devoted to pop daerah. The only regional elements that find their way into MTV broadcasts in Indonesia are the frequent visual references to particular ethnic groups and regions, most notably in costumes and choreographies inspired by regional traditions (though rarely replicating them). The other glaring omission is, by carefully weighed decision, the enormously popular but still déclassé genre known as dangdut (see below).

MTV in Indonesia, as of 1998, thoroughly mixes representations of the global and the local (or, more precisely, national)--placing English and Indonesian language in unpredictable juxtaposition in VJ banter, and placing Western and Indonesian popular musicians, songs, and images within the same medium, often on the same half-hour show. MTV seems to be trying its hardest, if not to blur the distinctions, then at least to give pop Indonesia (defined, we must note, as that category of Indonesian popular music which conforms most closely to international pop expectations in musical style and ethos) a greater international platform, and simultaneously to make Western popular music more accessible to Indonesians, all with obvious marketing goals. Hence, Indonesian VJs in Singapore interact with Western performers who appear on their shows. Sarah Sechan interviewed the British three-some 911 as MTV Asia's artist(s) of the month in August 1998, showing them interacting in a personable, informal, but respectful way with a young Indonesian VJ.(10) And international stars, such as Australian Natalie Imbruglia, utter a few well-practised words of Indonesian as they beseech their Indonesian audiences on promotional ads to "nongkrong bersama saya di MTV" ("hang out with me on MTV").

Representatives of MTV in Jakarta and Singapore both indicated the desire on the part of MTV to enhance the popularity of Indonesian artists within Indonesia as well as abroad, but the Jakarta office director, Daniel Tumiwa, informed me that much of their fan mail indicates a sustained preference for Western groups, growing from the desire on the part of MTV viewers to be up-to-date on the latest trends--trends apparently always being set elsewhere, by the international, Western-dominated community, trends often followed by Indonesian popular musicians.

Recent surveys indicate that MTV reaches some 16 million households in Indonesia, that MTV shows are watched by 80% of urban Indonesian youth at least once a week, 33% watching at least some MTV every day (personal communication, Daniel Tumiwa, Jakarta Office of MTV, 10 August 1998). While these survey results are suspected by many to be inaccurate, this type of programming is unquestionably popular.(11) The fact that similar shows (video clips, with an announcer or VJ) are seen on most of the other Indonesian television stations attests to the success of the format. Dramas, quiz shows, information/news shows, and foreign films certainly have their following, as I found when I conducted a small survey in Jakarta and Yogyakarta in 1998; yet music shows are popular. Bianca Adinegoro, a producer for MTV in Jakarta, put it bluntly: "It's just simple, people want to be entertained, and looking at music you don't have to think much" ("Simple saja, orang 'kan ingin dihibur dan melihat musik itu nggak usah terlalu banyak mikir") (Kompas 19 August 1998:12).

Local, global, or national? MTV is not just global or globalizing--in Indonesia it is also national, promoting those Indonesian artists who exclude regional elements (language, musical instruments, scales, forms, etc.) in their music, but who in turn may incorporate more specific, local elements in the visual dimension of their videos. In the case of MTV Asia, local may mean national, or even transnational within a large world region. The MTV targeted at Indonesia, both through satellite broadcast and terrestrial broadcast on ANteve, skillfully blends and juxtaposes, but its approach is motivated by the marketing smartness of the thinking it has co-opted from very different sources. As media specialist Arif Dirlik notes:

The radical slogan of an earlier day, "Think globally, act locally," has been assimilated by transnational corporations with far greater success than in any radical strategy. The recognition of the local in marketing strategy, however, does not mean any serious recognition of the autonomy of the local, but is intended to recognize the features of the local so as to incorporate localities in the imperatives of the global. (Dirlik 1996:34)

MTV Networks Asia would seem to be no exception, but in Indonesia, at least, the extent of local determination suggests a more complex (and perhaps less bleak) view than Dirlik provides. However, it is very likely--though still awaiting the survey research to confirm it--that MTV penetrates to a wider market thanks to its attention to local detail.

Class Act: Dangdut on Indonesian Television

Clearly one of the most popular musics throughout Indonesia, one that is identified both there and abroad as a distinctly Indonesian form--albeit deriving from a mix of indigenous North Sumatran features with influences from Indian films, Arabic popular musics, and Western rock-- dangdut is Indonesia's de facto national music. But because of its ongoing popularity primarily with the lower eschelons of Indonesian society, the erotic nature of its beat, some of its lyrics, and many of its video clips, and perhaps also because of its association for many Indonesians with Islam, it has been avoided by stations cultivating a "sophisticated" audience (ANteve and RCTI) and by MTV Asia.(12) Despite its being championed since the mid-1990s by East Javanese governor Basofi Soedirman and by former Secretary of State Moerdiono, who has publically claimed that dangdut "is very Indonesian" ("sangat Indonesia") (Simatupang 1996:109), this music carries a very different ethos than the Indonesian pop shown on MTV and other stations, making it no less problematic as a "national music" than is "country music" in the United States (associated as it is with a less sophisticated rural, and now lower class urban white subculture). Yet dangdut's popularity, on television as well as in cassette sales--more than one third of total sales for 1997, according to singer and music scholar Nyak Ina (Ubiet) Raseuki (personal communication, 26 September 1998)--demonstrate the firm place this genre holds among the Indonesian populace, a genre that may sound Indian or Arabic in some ways, but is, as Hatch and others point out, clearly NOT Western in its sound (despite its reliance on mostly Western instruments). Dangdut enjoys some popularity in neighboring Malaysia, where Indonesian dangdut recordings are widely sold along with dangdut sung by Malaysian artists (Amelina, Sheeda, Eva, Mas Idayu) (see Theodore KS 1996). And it has a few imitators in Japan (Sandii Suzuki) and the Philippines (Maribeth), but does not have the international appeal of Celtic, African, or mainstream Western popular musics. It is still an Indonesian music, likened by Moerdiono to the nation itself: "from the people, by the people, for the people" ("dari rakyat, oleh rakyat, untuk rakyat," using the word rakyat, which is often used to identify the common people as distinct from the elite). (Simatupang 1996:110)

Given its lower status vis à vis other genres of popular music, its appearance on any national television station would seem to contribute both to its legitimacy and to its position as national (rather than regional, i.e., specific to one or another ethnic group). Some judge its appearance on TPI as appropriate given the relatively low status of this station (often chided as "Televisi Pembantu Indonesia"--Indonesian Servants' Television), or argue that the inclusion of so much dangdut contributes perhaps more than any other TPI programming strategy to define that status.

Dangdut videos have tended to stress the erotic, with the artists' hips gyrating irresistably to the beat. Many of the newcomers to this genre in the video era have been young, attractive female singers, whose video clips find a ready male audience. Most of the popular male dangdut singers are older men (e.g., A. Rafiq, Meggy Z.), whose video clips are less likely to satisfy the romantic fantasies of consumers than those of younger singers. Many clips have shown the singer dressed in garb inspired by Indian film stars, usually romantically engaged with a young member of the opposite sex, whether happily or tragically. Yet the video clips of dangdut in the last few years have become increasingly sophisticated, with MTV-inspired narratives, moving away from the basic hip-grinding shots of the artist on stage (or as if on stage) to romantic vignettes, set in sylvan parks, luxurious mansions, or futuristic landscapes.

