- As both
a gamelan player (I’ve studied and performed Balinese
gamelan angklung, gamelan gong,
gamelan gendèr wayang & Central and
West Javanese gamelan in the U.S., Bali, and Java) and
a (sometime) rave participant, I am willing to consider the
structural or textural similarities between much traditional
gamelan music and music played at raves, and to speculate
for a moment on the connection between the roles and contexts
of each. The structure of what is believed to be "transformational"
music in rave is described by David Roberts as containing a
minimum of melody and vocals, "substituting a mesmeric,
repetitive beat as the central element" (cited in Redhead
124). Dance ethnologist Georgiana Gore describes rave music
as "minimalist with a relentless 4/4 beat," reputed
to drive ravers into a state of frenzy (Gore 58). Numerous sources
detail the structural aspects of traditional gamelan
music (both Balinese and Javanese) which often (though certainly
not always) involve seamless repetition of rhythmic and tonal
patterns over a steady beat. Ethnomusicologist Margaret Kartomi,
in describing the required musical elements in Javanese gamelan
accompaniment to folk trance, states that music must be "mesmeric
in effect," and contain a steady regular pulsation with
repetitive tonal patterns based on a restricted number of pitches
(Kartomi 166). Balinese psychiatrist Luh
Ketut Suryani discusses the hypnotic effect of traditional Balinese
ceremonial gamelan music on Balinese gamelan players,
and describes the music as having a basic, relatively unchanging
pattern, repetitive, rhythmically steady, and tending toward
monotony in volume and intensity (Jensen and Suryani 123). Suryani
reports that Balinese ceremonial gamelan players feel
"as though they are floating above the ground, ‘nearer
to the gods’ and ‘in another world’" (Jensen
and Suryani 123).29
In both gamelan angklung (and very commonly in
other types of gamelan music) and techno, there are simultaneous
layers of musical complexity playing themselves out at different
levels of tempo and "busy-ness." Although rave music
is much louder than gamelan music, often the emphasis
(in both musics) is on the creation of a kind of endless "ground"
through minimalistic repetition of instrumental "bytes"
which tends to entrain the mind of the listener.30
- How is
this musical texture related to gamelan angklung? Colin
McPhee, in his landmark documentation of Balinese instrumental
music (Music in Bali, written in 1966), distinguishes
between two general forms or textures of traditional gamelan
angklung compositions. In the first form, which he designates
as type A, the melody line is played by the largest bass sounding
metallophones in the ensemble (called jegogan) while
the higher pitched instruments play a continuous accompaniment
of closely interlocking figuration patterns. In the second type
of orchestration, type B, the melody is played by the smaller,
higher metallophones (called gendèr) and the horizontally
mounted gong row (réong), while the jegogan "underline"
the melody (McPhee 246).
I find the texture of the type A composition for gamelan
angklung, with its rather hypnotic, minimalist figuration
over a slow moving melody and metronomic tempo, to be most similar
in "aural feel" to certain types of techno music.
Listen,
for example, to this excerpt from the Orb classic "Little
Fluffy Clouds."
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- Coincidentally
or not, types of techno and gamelan music, and their
respective musical textures, are both present in communal gatherings
where dance and altered states of consciousness are the intention
of at least a subgroup of participants. Institutionalized occasions
for entranced dancing (with gamelan orchestra accompaniment)
in Bali include the Kris dance (male, group trance ritual involving
dancers who turn knives on themselves yet remain unharmed) and
the Barong/Rangda ritual (protector dragon vs. monstrous witch
in a showdown between the forces of good and evil). Both dances
are part of the sixteenth century Calonarong ritual play (Tenzer,
83). The larger 5-tone gamelan pelegongan orchestra,
with 13-15 keyed gendèrs, accompanies these dramas
involving trance. The repertoire of this gamelan again
involves intricate, closely interlocked figuration played by
the higher instruments in the ensemble, as well as complex stratified
polyphony. Although the dramatic accompaniment requires sudden
changes in tempo and dynamics at times, repetitive clichéd
figurations over ostinatos and stretches of metronomic tempo
remain characteristic of the music. McPhee describes the interlocking
figuration occurring in certain slow moving passages:
A very different kind of musical training is required for
the syncopated, percussive kotèkan figuration,
performed at high speed by a group of eight or ten players.
