Sunday, August 5, 2012

#71 "seroja": views, choices in performance practice and arrangement for wind orchestra

For the last week, I have been contemplating a very famous Malay song, "Seroja" as the theme for my next composition. As pure melodic material, "Seroja" is a strange subject. The title alludes to the flower lotus (teratai), which as you may realise is the symbol of purity for many Eastern cultures. In many images Indian goddesses sit on lotuses perched on top of 'sea of chaos', for example. The allusion to purity perhaps come from the fact that lotuses grow best in swampy areas, so their surroundings may be downright filthy, but their fulsome flowers remain clean and beautiful, in dissonance with its milieu.

The song interests me for many reasons. The song was composed by Hussein Bawafie sometime in the 60's. It has a beautiful coloratura line, it is a test of legato and phrasing, of the management of one's instruments in all its ranges, of creativity and personality in decorating the line. The lyric is pedagogic: the singer is berating a younger sibling for cherishing beauty over substance (rupa yang elok jangan dimanja), for wasting time over love, for not trying to gain wisdom from life experience (memetik bunga) - at least that is how I see it. It is a powerful song, a beautiful song. One may comment that for a song with a stern voice it sure has a lot of coloratura, but I see it as a means of softening the blow, the satin glove of the iron fist, a way to kiss the booboo, if you will.

The original version was sung by S. Effendy. Even in its original version the song was composed with a chorus in mind. The echo effect of the verse is very powerful, reminiscent of religious chants. Mr. Effendy has a beautiful baritone sound, however the extreme of his range (F#, to be exact), is precarious. He handles the transition beautifully though, with a glorious double effect decrescendo-portamento.


Another famous version was sung by Sharifah Aini. She has an easier facility of the coloratura line, and her husky lower reaches contrasted nicely with the power and beauty commanded by her upper reaches (reaching a full-throated F5). You can hear why Miss Sharifah was prized as the most important female Malay singer for at least twenty-five years - the liquid honey one associates with her high-middle voice - the one which granted her the ultimate vocal throne from Saloma - is in strong evidence here.


The most famous version is perhaps Jamal Abdillah's. The verse is throaty in his voice, more to the character of his timbre rather than a choice. He manages the coloratura of the first verse by hollowing his voice, and it is both harrowing and fascinating to listen to. He also made some confusing phrasing choices. No matter, he is a tenor, and he showed his mettle in the third verse, where he opens up a silvery thrusting instrument gloriously to A4 - even the coloratura is better at this range. The wear and tear in his voice show, but it is still a very powerful instrument nonetheless.


I have listened to Mawi's version. It is a strong voice, but at that moment in his career incapable of much delicacy. I do not mean he cannot sing the line, but it is very much the sonic equivalent of bull in a china shop. Contrast for example with Jamal Abdillah (easiest as they are the same voice type) who is still capable of executing the line while maintaining the thrust in his upper voice. Even Mr. Effendy was capable of some vocal effects, but in this department Miss Sharifah wins, hands down.


This duet version sounds wrong on two counts. I have maintained for a long time that while Siti Nurhaliza manages some glorious feats with her voice, her timbre remains anomalous for Malay literature. Hers is a soubrette voice, a girl's voice, a virginal voice. Contrast this for example with Sharifah Aini, who is capable of knowing coquetry and saturnine sobriety - with the same timbre. The second is the fact that she meanders all over her range in her decorations. She knows her strongest suit is her highest range (as has been shown beautifully in the first verse), and she insists on plumbing for depths that are simply not there. Mawi still sounds like a bull in a china shop, and is already showing strain in his upper register.

With these performance practices in mind, I set to composing the Harmoniepartitur. I have already pictured the song as a Bellini cantilena, so I set out to arrange it in that style. The introduction came easy to me:


An oboe solo was planned to evoke the reed instruments of the nobat. The main thematic material was given to clarinets. In later metamorphoses it was transferred to other instruments: trumpets, trombones, euphoniums; but the thematic re-capitulation was always given to the clarinets. I think the mellow refulgence of a well-played clarinet best represent the Malay ideal of the lenggok or the gemalai, the graceful turns and twirls one can see in Malay dances and silat


The second section is a waltz. I wanted the material to go to surprising places, and a transplanted waltz sounded ideal. There was a recapitulation, then progression into Allegro, in which the material travelled via Db major to many places, before re-settling in F minor. There are several tags, or 'codettes' as I call them, comprising of two-measures equivalent of  I-VImaj7. The music closes with another oboe solo before a final codette.


The instrumentation is very basic: flutes (with piccolo), clarinets, the saxophone quartet, French horns, trumpets, the lower brasses and percussion, with glockenspiel and tubular bells in the coda. The tubular bells were in fact inspired by Kitaro's land theme from Heaven and Earth

I loved the experience. However the arrangement process itself was quite harrowing. I have left the medium for three years, and it took me a few days to get my sea legs again. But it is quite finished as of today, and I hope for the best for this material, which is near and dear to me.

Seroja (wind orchestra) - © fUGA arts limited 2012