Those involved with dangdut programming at Indosiar told me in August 1998 that they attempted to alter dangdut's image in order to make it more appealing to a broader Indonesian audience. This was good for dangdut, they said, and good for Indosiar in its quest for a broad spectrum of Indonesia's viewers. Their weekly hour-long show Dangdut Ria, produced in a studio with artists present rather than as a series of video clips, has a different theme each week, in a conscious--and often humorous--attempt to break with the usual image. Among other recent themes, which have included New Year's celebration and even wayang orang (with artists dressed as characters from the Mahabharata and Ramayana in the style of Javanese wayang orang dance theater), I saw an hour devoted to a Mexican theme (9 August 1998), with all the male performers decked out in sombreros and ponchos, female performers in Mexican lace or peasant tops, with long skirts, all on a stage imitating an old Mexican village, under a banner identifying the whole scene as "Perkampungan Mexidhut" (Mexican Dangd[h]ut Village/Barrio). The host arrived by horse, dressed as Zorro, and called the hostess "señorita." Interspersed between humorous announcing and a range of dangdut songs (no Mexican influence at all in the music) were a short educational segment on varieties of Mexico's emblematic plant, the cactus, and cooking tips on chicken fajitas by the owner of a Mexican restaurant in Jakarta. I would not argue that this represents an attempt to internationalize the genre--i.e., making it appeal to a Latin American audience--but rather that it was intended to erase some of the entrenched associations held by Indonesians. (What could be less Islamic than a Mexican village?) The humorous element in this and other Dangdut Ria shows reinforces its appeal to a broad Indonesian audience, but it also keeps it from the pretentious realm of international-style pop Indonesia.

Dangdut is NOT trendy, does not give its viewers a finger on the pulse of the world, of the global now (cf. Appadurai 1996:2-3). It is not "traditional," not "regional"; but neither is it "modern" in the same way that the more Western forms of pop are. Its use of electronic instruments, and its strong presence in the electronic mass media (broadcast and recording) give it sufficient trappings of modernity for many Indonesians. It ties them in with modern entertainment technology because it is so unambiguously theirs in ways that pop Indonesia, which constantly shifts in imitation of international trends, is not. Dangdut is modern and local (as opposed to global), thereby incorporating some contradictions, challenging the too-facile dichotomy between traditional/regional/non-Western on the one hand and modern/international/Western on the other.

Local, Global, or National? Dangdut is not yet global (despite its popularity in Malaysia and its few imitators elsewhere); its presentation on Indonesian television contributes to its strong identity as a national music--incorporating some foreign elements, but at the same time maintaining, through its cultivation of an "Eastern" style, resistance to the oft-feared onslaught of globalization.

Indigenized Exoticism: "Dua Warna" on Indonesian Television

The third perspective I would like to consider on Indonesia's television broadcast of popular music comes from "Dua Warna" (lit. "Two Colors"), a show produced on the elite private station, RCTI, in which top-name popular musicians perform pop songs, accompanied not only by their usual musicians on electric guitars, electronic keyboards and drum sets, but by an ensemble of various non-electronic, non-Western, mostly Indonesian instruments. The latter are played by members of Kua Etnika (lit. "As If Ethnic"), a group directed by Djaduk Ferianto, a veritable "ethnic music sensation" of the mid- and late-1990s.(13) One of the sons of Bagong Kussudiardjo, the famous Javanese dancer, choreographer, teacher, and arts manager extraordinaire, Djaduk grew up in the Javanese court-city Yogyakarta, in close contact with the music and dance not only of Java, but of the many other Indonesian regional traditions represented in his father's schools (see Sutton 1991:218). His Kua Etnika consists of nine or ten young male musicians, all of them Indonesian and most of them Javanese (two are from Bali, one from North Sumatra). They play on a range of instruments: gamelan instruments of Java, Bali, and Sunda; drums from Java, Bali, Sunda, South Sulawesi, Ghana, and the West; boat-lutes from North Sumatra, South Sulawesi, and Kalimantan; bamboo flutes from various parts of the archipelago and Japan; a seemingly limitless variety of bamboo idiophones; and electronic keyboard.

Several producers at RCTI (Dradjat Usdianto, Jay Soebiakto, and Duto Sulistiadi) are credited with concocting the idea of combining pop music with something more traditional and regional. This is hardly a new idea in Indonesia. One finds various kinds of synthesis between Javanese music and Western music from at least as early as the mid-19th century, and hardly anyone with access to Indonesia's mass media since the 1970s would not be aware of the music of Guruh Soekarnoputra, who composed and arranged rock music with very obvious Balinese musical elements (instruments, scales, vocals). Yet the RCTI idea, which took the name "Dua Warna," was conceived to avoid representing one single Indonesian ethnic group over others. Djaduk, although Javanese, was known to be well-versed in a range of Indonesian instruments and musical styles. And he was known to be prone to experimentation, seeking new musical patterns rather than repackaging existing regional traditional styles. To work on the arrangements, RCTI also enlisted the commitment of an American-trained electronic musician-composer-arranger, Aminoto Kosim, who told me in an interview (8 August 1998) that he had no real interest in Indonesia's regional traditions as such, had not studied them, but found it interesting trying to come up with an effective synthesis. Raharja, one of the Javanese musicians in Kua Etnika for the first three shows, noted to me that Aminoto would typically give Djaduk the basic framework of song--its rhythm, melody and form, asking Djaduk and his musicians to work up an accompaniment that fit. He would then add the pop instrumental arrangement, seldom seeking very substantial changes in what Djaduk and his musicians came up with. (Raharja, personal communication, 1 October 1998)

The results of the collaboration between these two arrangers have been seen on five 90-minute shows produced and broadcast by RCTI during evening primetime--twice on Indonesian Independence day (17 August, 1996 and 1997), and most recently on 2 January 1998.(14) It is clear that the pop predominates over the etnik, particularly in the aural dimension. Javanese and Balinese pitched metallophone instruments (saron and gendèr) are retuned from the indigenous intervallic structures of sléndro and pélog to conform with the Western scale used by the pop musicians; drumming and other percussion patterns are tailored to support, rather than alter, the established rhythms of the pop musicians. Musical forms are not those of indigenous songs or pieces of any Indonesian region, but rather those typical of international pop music. In short, the etnik musical elements must work around the pop, nearly all compromises being made by Djaduk and his ensemble. Philip Yampolsky's observations on the decidely less prestigious genres grouped under the rubric pop daerah ("regional pop"), which use nearly all the idioms of pop Indonesia and whose main distinction from pop Indonesia is the use of regional languages rather than Indonesian, aptly describes the music of "Dua Warna" as well:

...it is clear that in these encounters between Pop Indonesia and regional musics, Pop "wins" musically. One or two or even several symbols of the regional music may be present, but they bring no coherent or compelling message from outside. They are wholly subordinated to Pop, decorating the edges or the backgrounds. (Yampolsky 1989:15)

Although I might have predicted this before I first saw this show, I was not prepared for the remarkable imbalance in the sound mix. While the final edit incorporated frequent shots of Djaduk and his musicians hammering away on Javanese or Balinese metallophones, or beating various Indonesian drums, the viewer could hardly hear the sounds they were making. Two of the producers involved (Yogi Hartarto, 7 January 1998; and Dradjat Usdianto, 11 August 1998) informed me that the sound technician had kept the playback levels low for Djaduk's musicians in the final mix for fear of obscuring the pop singers and their pop accompaniment. A more balanced mix would, they all felt, have disappointed viewers and led to lower ratings. Duto Sulistiadi, executive manager for special events on RCTI, even expressed concern that this show might mess up Indonesia's music industry ("akan mengganggu industri musik di negeri kita") (Republika 2 January 1998:19)--almost certainly an exaggerated worry, or claim, as the case may be. Yet there was clear agreement that, at least for RCTI viewers, too much "ethnic" music in the mix would have been disastrous.

Another indication of the unfulfilled promise of a successful musical mix was evident in the visual dimension, which showed members of Kua Etnika responding to each other's playing, but being largely ignored by the pop musicians. Only during the instrumental numbers--Western pieces such as Dave Brubeck's "Blue Rondo à la Turk" (2 January 1998) and "Mission Impossible" (17 August 1997)--did musicians of both "colors" seem to interact at all.

