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Stephen Davies, Philosophy, University of Auckland
Important note: This is a ;inal draft and differs from the de;initive version, which is published in International Yearbook of Aesthetics, 4, (2000): 22-‐42. I have been assured by the University of Auckland's research of;ice that if they have made this publicly available then it does not violate the publisher's copyright rules.
Balinese Musicians' Assessments of Recorded Performances
There can be no doubt that Balinese music is alive. Some twenty types of gamelan
ensemble are in use. Of these the most common is gong kebyar, with about 1500
groups. Some other types of ensemble, such as beleganjur, anklung, and gender
wayang, are very common. Despite this proliferation, one might wonder about the
health of Balinese music and the effects that performances for tourists have on this.
The ethnomusicologist, Jacques Brunet, is one who sees a falling away in the
performance standards of Balinese kebyar and who attributes this mainly to a desire to
cater for tourist demand and taste. I quote him at length, since he makes several points
that I will consider.
'The recordings presented here are an echo of the spirit in which kebyar was played during the
60s, according to the styles and forms born of the traditional music and dance teaching in each
village. But tourism has wrought havoc. ... One of the greatest dangers for contemporary
Balinese music is the attraction of musicians for accelerating the tempi, which pays no regard to
nuances. The modern world, the desire to put on "spectacular shows" for tourists, and more and
more "technical" virtuosity taught at the conservatory have created the current situation in
which, with the exception of a few villages that have held on to their cultural autonomy, have
made us spectators to the decline of the great kebyar tradition into insipidness. ... The Peliatan
gong "Gunung Sari" was the most prestigious in Bali for a long time. ... This orchestra is
probably the most [Since] the 1980s, the musicians have given themselves over to giving almost
daily performances for tourists and have perhaps lost their soul forever.' (sleevenotes, Les grands
gong kebyar des annés soixante, 1994:22-25)
Such views are by no means unusual among Westerners with a long-standing familiarity
with Balinese music.
Bali is a tourist Mecca. Some anthropologists have argued that the Balinese arts have
been sustained and invigorated by tourism (McKean 1978:96; Ornstein 1971:15, 56).
This, too, is the position of the local government and the Balinese intelligentsia; a
debate in the Bali Post between December 1988 and April 1989 concluded that tourism
has revived the interest of Balinese in their traditions, reinforced their sense of identity
and pride, and stimulated artistic creativity. The government policy of Cultural Tourism
introduced in the 1970s promoted both tourist development and cultural preservation,
while insisting that these two objectives are connected and compatible (Picard 1990). A
different position is taken by others. Some anthropologists have argued in general that
tourist art, because it is commercialized and commodified, can no longer be an authentic
expression of the local culture. Forced to dance to the tune of the tourist dollar, the
locals dish up a kind of ethno-kitsch that cartoons the traditional genres and, thereby,
they sacrifice the autonomy and quality of their culture's art (Greenwood 1978). Some
Balinists take a similar view. Picard (1990) thinks that the distinction between
economic and cultural value has been blurred to the point where the fate of Balinese
culture is entrusted to the interested care of the tourist industry (also see Vickers
1989:198).
As Balinists like Picard, Vickers, and Bruner (1996) have argued, the relation between
tourism and culture is complex and subtle. Tourism is not something apart from
Balinese culture; not something that impacts on it only from the outside. Rather, it is
internal, because it connects with and grades into all aspects of social life and because it
can be as responsive to them as they are to it, so that the causal interactions not only
flow in both directions but also are reflexive. That tourism is integrated with, and
subsumed by, other dimensions of social existence within Bali does not mean, however,
that it is pointless to ask questions that draw us into an examination of the intricacies
and functional dynamics of these relationships.
The interviews
Rather than engaging with Brunet's concerns via the theoretical literature, I chose to
address them in a much more direct and practical fashion. Through interviews, I set out
to discover if Balinese musical experts acknowledge changes in performance standards
over the years. I also hoped to identify the factors seen by the Balinese as influencing
performance and musicianship. Two considerations recommended this approach:
(A) Balinese musicians are culturally self-conscious and sophisticated. They are
aware of the history of works and of the styles they play, they have a developed theory
and technical terminology, and they make aesthetic evaluations in a way that is familiar
to Westerners. The critical comparison of different performances is thoroughly familiar
to the Balinese. They have organized and judged competitions for gong kebyar from
about 1915.
