aural archipelago

field recordings from around Indonesia

  • Map
  • Archive
  • aural archipelago
  • Donate
  • About
  • Friends + Inspirations
Screen%2BShot%2B2014-12-08%2Bat%2B10.25.13%2BPM.png

Angklung Paglak: Bamboo Sounds High Above the Sunrise of Java

December 08, 2014 by Palmer Keen in Early

Location:  Kemiren, Banyuwangi, East Java

Sound: Angklung paglak

Extending nearly one thousand kilometers from west to east, Java is an elongated beast of an island. While dwarfed by giants like Kalimantan on the map, a trek across its length reveals its surprising mass (friends are often surprised to discover  that despite the fact that I live on a tropical island, my home in Bandung is nearly six hours from the nearest beach!)

Despite its expansive reach, Java appears, at first glance, to be pretty homogeneous compared to the astounding variety of ethnic groups found in areas like Papua, Sulawesi, and Sumatra. If you were to ask your average Indonesian what ethnic groups live on Java, they would probably respond with only two: Javanese and Sundanese, the two biggest ethnic groups in the whole nation by far, with the Sundanese inhabiting West Java and the Javanese taking up the rest. Indeed, while Java is unique in being largely made up of only two ethnic groups, there are surprises to be found if you know where to look.

What most people forget are those ethnic minorities (technically sub-ethnic groups) living on the fringes: the Baduy of West Java, a subset of Sundanese sequestered in the province of Banten, living intentionally traditional lives, some shunning outside contact altogether; the Tenggerese, Hindu descendents of Majahapit princes living around the lunar landscape of Mount Bromo; and lastly, the Osing of Banyuwangi.

Poetically called the "sunrise of Java" in reference to its location on the easternmost tip of the island, the area of Banyuwangi is famous for being the gateway to Bali, which is just a short ferry ride away. This proximity and a history of resistance to Islam has given the Osing people of this area a culture with a potent blend of Javanese and Balinese influences.

This unique fusion has made for a musical culture that is unlike anything else in Java. The angklung paglak is a perfect example of this cultural anomaly: while it strangely shares a name with the much more well-known Sundanese angklung, it is in form nearly identical to another instrument, the Balinese rindik. Just like the rindik, the angklung paglak is a xylophone made up of a series of bamboo tubes, tuned by length and by skilled shaving of the bamboo on one end.

Nearly always played in pairs, the angklung paglak is played at a mindbogglingly frenetic pace, enabled by a hallmark of Javanese and Balinese music: melodic parts shared between the two instruments through interlocking, hocket-like patterns. Providing a deeper rhythmic foundation are two small kendang drums unlike any other I've ever seen - unlike most drums in Java and Bali, which are beaten by hand, these kendang are beaten with simple wooden sticks with one hand while the other hand strategically dampens the vibrating membrane. Under the percussive barrage of the angklung, these kendang provide a dizzying interlocking accompaniment.

SAM_8217.jpg

Perhaps the most fascinating thing about the angklung paglak is the context that surrounds this music: in Banyuwangi, you can't have angklung without paglak.

One of the most bizarre and amazing performance spaces I've ever encountered, a paglak is a small thatched hut, raised on stilts nearly ten meters off the ground like some kind of bamboo approximation of a treehouse. Paglaks are designed as a kind of watchtower: situated high over a community's crops, the high vantage point allows farmers to guard their crops from birds and other undesirables.

At some point in the past, farmers began playing music in these paglaks, taking the angklung found in Osing gamelan ensembles and jamming high above their crops. This music serves a variety of purposes: like many other folk musics played by farmers around Indonesia, the music simply provided an amusing diversion during long days of toiling in the fields. In a more spiritual context, the angklung paglak is played by the Osing during harvest ceremonies, blessing the fields and the goddess of rice and fertility, Dewi Sri, with music as the farmers haul in the season's yield. I've even read that in the past, the sound of angklung paglak was meant to be an aural deterrent, not only to pests but to the tigers and ghosts that haunted the area.

 Context:

I had seen a handful of low-resolution YouTube videos, but I was still shocked and delighted when I finally encountered the music of angklung paglak firsthand. After a long and discouraging search through the Banyuwangi countryside, my eternal music searching companion Sinta and I had come up empty-handed: we had taken the usual path: driving deep into countryside. from narrow asphalt roads to bumpy mud paths snaking through rice paddies, asking folks about where musicians could be found. At some point we found a paglak, and were told the musician was nearby, only to find him muddy and barefoot, leading a water buffalo to pasture. He didn't even have his instrument with him, he said. Try asking in Kemiren!

Motoring back to the village of Kemiren, we managed to track down the house of an angklung paglak maker and musician, but he was out working in the fields - nonetheless, his grandmotherly wife sat us down and gave us steaming fresh rice crackers and tried to figure out what we were doing there. We were discouraged - the difficulty of looking for music exclusively played by farmers is that these guys are usually far too busy working in the fields to humor a random bule asking questions about their music.

Back in Banyuwangi city, we suddenly remembered a suggestion we'd heard the night before at a village trance ritual: "If you're looking for music," a friendly local had said, "go to the Department of Tourism and Culture - surely they can help." At the time it had seemed laughable - Indonesian government offices are notorious for their inefficiency and unreliability - just a bunch of uniforms shuffling papers. How could they possibly help?

