Monday, July 19, 2010

In Retrospect

Do you remember the 1990s? It was one of those times when the “Rachel haircut” was very popular among women. Square layered hairstyle became the popular standard of good looks. In this same decade, Lance Armstrong won Tour de France. Having survived testicular cancer, Armstrong won the 2,200 mi race. Mind you a racing bicycle is uncomfortably tall and thin, so does the saddle. Go figure. The 1990s was also the golden age of grunge music. This subgenre of alternative rock was championed by Nirvana and Pearl Jam which was much loved by young ones in the decade. However, my 1990s music experience was mostly shrouded by a popular Indonesian progressive-pop singer, Chrisye. I grew up listening to his soothing and flamboyant songs. Unfortunately, it is not easy to look back at the 1990s now. Chrisye passed away in 2007 after a long battle of lung cancer. I felt a cold chill breezing through my skin whenever I listen to his songs.

photo courtesy of last.fm

Chrisye was (still is) one of the most well known musicians in Indonesia. His music blazed through the history of Indonesia’s pop culture since the 1970s. This Chinese-Indonesian musician began his career by joining Gypsy in 1969. Gypsy, a progressive rock band, covered other progressive music, such as Procol Harum and Genesis. In 1976, Chrisye partnered with Guruh Sukarnoputra, one of the most respected artists in Indonesia who was awarded the recognition of significant contributions to the arts and literature by the French Government. They merged ethnic music of Bali with contemporary music which attracted a lot of attention of national and international audiences. In 1977, Chrisye, who recorded twenty one albums in his music career, worked on the soundtrack of “Badai Pasti Berlalu (The Storm Will Surely Pass),” the critically acclaimed movie. In that same year, Chrisye also released his first solo single, “Lilin Lilin Kecil (Little Candles).” The two projects gave Chrisye a skyrocketing success and fame. For the rest of his life, he spent his time creating more music and influencing others.

I grew up in Indonesia in a family oriented environment. Like any typical East Asian families at the time, karaoke was the warmest entertainment that our family had. Members of the family would gather around every Friday night in the living room while showing off our not-so-horrible singing talents. It was through this tradition that I was exposed to Chrisye’s music. In addition, my father would repeatedly play his music over and over again when we were traveling out of town. I was young and I did not understand what the meaning of romantic or love. My vocabulary was not any better than an uneducated man. However, this musician broke this barrier by tickling with our senses and playing with our imagination. In addition to the soft, yet catchy tunes of his song, Chrisye’s lyrics are easy to understand, enabling the listeners to sync with the song naturally. Thus, he made it accessible for the meaning of love to be understood by many of his listeners. This aspect of Chrisye’s music is what attracted me to him the most.

In 2007, I was already in the United States. I was fourteen years old then. It was an early Friday night and my father was watching an Indonesian channel from his computer. It was a quite night after a long and hard working week. I was in my room working on my homework. Suddenly, my father called everyone to his room; he rushed my siblings, my mother, and I to his room. My father was watching an Indonesian channel through internet. It turned out to be breaking news. “The legendary musician, Chrisye, died Friday morning at 4:00 am at his residence…died at the age of 57 years due to ill with lung cancer,” the news reporter said. (This horrible news came from one of the news channel in Indonesia, MetroTV. It is like CNN to the United States where it covers news 24/7.) Ten thousand miles away and twenty four hours apart, I felt devastated. My idol passed away and I could not even see him going away. I responded peculiarly when I heard about the news. I went back to my room to finish my homework. Then, I quickly went to bed. (Perhaps, I tried to cope myself with the unbearable news. Ever since that moment, I remember having nostalgic dreams of traveling to my father’s hometown while looking outside of the car’s window. Chrisye’s “Sabda Alam (Nature’s Poem)” was playing on the car’s recorder.

Absolutely, Chrisye's death was not as significant as Kurt Cobain of Nirvana's death. However, his death was a significant event for me. Had my father never watched the news, I could not imagine how I feel if I found my idol’s death days, weeks, months, or years later. Had the internet never existed, I might never even know about the news until I visit home! The media, the internet, allowed my father to watch the current events that were going on in Indonesia with a few seconds of delay. Just like any fans who praise their idols, I thought Chrisye would be immortal so that he can represent Indonesia’s pop culture and the 1990s. However, life goes on and the new generation replaces the older ones. Chrisye’s death was one of my memorable mediated events because it meant so much to me; his music represents one of the decade in my life. Perhaps, Chrisye’s death was one of the turning points in my life where I felt the urge to change myself and move forward.

1 comment:

  1. It’s really beautiful how a popular icon ended up shaping a significant nugget of who you are and how you see and process the world around you. I find the comparison you make between Kurt Cobain and Chrisye really interesting and poignant. Both of their deaths impacted you but in notably differently ways--just as they came from two different periods and countries and cultures of your life.

    Chrisye seems to function as a sort of relic from your past that you continue to carry with you as a reminder of the fact that while you no longer live in the Philippines in a geographical sense, you continue to occupy that space (and that space occupies you) just in a different capacity.

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