(B) Balinese music was first recorded by the companies of Odeon and Beka in
1927-28 (see McPhee 1979:10, 71). More recordings were made on 16" acetate disks
by the Fahnestock expedition in 1941. And since the early 1960s, many discs and tapes
have been issued. Because they span so many years, these recordings allow for detailed
comparison of performances, thereby revealing what has altered, what is variable, and
what has been retained. In some cases it is possible to hear how a given work has been
treated, or how a particular group has played, over several decades.
For the interviews, I made tapes that juxtaposed excerpts from recorded performances.
I discussed these tapes not only with acknowledged masters from the older generation,
but also with respected younger musicians. Though I was mainly interested in kebyar,
which is performed at tourist concerts as well as for Balinese in the temple, I also
included kecak and gender wayang -- the former because it is presented exclusively for
tourists and the latter both because its audience is Balinese and because it is regarded as
sacred. Rather than asking directly about changes in performance standards, or about
possibly deleterious influences on these, I invited the musicians to compare the taped
excerpts. This they were most willing to do. Besides discussing performances, the
interviewees often described their careers and the influences that shaped their musical
tastes and performance style, as well as reflecting more generally on the current musical
scene.
The interviews were conducted in August 1996. I Wayan Gandra of Peliatan discussed
kecak. I Wayan Loceng of Sukawati and I Nyoman Sudarna of Denpasar conversed
about gender wayang, as did I Wayan Wija of Sukawati. Kebyar was covered by I
Wayan Tembres of Blahbatuh and by I Wayan Gandra of Petulu. Dewa Putu Brata of
Pengosekan and I Wayan Sanglah of Lodtonduh represented the views of the younger
generation (that is, of those in their 20s or early 30s). The dancer, Anak Agung Gedé
Oka Dalem of Peliatan discussed legong, as did Tembres. I was assisted in the
interviews by I Made Berata of Peliatan.
The interviews with Wija, Gandra of Petulu, and Oka Dalem were in English. The rest
took place in both Indonesian and Balinese, with Made Berata asking the questions and
consulting in English with me about the replies. All the interviews were taped.
Translations were made by Made Berata, Kuming Tirtawati, and myself.
The evaluative terms
In Bali, good playing displays taksu (B), which means inner (spiritual) strength or
power. Taksu may be a quality of the performer, or of the piece, but, in the interviews,
the term referred primarily to the quality of the playing. Another general term of praise
was bagus (I) (good). Kebyar playing should be bobot (I) (weighty).
A distinctive feature of Balinese music is kotekan (B), the interlocking combination of
two rhythmically articulated parts to present a single melody or pattern. Typically,
kotekan is played at high speed. When the interviewees were asked to be specific about
the technical features responsible for conferring taksu on a performance, it was the
steadiness, clarity, and rhythmic accuracy of the kotekan to which they most often drew
attention. Precise (incep (B)) drumming or key-striking was praised, as was
definiteness and clarity in the space (jarak (I)) between drum or key strokes. In the case
of the metallophones, precision and clarity also depend on key-damping technique
(tetekep (B)), so this also was evaluated. Because of their central role as leaders of the
ensemble, the two drums were expected to provide an unwavering beat. Any playing
that was unclear was poor.
Gong kebyar and legong
Gong kebyar originated in north Bali in the second decade of this century and spread to
other areas in the 1920s and 1930s. It now is the most popular form of Balinese
gamelan. "Kebyar," which means "bursting open" or "flaring up," refers to the
aggressive, loud, metrically irregular passages that characterize this music.
Early recordings of kebyar
Kebyar Ding: 1928 by Gong Belaluan of Badung (Music from the Morning of
the World, from Odeon 204730/1; and an extract of the same
piece from Pankung (Music from the Morning of the World, from
Beka 15620).
Genderan: 1941 by Gamelan Gong of Ubud ("Genderan", Music for the Gods,
track 4).
Gambang: 1941 by Gamelan Gong of Ubud ("Gambang", Music for the Gods,
track 9).
Kebyar Ding was composed in the north specifically for gong kebyar. The piece is
called "ding" because of the note on which it begins. Its structure is not of the modern
five-part type. While he judged the playing to be very good, Tembres thought the piece
was monotonic and long-winded (bertele-tele (I)) and the kotekan too simple for the
current taste. A modern version would alter the form, shorten the piece, and a repair
(perbaikan (I)) would be made to the kotekan. Gandra of Petulu first heard these 1928
versions of Kebyar Ding in the 1960s when he was teaching gamelan at the University
of California, Los Angeles. He brought the piece back to Bali and taught it at the
KOKAR conservatory. He also taught it to Gunung Sari, but the spirit, the feeling for
the music, was not good. Both Dewa Brata and Sanglah were familiar with the modern
version of the piece taught at the STSI conservatory. Sanglah, who had never heard the
original, believed that the younger generation would find it lovely if they knew it. But
Dewa Brata shared the wider view: the rendition of 1928 is not to the taste of modern
audiences or musicians.