So why the "ethnic" music? Was it just a gimmick to stimulate viewer curiosity, to win press publicity? No, say the producers emphatically, it was a sincere project to stimulate musical creativity which turned into a more clearly commercial venture than was first envisioned--because of the medium of television, and the watchful eye of the RCTI general manager (who, in the current economic crisis, has cancelled production of further "Dua Warna" shows). I point this out not to criticize the producers, but to stress the extent to which the norms of pop clearly rule in the context of a national mass media such as television. In the area of radio and cassettes, which can and do operate on smaller scales and in particular locales, regional traditions fare comparatively better.

How has "Dua Warna" participated in the dialogue between global and local? Here we have music that is inspired by multiple levels of global impact, and yet draws on local elements to create a self-consciously "less Western" sound and image than pop Indonesia: (1) the persistent impact of Western popular music in many (though not all) of its stylistic manifestations and (2) the aesthetic impact of recent commercial world music/world beat, which exploits identifiably exotic/"ethnic" musical sounds in combination with established popular musical sounds and idioms. Why should this be desirable in Indonesia? A response to the endless rhetoric over loss of national and regional identity in the face of globalization? A rational response to the realization that Latin, African, and African American rhythms have become more "natural" for Indonesian listeners than the rhythms of their indigenous traditions? Pop singing star Chrisye, who appeared on the January 1998 "Dua Warna," described Indonesians' resistance to local elements in their popular music as a kind of "allergy." This music hopes to be newly "Indonesian" (hence, national--or local as distinct from global), and in terms of its audience (sophisticated viewers of RCTI) it can be said to have succeeded. But analytically we can certainly suggest that it is much more in the spirit of Western exoticism, which fuels the world music/world beat market, than are either the pop Indonesia presented on MTV or the dangdut presented in video clips and televised stage shows. In fact, one could argue that this show represents in explicit, musical terms, the ongoing struggle between global and local forms and demonstrates, indeed celebrates, the triumph of the Western popular idiom over any and all local Indonesian traditions--the very opposite of the claims of its creators. The gamelan instruments are tuned to Western scale, and lightly decorate the contours and chords of the popular songs presented. The drums and other non-pitched percussion instruments fall into line, musically speaking, to enhance the back-beat and predictable syncopations. The result--pop music with an "ethnic flavor" (nuansa etnik). The very fact that the term "ethnic" (etnik) is now widespread in the discourse about Indonesian regional musical traditions, including very prominently the discourse about this television show, is indicative of the marginalized space accorded these various traditions among popular musicians and, most importantly here, television producers.

Conclusion

It is abundantly clear that Indonesian television is not a one-way medium in the flow of global cultural forms. Certainly the private stations, particularly ANteve with its MTV shows, fill the airwaves with great quantities of foreign pop music, just as multi-national recording companies keep a ready supply of foreign pop music on the shelves of cassette stores throughout the country. But unlike the cassette stores, where the commodity sits on the shelf until it is bought, the foreign commodities presented in the form of video clips on MTV are talked about by Indonesian VJs, foreign stars are interviewed, and the music is made to seem as if it "belongs" in Indonesia. Furthermore, MTV Asia incorporates a growing number of video clips of Indonesian pop musicians, placing them in the same trendy context as the big-name foreign stars, and giving them unprecedented exposure throughout Southeast Asia. To a surprising extent, these broadcasts attempt both to glamorize pop Indonesia as a viable genre on par with the music of world-famous pop stars, and to de-exoticize these world-famous pop stars by making them familiar.

Dangdut has enjoyed television coverage for many years, which has undoubtedly contributed to its enormous popularity and its status as a "national" music; but programming has also tended to segregate it from other forms of popular music, particularly Western and Western-inspired pop. A genre that has numerous international influences, but a circumscribed audience, still mostly Indonesian lower and lower-middle class, dangdut is a "local" music in a very different sense than Javanese karawitan (gamelan music) or Minangkabau saluang (bamboo flute)--Indonesia's regional musics. Yet, from an international perspective (global or Asian) it is very much a "local" music, one that resists the hegemonic forces of Western pop, even as it paradoxically employs some of the stylistic features of Western pop, particularly in instrumentation (cf. Taylor 1997:85). That at least some of Indonesia's national television stations devote airtime to dangdut has certainly contributed to the ongoing vitality of this music despite its problematic class associations. Indeed, had it not already enjoyed an established position in televisions broadcasts, might former Secretary of State Moerdiono have so readily appropriated it in mid-1990s for political purposes?

In contrast, "Dua Warna" is (or, more correctly, was) not a broad genre of music, but simply a musical experiment, packaged in glitzy production and given prime airtime on Indonesia's upper crust station. Its negotiation between local, global, and national forces is especially complex and contradictory, for in its self-conscious quest to Indonesianize pop Indonesia by combining it with various regional musical elements, it exoticizes the indigenous and champions the Western. The producers may be right that their viewers are not yet ready to accept greater exposure to indigenous musical traditions, that their insatiable taste for Western-style pop would have them turn off anything that represented a more even blend. We cannot deny that some form of dialogue is taking place here, with local elements working their way into the musical fabric of pop Indonesia. Yet it strikes viewers as a confirmation of the supremacy in Indonesia now of Western-style pop, and the subverient, marginal/exotic position not only of indigenous regional "traditions," but of experimental music made on the instruments of those traditions. No matter how radical or original, music made on traditional instruments is still perceived by many as "traditional" by nature of the fact it does not conform in sound or image to what is perceived to be "modern."

Placing local elements in the midst of musical symbols of modernity simultaneously contextualizes the global, making it more possible for Indonesians to feel a part of modernity, and legitimzes "local" (regional/traditional) cultural expression as compatible with the modern. Localness--representations of Indonesianness or Javaneseness or Minangkabauness--abounds on Indonesian television in the late 1990s. Yet these elements, these "nesses," are increasingly separated from the larger core of local cultural practice; they become arbitrarily exploited "nuances"--not quite the free-floating simulacra seen by Baudrillard to characterize much of the postmodern, mediatized world, but certainly signifiers no longer bound exclusively to particular localized interpretations. We have not considered the instances, albeit relatively few, of "traditional arts" on Indonesian television; some of those have been explored in depth in other chapters. Certainly there, too, much is changed as they are presented on television, not least the whole context of audience apprehension. What I have tried to argue here is merely that globalization, which would seem to be so readily promoted by national television, particularly when it goes into partnership with a transnational corporation such as MTV, is both aided and resisted by Indonesia's music television broadcasts.

It is important to bear in mind that Indonesian government policy has long been wary of globalization. Indonesia under Sukarno banned Western rock and roll during the latter part of his presidency (early 1960s). During the 32 years of Suharto's presidency, although Western popular music and local imitations were no longer banned outright, state discourse, from the president to small village officials, constantly warned of the aesthetic and moral dangers of excessive exposure to Western popular culture at the expense of local expression. The various branches of the national television station incorporate regional shows, including music, as part of cultural policy. And all stations, private and public, are by law to limit their broadcast of foreign material to 30% of their broadcast day, even though this is not fully observed or strictly enforced. But as we have seen, the question of identity in popular music broadcasts is complex, constantly negotiating between the facile opposites of foreign and domestic. Language, video images, musical instruments, vocal style provide "Indonesianness" in television broadcasts of popular music--transforming the local and continually engaging the global, now accommodating, now challenging. This engagement, of course, is not limited to the realm of broadcast, but it is evident there, if you will, in high resolution. If culture is contested, as many now argue, then television--music television--seems a very good way to watch--and hear--that contestation unfold, in Indonesia as much as anywhere else in the world.


