Location: Cikalapa, North Bandung, West Java
Sound: Terbangan
“The
terbangan ensemble consists of
three to five frame drums of the terbang type, without attached metal cymbals. Optional
instruments include the membranophones bedug, kendang, and kulanter, as well as the idiophone kecrek and the double-reed aerophone, tarompet…Terbangan subgenres are numerous […] It can be said,
however, that terbangan
is the most common music ensemble found in connection with pondok
pesantren, madrasah, and tarekat [Muslim educational institutions] in West Java.
Accordion to Suryadi (1983, 17), the name “ter(e)bang” etymologically is derived from “to raise, to fly”
(terbang) because
its music was traditionally intented solely for transporting one’s soul to the
Seventh Heaven of Islam, to God the Creator (Tuhan Yang Maha
Kuasa).
- Divine
Inspirations: Music and Islam in Indonesia by David Harnish and Anne Rasmussen
Context: Last October, a festival of sorts was arranged
in my neighborhood in the north of Bandung, with a small stage set up and
performances of traditional and modern music continuing throughout the day. I
was told that later in the evening, a special performance of tarawangsa, a kind of instrumental trance music, would take
place in Cikalapa, the small grouping of footpaths in which I live.
When I walked up the footpath that night, what I found
was not tarawangsa, but terbangan, a style of music I had never heard or even heard
of. Four musicians
sat on a low, recently constructed stage – three men playing terbang, the large
frame drums (also called rebana in other contexts), and one man on kendang. In
front of them sat the hallmarks of a trance ceremony – offerings to the spirits
in the form of food and drinks, as well as burning incense.
The music began slowly, the instruments and vocals of the
terbang players amplified through a pretty lo-fi speaker system (thus the
not-so-great sound of the recording.) One older man led the chant, while the
other members occasionally joined in unison. Almost immediately young men from the audience moved to the
grassy patch of “dancing space” in front of the stage. Some of them wore the
black clothes and iket (headband) traditionally worn by Sundanese artists,
while others wore jeans and metal band sweatshirts. Slowly swaying to the music
and dancing in the distinctive Sundanese style, all bent arms and knees, many
of the men fell into a trance.
Some of the young men began to roll on the ground,
seemingly not in control of their movement while others continued to sway
intensely, eyes closed. One teenaged boy in particular seemed particularly
taken by the music as the tempo quickened – in an intense moment of catharsis
or trance, the boy fell to his knees and let out a haunting cry. This continued
for a quite a few minutes – if you listen to the recording the sound is loud
and unmistakeable.
Thoughts: Despite the fact that Islam is the majority
religion in West Java and much of the rest of Indonesia, pre-Islamic traditions
and beliefs still hold an important place in Indonesian society. This event is
a fascinating example of how something like “Islamic music” does not always
exist in a pure context – here it is easily fused with pre-Islamic Sundanese
trance practices. While the music is clearly intended for an out-of-body
religious experience (see the previous mention of the origins of the name
“terbangan” in “flight”), here this potential for a kind of disembodied trance
– the monotonous rhythm, the chant-like vocals, the crescendo of rhythm – all
lend themselves to a kind of trance experience that seems to be somewhere
closer to pre-Islamic notions of trance as spirit possession. Some may see a contradiction in this
co-existence, but few who play and enjoy this music and the surrounding rituals
seem to mind.
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