Unlike Kebyar Ding, Genderan and Gambang derive from gender wayang. Both pieces
have remained in the gender repertoire and have been incorporated in subsequent
kebyar works, so are well-known. Though the 1941 versions were said to be good, the
interviewees regarded them as unsuitable for modern performance. The kotekan was
too simple. The style of Gambang was more characteristic of kebyar, in that the
kotekan was played by the reyong while the various gangsa carried the melody, but in
both pieces the notes were simply transferred to gong kebyar. Also, their structures
were not of the modern variety. New works based on these pieces would use and
develop the borrowed material in only part of the piece, with newly composed music
introduced in the other sections. The motives from Genderan would be used in the
introductory section, while Gambang would yield material for the middle parts.
Kebyar "classics"
For the comparison of performances, I chose kebyar pieces that have the status of
"classics." All of these have been played often since their composition and are currently
featured in tourist performances in the Ubud region, as well as in temple ceremonies.
The group discussed by Brunet in the quote given earlier, Gunung Sari, appeared often
in the chosen excerpts, which included the performances from the 1960s that Brunet
recorded and judged to be far superior to the current fare.
Teruna Jaya dates from before 1920 and was composed by Gedé Manik, but it first
appeared in south Bali (Belaluan, Denpasar) in 1954 and was revised in 1960 (Ornstein
1971:118). The recorded excerpts were as follows:
1970 from Sawan ("Taruna Jaya", Les grands gong kebyar, disc 1, track 1);
1970 by Gunung Sari of Peliatan ("Kebjar Teruna", Bali South, side 1 track 2);
1972 from Sebatu ("Taruna Jaja", The Earth Greets the Sun, track 5);
1985 by Tirta Sari of Peliatan ("Tarna Jaya", Gamelan Semar Pegulingan [I],
track 1);
1990 by Gunung Sari of Peliatan ("Teruna Jaya", Golden Rain: Gong Kebyar of
Gunung Sari, track 7);
about 1990 by Sadha Budaya of Ubud ("Taruna Jaya (Dance of a Young
Winner)", Dancers of Bali, track 4);
1993 from Tejakula, Singaraja ("Tarna Jaya", Gamelan Gong Kebyar [III], track
3).
Oleg Tambulilingan was created by Mario of Tabanan in the 1951 (see Coast
1953:107-14). The recorded excerpts were as follows:
1966 by Gunung Sari of Peliatan ("Bumblebee (Tumililingan)", Golden Rain:
Balinese Gamelan Music, side 1, track 2);
1969 by Gunung Sari of Peliatan ("Oleg Tambulilingan", Les grands gong
kebyar, disc 1, track 4);
about 1970 by Gunung Sari of Peliatan ("Tumililingan", Music from Bali:
Played by the Gamelan Orchestra from Pliatan, side 1, track 2);
1990 by Gunung Sari of Peliatan ("Oleg Tamulilingan", Golden Rain: Gong
Kebyar of Gunung Sari, track 6);
about 1990 by Tirta Sari of Peliatan ("Oleg Tambulingan (Love Dance and
Bees)", The Very Best of Legong, track 5).
Kebyar Terompong was created by Mario in the 1920s (see Covarrubias
1972:232-235). The recorded excerpts were as follows:
1962 by Pelegongan of Abian-Kapas of Sanur ("Legong", The Music from Bali,
side 1, track 3);
1970 by Gunung Sari of Peliatan ("Tari Terompong", Court Music and Banjar
Music, side 1, track 5).
Sekar Jepun dates from the late 1960s and was composed by I Wayan Gandra of
Petulu. Unlike the other pieces, which are dances, it is an instrumental piece. The
recorded excerpts were as follows:
1970 by Gunung Sari of Peliatan ("Sekar Djepun", Court Music and Banjar
Music, side 1, track 1);
1970 by Gunung Sari of Peliatan ("Sekar Djepun", Bali South, side 2, track 1);
1990 by Gunung Sari of Peliatan ("Sekar Djepun", Golden Rain: Gong Kebyar
of Gunung Sari, track 1);
about 1990 by Tirta Sari of Peliatan ("Gamelan 'Sekar Jepun'", The Very Best of
Legong, track 1).