Endnotes

1. I would like to thank the many people who have contributed to this paper, providing everything from raw scheduling data and promotional materials to extended discussions of media history and musical aesthetics. Many in the television industry spoke with me, often at length, concerning a range of issues covered in this paper. In particular, I would like to mention George (Chossie) Kumontoy at TPI; Yayang, Rusman Latief, Eka Prathika, and Wishnutama at Indosiar; Niniek Sidawati and Bambang Winarso at TVRI Jakarta; Anggit Hernowo, Yogi Hartarto, Drajat Usdianto, and Ietje Komar at RCTI; Adhi Massardi and Amalia Ahmad at ANteve. At MTV in Jakarta, thanks to Bianca Adinegoro, "Bimbom" and especially Daniel Tumiwa and Muthia Farida. And at MTV Singapore, thanks to Shabnam Melwani, who responded to my many questions via email. I am particularly grateful to Daniel Tumiwa and Amalia Ahmad for staying in touch by email, answering questions large and small as they have arisen. In addition, I appreciate the extended conversations concerning popular music on television that I had with the following: "Dua Warna" music arranger Aminoto Kosin; "Kua Etnika" musician Raharja; anthropologists Lono Simatupang, Budi Susanto, and Made Tony Supriyatno; and my doctoral students in ethnomusicology, composer and music critic Franki Raden and "creative pop" singer and teacher Nyak Ina (Ubiet) Raseuki.

2. Hatch posits three main categories, each with subcategories: "Almost all pop songs sound recognizably western in ways that almost all kroncong and dangdut songs do not" (1989:590). (Kroncong is a broad category of music characterized by acoustical string accompaniment with particular rhythmic configurations involving interplay of off-beat patterns. It has Portuguese roots, but has been indigenized in various ways over the course of several centuries. Dangdut is a pulsating popular music, similar to Indian film music and some popular musics of the Middle East.) Yet the term pop is also used in a narrower sense, as a subcategory of mellow, "middle of the road" music, distinct from the harder-edged rock and the Indonesian versions of country--all three of these sounding "recognizably western." Cf. Yampolsky's statement, "...it is possible to use "Pop" as an umbrella term for Pop Indonesia, Rock, and Country." (1989:2, n.3) This assessment, though dating from the late 1980s, still holds as of 1999.

3. Lockard's ambitious study of popular music in Southeast Asia includes a 60-page chapter on Indonesia that barely mentions television other than to note the growth of private stations, the spread of television ownership from urban elite to a wider segment of society, and several instances of censorship (1998:54-113). Taylor's coverage of Indonesian superstar Rhoma Irama, in a book devoted to "global pop," avoids any mention of Rhoma or any other Indonesian artist appearing on television (despite Irama's being banned from Indonesian television for a period in the 1980s). Taylor does point out the pivotal role of MTV in the international success of Anglo-Asian singer Apache Indian (1997:157), but never mentions MTV or other televised music in Indonesia.

4. From the early 1980s until the rise of dangdut on private stations a decade later, TVRI devoted significant portions of its music shows, such as Aneka Ria Safari, to dangdut. During the 1970s, when television reached mostly the upper and middle classes, TVRI chose its music accordingly. But with the sharp increase in television viewership, particularly among the lower and lower-middle classes in rural as well as urban areas, TVRI responded by incorporating dangdut, music it knew this new viewership to enjoy.

5. Advertisements are seen on all stations except TVRI. Government broadcast laws forbid advertising on the national television station, and require the private stations to pay 10% of their advertising income to TVRI, an especially burdensome ruling in the midst of drastically reduced advertising revenues precipitated by the current economic crisis.

6. Jay Soebiakto, a producer of music television shows for RCTI (including "Dua Warna," discussed below) and an independent producer of music video clips, made the first Indonesian video clip seen on MTV, with a song by Indonesian pop star Chrisye, in 1990.

7. The use of English for the satellite channel is intended to make the broadcasts accessible to viewers in areas outside of Indonesia (all the countries covered by MTV Asia), and to give these shows a trendy, international feel, playing on documented preferences of Indonesia's urban middle- and upper-class youth.

8. The acronym Ampuh, curiously incorporating the word pribumi, a racial term distinguishing "indigenous," Malay peoples from "foreign," Chinese and others, did not seem to strike those I questioned about it, including representatives of MTV, as potentially incendiary, even given the heightened sense of tension between pribumi and non-pribumi since the onset of the economic crisis.

9. In the many hours of MTV I watched in Indonesia during three weeks in August 1998, I saw the following: Boyz II Men, 98 Degrees with Stevie Wonder ("True to Your Heart" from the Disney film Mulan), Will Smith ("Just the Two of Us"), Lighthouse Family ("Lost in Space"), Brandy and Monica ("The Boy is Mine"), and Whitney Houston ("Greatest Love of All"). Otherwise I saw no African American performers.

10. Goodwin has noted that MTV VJs "offer a girl/boy-next-door point of identification for MTV viewers" and that this "identification point established by the VJs is, unsurprisingly, a conscious MTV strategy." (Goodwin 1993:55) MTV sought VJs who would not usurp the fame and larger-than-life image of the celebrity musicians. MTV's Indonesian VJs seem as relaxed, unpretentious, and just slightly unprofessional as (some) American VJs, but in spite of their on-air style (or perhaps because of it), all three Singapore-based Indonesian VJs have won celebrity recognition. Indonesian VJ Nadya Hutagalung won "The Best Light Entertainment Presenter Award" in the Asian television awards, held in Singapore in January 1998, and she was recognized as one of 25 "Asian Trend Makers" in Asiaweek (6 March 1998). She and fellow Indonesian VJ Sarah Sechan were among ten television personalities named by television tabloid Bintang Indonesia as "Bintang Yang Paling Berkilau" (lit. "Most Brightly Shining Stars") on Indonesian television for 1997. Indonesian VJ Jamie Aditya was named by the same tabloid as one of ten "Bintang Baru Yang Potensial" (lit. "Promising New Stars"), as well as being chosen from a field of 47 nominees as "The Hip, Hot and Happening Bachelor" for 1998 by Cleo magazine. (promotional literature from MTV Asia, Jakarta office, August 1998.)

11. Several television professionals suggested that many people, particularly adolescents, consider any video clip show on any television station to be MTV--as if MTV were a genre: any music video presentation, rather than a company with a fixed number of shows broadcast only on ANteve. This may explain the high numbers that MTV boasts (to potential advertisers), based on "survey research."

12. SCTV has a daily music show "Sik Asik" (a colloquial phrase approximating the English "totally into," "turned on") that presents dangdut video clips. Yet RCTI has only included dangdut singers in a few specials: the last production of "Dua Warna" (2 January 1998) with Iis Dahlia, which involved a mix of Dahlia's dangdut with Djaduk Ferianto's "etnik" music (see further below); and a show they offered at the end of the Muslim fasting month in 1997, in which several top stars (Iis Dahlia, Ikke Nurjanah, and Fahmi Shahab) sang dangdut songs gentrified by an accompanying orchestra, with several ethnic tinges, such as an Indian sitar and costumes which "had an ethnic Betawi nuance" ("bernuansa etnik Betawi") (Hangguman 1997:2). On the show, Erwin Gutawa, one of Indonesia's most famous pop music arrangers, acknowledged that dangdut has become enormously popular, and for this reason he wanted to try experimenting with it.

13. The term etnik or etnika is being used with increasing frequency in the discourse on Indonesia's music as a catch-all to refer to non-pop, non-Western music, especially the countless regional traditions of the archipelago. It has the advantage of avoiding the dichotomy between "traditional" and "modern", although other similar dichotomies are still implied. The term seems to be primarily used in the context of the music industry, by those whose primary concerns are with global, national, or supra-ethnic markets. Other terms persist, however. The bi-weekly tabloid published for private radio stations around Indonesia, Eksponen, now incorporates a four-page insert with the rubric musik tradisi (traditional music), but the articles often make use of the term etnik and daerah ("region," "regional").