We were out of options - it was an unlikely lead, but it couldn't hurt. Showing up to the office, we were referred to a Pak Aekanu, who turned out to be an angel in disguise as a government official. To our surprise, Pak Aekanu was just the man we were looking for: an expert on Osing music who had friends in all the right places. Within minutes he had made some calls and commissioned a performance for us in Kemiren later that day.

Thus we found ourselves in Kemiren once again, paddy-side, the rapidly bubbling sound of angklung churning from a paglak high above our heads. After chatting with Pak Aekano's contact, who was surprised to meet not a tour group but an eager American and his girlfriend, I was invited into the musical watchtower with a gesture and smiling "go on up!"

SAM_8228.jpg

 

I climbed up a narrow bamboo ladder and perched myself on the hut's edge, realizing that this was no expansive Swiss Family Robinson treehouse: four musicians (Pak Dalah, Pak Rayis, Pak Muni, and Pak Ribut) were crammed into the small space, shredding away on angklung and kendang. I set up my recorder and settled in, taking in the view of verdant green rice paddies from above while trying to follow along to the relentlessly interlocking rhythms these amazing musicians produced.

I was astounded - farmer's music I've heard in the past, such as the calong and gongga lawe of Mandar in West Sulawesi, is simple and unhurried, unsurprising for music meant to while away a hot day. Yet here in Banyuwangi there was this remarkable music, non-performative tunes played for this same purpose, yet brimming with virtuosity and complexity. And even more remarkably, very few if any researchers beyond Pak Aekanu have expressed any interest in this music whatsoever.

Pak Aekanu was pleased, as were the musicians who played for us, that interest was being expressed in this obscure, unheralded artform. Humble yet complex, this music deserves to have its day, to extend beyond the rice paddies in the sunrise of Java and into the ears of those who never knew such a place even existed.

A big thanks/terima kasih banyak to Pak Aekanu, without whom this documentation would not be possible. Matur nuwun to the musicians Pak Dalah, Pak Rayis, Pak Muni, and Pak Ribut, as well as to Ms. Sinta Dwi Mustikawati, my constant travel companion/translator/notetaker extraordinaire.

December 08, 2014 /Palmer Keen
East Java, Osing
Early
  • Newer
  • Older
Featured
Apr 24, 2018
The Story of Toleat: From Buffalo Boys to Bamboo Revolution
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 11, 2018
Mouth Music: Pangkak Harvest Songs in the Kangean Islands
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018
Mar 28, 2018
Ramé Reeds: Madura's Sound of Saronen
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 19, 2018
Okol: Slit Drums and Whip Fighting in Madura
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018
Feb 22, 2018
Bamboo Revolution: Celempungan in West Java
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018
Dec 1, 2017
Batti'-Batti': Musical Flirtations Off Sulawesi's Southern Coast
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017
Nov 23, 2017
Road to Europalia, Pt. 4: Dijf Sander's Java
Nov 23, 2017
Nov 23, 2017
Oct 10, 2017
The Voice of Ibu Ana: Dayak Kayan Song on the Mendalam River
Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017
Sep 30, 2017
Pak Bunau's Kadedek: Mouth Organs in the Heart of Indonesian Borneo
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 11, 2017
Bangpret: Islamic House Jams in Ciater, West Java
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 5, 2017
Tanji: Sundafied Marching Band Music in Sumedang, West Java
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017
Aug 31, 2017
Reak: Punk Rock Sundanese Trance on the Urban Fringe
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 17, 2017
Endah Jaipong: Gongs, Gangsters, and Sex Work in Downtown Bandung
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017
Aug 8, 2017
Suspended Traditions: Calung Rantay and the Baduy Luar
Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017
Aug 3, 2017
Life, Death, and Gondang in North Sumatra
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017
Jul 30, 2017
Dide': Drums and Verse in Selayar
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 24, 2017
Christmas Gongs: Ancestral Music and the Catholic Church in Sumba
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 17, 2017
Lampung Pride: Imam Rozali and Gitar Klasik
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 14, 2017
Kacapi Kajang: Boat Lute Shredding in South Sulawesi
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017
Jun 27, 2017
Tanjidor: Colonial Echoes in Makassar's Chinatown
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 9, 2017
Sumba Strings, Pt. 6: Gogah
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017
May 31, 2017
Sumba Strings, Pt. 5: Lukas Piropondi and his Dungga
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017
May 19, 2017
Sumba Strings, Pt. 4: Ata Ratu
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017
May 8, 2017
Sumba Strings, Pt. 3: Haingu
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017
Apr 24, 2017
Sumba Strings, Pt. 2: Hina Ranjataka
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 13, 2017
Sumba Strings, Pt. 1: Purra Tanya
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 6, 2017
For the Birds: Wooden Pigeon Gamelan in Madurese East Java
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017
Mar 31, 2017
East Java Ramadan Funk: Musik Patrol in Jember
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 27, 2017
Bundengan Stories: Folk Zithers and Duck Herders in Wonosobo, Central Java
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 8, 2017
Interlocking Lombok, Pt. 4: Selober
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • August 2014
  • June 2014
  • May 2014