installment B

   Well, hello again! How is the gamelan coming? Quite well. We had a demo film made by KPBS and Alex put the idea in their heads to make a documentary about us, so now we have a film crew regularly following us about, watching us undress and throw fruit at one another before concerts. We played on a very nice gamelan at the Indonesian Consol’s house in LA for a big Indonesian Independance day celebration (August something). The gamelan was old and of a beautiful, exotic intonation (species of tuning). We got to eat afterwards. There were many dignitaries there including the mayor of LA and the Secretary of State of California (March Fung Eu— I saw her at Palomar once for commencement and somewhere else, too). The food was great and we played very well; the consul enjoyed it immensely. He and his wife presented each of us with a gift, which proved to be a vase when unwrapped. Each vase was different, some in style, and all in decoration. The designs matched our personality— Garit’s was African looking, Edmundo’s was very unusual, and mine was kind of, well— like their’s but not with any category you could put it in (perhaps my playing was too generic, simplistic, undeveloped? Oooooo... (as Christopher would say). Well, it was still a very nice handmade and etched unique vase from Indonesia, signed by a famous artist! I like it. The more I accepted it, the better it got.
   We played at this weird German (Frrrrahnkke)'s birthday and opening of his new metal sculptures at his eccentric Point Loma home. The tres chic artiste type guests had arrived from France, Germany, Vietnam and Yugoslavia and mingled in groups speaking French, German, Vietnamese and Serbo-Croatian. The ones who spoke English regularly either did so in affected tones or quickly became drunk on punch. Although they loved it, especially Edmundo’s impromptu demonstration of the famous Baris dance, Ju-Hua (we call her Wei) was very agitated at our low standard of professionalism, prompting an extended 2AM discussion outside the music complex after we had returned the instruments to the second story gamelan room.
   We played at Palomar college, which was my idea. They held it in the theater too! The Palomar concert was after Franke’s and the bitter feelings helped make the concert a disaster as well, although fortunately no one at Palomar was familar enough with gamelan music to tell the difference until Made extensively apologized for our poor performance after the concert (although I’m glad he made this statement to a faculty member and not the audience at large).
   Well, it’s a wonder that we played well at an SDSU demonstration concert, but I’m glad because everyone could tell that the Gamelan was now happy. (After Franke’s concert, Made was sad: “I forget light incense. I feel bad when Phil bring incense while we playing. I know then I forget. Gamelan mad because I forget.” Well, we all felt bad to not have shown proper respect for the Gamelan beforehand.)

After the SDSU concert, Made asked: You play on Tuesday?   Me: Well, yes, if you want me to, Made.   Made: It’s OK.   Me: Great.  

So, I was going to play at the Javanese concert at the Indonesian Consulate. Since I’m in the Balinese gamelan, that was a bit unusual since I don’t normally play Javanese.

Well, the night before I asked Matthew what the concert was for:

Matthew: It’s at the Consulate.   Me: Yeah, but why are we going?   Matthew: To play there.   Me: Yeah, but for what — is it a party or are we just practising with them?   Matthew: It’s a gathering of sorts.   Me: Who’s going to be there?   Matthew: Certain people.   Me: Who? Somebody special?   Matthew: You might say that.   Me: Who?   Matthew: The King of Jogjakarta.   Me: What?! Not the most powerful King in Indonesia! The last remaining King in Indonesia with any power? He’s coming to the Consulate?   Matthew: Actually he’s coming to a place in downtown LA called the California Club. There’s going to be a special reception for him there.   Me: What’s the California Club?   Matthew: It’s a very exclusive club. You can bet you’ll see some very important people there.   Me: You mean like the President or Governer?   Matthew pauses and smiles as if speaking to a child: Neither of the people you mentioned would be able to get into the California Club. Membership is beyond their reach. It’s a very exclusive club that charges no fees and membership is by invitation only. The members are the people who really have the power, not the puppets.   Me: It’s for the very rich?   Matthew: Not rich in money, but rich in power.   Me: Have you been there before?   Matthew: Yes. Many times.   Me: You’re a member?!   Matthew: No, I have associates who are members. Remember my trip to New York?   Me: The one where you were supoenaed to testify in a trial you can’t talk about?   Matthew: Yeah. Don’t ask me any more questions.