14. The first and fourth shows were both broadcast on Indonesia's Independence Day (August 17), 1996 and 1997, respectively--a clear indication of the prominence the RCTI executives intended for this experimental musical show. I was unable to obtain a verifiable list of the popular musicians appearing on the second and third shows. I present here a list of those appearing on the first, fourth, and fifth. First show (August 17, 1996): Atiek CB, Katon Bagaskara, Dewi Gita, Ebiet G. Ade, Nicky Astria. Fourth show (August 17, 1997): Hetty Koes Endang, Iwa K, Ruth Sahanaya, Harvey Malaiholo, Nugie, Imaniar. Fifth show (January 2, 1998): Gatot Sunyoto, Chrisye, Kris Dayanti, Rama Aiphama, Gigi, Ikke Nurjanah. Most of these are pop Indonesia stars, singing in the styles most heavily indebted to Western (American and British) popular music. However, Gatot Sunyoto and Hetty Koes Endang are both known for their keroncong singing, and Endang has recorded songs in regional languages (her native Sundanese and also Minangkabau). Iwa K. performs rap music, with all the mannerisms of America's rappers of the 1990s. The only dangdut singer (see below) among these is Ikke Nurjanah; and in her appearance on "Dua Warna," the dangdut musical elements were masked under a heavy overlay of mainstream pop.


References Cited

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Media, Performance, and Identity in World Perspective
MPI Research Group - Workshop Paper


Bisakah Kesenian Tradisional Hidup Terus? Haruskah? -- [Can The Traditional Arts Survive, And Should They?]

Philip Yampolsky


1. Definisi


Apa yang kita maksudkan dengan istilah “tradisional” dalam konteks Indonesia? Biarkan saya tawarkan suatu definisi yang singkat dan gampang, supaya paling tidak pengertian saya mengenai istilah ini bisa jelas. Kesenian yang saya khususkan dalam definisi ini—dan dalam keseluruhan makalah ini—adalah seni musik, karena musiklah kesenian yang paling saya ketahui. Tetapi saya percaya bahwa apa yang akan saya katakan mengenai musik pada dasarnya juga berlaku untuk kesenian-kesenian tradisional lainnya.

Kita bisa membayangkan suatu garis, suatu kontinuum. Pada ujung yang satu, ujung yang “seratus persen tradisional,” terdapat jenis-jenis musik yang dalam idiom musikalnya tidak memperlihatkan jejak pengaruh yang jelas dari musik asing (yaitu dari luar Indonesia). Untuk keperluan artikel ini, kita bisa menganggap semua musik Indonesia yang tempatnya pada ujung yang satu itu, atau dekat ujung itu, sebagai “musik tradisional.” Pada ujung yang satu lagi terdapat jenis-jenis yang seluruhnya menggunakan idiom-idiom asing: yang menggunakan idiom murni Barat dengan harmoni, misalnya pop Indonesia, lagu perjuangan dan kebangsaan, dan lagu gereja; atau yang mencampurkan idiom Timur Tengah, India, dan Barat, misalnya dangdut, orkes gambus, dan qasidah moderen. Di antara kedua kutub itu terdapat musik-musik “hibrida” atau (katakanlah) peranakan, yang mencampurkan unsur musik yang jelas asing dengan unsur yang terasa “asli” Indonesia—kroncong, tanjidor, lagu opera Batak.

Kalau kita menginginkan suatu gambaran yang lebih rumit tetapi barangkali lebih tepat dan berguna, kita harus taruh dua garis atau kontinua daripada satu. Yang satu persis seperti garis yang baru saya ceritakan. Pada yang satu lagi, kedua kutub sama seperti tadi, tetapi yang diukur dalam jenis-jenis musik bukan idiom musikalnya tetapi norma-norma estetika yang kelihatan dalam pertunjukan. Jenis-jenis ditempatkan pada garis ini berdasarkan seberapa jauh mereka taat pada norma-norma pertunjukan yang umum di Barat: lagu-lagu yang pendek, pemain yang muda dan cantik atau ganteng, pakaian yang bagus, permainan yang hebat (misalnya dalam hal kecepatan atau ketrampilan), bersih dan kompaknya permainan pada saat permulaan dan penutupan lagu, vokal diutamakan daripada instrumental, dlsb. Tetapi garis kedua ini, garis estetika, tidak akan saya bawa masuk ke dalam pembicaraan di sini.

2. Situasi hari ini


Selama sepuluh tahun yang lalu saya beruntung sekali sempat bekerja sama dengan banyak kolega Indonesia untuk menyelenggarakan sebuah proyek rekaman. Hasilnya adalah Seri Musik Indonesia, 20 CD yang disponsori oleh MSPI di Indonesia dan Smithsonian di Amerika. Proyek itu membawa para peneliti ke berbagai daerah di Indonesia, dan oleh karena itu saya bisa memberikan semacam laporan aktuil mengenai musik tradisi di Indonesia selama dekade 90-an.

Di Jakarta, dan di luar negeri, kita biasanya mendapat gambaran yang terlalu polos mengenai keadaan musik tradisi di Indonesia. Sedang meninggal tak tertolong, kata orang, atau malah sudah mati, tinggal hanya beberapa jenis di daerah-daerah kekecualian, misalnya Jawa Tengah atau Bali—dan sebentar lagi punah di situ juga. Yang kami temukan dalam penelitian MSPI adalah situasi lain—lebih sulit diterangkan, tetapi, pada dasarnya, lebih optimis.

Di daerah dekat Jakarta pun—misalnya, di Tangerang atau Bekasi—masih sering terdapat pertunjukan kesenian-kesenian tradisional dalam konteks traditional pula. (Yaitu, bukan dipentaskan di atas panggung untuk para turis atau para pejabat, dan juga bukan dipentaskan di TV untuk para penonton yang duduk di rumah saja.) Tidak bisa dibantah bahwa jumlah pertunjukan tradisional berkurang dibanding dua puluh tahun yang lalu, dan jauh berkurang dibanding, misalnya, tujuh puluh tahun yang lalu. Dan harus diakui pula bahwa jumlah jenis kesenian tradisional juga berkurang dibanding masa lalu. Di banyak daerah, kesenian-kesenian tradisional telah digeser oleh TV dan filem, oleh band, kibord, dan karaoke. Tetapi di kebanyakan tempat yang kami kunjungi, ada pemain kesenian tradisional yang masih aktif. Di pelosok-pelosok, tempat TV dan band jarang dan bahasa daerah masih kuat, jenis-jenis kesenian tradisi masih sering merupakan hiburan yang dominan.

Memang, di kebanyakan daerah (walaupun, sekali lagi, bukan di daerah yang paling pelosok) para seniman tradisional dan penggemarnya sering sudah setengah umur atau lanjut usia. Orang muda, pada umumnya, kurang tertarik. Tetapi tergantung tempatnya. Di Nias kami pernah merekam suatu rombongan penyanyi hoho; kebanyakan anggotanya setengah umur, tetapi penyanyi utama dan pemimpin hohonya adalah seorang remaja berumur tujuh belas tahun. Sekolah-sekolah tinggi seni dan konservatori di Java, Bali, dan Sumatera Barat penuh dengan mahasiswa yang mempelajari kesenian tradisional. Dan di desa-desa di Indonesia bagian timur—di Flores, misalnya—para remaja dengan semangat mengikuti nyanyian dan tarian tradisional. Atau contoh lain: banyak orang akan mengatakan bahwa kesenian membalas pantun atau sindir-menyindir lewat nyanyian sudah hilang; tetapi kami sering menemukan anak remaja yang sanggup bergurau dan menyindir lewat syair yang dinyanyikan.

Kalau musik tradisional memang hampir punah, para peneliti kami tidak mungkin mengisi 20 album dan kira-kira 500 jam rekaman di lapangan. Tetapi, meskipun demikian, sulit mencari tempat di Indonesia di mana musik tradisi bisa dibilang berjaya. Jarang ada seniman yang bisa hidup hanya dari musiknya. Dan, sebagaimana tadi saya katakan, para pemain dan juga para penggemar musik tradisi semakin tua, sedangkan orang muda pada umumnya lebih tertarik kepada musik urban dan “modern.”