Composed of two rhythmically opposing parts which, like
the rèongan of the gamelan gong, interlock
to create a perpetual flow of sound, the kotèkan
adds sheen and intensity to the music, and calls for the
utmost rhythmic precision. (McPhee 162)
- While the
gamelan angklung is not the particular gamelan
ensemble associated with rituals involving trance in Bali, its
textural characteristics are in many ways idiosyncratic to much
gamelan music in general, including those ensembles that
are present in trance contexts. This has led me to speculate
about the connections between events that employ similar musical
textures and whose participants intend to achieve extraordinary
consciousness. At Hyperreal’s Trance
List Archives the trance subgenre of techno is plainly characterized
as a means to altered states of consciousness: "Through
the use of repetitive and extended beat patterns and/or rhythms,
this music often induces trance-like states in those who listen
or dance to it."
- In Rouget’s
oft-cited work Music and Trance: A Theory of the Relations
between Music and Possession, the author states that although
music "does play a part in triggering and maintaining the
trance state, it does not owe its effect to the properties of
the musical structure, or if it does, it does so only to a small
degree" (Rouget 96). Becker applauds Rouget for "putting
to rest" the idea of a causal relationship between types
of music and types of trance (Becker 41). It is generally understood
that the entire trance context as a package—including all
sensory stimulation, in addition to the culturally-situated
belief system and expectations of the participant—is responsible
for inducing altered states of consciousness. Becker suggests
that the musical component of trance, acting as a "physiological
metonym," "invokes" an entire "mythology"
to which certain emotions and behavior are attached (Becker
45). In Bali, other deeply sensual "cues," such as
incense, strongly scented flowers, and brightly ornate costumes,
accompany ritual. It is likely that in the rave context the
volume of the music, the bombardment of visuals, the physiological
excitement of dance, the desire for an altered state, and the
other elements of rave described earlier, heighten the "transportative
mechanisms" of the music. However, the musical contribution
(or "universal" relationship of music) to trance states
remains debated amongst scholars, and I am hard pressed to take
issue with the commonly expressed experiences of many people
who feel entrained, "transported," or experience some
other hypnotic-like effect when exposed to the musical textures
described above, even in a sterile concert hall. Another significant
issue here, perhaps a topic for another paper, concerns exactly
what ravers mean when they use the term "trance" and
speak of the "trance experience." Perhaps clarity
lies in a distinction between rhythmic entrainment, trance,
and other forms of altered consciousness.
- I’ve
suggested that one possibility for the appropriation of Balinese
gamelan by the rave scene is a similarity in musical
structures typically accompanying settings/venues associated
with altered states of consciousness in both contexts. Now I’ll
explore the implications of a second possibility. I propose
that it is part of the ideology of a segment of rave participants
to associate themselves with icons of a generic "ethnic-ness"—perceived
as synonymous with "primitiveness," and the
- s an "exotic
entity" affords this association. Note one raver’s
ideas about how the gamelan might function at an event:
I think it would be REALLY cool to have a couple of Balinese
dancers dance to the last gamelan piece, and then
have the dj start back up with something similarly exotic,
maybe Middle Eastern, that the dancers could also dance
to. Then bring up the music again slowly, to help tie the
different pieces of the ceremony together. (posted to sfraves
27 March 2000)
A further
exploration of this ideology will illuminate the seemingly contradictory
techno-primitive aesthetic of the San Francisco rave scene.
- Another
rave participant explains, "What the gamelan was
doing was the same as what rave was doing. That it’s all
tapping into the same roots" (Personal interview, 21 May
1998). This comment, alluding to "the same roots"
of a common, pre-industrial ancestry, emphasizes the valued
connection between raving and ancient ritual—a connection
which serves to distinguish ravers ideologically from what they
perceive as industrialized, "mainstream" society.
What is especially interesting in the ravers’ worldview,
is that hi-technology (the ultimate product of industrialized
society) and especially technologically produced music, are
seen as a means to accomplish this goal of reconnection
with the primitive in us all. Far from contradictory, combining
hi-technology with perceived "tribal values" is viewed
as the ultimate tool of collective transcendence and self-actualization.
This vision is clearly expressed by the following characterization
of the rave process that appears on the hyperreal.org
website:
There is a pulsating awareness of sharing archaic understandings,
reviving lost traditions…which are all invested with
new technological innovation. The sounds are the new epic
poetry of this century… The knowledge is beyond consumerism
and materialism, and associated disaffected, alienated and
generally self-destructive style of the industrial
being…The sounds and rhythms produced by tekno artists
seem to be more and more profound in their ability to communicate
the most… deeply resonating primal understandings.
It’s the re-discovered language of transcendence…
Here is the ‘coming of age’ ritual which Western
culture has long forgotten…
- Within
techno-primitivism then, technology is paradoxically embraced
in an attempt to regain the very thing which mechanization is
denigrated for taking away—our basic human-ness. Reynolds
asserts that digital music "abandons all the elements of
feel" (Reynolds 44). While revering a music that
codes a value for the "less than human," could becoming
concurrently attached to "the primitive" be perhaps
an instinctual effort to resist the dehumanizing aspect of the
music being embraced? An effort to reclaim or hold onto the
human element in the face of pervasive technology, while reveling
in the hedonistic aspects of both? This construction, within
which participants worship both technology and the primitive,
perhaps keeps the Vibe in balance, allowing technology to have
its way, but at the same time quelling the anxiety produced
by the threat of ever increasing mechanization.
- I don’t
mean to suggest that all ravers have the same experience, or
share the same philosophy of raving. As Gore states, "Rave
is multiple" (Gore 65). In fact, there have been complaints
recently amongst participants (particularly from more seasoned
ravers) that the scene is not what it used to be, and that many
"newbies" don’t understand or don’t care
about the ideals that raving was founded upon. A mere 24-hour
subscription to the sfraves discussion list will reveal multiple
layers and levels of experience, meaning, and engagement, ranging
from the flaming and name-calling of a community member for
posting a naked photo of someone’s girlfriend on the list,
to the deeply philosophical and ecstatic expressions of transformational
experience. Some ravers go to parties get high, others to dance,
others just to listen, and the same raver may experience different
levels of engagement at different events or at the same event.
Likewise, the presence of the gamelan at the rave undoubtedly
means different things to different people, ranging from "this
is boring and weird and I don’t know what it’s doing
here" to "the gamelan is doing what rave is
doing." Amongst the "multiplicities," I have
chosen to examine the experience through the lens of techno-primitivism
because this ideology/aesthetic is most prominent in self-representations
of the San Francisco scene in cyberspace, as well as in the
literature about San Francisco raving.
- When viewed
from a techno-primitive perspective, the appropriation of the
gamelan by the San Francisco rave scene seems like a
logical process. The gamelan is successfully integrated
into the rave, in part on the basis of its perceived homogenous
ethnic-ness, otherness, or primitive associations—in other
words, for what it represents. This representation is effected
through the "exotic" appearance of the gamelan
instruments—intricately carved and painted, sitting amongst
carefully prepared offerings, burning incense, and other miscellaneous
Balinese "paraphernalia"—and the "otherworldly"
sound of an orchestra of bronze gongs and metallophones. I propose
that information about where this ensemble comes from, its history,
its "authentic" performance practice, who usually
plays it, or even what it is called, is irrelevant in the context
of the rave. It is not necessary to possess such in-depth knowledge.
What is important is that the presence of
the gamelan affirms the somewhat romantic, self-perceived
identity of the rave collective as part of something "primal,"
and as something that resists the mainstream. I am suggesting
that the "exotic" = the "primitive" which
is associated with the roots of humankind and the right living
to which ravers wish to return.