Changes in the works
Classic kebyar works are not preserved unchanged. The general trend over the past
thirty years has been toward more complex kotekan, a faster tempo, and a reduction in
overall length. Different groups have introduced their own alterations.
Tembres compared recordings of Oleg Tambulilignan from the 1960s and 1970s with
those of the 1990s. In the early days, the tempo was slower because, at that time, the
dance involved more constant action. The basic melody was varied a little, but only the
five highest keys were used for angsel (sharply accented syncopations introduced in
response to dance movements). The contemporary versions employ more variations and
use more angsel, including ones on the five lower keys. Gandra of Petulu noted that the
long kotekan for reyong featured at the opening of Sekar Jepun is now faster and more
complex than it was when the work first appeared.
Tembres believed that, while changes and variations should be incorporated in the
classic works, these should not become excessive. In the case of Teruna Jaya, he
thought that the recordings of Gunung Sari (1970 and 1990), Sebatu (1972), Tirta Sari
(1985), and Sadha Budaya (about 1990) all introduce too many alterations to the basic
work. He preferred the performances from Sawan (1970) and Tejakula (1993), both
from the north where the piece originated. Teruna has more significance and is more
dearly loved in the north, he felt. Similarly, both Dewa Brata and Sanglah thought the
northern kebyar style, with its dramatic contrasts, is better for Teruna. The current STSI
conservatory style employs more gradual crescendos and diminuendos which, though
the result is aesthetic and refined, are inappropriate for this piece.
Apart from the general features mentioned above, there is another respect in which
contemporary kebyar playing was identified as differing from that of 30 years ago: the
present style is aggressive. Gandra of Petulu lamented this and commented on the
difficulty of teaching musicians to adopt the older, comparatively more relaxed, type of
playing.
Performances Compared for Quality
The standard of performance was judged to be high for all the excerpts. In general,
though, the recent performances were thought to be less good than the best of the older
ones. For instance, Tembres thought the playing of Kebyar Terompong nowadays to be
always less precise than that of Gunung Sari in 1970. In the rendition of Oleg
Tambulilingan, Tembres regarded Gunung Sari and Tirta Sari in about 1990 to be
neither so steady nor so clear as Gunung Sari in the 1960s. Gandra of Petulu thought
that earlier versions of Oleg were better because the musicians then had "more heart"
for the music.
Not all the performances of the 1960s and 1970s were regarded as good, however.
Tembres thought the playing of Gunung Sari in 1971 was poor in Teruna Jaya and
merely adequate in the reyong part of Oleg Tambulilignan. The performance from
Sanur in 1962 of Kebyar Terompong was judged not to be satisfactory. Also, not all
performances from the 1990s were equal, though all groups could be faulted in some
respect or other.
Legong
Legong is a repertoire of dances that originated in the Nineteenth Century. Only
Legong Lasem (also knows as Legong Keraton) is played widely now. Tourist concerts
often include it.
The taped excerpts of Legong Lasem were as follows:
1969 by Gunung Sari of Peliatan ("Legong Kraton", Les grands gong kebyar,
disc 1, track 5);
1985 by Tirta Sari of Peliatan ("Legong Kraton", Gamelan Semar Pegulingan,
track 4);
about 1990 by Sadha Budaya of Ubud ("Legong Kraton (Legong of the King of
Lasem)", Dancers of Bali, track 2).
All the interviewees agreed that the sweet, light sound of the seven-toned semar
pegulingan orchestra (of which Tirta Sari is an example) is better suited to legong than
the weighty, aggressive tone of gong kebyar (of which Gunung Sari is an example).
Despite this general preference, Tembres thought the playing of Legong Lasem by
Gunung Sari in 1969 was superior to that of Tirta Sari in 1985. (For his taste, there
were too many drum-strokes in each of the performances, but the playing in both was of
a high standard.)
The interviewees expressed concern about the future of legong. Tembres thought that
works like Legong Semarandhana could be lost, because young musicians are not
learning them now. Gandra of Petulu suggested that young musicians do not enjoy
playing such music. This was denied by Dewa Brata, though he was of the view that
some in the Balinese audience no longer like or understand such music.
