Ningnang

If there is a theme to this album of mostly new compositions, it exists most succinctly in the second piece, “Banda Manusa;” this title, which means “humanity’s assets/treasure,” is an optimistic gesture to remind us of humanity’s rich, shared heritage and potential.

The sequence of songs on this album can be interpreted to hint toward a nebulous strategy for human renewal. As the second piece, “Banda Manusa” is positioned as a welcome corrective to the first piece, “Ningnang,” the title of which refers to “disharmony.” Although most Sundanese music is abstract (i.e., the musical sounds themselves do not necessarily evoke literal meanings), “Ningnang” is a rare exception: After a strident opening unison passage with a triple rhythm, some musicians switch to a duple meter, while others insist on continuing to play in three; the result is a rhythmically unsettling section that paints in sound the title “dissonance.” A third section resolves (if only briefly) the rhythmic clash. Both pieces are cast in Sundanese music’s most intense, emotion-laden tuning system, called sorog, roughly C-B-G-F#-E.

The titles of the next two selections evoke personal, mundane, but emotionally significant states: the title “Panghegar” suggests something mildly pleasant, while the phrase “Sérédet Degung” promises to evoke pangs of emotional distress. “Panghegar,” cast in sorog, is an instrumental version of a popular song that has been circulating for decades. Burhan Sukarma recently composed “Sérédét Degung” to soothe his pining for the degung music of his birthplace in West Java. It is cast in the style of degung klasik (“classical” degung pieces), which are characterized by florid playing on the bonang (14-kettle gong chime) and suling, asymmetrical phrases, and simple stick drumming. Like most klasik pieces, this one is set in the degung ensemble’s original pelog degung tuning (roughly G-F#-D-C-B), in a mode that emphasizes the pitches B and F#, setting an elegant, yet melancholy mood.

The playlist then moves toward more conciliatory approaches to interpersonal relationships. Burhan Sukarma casts his new song, “Mangga,” in one of degung’s most cheerful musical modes (which reminds many listeners of western music’s stereotypically “happy” major mode, with emphasis on the G and D). He also composed lyrics for the song, although this version is purely instrumental. “Ayang-ayangan” also is cast in a more cheerful degung mode which emphasizes pitches C and D (evoking a mode some might hear as mixolydian). The contrasting sections are all built from the same simple melodic motif, but each section brings to mind different kinds of movement; it is easy to imagine two friends walking playfully “arm in arm” together.

Patokan (“basic”) pieces like “Kulu-Kulu” are perfect vehicles for showcasing Burhan Sukarma’s skill at improvising. (Perhaps it is more fruitful to compare such pieces to simple chord progressions than to pieces.) Tonally, “Kulu-Kulu” returns to the melancholy, elegant pelog degung mode heard in “Sérédet Degung,” although Burhan Sukarma introduces a variety of additional pitches in his improvisations as well. The gamelan accompaniment includes two rhythmic treatments: first, a very slow, spare treatment, followed by a livelier section.

The addition title designation, “Ngaler Ngidul,” literally means “to the north and to the south,” but figuratively it suggests equivocation or even aimlessness. Burhan Sukarma himself translates the phrase as “everywhere,” and applies it to describe his own free-wheeling improvisations. Musically, the title might also suggest the contrasting rhythmic treatments (slow dua wilet [doubly-long rhythmic patterns] vs sawilet satengah [one-and-a-half wilet, a lively double-time rhythmic treatment]) or the insertion of additional pitches in the suling part. In any case, “Kulu-Kulu Ngaler Ngidul” brings listeners full circle from the dissonance of “Ningnang,” through the painful and joyous emotions expressed in the other pieces, to a more harmonious approach to differences of opinion. Such is banda manusa—the treasure trove of sentiments that comprise humanity’s assets.