There are many developments in technology however, that
have the potential to create an electronic re-tribalization
of society and help humanity remember our place on this
sacred sphere.31
- Yet, in
the very act of interacting with the surfaces of entities in
this way, it may be argued that ravers are engaging in a very
mainstream kind of behavior. In Life on the Screen, Sherry
Turkle describes a current psycho-social operative mode in which
representations—rather than transparent entities—are
sufficient for interacting with the world. It is often claimed
that there is an increased tendency within postmodern industrial
culture to be satisfied with surface-only knowledge of relationships
with cultural items that make up one’s
"idioverse" (Schwarz, cited in Turner 80) and help
construct one’s identity. Without—I hope—appearing
to accept wholesale a totalistic concept of postmodernism, I
suggest the gamelan’s appropriation into a context
(rave) in which it functions as a more or less origin-free
entity speaks somewhat to this claim. Additionally, this same
mode of "surface-only" (or maybe "surface-dominant")
relationship with the gamelan finds a parallel in another
behavior that is central to the rave experience; that is, interaction
with sample-based music in which sonic images are divorced from
their original context.32
- Although
this article has focused on one regional manifestation of rave,
examining the values and operative modes of this late-twentieth-century
musical subculture allows us to conceptualize the idea of expressive
forms arising as artifacts of technoculture. Additionally, this
examination brings into relief a now commonplace mode of navigation
through a world that often seems overladen with extraneous stimuli
and on the verge of producing human perceptual overload. It
has been noted that we as members of postmodern industrial societies
must increasingly become able to sift through the glut of information
and "separate the wheat from the chaff" in order keep
our brains from shorting out. Maybe "satisfaction with
representation/surface knowledge" is a way of filtering
through the glut of cultural things. Instead of weeding out
"the incoming" for lack of psychic/perceptual space,
an alternative strategy, perhaps, is to reduce the depth
of incoming things. (Analogous to maintaining space in your
hard disk by reducing the k in your files rather than deleting
them?) Whether this alternative mode of navigation through the
"stuff" of "the postmodern experience" is
ultimately more or less taxing sociologically, as well as psychologically,
is another question.
- To summarize,
via technologically produced sensory experience, community in
virtual space, attributing cosmic significance to technology,
and interaction with technologically disembodied entities, raving
in San Francisco is firmly located in the technocultural present.
My intent for this project was to consider how and why a Balinese
gamelan could have possibly made its way to the foothills
of the Sierra mountains in the summer of 1997, and to make a
contribution to the discussion of rave as a subculture in the
U.S. along the way. To date only Mireille Silcott has focused
on rave as a phenomenon in the U.S. Most (off-web) contributions
focus on raving in the U.K., where the subculture originally
developed. However, there is a wealth of information on U.S.
raving on the web, predominantly insiders’ personal accounts
of the subjective rave experience as well
as abstractions and philosophies of the culture. Apart from
my personal attendance at events in the Bay Area and interviews
with participant-friends, rave’s own literature in virtual
space served as a primary ethnographic site as this paper unfolded;
a happenstance that could not have more aptly designated this
expressive genre as an artifact of technoculture.33
- Finally,
as technology and technoculture are by definition in a constant
state of change, so the space in which the rave event takes
place is always a temporary and transient one. The actuality
of each event, in all it uniqueness, simultaneity, and dynamism,
seems to be constituted by its temporary and therefore
elusive nature. Referring back to the "one cacophonous
sonic utterance" of the total rave, I might characterize
this underground utterance as a loud, defiant, powerful, ritual
claim to space. There’s something about the transitory,
yet very "proactive," rave event that reminds me of
the driver of an over-amped car stereo that drives through
your neighborhood, staking out a piece of "aural territory,"
moving along, thereby avoiding apprehension. She knows you hear
her—she has forced herself on your aural space through
sheer volume. She wants to be heard, yet remains aloof and perhaps
separate. But there is autonomy and power in the transitory
nature of his actions; she knows you won’t come out looking
to silence her, because you know in that time she’ll be
gone.
Gina
Andrea Fatone
University of California, Los Angeles
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