From Issue 3
Artist Focus: Fahmi Mursyid
Cordey Lopez
Fahmi Mursyid is an experimental electronic musician from Bandung, West Java. His newest collaborative EP, entitled Akur, was recently released by Insitu Recordings. This new collection sits comfortably within his extensive discography of 60+ works released under various monikers since 2013. Ranging in approach from heavily-processed field recordings, breakbeat madness, ambient post-rock, to kitschy vaporwave, Fahmi doesn’t seek to make statements via momentous full-length albums, and instead appears to favor the short format tribute to a sonic idea: a process, instrumentation, software, or collaboration.
Fahmi Mursyid, musique concrète, and the flow...
Fahmi Mursyid’s release, “Akur,” accomplishes the complex task of both combining and challenging traditional models of gamelan and classical electronic music. In this four-track EP, Fahmi and his collaborators began by recording improvisations using Indonesian gamelan and Japanese percussion instruments. Fahmi then processed the resulting audio with a wide assortment of software. The result is four tracks stylistically seated somewhere between gamelan and experimental electronic music invoking the aesthetics associated with musique concrète.
With the advent of the magnetic tape machine in the 1940s, musique concrète became associated with a new form of experimental music in which “concrete” sounds (existing in the world) were recorded onto tape and subsequently cut up, modulated using various techniques, and then pasted together again to form new compositions. According to Cedrik Fermont in Chapter 4 of Not your World Music: Noise in South East Asia (check out our review in ISSUE 1), the first Indonesian composer to experiment with such techniques was Slamet Abdul Sjukur (1935-2015) who studied with Olivier Messiaen in Paris from 1962-1967 and briefly with Pierre Schaeffer, the progenitor of musique concrète, in 1968. Sjukur returned home and trained an entire generation of Indonesian composers whose knowledge of contemporary classical and electroacoustic idioms gradually began to cross-pollinate with the music of DIY noise, punk, metal, and experimental communities.
Works associated with musique concrète also exploit a special approach to listening called the “acousmatic situation,” in which sounds are divorced from their original sources and re-contextualized within new frameworks. Any sound may be repurposed to serve a new function or have new meaning depending on its relationships to other sounds in a given composition. In an exchange of emails with Fahmi, I learned that he had aimed to invoke the acousmatic situation, but as I listen I find the possibility of separating the sounds from their sources varies from track to track (though I don’t suggest this is a shortcoming). In the first track “Aneka Ragam (Various Melodies),” I hear gamelan, even though the sounds are layered and significantly processed; the second track, “Angin Malam (Night Wind),” is also constructed from manipulated recordings of gamelan instruments, but I hear a convincing and honest expression of the movement of nocturnal sounds in rural Indonesia – wind moving through tree branches, animals in the distance, clouds of insect calls, the bubbling of a neighboring rice field. The sounds are indeed divorced from their sources, and yet like so many of the other aspects of this music (and perhaps music in general), it is difficult to divorce it from its cultural context. I am not sure what is to be gained from the process of disassociation. Perhaps Fahmi needed to adopt such a mindset to ensure that he could express himself clearly without relying on traditional idioms. As a listener, I find the cultural context only makes the pieces sweeter.
“Akur,” literally “get along with” or “agreed,” highlights Fahmi’s desire to collaborate. Though Fahmi often operates as a solo artist, he frequently reaches out to others to collaborate. Occasionally these collaborations take place in person, as was the case with local gamelan musicians on track four “Gunung (Mountain).” However, more often than not he settles for long-distance online collaborations, as witnessed in countless works across his discography. This includes his work with Japanese experimental musician Yuko Araki on Akur’s “Aneka Ragam.” In our techno-centric age, the center of Fahmi’s village, like so many others, is online – a global community tied together by fiber optic cables.
Fahmi claims that although he has undertaken light study and performance of gamelan, he does not have a particularly strong connection to the music. Initially, I found it natural to conclude Fahmi had a connection and/or self-identification with “noise music,” a music trend that has been growing explosively across Indonesia in the past decade. Like Fahmi, noise artists tend to have prolific output and often collaborate and work under various monikers. Fahmi also frequently incorporates techniques from the noise genre – abrasive timbres, playful disruption, and extreme dissonance. However, the case for labeling Fahmi a “noisician” is not as strong as I first assumed. Though his music has appeared on a few noise compilations and has made appearances at noise shows, he does not self-identify with “noise,” and his music encompasses too many other styles to fit tightly into the noise rubric.
Fahmi’s creative work instead inhabits a liminal space, I think largely enabled by pre-established Indonesian attitudes towards music, creativity, and technology. Gamelan provides a sense of ritual or routine, while the past ten years of noise in Indonesia has provided a framework for exploration. Similarly, his approach to musique concrète (and everything else) on this album has demonstrated an ability to extend and innovate pre-established traditions. He sits on the fringes of all these places, allows some ideas to be taken in or just pass, processes them on his computer, and then deposits them neatly in his online repository. It seems as though he makes no assumptions about their inherent value either – his entire Bandcamp discography sits patiently waiting to be purchased in its entirety for a mere $15. It’s not about making a product or a grandiose work; it’s about collecting sounds via interactions with others, subjecting them to a personal (computerized) treatment, and as he stated in the last segment of our interview, “just letting it flow.”
Cordey Lopez
Check out Fahmi‘s discography on Bandcamp:
Check out Fahmi’s Akur release with Insitu Recordings on Bandcamp and SoundCloud: