Kristi's show enters the realm of confusion

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.