Kecak and Gender wayang
Although I was primarily interested in kebyar, the music singled out for criticism by
Jacques Brunet, it was relevant to consider other musical ensembles. I investigated
kecak (or "monkey dance"), on the grounds that, if any music is debased and inferior by
indigenous standards, it should be that created and performed only for tourists. And I
considered gender wayang, the music played by a quartet of gender to accompany the
Balinese shadow puppet plays (wayang kulit (I)) deriving their stories from the
Mahabharata epic, because it is among the oldest and most sacred of Balinese musics, it
is one of the most demanding in instrumental technique, and it is rarely played for
tourists. Fascinating though they were, these interviews did not significantly alter the
picture, so I treat them only briefly below.
The recorded excerpts for kecak were as follows:
1941 from "southern Bali" ("Kecak", Music for the Gods, track 10);
1962 from Bona ("The Ketjak of Bona", The Music from Bali, side 1, track 1);
1966 from Peliatan ("Ketjak", Golden Rain: Balinese Gamelan Music, side 2,
track 1);
about 1970 from Peliatan ("Ketjak (with male chorus)", Music from Bali: Played
by the Gamelan Orchestra from Pliatan, side 1, track 3);
1970 from Peliatan ("Tjak", Music Atlas, side 1, track 1);
1990 from Ganda Sari of Bona (Kecak and Sanghyang of Bali);
about 1990 from Bona Sari of Bona (Kecak of Bali: Monkey Dance: Bona Sari).
According to Gandra of Peliatan, the tempo was slow and only the simplest interlocking
pattern was used in the 1941 recording from "southern Bali." The narrator's singing was
striking for its "classical" style. The best of the recordings, he thought, is that of the
Peliatan group from 1966. But the performance of the same group a few years later (the
Music Atlas recording of 1970) is poor; in particular, the beat is not positive. He
regarded the recent recordings from Bona as rhythmically unclear and believed that his
Peliatan group is better.
Gandra of Peliatan commented adversely on the current rapidity of change. Not many
alterations were made between 1970 and 1990 and different groups gave very similar
versions. But recently, all groups have become obsessed with departing from the basic
pattern.
The taped excerpts of gender wayang were all from the pemungkah (the instrumental
introduction to the shadow puppet play):
1928 from Kuta (Music from the Morning of the World, from Odeon A 204765);
1941 from Ubud ("Pemoengkah", Music for the Gods, track 5);
1969 from Teges ("Pemungkah", Music for the Balinese Shadow Play, side 1,
track 1);
1983 in Sukawati style ("Pemungkah", Music of the Wayang Kulit [II], track 2);
1990 in Sukawati style ("Pengmukah", Gender Wayang of Sukawati Village,
track 5).
Both Loceng and Sudarna judged the 1969 performance from Teges to be poor. All the
other performances were of the highest standard. Most of the discussion concentrated
on differences in the dominant styles of Kayu Mas and Sukawati. The former involves
slower playing and less elaborate kotekan than the latter. Also, the style of Kayu Mas is
the more conservative. Whereas Sudarna regarded the old works as fixed (tetap (I)), so
that he would not dare to alter them, Loceng drew attention to innovations introduced to
works played in the Sukawati manner.
This contrast was evident even in discussions of the oldest recordings. Sudarna's father,
Bapak Konolan, had been taught by Bapak Wayan Lotring, who was identified by
Sudarna as one of the players on the tape made at Kuta in 1928. Sudarna was surprized
to notice a slight difference in part three of pemungkah between what was on the
recording and what he had been taught by his father. That is, he expected the 1928
version to be exactly the same as that played now in Kayu Mas (only a few kilometres
from Kuta) where his father lived. Meanwhile, Loceng detected the influence of
Sukawati style in the more complex kotekan of the 1941 Ubud recording. He surmised
that this derived from performances at Ubud Palace in the 1920s and 1930s given by
Pak Granyam and three other players from Sukawati.
Wider considerations
Tourist performances
In the interviews, the subject of tourist performances did not often arise, though Dewa
Brata thought that many changes (in dynamics, the interpolation of new material, and
faster tempos) were a result of trying to please tourists and Oka Dalem noted that the
format of the tourist concert was unsuited for legong. When the conversation was
steered to the topic, the comments were interesting.
Tembres insisted that, when he was its leader, the Pinda group played in hotels in a
positive and serious manner, just as they did in the temple. Their tourist performances
were orderly (tertib (I)), not casual. He also thought that it is good that skilled
orchestras should play for tourists, who might thereby learn about the musical culture of
Bali. On the negative side, he noted that tourist performances sometimes are given by
groups with not yet competent student musicians and that the hotels sometimes want
pieces to be cut too drastically. He commented that it is bad for Bali if the groups are
not skilled, because the tourists can tell adequate from poor performances, and serious
from casual playing.
