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."