Kristi's show enters the realm of confusion

By Achmad Nurhoeri

JAKARTA (JP): Winds of a mystical strain reigned over the somber realms of Jakarta's historical performance hall, which ordinarily mingles with the art of the elite. It began with a whispering but unyielding ambience induced by the curious village-like bickerings.

The prelude of the strain, performed last Friday and Saturday night, seemed to proclaim that eccentricity would overbearingly remain throughout the show. It actually did, although only in the last minutes did it succeed in enthralling the audience.

Eccentricity is truly a trademark for folk singer Leo Kristi, who last week finally returned to the stage of the Jakarta Art Hall after a three-year hiatus. He came with an ambition to once again dispel the myth that art should be enjoyed only in silence. "I want to relish art in a chaotic environment," he said. But last week's Senyum Paramuda (Smiles of the Youth) concert showed that playing with chaos is a tricky mission.

Yet Kristi would not be a famed live stage musician if he could not handle the heat of his own idiosyncrasy. Since the age of 12, this 47-year-old Surabaya-born musician has proven that playing music is his domain. In the 1960s, his quest for music even made him decide to quit his studies at the prestigious Surabaya-based Sepuluh November Institute of Technology. In 1975, he made another surprising move by creating a musical circle which engrossed his unconventional flavor. He called it Konser Rakyat Leo Kristi (Leo Kristi's People's Concert). Its offbeat shows, folk songs with heavily satirical lyrics and strange stage props provided the foundation for his establishment.

The members of Kristi's crew always change, but the style still prevails. At least until last week.

Although the group's struggle to make the tunes blend perfectly did not live up to the fans' expectations in the beginning, slowly but surely it got better. They finally found the right tune in the end. It was just enough to dazzle the audience, who cried for a double encore.

Confused Market

"Welcome to the Confused Market," blared a mask bard with two guitars on his back after blowing the flute like he was spitting, producing a sound like a rap DJ's scratching machine. The masked man's flute show broke the silent creepy whispers of the traditional village-like sounds that welcomed the audience into the mutated classical hall. The masked man was none other than Kristi, forever unpredictable.

The stage he performed on was also decorated to complement his unpredictability. Huge blocks of ice cluttered the middle of the stage, three abstract paintings dangled from above and a jumble of tin drums painted in solid black sat in the front. But the most ridiculous thing was a strange, large wooden thingamajig that stood in the back. It was created from five oar-like structures, each sporting a traditional spiral mosquito coil. The structures were crossed horizontally with a vertical pole. Kristi explained that this was his imaginary design of a childhood toy.

The two wings were occupied by two very incongruous sets of instruments. A grand piano was positioned on the right and a set of angklung (a musical instrument consisting of suspended bamboo tubes which sound when shaken) were set in the opposite. Surprisingly, there was also a woman with a baby who wandered around the piano. The baby was actually Kristi's son Panji, who was meant to be an integral part of his confused market show. His cries and gestures accentuated father Kristi's play all the way until the end.

Kristi began his "confused market" act, wearing a black outfit which actually emphasized the gloominess of his satires. The first number was Tepi Surabaya (Verge of Surabaya). He barked Melebar tak berakar ... kaca-kaca miskin jiwa (Widening without deepening ... mirrors lack souls) with two other guitarists, criticizing Surabaya's rapid growth, with the needy often neglected. But it seemed not only Surabaya that lacks planning; the opening score was also full with slips here and there.

The rest of the first half actually could have been considered entertaining, but Kristi's crew could not manage to escape the confusion of their self-made "confused market". Regretfully, Kristi's new recruits such as Cipto (clarinet), Whisnu (piccolo), Elsa (French horn) and Putri (vocals), could not fit themselves into the planned "confusion". They made rudimentary flops for a professional stage performance. Young Putri even looked like a zombie whenever her singing talent was veiled by her stage fright.

The lifesaver of Kristi's first half was the ever-consistent Gayatri (vocals). This young and attractive singer, who was a part of Kristi's last solo concert in 1993, displayed her angelic voice in a very fitting manner. Her gestures were simple and well-controlled, but never camouflaged her wit and enigma.

A number of songs like Jerami Jas Jes Jos (Hay Jas Jes Jos), Dayung Mas, Dayung (Row, brother, row), Nusantara Bernyanyi (The Archipelago is Singing) and Kristi's latest debut, Senyum Paramuda, began enthusiastically, but unfortunately ended dry on account of the artists' mistakes, the sound system and ill- preparation. Tragically, it reduced the audience's clapping to merely a routine gesture.

After a 20-minute break, the show began with performances dominated by Kristi with his guitars. One or two artists helped bring about the fallen mood, but it seemed to be continual. Eventually, however, Kristi's lifetime of performing experience shone through. It was during his 12th song that Kristi's bunch found their second wind. The old favorite Gulagulagu Suara Nelayan (The Sounds of the Fishermen) did the trick. The harmony from a chaotic environment that Kristi promised earlier astonished the audience. The various instruments, from French horn to angklung, blended nicely. The vocals were beginning to find their lost tune. Kristi's strong voice and his crafty guitar playing showed their might. The audience saluted the song with an ecstatic applause.

Two other songs sprang out from the more confident band and put the audience where they wished to be in the first place. Kristi was aware of the change and slipped in his 1976 hit, Nyanyian Fajar (Dawn Song), which was not in his scheduled repertoire. It hit fans right on target. After the final song, Lenggalenggung Badai Lautku (The Swing of My Ocean Tide), the audience roared for an encore. Kristi gave them another legendary 1978 patriotic hit, Nyanyian Anak Merdeka (The Songs of the Free Child).

Finally, Kristi made a bang of his "Confused Market" with a witty and satirical song, Tembang Lestari (Perpetual Song). But it wouldn't be Kristi if it was predictable. He ended the song in the middle and said "Aku, lali..." (I forget) leaving the audience with a vaporous statement.