Previously, on The Codex of Poesy:
So, my corporeal roommate Cecilia let me have her old phone when she got a new one, and I’ve been able to do a lot more on it than I could on my outdated laptop browser…including…catching a Spotify promotion of three months with a premium account for the equivalent of 20 Stateside cents. That’s got to be subsidized music piracy. I should signal boost musicians that I enjoyed listening to on Spotify. But exposure isn’t a tenderable currency, so this wouldn’t even be a nudge for the world to stop starving the artists.
This entry is for an album that gave me liminal questing spirit feels, then.
And so’s this one.
This is full-on pop music nostalgia to me. It’s so 90s. The music has so much synth. The music videos had computer graphics back when computer graphics weren’t quite there yet. Even with the songs being about Spanish islands and African deserts, though, I’ve got to say that Snow on the Sahara is the most unapologetically Indonesian. (Of Anggun’s international releases, that is.) (Although even this one has a literal apology to Indonesia in “Rose in the Wind”.) Chrysalis had some of that experimental sound, though the only song I really liked on the Chrysalis album was “Chrysalis”. Open Heart melted into a morass of genericness, though I think I liked more than a few songs, the only one I can remember to name right now is “Little Things”.
Amateur ethnomusicology time! First, amateur comparative religions time. I’m remembering that time I sat in on one of Cecilia’s anthropology classes, and an attendee there mentioned that the deep South of the Philippines being “more Asian than we (Northerners) are” because the people there were predominantly Islam as opposed to an Abrahamic faith introduced by white people at gunpoint four hundred years ago. I sort of flinched at that, because surely there are as many ways to be authentically Asian as there are Asian people on earth?
Having grown up in Indonesia, though, part of me understood what the speaker was getting at. The “traditional Philippine music” taught to me was closer to Spanish boleros, and while the dance is uncommon, flamenco music can feel right at home. In music classes in Indonesia, though, I was taught about the gongs. Technically, the Philippines has gong music somewhere, too, but the main difference I must say seems to be…Indonesian culture isn’t ashamed of it. Nor should it be, because learning about the gongs (and the metallophones, woodwinds, bowed strings, all part of a complete gamelan orchestra) was wicked cool. I learned the names of the metallophones, the difference in playing styles between Bali and Java, and superstitions associated with the instruments: the largest gong could control the weather, or customary offerings of fruits and flowers to the instruments.
And I say ‘superstitions’ because, well, there’s pride for a largely intangible heritage, and there’s the fact that it can’t keep up with modern life. The tuning of a slentem is so incompatible with the octaves of Western music! As everyone in the whole world who knows any sort of music worth listening to would then only think of music in terms of octaves, surely the best fate of this musical tradition is preservation…in what’s practically an ice block of strictly classical-traditional performances. There’s just no way to change anything appealing to modern, international appeal without doing it all so wrong that nobody would like it.
(Wait, what was I reviewing again?)