Fariz is back after all the 1980s hits

Fariz is back after all the 1980s hits

By Helly Minarti

JAKARTA (JP): There are many roads for musicians to explore
today. Fariz Roestam Moenaf, a well-known whizkid-pop musician in
the 1980s, is one of those who has taken a different road to
build a new career.

Do not be surprised if you spot him in a meeting room,
surrounded by people in their best tailored business suits or
creative people from advertising agencies in their colorful work
outfits. He will not just take his seat and calmly listen to
people. He will stand in front of a bunch of professionals and
give his business presentation himself, complete with statistical
data.

"Usually people laugh as I introduce myself. They say, 'yeah,
we know you. The singer. The musician. The pop star'. But I say,
'true, but I'm here as your consultant as written on my business
card,'" said the 38-year-old Fariz.

His business card displays his new title: Consultant for Multi
Media Production. "I enjoy the many roles I play in my current
life. When I play keyboard in the malls to promote a keyboard
company, I am a musician. When I sang on stage at a new pub's
grand opening recently, I was also a musician. But when I sit in
the lobby of a big advertising agency, they treat me as their
consultant."

With his solid classical music background -- years of piano
tuition with names like Sunarto Sunaryo and the only Indonesian
professor in classical music, Prof. Charlotte Sukirno, Fariz
sharpened his musical genius which he believes he inherited from
his mother.

In his youth, he joined the most prestigious band in the
country, Badai Band, as a drummer in their legendary film
soundtrack, Badai Pasti Berlalu. "They discovered me when I
recorded this operetta music for my school in Alex Kumara's (now
the director of RCTI's) music studio. They are my 'gurus' in
music -- Keenan Nasution, Jockie Suryoprayogo, Eros Djarot and
Chrisye," said Fariz.

Fariz's musical genius doesn't stop at playing the piano.
Competent at playing various instruments, his friends once called
him an "all round musician".

Later he launched his first solo album, Sakura, which was
originally recorded as a single for the film's soundtrack with
the same title. "It wasn't easy to find a producer who could
appreciate my work. It took many bus trips to sell the song, and
what they said was 'make something like Ebiet's (a ballad male
singer whose album gained wide popularity at the time). It
sells.'"

But Fariz's efforts finally paid off and Sakura turned out to
be a huge success.

Fariz also joined various music groups and tried various beats
-- from fusion to '80s new wave. But he never lasted long in one
group, jumping from band to another. Sometimes he was involved in
more than one group at the same time. He was criticized for this
professional choice. "I have my own reasons. To keep a band
intact is, in my point of view, almost impossible. I mean,
especially here, in Indonesia. There are always frictions and
conflicts involved. I don't want to be a hypocrite but I'd be
better this way, with my own band, right under my name."

Fariz has always invited controversy. Before surprisingly
receiving two nominations for musical soundtrack in the recent
Festival Sinetron Indonesia, he produced 23 soundtracks for
Indonesian movies stamped as "cheap and bad movies" due to their
dull story and association with sex.

Film soundtracking

"Oh gosh, film soundtracking is something I'd like to explore.
I guess, I wasn't lucky when I was about to start out at it.
People didn't make good movies at the time, nothing like
Fatahillah. They were the only movies around. So I took them."

But Fariz believes it was a job well done. "Did you see them?
Because it's unfair to criticize something that you don't exactly
know," he said. "Though the cinematography is in doubt, I did it
my way, all with perfection. They also paid me my price, nothing
less. So, it's not cheap. And I was selective. I could have done
61 instead of only 23."

Fariz also has a deep interest in other mediums, including
television. "I've been crazy about this medium, television, since
I took a summer course in Spain back in the late 1980's. It was
partly because Indonesian music has been going down since 1988,"
he said. That set the scene for Fariz's move to television and he
started his own TV-production house, PT Artapola Selaras.

As the company's creative director, he conducted his business
from home. Oneng' Diana Riyadini, his wife, is acting as his
sidekick. "I take the creative side, she handles the rest. And
that's exactly the life I'd like to have, having my wife as a
partner -- at home and at work."

The situation is perfect for Fariz who produces up to 17
jingles a month for television commercials, not to mention a
couple of weekly sinetron (TV series), including the theme music
for RCTI.

He recently worked on an interesting production of Peter Pan,
a musical ballet performed by the Maya Tamara's ballet school.

Together with Mira Lesmana, an independent film producer, and
Asmara, a scriptwriter, he is now preparing a production of a TV
series about the life of Ismail Marzuki -- a legendary Indonesian
composer. "He is one of my 'gods'. Putting his life onto the
screen would be something," said Fariz, who collects small
statues of Bach, Mozart, Handel, and Beethoven -- his other music
gods.

Music industry

Fariz does not hide his concern of the current Indonesian
music scene. "The climate, I believe, is much worse than 18 years
ago when I started," he said, contradicting some of his recent
comments on new local artists to hit the scene.

But Fariz has his own reasons. "The music industry has become
much more industrialized. They don't give artists a chance to be
themselves. There is no Ebiet, Vina or Chrisye anymore. It's not
the artist's fault. Producers always tend to dictate their
artists. But now it's 1,000 times worse. It seems, on the
surface, that things are better. But the fact is, they're not."

Global changes

Fariz also believes it's time for musicians to "extend", find
a life "after MTV". "We are all now exposed to global changes.
What's going on there (in the West), is soon transferred here. We
have a kiblat, a direction, plus tremendous competition in local
markets. There are so many groups, but they don't have enough
time -- like my generation had -- to be themselves. A few may
find their way, but most of them will vanish soon."

The music industry also often pressures musicians to play
certain music, which is actually not their style.

But Fariz believes this process is sadly inevitable. "It also
happened in America a long time ago. Maybe in 10 years, in the
year of 2005 or something, there will be a diversion of opinions
and the people themselves will be more ready to take things as
they are."

Fariz lives in South Jakarta with his wife and twin daughters,
Ravenska and Ravenski, who have become his inspiration.

"And as I expected before, family life doesn't interrupt my
creative life. It gives me shelter instead and I think, I'm far
'richer' -- in many ways -- than when I was a single," he said.

Fariz is still a modest person in one way or another. He used
to take a bus, even when he was really popular. "I just bought a
Mazda van, so my kids can sleep during the ride," he said. "I
simply take a cab when the only car is being used. I don't need
another one."

Behind his open and friendly exterior, Fariz confessed that he
doesn't have any best friend. "Maybe I don't need one. When I
have a problem, I pray to Allah. I trust myself, and I believe in
what both my hands can do." It sounds like hidden arrogance. "I
don't think so," Fariz quips. "I guess I respect my fellow
Indonesian musicians very much and put them before me."