I was unexpectedly pulled out of my corporate slave daily routine that Thursday night. Coming late to the show after charming dinner with coworkers who happened to be a nice-yet-they-don't-realize couple, made one left drained and exhausted by the vicarious happiness yet to be materialized and the thought of that desperate hope which led to abiding loneliness; one started to feel if the whole idea of coming to such a free crowded live performance of fusion music (like life is not complicated enough) two hours from home at past eight PM was still a good idea. Yet paradoxically this corruptive mood can bolster me further to embrace my true nature of an escapist on any given chance, not only makes me perceived as the affirmative buddy who always says yes to any invitation, I could easily beam the contrite smile of being late and grateful to finally come.
As I jumped out of the cab, the heat and the rhythm of funk jazz building on the vibrating walls of audience spilled over Bentara Budaya Jakarta's narrow opening ground swapped into intimate music carnival, I regretfully missed half of the attractions and grateful for the half full cup of surprises heading towards me. I was moving into the transfixed crowd cheering supportively of what it seemed an elegant Balinese lady dancer unmoved on her solid twisted pose getting ready to groove along the manga-like background of lead singer in glittering mini kimono, brass players in batik, kendang beater which without the instrument some might consider the guy in stripped red-white shirt and heavy mustache as a street mobster/satay seller/Wally in where's Wally, a drummer with Balinese black and white checkered drum sets; and to surmise all the oddity of the night's juxtaposition, the mighty punk with spiky hair, boots, and truck driver sleeveless shirt playing the melody on less tuggish keyboard: TAFKAR (The Artist Formally Known as Rudy Octave) as the band leader and provocateur of Sol Project. Not to mention featuring artists and definite ingredient of the fast tempo of Latino beat in a jukebox:the duo Colombian, sizzling singer Wilson Novoa and Faiser Forez on never ending percussion.
Visually speaking, the scene of this mini Taman Mini Indonesia Indah just might intimidate me into third world Alice in Wonderland situation where my working outfit and ten pound bag of laptop and capitalist burden easily out of context with the rest of casual, beatnik audience, and dreamlike ethnic performers (and have I mentioned I was invited by a reggae fanatic who always wears apparels with green yellow red stripes and Marley himself on the chest of his T-shirt for this occasion?); yet surrealism behold, everyone felt belong to this chaotic costume party, danced along with the cross dressing music and became the literal melting pot. The banner suddenly sang the loudest, something to do with mutating Indonesian ethnic music with Latino groove in contemporary world. That would make the main courses swarmed with the resurrection of traditional songs and national heritages as well as Bali Dancers swirling around on already packed stage, Borneo Picollo jamming, sinden serenading in Javanese with drowning rock ambiance, a Colombian doing some rap and covering "Rocker Juga Manusia" in Samba, and North Sulawesi pop cult "Poco-Poco" served with hot Salsa.
At the near end of the show, last Balinese dancer showed up, a young girl incessantly being beautiful with many facets of extreme expressions and in matter of seconds from being total dead serious when she stared at us, smiling eerily as she shied away; one might get the feeling of overdone tour de force of circling the mosaic world in less than two hours and consuming all the mindboggling Indonesian ethnic music mixtures could offer in this fast track package. Yet some also craved for some more and better than what easily trapped as generic production of funky ethnic jazz performance that sometimes all the varieties on stage can be slightly kitschy after a while, you could have believed a troop of oompa loompas rolling on stage.