Tembres' observations led me to recount a case described in Ornstein (1971:63), in
which the orchestra leader reversed his drum but played it as if it were in the orthodox
position, thereby making a nonsense of the music. Apparently this was done to express
his contempt for the tourist audience. The idea that a player might make a deliberate
error of this kind turned out to be difficult to convey. It was explained to me that a left-
handed drummer holds the drum in a position that mirrors that adopted by a right-
handed player, and also that Gedé Manik would lift the drum over his head and play it
behind his back (though this would not be acceptable nowadays). When, finally, I
succeeded in making my meaning clear, my assistant, Made Berata, was shocked. He
exclaimed spontaneously in English: "This is a very bad man!" He went on to describe
a group that did not take tourist performance seriously and very quickly got a bad name
as a result. Tembres added: This is not good for Bali generally. The reputation of Bali
as a whole is damaged.
To get an idea of the importance placed by the musicians on the adequacy of their
performances, not only in the temple but also in the tourist setting, it is important to
recall the religious and social implications of gamelan performance. The Balinese do
not compartmentalize their world, seeking to preserve their music by insulating the "real
stuff" from an inferior product offered to tourists. An animist religion is present
throughout Balinese life and there is no reason to think it stops short where tourism is
involved. Ornstein writes: 'Balinese music in its traditional setting is essentially
religious ... Every performance is an offering to the gods or an attempt to placate evil
spirits ... Music for entertainment is also religious. ... Although the visible audience is
composed of Balinese, its primary purpose is to entertain and propitiate an invisible
audience: the gods ... Music for entertainment includes ... gamelan gong kebyar. ...
However, the same music that is played for the entertainment of the gods is also used on
secular occasions when it is performed for tourists or official government
guests' (1971:8-11). Moreover, the structures of musical works, the relations between
the parts played by the various instruments, the iconography of the carvings on the
instruments, and the spatial disposition and orientation of the orchestra are all
metaphors for cosmic, divine, social, and personal structures which, in turn, are seen by
the Balinese as icons for the universe in both macrocosm and microcosm (McPhee
1979:43-44; Wayan Dibia 1989; DeVale and Wayan Dibia 1991; Harnish 1991).
Because the orchestra and its music are as intimately associated with the spiritual
universe as are the temples themselves, the Balinese cannot leave their religious feelings
and obligations behind them when they perform for tourists.
Money and the performance of music
Although the prevalence of tourist concerts was rarely identified as having a detrimental
effect on Balinese music, such performances were indirectly implicated in a common
complaint: that musicians now play for money rather than from love of the music they
perform. Both Tembres and Gandra of Petulu made the charge in discussing the
younger generation of musicians.
Taken literally, the claim is hard to believe. In August 1996, tourists in Ubud paid 7,000
Rupiah (about US$3) for a concert and as many as 200 regularly attended the weekly
performances of the more famous groups. Though some musicians are near
professionals and others teach at conservatories, the vast majority of Balinese musicians
do not earn their living solely from music. Most of the revenue earned in playing for
tourists is paid into the coffers of the gamelan club (sekaha (B)) and goes towards the
hire of the venue, electricity charges, the upkeep of the costumes and instruments, and
so on. Thanks to the co-operative system of village life and music-making, much of the
income from tourist performances continues to be used to vitalize gamelan music
(Ornstein 1971:15, 56; McKean 1978:96). Moreover, tourist dollars have also been
used to revive threatened forms of gamelan and to restore older instruments (Margaret
Eiseman, 1990:340).
In one leading ensemble, all participants (about 50 in number) received 2,000 Rp per
tourist performance in August 1996, regardless of rank or experience, though a bonus
was paid at galungan (the holiday that marks each Balinese year of 210 days). At that
time, one could buy about 20 Indonesian cigarettes or a cheap meal for 2,000 Rp. Many
of the group's members rehearse many hours per week. It is not the level of
remuneration, obviously, that accounts for their participation in the performance group.
Indeed, a number of its members are wealthy, even by Western standards.
