On the way home from an opera performance (a recital of popular operatic arias), I passed a dangdut show in a suburb.
Several people were seen dancing on the stage along with the singer; some were waving flagging banknotes for the singer to take in what is called sawer in return for which the donor's name will be mentioned in the lyrics.
That kind of performance is common, particularly in rural areas. Dangdut is often an integral part of circumcision or wedding ceremonies.
Dangdut is everywhere. Everyone is familiar with its beat, even if they are not necessarily dangdut lovers.
Local TV channels are full of dangdut programs. Often, groups of people can be seen enjoying dangdut songs on TV or radio while chatting over coffee.
Stars come and go. In the past, Rhoma Irama and Elvi Sukaesih were dubbed the "King and Queen of Dangdut." Today, even children are familiar with Inul Daratista, who is well-known for her "drilling" dance.
The list is long. The singers have their own typical performances -- Iis Dahlia is a melancholic singer who at times will break into tears mid-song.
Does Indonesian classical music have its icons?
Christopher Abimanyu and Linda Sitinjak are regarded as leading singers. But if you ask passersby about them, they will most likely shake their head.
Although on some occasions tickets are sold, as at performances put on in entertainment parks or discotheques, generally you don't need to pay to watch a live dangdut show.
At Hotel Mulia Senayan, where nine opera singers from Italy were on show, visitors had to pay from US$125 to $150 per person to get in.
In no way am I railing about injustice. What they paid might be worth what they got. They would have seen a group of talented performers plus their distinguished Indonesian counterparts, with top-quality food and beverages being served. And all in a five-star hotel.
Some may spend an amount of money that others will say is irrational.
"With a million rupiah, I'd rather go shopping," a friend said.
We may be forgiven for our skepticism -- not because the prices are beyond what we can afford but rather because we have yet to nurture such appreciation of the music.
Classical arias, which appear in opera, have yet to tune well to people's taste here.
"Classical music is still the privilege of a small group of people. We understand that because this is all about culture," Christopher said after the show.
Classical music performances are still relatively rare here. The few that there are tend to be organized by foreign embassy-funded culture centers.
So far I've experienced opera mainly through TV clips or Western films. I recall Italian tenor Luciano Pavarotti singing his heart out, accompanied by a big orchestra ... on TV.
Not wanting to appear a total ignoramus during the show, I took a peek at the book Opera for Dummies by David Pogue and Scott Speck.
It was a good handbook. It contains -- among many other things -- a list of all operas ever composed.
The book touches on the 10 most common misconceptions about opera, one of which is that you have to dress up to see it.
In fact, you can dress however you like at the opera.
Most visitors that night at Mulia were dressed up. Some wore casual suits. "They are not defying the rules," I thought, recalling the book.
Inside the hall, I looked for the orchestra but couldn't find it.
Perhaps it might have been obstructed by some of the tables. I asked an attendant to help me count the musical crew and tell me what instruments they would be playing to accompany the singers.
In fact, there was only a piano. I'd already seen it when I entered the hall. It was on the stage.
"Did you think this would be like a concert? No, this is just a song recital," said the attendant.
Although it was only a recital, the performers presented it dramatically, even if it was just a solo performance. Elena Oliva portrayed the sentiments in O mio babbino caro by moving her entire body expressively.
The opera singers performed onstage as though acting in drama with the dialog communicated through song. For some in the audience, though, it seemed hard to fathom the meaning of it all.
"Is it about sadness and happiness?" said a voice from a nearby table that had been buzzing with chatter over the chink of champagne glasses throughout the performance.
-- Musthofid
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