Menurut Biro Pusat Statistik, 44% persen dari penduduk Indonesia di bawah umur 20, dan 61% di bawah umur 30. Dari itu kita bisa mengira bahwa jumlah para pecinta musik tradisi akan makin lama makin menurun, dan kalau orang muda tidak tertarik, tidak lama lagi pecinta musik itu akan hilang. Dan tanpa penonton, dan tanpa seniman, tentu saja musiknya juga akan hilang.


3. Bisakah?


Tadi saya mengatakan bahwa kesimpulan dari penelitian MSPI itu pada dasarnya optimis. Yang memberi harapan di sini adalah bahwa—melawan banyak laporan dan ramalan—kesenian tradisional belumlah mati di Indonesia. Tetapi jelas perlu dibantu.

Bisakah kesenian tradisional dibantu? Haruskah dibantu? Atau lebih baik diserahkan saja ke pasar, dan dibiarkan mati kalau tidak ada konsumen? Saya akan berusaha menjawab pertanyaan pertama secara singkat, tetapi fokus saya hari ini adalah argumentasi kenapa kita seharusnya peduli dengan kesenian tradisional.

Ayo, bisakah kesenian tradisional dikuatkan? Perhatikanlah: istilahnya “dikuatkan,” bukan “dilestarikan.” Menurut saya, kita sebenarnya tidak mungkin melestarikan musik atau kebudayaan untuk orang lain. Contoh-contoh dari musik atau kebudayaan itu bisa disimpan di museum atau dalam bentuk rekaman, memang. Tetapi keseniannya sendiri, seutuhnya, hanya bisa dilestarikan oleh senimannya dan penggemarnya. Kalau mereka tidak peduli, keseniannya mati. Kalau masyarakatnya sudah bosan dengan menyanyi kroncong atau menarikan minuet, mereka berhenti, dan sudah. Orang dari luar (atau orang dalam yang prihatin) hanya bisa mencari masalah penyebab mengapa masyarakat itu tidak mau lagi dengan kesenian tersebut; kemudian bisa mencari jalan untuk memecahkan masalah itu.

Kesimpulan saya dari penelitian untuk proyek rekaman MSPI adalah bahwa pada masa Orde Baru—dan masih sampai sekarang—ada beberapa pihak yang sangat kuat di Indonesia yang berusaha mengajari masyarakat pedesaan supaya mereka mau meninggalkan musik tradisinya. Program kebudayaan dari pemerintah sering mengandung pesan bahwa kesenian pedesaan kurang baik sebagaimana seadanya; baru kalau dibina atau dikembangkan, kesenian itu akan memuaskan para penonton dari kalangan pemerintahan atau dari luar daerah. Penguasa dan pembesar agama menuntut supaya aspek-aspek tertentu dalam kesenian tradisional—atau malah kesenian itu seluruhnya—dibersihkan atau dibuang. Dan terdengar di mana-mana pesan sehari-hari dari surat kabar, majalah, iklan, radio dan televisi yang memberi kesan pada penduduk desa bahwa cara hidup mereka terbelakang, primitif, bodoh, dan pantas ditertawakan. Apakah mengherankan kalau orang muda tidak terangsang untuk menanam modal energi dan emosi mereka dalam musik dari desa yang terbelakang dan bodoh itu?

Dalam hemat saya, tekanan-tekanan dari luar inilah yang merupakan suatu penyebab utama kenapa masyarakat mau meninggalkan kesenian tradisionalnya. Dan tekanan-tekanan ini bisa kita lawan. Barangkali cara melawan yang paling penting adalah lewat pendidikan. Perlu disiapkan kuliah mengenai apresiasi seni untuk sekolah umum, dilengkapi dengan bahan-bahan yang menghargai musik tradisional. Selain itu, pemerintah, media, dan industri pariwisata perlu diarahkan supaya kesenian dan masyarakat tradisional diperlakukan dengan hormat dan kepekaan. Perhatian dari luar daerah, ataupun dari luar Indonesia, bisa dirangsang, supaya dibuktikan kepada pewaris tradisi bahwa ada penghargaan tinggi yang diberikan orang lain pada tradisi itu. Gunanya semua usaha ini adalah untuk menguatkan kembali kebanggaan masyarakat, terutama masyarakat muda, terhadap kesenian daerahnya atau sukunya.

Tetapi kita harus realistis. Kesenian tradisional tidak mungkin kembali ke kejayaannya dulu, sebagai satu-satunya kesenian yang dikenal oleh masyarakatnya. TV, radio, kaset, dan filem sudah merambat ke semua kota di Indonesia, dan dalam waktu yang dekat akan sampai ke setiap desa dan dusun. Dan siapa yang berhak menghalanginya? Siapa yang berhak menutup kesadaran orang di pedalaman mengenai dunia luar? Siapa yang berhak melarang masyarakat menikmati kesenian dari dunia luar? Yang wajar diharapkan, saya rasa, adalah supaya kesenian tradisional dipertahankan tanpa putus oleh kalangan-kalangan inti, terdiri dari seniman dan pecinta seni. Kalangan-kalangan inilah yang mempertahankan sampai sekarang musik Eropa dari abad-abad menengah dan Renaissance, musik pibroch untuk bagpipe di Skotlandia, nyanyian sean-nós di Irlandia, ataupun tembang macapat di Jawa.


4. Haruskah? #1


Jadi, jawaban saya terhadap pertanyaan pertama adalah Ya, kesenian tradisional bisa dibantu. Tetapi haruskah? Kenapa kita harus peduli nasibnya kesenian yang berasal dari zaman dulu, yang berkembang dalam masyarakat feodal atau agraris atau nomadis, masyarakat yang hidup terpencil dan terpisah satu sama lain? Sekarang ada zaman telekomunikasi, zaman kereta api dan pesawat terbang, zaman internet. Kalau kaum muda ingin membuang kesenian-kesenian kuno itu dan menikmati rock dan pop dan jazz dan dangdut, kenapa kita harus tetap mencanangkan tembang Sunda dan pakarena dan gondang?

Saya akan menawarkan dua argumentasi, kenapa kita seharusnya memperjuangkan musik tradisional. Dua-duanya adalah argumentasi instrumental, berarti menunjukkan bagaimana musik bisa membantu suatu tujuan selain musik. Kedua argumentasi berdasarkan makna simbolis dari musik, musik sebagai simbol atau lambang sesuatu. Dan masih tinggal argumentasi lagi yang bisa dikeluarkan. Bagi mereka yang sudah mendalami musik, ada argumentasi yang cukup kuat mengenai pentingnya musik sebagai musik, sebagai renungan mengenai struktur abstrak dalam suara—atau, menurut Susanne Langer, sebagai penggambaran struktur perasaan dan sensasi. Tetapi argumentasi semacam itu hanya bisa meyakinkan orang yang sudah cinta berat pada musik. Argumentasi saya di sini ditujukan kepada yang belum terikat.

Argumentasi pertama saya menyangkut soal identitas. Sering terjadi bahwa seseorang sedang jalan-jalan atau membaca atau ngobrol dan tiba-tiba terpukau oleh suara musik—musik dari kampung halamannya, atau dari masa lampau, musik yang sudah puluhan tahun tidak didengarnya. Kenapa musik bisa menimbulkan emosi yang begitu dalam dan mengharukan? Alasan yang paling tepat, saya rasa, adalah bahwa musik, untuk banyak orang, merupakan simbol atau lambang identitasnya, baik sebagai individu dan sebagai anggota suatu masyarakat. Dengan memainkan atau mendengarkan musik Minangkabau, misalnya, kita menunjukkan, dan juga merasakan, identitas kita sebagai seorang Minangkabau; kalau kita mendengar kembali musik yang dulu kita sering dengar, kita ingat kembali perasaan dan pengalaman dari waktu lampau itu; kalau kita menyanyikan lagu kebangsaan kita, kita memamerkan kewarga-negaraan kita. Musik juga berlaku sebagai simbol identitas-identitas lain lagi: simbol agama kita, golongan usia, tempat asal, tingkat selera, fokus intelektual, status sosial yang sebenarnya atau yang diinginkan.

