Marcel Thee – Seven passionate record collectors are helping to preserve long-forgotten Indonesian music of the 20th century with their archival project Irama Nusantara, Indonesian for "rhythm of the archipelago".
So far they have digitised more than 4,000 recordings, which are being streamed for free on their website for a new generation of fans.
The project's seven founders – Alvin Yunata, David Tarigan, Christoforus Priyonugroho, Toma Avianda, Norman Illyas, Mayumi Haryoto, and Dian "Onno" Wulandari – all have a musical background of some kind, including owning independent record stores, founding independent labels and playing in bands.
Yunata and Tarigan, both 43, launched Irama Nusantara after running into each other multiple times on Jakarta's Jalan Surabaya (Surabaya Street), where old records are sold. They discussed how a number of labels from the US and Europe were reissuing local recordings for international listeners.
"By 2010, it became a thing for the international collectors community to acquire Indonesian records," Yunata says. "We talked about whether those labels were actually paying for the rights, and also the irony that the music was loved abroad but barely recognised by Indonesians." Three years later, they officially registered Irama Nusantara as a non-profit foundation.
Irama Nusantara has recordings going back to the 1920s, with most being issued from the 1950s to the 1980s. Listeners can enjoy everything from lost psychedelic pop albums by obscure bands from the 1970s and synth-pop albums from the '80s to an early recording of the Indonesian national anthem and traditional Indonesian sounds such as keroncong, a musical style based around a ukulele-type instrument.
The variety of recordings preserved by Irama Nusantara shows just how diverse Indonesian music has always been. Chief among the collection are early albums by artists that are considered legends, including Chrisye, Titiek Puspa and Atiek CB from the pop genre, rock bands Koes Plus and Bimbo, and folk stars Iwan Fals and Benyamin Sueb.
However, the archiving process has been halted due to the Covid-19 crisis. Its founders have launched a crowdfunding attempt, saying that unless they hit their target of 300 million rupiah (US$20,700) they may have to close down by September. (As of writing, they have raised a little over 63 million rupiah.)
For the founders, the value of these recordings doesn't just lie in their physical novelty or vintage status. Instead, they are snapshots of Indonesian history that go beyond music – a history that the younger generation might only be vaguely aware of. Music, they say, is a way to get youngsters to appreciate the richness of their past and heritage.
"Before the Irama Nusantara archiving process, maybe only about 10 per cent of the Indonesian music that existed – certainly music from the 1970s and before – was known to the general public," Yunata says. "The other 90 per cent was buried. So this process is very important, because music offers the most casual vehicle to discuss what has happened in different eras."
He points to the ban on Western music during the reign of Sukarno, Indonesia's first president, who was in office from 1945 to 1967. To get around the ban, a creative solution was put forward by bands such as Nada Kentjana, who added rock 'n' roll flourishes to their traditional pop songs that were sung in Sundanese (a West Java dialect used by the Sunda people).
Tarigan highlights records that were produced after Sukarno's predecessor, the noted tyrant Suharto, rose to power, bringing his "new order" regime with him. The era saw the release of many legendary protest albums, including Harry Roesli's 1973 progressive rock album Philosophy Gang, which combined complex instrumentation with politically charged lyrics sung in English.
Being avid collectors of various analogue music formats – vinyl, shellac, eight-track, cassette tapes – the founders began by digitising their own albums and raiding their friends' often considerable collections.
"We relied on really close friends who entrusted us with their 'children' [their record collections]. I'm sure fellow collectors will understand," Tarigan says.
Many records came from sellers based at Blok M Square, an old shopping centre in Jakarta with a basement full of stores selling vintage records. Blok M Square was so crucial to Irama Nusantara that the foundation rented a small spot there for digitising recording to speed up the process.
The digitisation process itself consists of connecting a record player to a sound card, which converts the audio into a digital format. Most of this is done in the Irama Nusantara office in South Jakarta. The team also scans record covers and even transcribes the text from old, worn-out covers.
In 2016, Indonesia's Creative Economy Agency took notice of the project and instructed Radio Republik Indonesia (Republic of Indonesia Radio), the country's state-owned broadcaster, to open its vaults and allow its 1,000-plus recordings to be digitised. Renowned collector and painter Haryadi Suadi also contributed records from the 1920s and '30s.
So far, Irama Nusantara has been able to stream its recordings for free without dealing with record companies because it positions the recordings for educational purposes and not entertainment. Tarigan admits that it is a grey area, but notes that the project includes a disclaimer on almost every page for artists or producers who want certain recordings taken down.
It remains for now a labour of love, although the project's general affairs manager Gerry Apriryan, 28, says Irama Nusantara might start creating original content that it can then sell.
If the crowdfunding goes well, Irama Nusantara plans on expanding its approach – not only through digital archiving of music, but also of books and literature that document Indonesian music, and by holding seminars and other events that promote it.
Looking at their influence, Yunata laughs and points to the current vinyl trend.
"Before us, vinyl was pretty cheap, but now it's getting expensive. This was something we realised might happen, but we knew it was the time to share this music and not keep it to ourselves any more."