Entering the doors of the concert hall in the UCC Theatre, I was ushered to my seat. The entire hall was dark, with only the outlines of people and seats serving as visual aids. Then, the show began.
Warm yellow light illuminates the stage and a lone figure appears. In front of him is a desk supporting a large black box. Beside it stands a computer. While its screen faces the figure, the figure scrutinizes the screen as white light glowed from it. The low murmur of the audience stops and in it its place is a loud, hypnotic beat of electronic rhythms roaming the airwaves.
The audio feast is complimented by a visual spectacle. Cascading down the wall, the large canvass behind weaves bright colors. The colors flash, dash and bloom. Welcome to ElectroOdyssey: Musicology, organized by the NUS Electronic Music Lab.
The NUS Electronic Music Lab (EML) is a performing arts group under the NUS Centre for the Arts. According to the NUS EML, “EML exists as a collaborative environment for individuals who share similar interests in electronic music, to meet and make new friends while being exposed to professional electronic musicians, DJs and producers in the scene”.
Tonight, September 27, the NUS EML is presenting ElectroOdyssey: Musicology. This stream of concerts- artists parading monikers stroll out onto stage to paint a lush audio soundscape then return behind the curtains before another artist comes out- began in 2001 and interrogates the “theme of exploration and musical journey”.
Eying the evolution of Singapore’s soundscape, the NUS EML “looked back through the years to examine how popular music by local musicians has evolved since independence, and then seeks to reinterpret parts of this history through the lens of electronic music”.
From the 1960s, lush and verdant soundscapes filled the concert hall as historical threads from the early years of Singapore’s independence emerged. For example, in ‘Dinosaur with no Name’, performed by Brannlum and Allee, music and the literary amalgamated to produce a child’s account of a demolished dinosaur slide in her favorite playground. The allusion to the erosion of the past as development propels the young nation of Singapore forward becomes a reminder of trenchant loss in constant renewal. Layered against the verbal account of the child’s recollection of loss are the dripping beats of sadness echoed in the moving electronic beats of the keyboard that refused to enter into a staccato but persisted in a slow elegy.
However, funky tunes from that era were played too. In ‘Whiskey of Fire’, Jane Jirapa marched onto stage and owned the spotlight. Waving her hands as she grooved to the soulful tunes composed by Dr Foo and Sean and performed by SSJ, she purred the refrain “whiskey on fire”. Her glittering dress and diva sunglasses were a nod to the golden years of the Singapore music scene. The performance was “inspired by He’s Untrue, a hit by Rita Chao and the Quests”. The rich sound, a mixture of Jane’s soulful voice and disco like pulses reverberating through the electronic music, evoked a period of glitz and glamour which was a contrast to the lamentation of loss in the first performance.
In the 1970s, ‘Airplane Funk’ by Clifford and Francis refashioned the familiar line “Singapore Girl, you’re a great way to fly” into a “nu-disco funky track that celebrates the formation of SIA and the B747’s service” which had their beginnings in the 1970s. Commenting on the growing space of commercial music as pop music struggled, the flickering alternating of images- from an SIA plane taking off to a Singapore Girl strolling through the cabin- seemed like an apt companion to the music of synthesised tunes of “la, la, la” that reminded one of happy days spent on vacation in a warm and breezy tropical island. On a more subtle note, the performance, by focusing on the emergence of a Singapore brand, seemed to underscore Singapore’s place as a growing economic player in the regional and international scene.
Synthesised voices were also aurally present in ‘Xinyao’, a piece set in the 1980s. Performed by Keith and Kester, and composed by Keith, synthesised voices of mandarin phrases were set against melodic tunes containing dancing notes that sparkled with life which often climaxed into loud and dynamic explosions. In the darkness of the concert venue, the fingers of the performers’ flitted across what looked like a Launchpad which sent luminous light into a tingling frenzy on the surface of the Launchpad. The contrast between the darkness of the theatre and the brightness emitting from the Launchpad appeared to parallel the many contrasting soundscapes of ‘Xinyao’. Indeed, the multi-textual piece was a conglomeration of a high and low pitched synthesised voices, fast beats booming towards a loud explosion and unhurried tunes moving at a leisurely pace.
In the final two decades of the 1990s and 2000s, the audience was treated to performances such as ‘Beware the Dragon’ and ‘Fast Life’. ‘Beware of the Dragon’, composed and performed by Kester, was infused with “digitally manipulated vintage samples of Chinese Opera”. The steady rhythm of halting beats to the tune of sonic sounds reflected a heightened use of technology which is a hallmark of a post-industrial society. However, in this piece, Keester asks: “how do we retain the authenticity of our culture while staying in touch with modernity?”.Observing the hardship traditional music, like Chinese Opera, encounters as a result of the rising global influences and technology, ‘Beware of the Dragon’ does not offer answers to the question but provides the foundation to kick start a discussion.
Also a commentary on contemporary society, ‘Fast Life’ issues repeated strings of notes that tinkle before dissipating. Foregrounding this repeated dissolution, is the hypnotic beating of drums that contribute to the rapid tempo of the piece. Composed by nanowander and performed by Brannlum, the swift undercurrent of ‘Fast Life’ seems to be metonymic of the larger concept of the “hustle and bustle of this era”. A sudden explosion of Singapore’s music scene after a long dormant period and the difficulty local musicians have in locating that sweet spot between day jobs and musical wanderlust are also concerns of this piece. Nonetheless, it is encouraging to know that despite the challenges, local music perseveres to claim a space in the aural landscape of Singapore.
To conclude the night, the artists poured onto the stage; while some embraced the caress of electronic sound waves, others hovered over the desk and moved their fingers over the keys to produce a lively song rooted in reverberating swishes and echoes. Layering the electronic sounds were the drone of rich vocals. Saturated colors painted the screen behind and moved in the beat of dilution and concentration.
This is the finale. This is also the NUS EML saying goodnight and thank you for listening.
Photo credit: NUS EML