Sebagai simbol identitas etnis (dan identitas-identitas yang lain), musik sangat kuat. Tetapi, selain kuatnya, ada keistimewaan lagi: musik adalah simbol identitas yang tidak kongkrit (intangible). Oleh karena itu, musik bisa tetap kuat walaupun simbol-simbol yang lebih kongkrit (otonomi suatu masyarakat; tanahnya; hutannya; agamanya; ekonominya; pola pemukiman dan pakaiannya) telah disita atau dilumpuhkan oleh penguasa dari luar atau dibuang oleh masyarakatnya sendiri. Bisa saja terjadi bahwa dalam semua perubahan, semua tekanan yang menuju ke keseragaman dan integrasi, hanya simbol-simbol yang intangible yang bisa diselamatkan.

Kalau musik merupakan simbol identitas etnis (atau identitas lain), maka hadirnya musik dari banyak suku (atau kelompok lain) dalam musik suatu masyarakat merupakan simbol keanekaragaman masyarakat itu. Tetapi, apakah kita harus menganggap keanekaragaman sebagai sesuatu yang baik? Ada orang yang berpendapat bahwa suku-suku di Indonesia harus melepaskan identitas tersendiri supaya bisa menyatu dalam satu negara. Sebaliknya, harus diakui bahwa experimen-experimen sosial untuk menghapus kesukuan pada umumnya menuntut banyak korban dan akhirnya gagal. Walaupun sudah berpuluhan tahun hidup rukun, kalau kekuasaan yang memaksa kerukunan itu jatuh, perang suku pecah lagi. Inilah yang kita lihat di Bosnia, di Kosovo, di Aceh, di Maluku.

Dari pengalaman dan logika kita bisa simpulkan bahwa manusia selalu akan berusaha mencari identitas pribadi dan identitas sub-kelompok, di samping macam-macam identitas yang lebih umum yang disediakan oleh suatu masyarakat. Jadi yang diperlukan, rupanya, adalah suatu bentuk masyarakat yang bisa menerima dan membanggakan adanya identitas-identitas yang majemuk—suatu bentuk masyarakat di mana seseorang bisa menganggap diri dan bisa diakui sebagai orang Jawa atau Dayak atau Tionghoa dan juga orang Indonesia, atau, sebagaimana diceritakan dalam suatu studi antropologis mengenai “pemilihan etnisitas,” sekaligus orang Punjabi, orang Meksiko, dan orang Amerika.[1] Suatu negara yang heterojen, Indonesia misalnya, dengan mendukung segala macam tradisi musikal yang terdapat di dalamnya, menggambarkan—dan bukan hanya menggambarkan: juga menciptakan—kebanggaannya akan pluralitas dan heterojenitasnya.

Berhubungan dengan ini, saya ingin menceritakan suatu anekdot. Saya pernah hadir pada suatu upacara perkawinan di Lampung, pada masyarakat Melinting. Ada tarian adat, diiringi sebuah ensembel gong, disebut kulintang. Pada salah satu tarian adat, terdapat sederetan ibu-ibu, semuanya berpakaian tekstil Lampung yang bagus. Diiringi kulintang dan sambil menari, deretan ibu-ibu itu maju ke depan, mendekati kedua mempelai, lalu mundur ke tempat semula. Semua wanita dalam deretan itu maju dan mundur bersamaan, kecuali satu yang tidak maju dan tidak mundur, menari di tempat saja. Ditinggal oleh temannya, lalu bergabung lagi kalau mereka kembali. Saya bertanya pada beberapa tamu, kenapa ibu yang satu itu tidak pindah dari tempatnya—apakah dia mempunyai pangkat yang lebih tinggi? Mereka menjawab: bukan begitu. Ibu yang satu itu berasal dari suku lain dan kawin dengan orang Melinting; inilah caranya suku dia menari pada upacara perkawinan.[2]

Aha. Beberapa suku bergabung untuk merayakan satu upacara; bermacam-macam tarian ditarikan pada kesempatan yang sama. Kesatuan tanpa keseragaman. Pluralisme budaya.


5. Haruskah? #2

Argumentasi kedua, kenapa kita seharusnya memperjuangkan musik tradisional dan pemusiknya, agak lebih rumit.

Pada tingkat yang paling dasar, musik merupakan struktur yang diterapkan pada suara dalam waktu. Pada tingkat dasar itu, musik tidak mempunyai makna, tidak mengatakan sesuatu mengenai sesuatu: topiknya hanya ketiga unsur itu, suara, waktu, dan struktur. Tetapi, menciptakan struktur dari materi adalah kegiatan dasar dalam kehidupan manusia. Itulah pekerjaan kita selama hidup: mencari pola atau struktur atau aturan dalam rasa dan pengalaman. Kalau kita mendengar musik kita mendengar suatu penggambaran yang abstrak dari suatu kegiatan dasar manusia.

Dari masa kanak-kanak, kebanyakan orang mendengarkan beberapa jenis musik yang lama-kelamaan mereka anggap biasa atau normal. Mereka hafal logika musik-musik itu tanpa sadar, persis seperti mereka hafal peraturan bahasa ibu mereka tanpa analisa. Dan bukan hanya pemain musik yang hafal begitu—siapapun yang sedikit tertarik pada musik. Bagi orang semacam itu—berarti bagi kebanyakan orang—musik yang mereka ketahui dari masa kecil adalah transparen: tanpa disadari, mereka tahu aturannya. Mereka tahu kalau sebuah lagu sudah selesai; mereka tahu kalau suaranya “tidak pas” (misalnya kalau seorang penyanyi atau pemain jadi fals); kalau mau menari, mereka tahu matnya tanpa tahu bagaimana tahu.

Tetapi kalau mereka mendengarkan musik lain, dari tempat atau suku lain, mereka menghadapi logika lain, sistem lain untuk mengatur suara dalam waktu. Dan menghadapi ini berarti menghadapi suatu misteri: misteri pengalaman orang lain dan masyarakat lain. Struktur lain dalam musik melambangkan (kita kembali ke simbolisme) struktur lain dalam kehidupan.

Biarkan saya perdengarkan (akhirnya!) beberapa contoh. Ambillah suatu lagu populer Indonesia yang terkenal, Bunga Anggrek.[3] Struktur lagu ini—logikanya—akan terasa transparen oleh semua pendengar, karena itulah logika yang umum dan biasa dalam idiom populer Barat yang merambat ke seluruh dunia dalam abad keduapuluh. Lagunya memakai tangga nada diatonis dan idiom tonalitas yang sederhana yang hampir semua orang tahu di bawah sadar. Tetapi saya ingin menggarisbawahi suatu segi lainnya: struktur dan panjangnya frase melodi. Yang penting diperhatikan adalah bahwa semua frase berbentuk sama: semuanya mulai pada titik yang sama dalam biramanya, semuanya berhenti sementara, mulai lagi, dan berakhir pada titik-titik yang sama. Panjangnya sama juga—empat birama, masing-masing dengan empat ketukan (dalam notasi ini). Jadi lagu Bunga Anggrek merupakan serangkaian frase yang identik dalam bentuk atau struktur; lagi pula, frase-frase itu simetris, terdiri dari dua anak frase yang juga identik dalam bentuk. Dan secara makro juga, lagunya terdiri dari unit-unit yang identik: frase 1 dan 2 (sebutkanlah pasang ini A) dibunyikan sekali dan diulangi; kemudian frase 3 dan 4 (sebutkanlah pasang B), identik dalam struktur dengan frase 1 dan 2, dibunyikan; kemudian kita kembali ke frase 1 dan 2 (pasang A). Strukturnya seluruhnya terdiri dari 32 birama dan bisa dirumuskan A-A-B-A.