So, what lies behind the complaint that musicians now play for money? I understand it
as revealing a general worry about threats posed by commercialization to the traditional
Balinese way of life, not a particular worry that can be laid solely at the door of paid
tourist performances. In the past, musicians played for love of the activity and of the
music, as well as to please the gods. Famous teachers received only food and
accommodation in return for their services. All this was made possible by a co-
operative social system that emphasized group goals and the pooling of common
resources. Many aspects of Balinese life were organized communally. Under this
system, money earned went toward the group, not into the pockets of individuals.
While this social system remains largely intact, everyone, musicians included, now
needs money. (As Gandra of Petulu emphasized, money is necessary not only for
themselves and their families but also for the temple.) All dimensions of life in Bali,
not solely those connected with musical performance, have become more materialistic
and individualistic than they were formerly. This may be an inevitable, if regrettable,
consequence of modern economic development, in which tourism is but one element. It
is a recognition of the dangers posed by this new regime to the traditional social fabric
and, more specifically, to the place of the arts within it, that lies behind the reproach that
musicians now are motivated to play for money. As Gandra of Petulu put it: "Before
the social system was stronger, but now everything is a little bit money."
The Role of Conservatories
More frequently mentioned than tourist concerts for its impact on Balinese music was
the role played by conservatories, such as STSI (and its predecessors, such as ASTI and
KOKAR) was more frequently mentioned by the interviewees than tourist concerts for
its impact on Balinese music. Most of the leading musicians of the current generation,
including Dewa Brata, Wayan Sanglah, and Made Berata, are products of such
institutions.
Gandra of Petulu (a former teacher at KOKAR and STSI) noted that, whereas the
traditional approach to the study of music was entirely oral, notations supplement the
teaching process in the conservatory. But the resulting performance standard is still the
same, he concluded. Tembres, on the other hand, thought that the playing taught at
STSI sometimes is of a lower or less even quality than was achieved previously by
traditional methods.
Both Dewa Brata and Sanglah, observed that the STSI kebyar style, along with its
versions of standard works, is becoming widespread as its graduates become teachers.
They regretted the way in which local styles and work-variants are disappearing as a
consequence. Both believed, however, that STSI is very important for the development
and continuity of Balinese music and dance. The students receive lessons in style,
feeling, and technique. Also, rarer types of gamelan ensemble, and the repertoires
associated with them, are taught.
The Younger Generation of Musicians
While the interviewees were not inclined to identify performances for tourists as a
source of concern, they were quick to locate a potential threat to Balinese musical
traditions in the attitude adopted by the generation of younger musicians. It was widely
maintained that, as regards executive competence, younger musicians were no less
technically skilled than their predecessors. What was in question, apparently, was their
interest in, and commitment to mastering the intricacies of, difficult "classic" works.
Tembres thought that the current generation of musicians is not serious and prefers easy
music. Gandra of Petulu held that young musicians do not enjoy legong. They look for
dynamic contrast and constant change in the music they play. They do not care if the
work is good, only if playing it makes them happy. But he detected a growing interest
in "old" music, such as legong and Kebyar Ding. He predicted that, in the next twenty
years or so, a respect for the musical precedents of the current style would be
reawakened.
It is so common in all cultures for the older generation of musicians to allege of younger
players that they lack interpretive depth, despite being technically skilled, that one is
likely to be wary of taking the above comments at face value. And it was obvious that
these generalizations did not apply to the younger musicians that I interviewed. But
they, too, expressed reservations about the attitude of their contemporaries. It was said
that younger players are not always prepared to practice difficult passages and that the
commitment to excellence now is not what it was thirty years ago.
The Attitude of the Balinese Audience
The attitudes of the younger musicians appear to reflect those of a wider Balinese
public, especially of the younger generation as a whole. Dewa Brata noted that
Balinese audiences now are beginning to complain that the temple performances are too
long and to say that they do not like or understand legong. They prefer STSI style and
new pieces, not the older works played in a traditional manner. What and how the
musicians play, even in the temple, is dictated by what the people enjoy. This situation
is very bad, he thought, and threatens the traditions of music and dance.
The dalang, Wayan Wija, expressed concern about the way in which wayang kulit is
changing in response to pressure from the Balinese public. Few Balinese are expected
to follow dialogue in the old Javanese language of Kawi, but, increasingly, audiences
can no longer understand the parts of the drama that are spoken in High Balinese. It is
the humorous interludes supplied by the clowns in Low Balinese or Bahasa Indonesia
that attract the audience's attention. As a result, performances are becoming briefer and
more diverting. The musical interludes and accompaniments also are being reduced
now -- repeats are cut, shortening pieces by a minute or more.
