Contemporary music has its own techniques, rhythm, ritual

Contemporary music has its own techniques, rhythm, ritual

By Y. Bintang Prakarsa

JAKARTA (JP): Many "classical" concertgoers do not like to
listen to contemporary music in concert halls. They never
complain, however, when the same kind of music is heard as
background in movies.

This music has the same unusual instruments and playing
techniques, confusing rhythm, extreme dissonance caused by 12-
note composition (using all the black and white keys on the
piano) and tone clusters (a pile of adjacent notes sounded
together), and so on.

Thus "music" is not just sound but, more importantly, context
of performance. For much of human history and through many
cultures music happens in the context of ritual -- i.e. something
that is deliberately made different from other human activities
(cf. Catherine Bell, Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice, 1992) to
build and affirm a belonging, to create inclusion and exclusion
simultaneously.

Going to a concert is more than merely enjoying good music. It
is an affirmation of one's identity belonging to a certain
musical world.

Why, then, do many people reject contemporary music?

Because they can no longer move their limbs along with the
conductor or sigh with relief at the end of a long cadenza -- in
short, exclusion and alienation!

But why these feelings? We can guess that contemporary music,
like other musical genres, assumes a different ritual, and
anybody who is willing to learn its language will be included in
it. Two cases below will present some strategies which might help
to discover the rituals of contemporary music.

Contemporary music is so unpredictable that it is regarded as
a problem that excludes people from the ritual. But is that
problem not one of the essential ingredients of modern life? In
societies affected by modernity people look for and expose
themselves to problems, and even make a living from them.

Problems become "a daily fact of life," said Godfried-Willem
Raes, a member and principal composer of the Belgian group Trio
Logos, which performed here last month.

Problem-solving is valued highly and is institutionalized in
"rituals of problems", as can be seen in every scientific
congress where people meet and discuss matters in a highly
codified manner.

This fascination with problems is "essential for understanding
avant-garde music". The music of Logos featured prominently (but
invisibly) as an electronic "virtual musical instrument" that was
played by gestures. Unlike conventional musicians, however, the
players did not touch the unseen instrument. It worked by feeding
signals from a radar or sonar movement detector to a computer-
controlled electronic musical instrument. The instrument would
sound through speakers as programmed according to various
properties of the movement: speed, attack, direction, etc. This
mysterious nature of the relationship between the gestures of the
performers and the sound of the instrument would intrigue the
audience who would only see movements in the air. Participating
in this ritual of problem would ensure their enjoyment in
concerts like Logos'.

A considerable part of Slamet Abdul Sjukur's compositions
performed in Erasmus Huis on April 21, however, does not belong
to the problem-solving type. For example, Yu-Taha for piano solo
was a flat landscape of silence filled mostly with sparse tone-
clusters softly played in the middle register. Lacking rhythmic
drive, the music appeared to be disconnected and diffused -- the
sound was there with no purpose.

The nonpurposiveness could be observed also in the style of
performance. It was very striking to compare his very relaxed
gestures and unconcerned facial expressions in Uwek-uwek with the
vehemence of Logos' vocal improvisations on a similar subject:
exploration of the human voice. He merely did it as a matter of
course: "I have nothing to pursue in my compositions," he said
after the concert.

We need a different ritual strategy for that. Slamet's music,
or at least part of it, is best understood using the Indonesian
word iseng. The word, which in fact appeared in the program
notes, means doing something for fun, for killing time, or, as
often the case, for no purpose at all -- just pure play. Iseng
has no exact English word because it is the very opposite of the
concept of purposive action that dominates Western thought.

With the iseng perspective the ritual would be different. If
the composer himself does not regard his compositions and their
performance as requiring highly focused and concentrated efforts,
then we should be more relaxed both physically and mentally.

Furthermore, similar to wayang kulit (shadow puppet)
performance (you can sleep to kill time before the unfolding of
the main story after midnight), the diffused music does not
require constant involvement on the part of the performers and
the audience. Instead, experience it as a play or a game, and
you'll have a great time at Slamet's or other composers'
concerts.

Lastly but most importantly: for these rituals of problems and
iseng, don't take anything too seriously or profoundly.

The author teaches history of Western music at the Jakarta
Theological Seminary.