(Matthew leaves)

Me: Garit, you know Matthew pretty well. Is all that true?   Garit (wryly smiling): Oh, yes! So you’re going to the California Club... Well, well!

That evening, I said to my Mom: It looks like we’re going to play for the King of Jogjakarta at the California Club.

(Mom freezes in a look of astonishment)

Me: What?   Mom: The California Club? You’ve got to be kidding. Oh my goodness!   Me: What’s so special about it, anyway?   Mom: I’ve never met anyone who’s been inside the California Club. And you know I’ve known a lot of famous and powerful people. I’ve always wanted to talk to someone that had been there. It’s just that — not many people are ever invited there and no one really knows who the members are. You’ve got to take some pictures. No one’s going to believe this.   Me: OK.

So we played there.

There was a giant ice sculpture of two elephants standing on their hind legs, fighting, their tusks locked in battle.

We were kept in a back room for a long time with little to eat other than enormous apples as big as grapefruits. We wandered around unmonitored through a maze of unoccupied corridors, staircases, and sequences of enormous and cozy rooms filled with incredible antique furniture that surpassed anything I’ve ever seen in a museum.

The film crew came but their cameras were not welcome.

We played.

The King liked us and we were allowed out of our cage. The King — considered a god by the people of Indonesia — spent the evening talking to Made about gamelan and piling food on Made’s plate. Made was stunned and ecstatic. You know how nuts the English are about their queen and all the etiquette involved? Well it’s 100,000 times more extreme in Indonesia. People visiting the King are expected to crawl out backwards on their hands and knees from his presence. Fortunately, these rules were relaxed for the States. A good thing too. I tripped over the legs of some lady who was sitting in a fancy chair. I gave her a cursory apology and walked away. I later realized that she was the Queen — also considered a diety. I’d probably have my head chopped off if I was in Indonesia. She was nice though — she and the King play in the court gamelan back home.

The food was unbelievably fabulous.  I guarantee you’ve never seen or tasted food anything like this and you never will.

At the end of the event, the King called for each of us to be presented with an ancient carved puppet — made for a King. Again, each puppet—given apparently randomly—perfectly matched the personality and skills of each receipient. I received a rare and beautiful goddess. My playing was still bad but I felt truly incompetant and humble, yet gave it my best shot.

Made’s night vision is terrible so I had to drive him home.

While leaving the California Club, Made wanted to jump out of the car and talk to someone. But there was no parking allowed on the street and cars were coming. I tried to circle the block, but this is not possible in LA!! After twenty minutes I was driving among stripped cars on blocks and old bearded guys with filthy and ragged long coats warming themselves above trash-cans filled with fire and Chicano young adults with red bandanas, vests, and Levis. I had only seen this in movies before.

I had to get back on the freeway and duplicate our California Club approach in order to find Made an hour later. He was mad. He wanted me to take a certain exit but I thought another way was shorter. After I missed the interchange Made wanted, he explained that he was mad because we were following the film crew to a restaurant where we were going to discuss something very important. Well, he could have told me that instead of yelling, “Turn here! Turn here! Aieeeee!” while pointing to a freeway that didn’t go directly to San Diego.

Made was silent and sulking for a few minutes. Once he calmed down in the car, a smile appeared on his face. Suddenly, he started kicking the dashboard and screaming jubilantly. “I meet King! I meet King!” he shouted over and over again. “I. . .  meet. . .  King!! Yaaaaah! Aieeeee!”

He looked at me and very slowly and seriously inunciated, “King talk to me. Today, I talk to King!!!" He then started shouting again and kicking and shaking his head vigorously. As he did this, his tongue was flapping wildly out of his mouth. “Yaaaaaaaahhhh!” he shouted with a smile. “Yuni never believe this! I meet King!! Yaaaaaaaahhhh!”

He was like this all the way back to San Diego.

It was a great gig.

 
(This document is a copy of my August 1992 letter to D. Wundrow.)