Overall Conclusions From The Interviews
Before drawing conclusions from the interviews, four caveats should be registered.
Things in Bali now may not be what they once were, but I know of no other society that
is so pervasively steeped in its indigenous cultural traditions. The music that I have
been discussing (with the exception of kecak, perhaps) percolates more deeply into the
fibre of the average Balinese than most Westerners can comprehend. For instance, it
remains true that everyone in Bali knows the music of Legong Lasem, though it might
no longer be to the taste of all, as it is not true that, in Germany, everyone is familiar
with Brahms's German Requiem. Secondly, I should reiterate that the issue concerns
the kind or quality of change over time, not change as such. Alteration is expected and
valued in most kinds of Balinese music. Thirdly, while the interviewees expressed
negative evaluations of some past and current performances and practices, these
depended on discriminations that were fine even by the standards of Balinese musical
experts. Fourthly, the interviewees often emphasized the personal aspect of the
judgments they were making and were aware that others might differ. While all agreed
that "classic" kebyar works should be subject to creative development, they did not
coincide, and neither did they expect to, on the extent of change that is appropriate.
And while there were concerns about the growing dominance of STSI style, at least
some of the interviewees found that style congenial.
So, what is the overall picture? On the positive side, many musicians retain a deep
devotion to the music of Bali and are equipped to communicate this on a practical level.
The negative picture is more complex. There were poor performances of kecak, gender
wayang, and gong kebyar in the past, as there are fine ones now. In the case of kecak
and gong kebyar, not every group that performed well in the past did so consistently.
The best current performances of gong kebyar and legong perhaps are not quite so good
as the best of those recorded thirty years ago. This last result may be a direct
consequence of the nature of tourist performances, particularly as these require that
works be shortened. And it might also be affected indirectly by the prevalence of tourist
performances to the extent that these create an environment in which musicians play
more for love of money than for love of music. It was the attitude of the Balinese to
their music, however, not the influence of tourism, that was more often identified as a
source of concern. Many of the current generation of musicians do not deeply feel
works and styles central to the traditional repertoire, though they are as technically
competent as was ever the case in rendering such music. And this coincides with a loss
of interest in and comprehension of such music by young people in general. The threat
to Balinese dance and music, if there is one, comes primarily from within. This is
apparent in pressure from the Balinese public for changes in wayang kulit and in
musical performances for the temple. Even in kecak, the current trend toward
innovation arises from the musicians, rather than from tourists.
The most significant influence on Balinese music, I have suggested, is the shifting
attitude of the Balinese to their own cultural heritage. This change in attitude is more
readily explained by alterations within the wider society than solely by the impact of
tourist concerts. It is important to recall that the last four decades have been ones of
extremely rapid technological and economic development -- Bali has gone from
kerosene lamps to electricity, from setrop to Coca-cola, from bicycles to four-wheel
drive Toyotas. To take just one of the more obvious cases, television is present in many
homes and eating-houses, and Balinese avidly watch U.S. and Japanese programs, as
well as those from Jakarta (which emphasize Muslim, rather than Hindu, culture). The
Balinese are inundated with information, products, and values that have foreign sources.
At the same time, the assumptions of entrepreneurial capitalism that underlie the
moneyed economy adopted in Indonesia (as elsewhere) are in tension with Bali's
traditional social systems organized along co-operative lines. To my mind, these factors
create much more powerful pressures for social change than does the immediate
presence of tourists as such.
As for Western commentators on Balinese music, I believe Tenzer comes nearer than
Brunet to identifying the factors that might threaten the traditions. While he mentions
tourism as both beneficial and dangerous, he places the emphasis on the wider social
context when he writes: 'The yearly Festival Gong and Bali Arts Festival, the constant
stream of musical performances emanating from the conservatories, and the ever-
increasing number of village sekaha with regular work performing for tourists, have
created a broader range of contexts for gamelan in secular life than has heretofore been
known in Bali. This has often had the effect of strengthening the sacred ties which are
the root of the tradition, simply because there are more sekaha available and eager to
play their part in rituals. ... At the same time, many young Balinese, bombarded by a
hail of outside influences resulting from Indonesia's increasing international presence,
and the influx of tourists, foreign goods and Western culture, are perhaps less aware
than ever of the history and diversity of their own music' (1991:110-11).
Stephen Davies,Department of Philosophy,University of Auckland,Private Bag 92019, Auckland,NEW ZEALAND.
NOTES