Sounds of the City

Long before the fashionista set descended on the city, Bandung was known for its music, with a seemingly endless pool of talent and fresh sounds. Sonja Fransisca and Edwin Sandi look at how the West Java capital sets the tone for the music industry, and if it can continue to do so.

BAND-ung: the city has long lived up to its musical name.

Way back when there was folk music hero Harry Roesli and ballad brothers Bimbo. In the 1980s Wachdach and Elfa’s Singers kept people moving in their baggy pants. Pop trio Rida Sita Dewi, chart busters Kahitna and Cokelat and the phenomenally successful Peter Pan have continued the Bandung tradition in the 1990s and into the new millenium.

Indie pioneer Pure Saturday has been highly influential in the independent movement. Now firmly in the mainstream, Goth-looking rockers /rif and onetime indie icon Pas still rock crowds. Seurieus and Project Pop persist in winning fans through their humorous lyrics.

Some of the new acts are finding an international audience. Mocca has spread its storytelling-retro-pop to Japan, recorded a single with Sweden’s Club 8 and shared a gig with Norway’s Kings of Convenience. The S.I.G.I.T.’s raw and heavy sound is Bandung’s answer to what has been dubbed the new rock revolution, with their demo listed as an editor’s pick of Britain’s NME’s editors and with a 30-gig tour of Australia under their belt.

The city’s renowned musical brilliance stems from the seemingly mundane to the grandest of reasons. For one, fresh Bandung is relatively small and accessible; it’s possible to walk around the city without being admitted to the emergency room for respiratory problems or getting baked alive. The friendly atmosphere gives time to dream. Relaxation is the ultimate rule -- just think of the local legend Kabayan.

Local bands often rehearse, record and perform at the same venues, forming a strong communal bond in the process. “It’s easy to exchange ideas,” says Rico, a guitarist with Mocca, pointing to the handful of musicians sitting outside the band’s studio that afternoon.

Jakarta boasts wider access to new kinds of music, but they are discussed, dissected and digested in Bandung, two hours’ drive from the capital. They are studied not to be copied, but for a different take on the music, says Trisman Kurniawan from the band Gorgeous Smile.

It’s as though bands are fearful of losing their originality if they sound the slightest like one of their peers.

“Bandung is inexhaustibly creative,” says Marthin Endrico Saba, singer of KSP Band. “It’s in the blood.”

Music has been the lifeblood of the city for so long that many aspiring artists have a sibling, distant relative or good friends who have already made it in the industry. Schools have also been fertile breeding grounds for new talent; Gigi lead singer Armand Maulana, Dewi Lestari and Chandil, famed in Seurieus for his distinct shrill, used to sing at their high schools.

But Bandung is changing, not necessarily for the better. The opening of the Cipularang toll road has made it a favorite quick getaway for Jakartans, and it is gradually morphing into a mini version of the country’s built-up capital. Malls have sprouted up around the city and the laid-back teen wear of T-shirts and flip-flops is giving way to the standardized uniform of urban cool.

Musicians also are feeling the effects from commercial interests; they no longer have as many open stages to perform on, once their training ground to gain experience and a fan base.

“People now make events to earn profits, not because they want to see good bands performing,” says Rico.

The clearest example of this is the closing of Saparua sports ground, where on Saturdays everyone from groupies to punks gathered to see their favorites perform.

New technology also is altering the established ways of musicians, who now can tape in the comfort of their own home. With studio rentals getting cheaper, some bands skip performing on stage and become pure recording artists.  

“They suddenly release an album without ever performing,” Trisman says.

Hugely popular singing talent shows like Indonesian Idol that make teenagers overnight sensations, only for them to disappear once their 15 minutes are up, compound the problem.

“Music stops being a process. It’s easy come, easy go,” says Marthin, who has been with KSP Band for 19 years. “Daring to go through the process shows a commitment to the world one enters.”

Still, Bandung, despite the inevitable changes, has a strong foundation. People revert to their former ways when the car enters the tollgate: they come home. It will always be the place that musicians return to remember where they started.

This love of Bandung and preserving its free spirit may be enough to hold the wolves at bay. As more local media begin to play their part in exposing the city’s fresh new sounds and several event organizers hold free gigs to showcase bands, there is renewed hope.

Bands also are doing their part. Mocca recently held a private event where 24 die-hard fans were invited to a rehearsal session, showing that Rp 50,000 is enough to put on a show. As long as these guardians of the musical past and present remain, Bandung’s music scene will prevail.