Struktur ini sangat biasa dalam idiom musik populer Barat (walaupun harus diakui tidak semua lagu populer mempunyai struktur yang sesimetris dan serapi dengan lagu ini). Kita semua pernah dengar struktur ini seribu kali; kalau dengar ini kita tidak bingung, tidak heran; struktur ini sudah masuk di akal.

Baiklah, kita ambil contoh lain, dengan pendekatan lain terhadap struktur lagu. Dalam lagu koor ini dari Timor,[4] lagunya sama sekali tidak simetris seperti Bunga Anggrek. Ada satu koor wanita dan dua koor laki-laki. Notasi saya mulai dengan bagian wanita, karena gampang. Frase yang dinyanyikan wanita terdiri dari 13 ketukan; frase koor laki-laki yang pertama terdiri dari 14 ketukan (saya kira; kadang-kadang sulit menentukan kapan koor laki-laki yang pertama berhenti dan yang kedua mulai); frase koor laki-laki yang kedua terdiri dari 5 ketukan. Setiap ketukan dibagi tiga (triple subdivision of the beat). Kalau kita anggap setiap ketukan sebagai satu birama dengan metrum tiga cepat, kita dapat suatu struktur yang terdiri dari 32 birama, sama dengan Bunga Anggrek. Tetapi Bunga Anggrek membagi ke-32 biramanya secara reguler sekali, delapan frase masing-masing dengan 4 birama, sedangkan lagu dari Timor ini membagi ke-32 biramanya 13+14+5! Sulit dibayangkan suatu struktur yang lebih asimetris. Makanya—karena kita umumnya terbiasa dengan lagu-lagu seperti Bunga Anggrek, dengan frase-frase yang panjangnya selalu sama, selalu 4 birama (atau 8, atau 16, dst)—lagu dari Timor ini membuat kita bingung, tanpa pegangan. Tanpa menghitung setiap birama, kita tidak akan tahu kapan satu koor akan selesai dan yang berikutnya akan mulai.

Yang saya tegaskan di sini adalah bahwa lagu ini dari Timor mewujudkan suatu cara untuk mengatur suara—khususnya di sini struktur frase-frase melodi—yang sangat lain dari apa yang pada umumnya kita anggap biasa atau normal. Tetapi penyanyi koor ini menyanyi seolah terbiasa sekali—seolah frase-frase yang tidak rata, asimetris adalah sesuatu yang biasa atau normal untuk mereka. Dan pasti memang begitu—itulah yang normal bagi mereka, karena itulah cara yang mereka dengarkan sejak kecil.

Contoh terakhir barangkali akan terasa—oleh kita, bukan oleh pemainnya—lebih aneh lagi. Lagu ini berasal dari masyarakat yang tinggal di sekitar sungai Jelai Hulu di Kabupaten Ketapang, Kalimantan Barat.[5] Dimainkan dengan tujuh pasang batang bambu; kedua batang bambu dalam satu pasang dipukul satu sama lain. Lima pasang selalu bermain bersamaan, menghasilkan satu akord kalau nada terbesar (terrendah) adalah D dan satu akord lain kalau nada terbesar adalah E. Oleh karena kedua akord itu tidak berubah, tidak usah ditulis dalam notasinya secara lengkap; cukup saja menulis D atau E (pada posisi paling atas dalam notasi, dengan tongkat mengarah ke atas). Notasi ini menggunakan tanda metrum (7/8, 11/8, dlsb). Tentunya para pemain tidak menghitung tujuh mat, sebelas mat, dst; mereka hanya main. Tanda metrum ini adalah untuk kita, bukan untuk mereka: supaya kita bisa mengikuti jalan lagunya. Dan kalau kita memang mengikuti jalan itu, kita akan melihat sesuatu yang menarik: walaupun kesan kita dari musik ini adalah klik-klak-klik-klak saja, kita lihat dari notasi bahwa klik-klak itu, yang kedengarannya tak teratur, sebenarnya tersusun: dibunyikan satu kali dan kemudian diulangi secara persis.

Saya yakin bahwa kebanyakan orang (kecuali yang berasal dari Jelai Hulu) akan merasa musik ini sulit ditangkap. Kenapa? Karena strukturnya tidak masuk di akal kita—kita belum berpengalaman mendengarkan suara yang diatur begini. Dan itulah pesan saya: kalau kita mendengarkan musik ini, kita menghadapi suatu cara lain dalam pengaturan suara, lain dari apa yang kita anggap biasa; dan cara lain dalam pengaturan suara adalah lambang cara lain dalam pengaturan pengalaman, cara lain dalam kehidupan manusia.

Itulah kemampuan musik tradisi: mengingatkan kita bahwa ada cara hidup yang lain. Musik tradisi pada dasarnya menantang hegemoni untuk semua orang di luar tradisinya: musik tradisi menyatakan bahwa struktur dan aturan yang kita anggap biasa atau normal bukanlah satu-satunya struktur dan aturan yang ada di dunia. Dan saya anggap kabar ini sangat penting buat semua orang sekarang. Kita semakin berpengalaman yang sama, semakin menerima pesan yang sama dari media yang sama, membeli produk yang sama, diatur oleh undang-undang yang sama, tergantung pada teknologi yang sama. Kita perlu diingatkan terus-menerus bahwa manusia di tempat lain dan dalam situasi yang lain bisa berbeda dari kita, bisa menafsirkan dunia dan pengalaman dengan cara yang lain. Menghargai dan menikmati kesenian dari masyarakat lain tidak berarti bahwa kita harus membuang prinsip-prinsip kita, harus memeluk agama mereka atau mengikuti pola hidup mereka. Kita bisa menghargai hasil daya cipta manusia, pekerjaan berat memasang struktur dan makna pada pengalaman, tanpa menyetujui detail-detail isi atau kepercayaannya. Menafsirkan dunia, menciptakan struktur dalam pengalaman, adalah kewajiban manusia, dan usaha setiap masyarakat dalam menjalankan kewajiban itu bermanfaat untuk semua masyarakat lain.



[1] Karen Isaksen Leonard, Making ethnic choices: California’s Punjabi Mexican Americans (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1992).

[2] Sesudah makalah ini dibaca untuk seminar CCF, saya bertemu dengan seorang koreografer dan peneliti tari, R. Harry W Jayaningrat, yang tinggal di Lampung dan tahu banyak mengenai masyarakat Melinting. Menurut dia, informasi yang saya dapat dari tamu-tamu di perkawinan itu salah: kemungkinannya, ibu yang menari di tempat mewakili keluarga tuan rumah, bukan suku yang lain. Kalau Bp. Jayaningrat benar, anekdot saya ini lebih baik dianggap dongeng—tetapi masih memberikan gambaran yang ideal mengenai pertunjukan dalam suatu masyarakat majemuk.

[3] Kalau dinyanyikan dengan syair dalam bahasa Belanda, lagu ini disebut Als de orchideeën bloeien. Syair dalam bahasa Indonesia untuk lagu ini diciptakan oleh Ismail Marzuki, dan lagunya juga sering dianggap ciptaan Ismail Marzuki.

[4] Direkam dekat Atambua pada tahun 1990 oleh Margaret Kartomi dan dimuat dalam CD-nya Music of Timor (Celestial Harmonies 13182-2), track 16.

[5] Salah satu lagu dari repertoar senggayung. Direkam pada tahun 1995 dan dimuat dalam CD Kalimantan: Dayak Ritual and Festival Music (Music of Indonesia 17; Smithsonian Folkways SFW 40444), track 5.