OCTOBER 3 — As usual, the two-day Khazanah Megatrends Forum brought together corporate leaders to discuss economic themes.
Its cultural event this year, the Malam Terang Bulan concert, was conceived and directed by composer Datin Saidah Rastam, the culmination of a senior research fellowship she embarked on at Khazanah Nasional Berhad to study Malaysia’s musical history.
There was a buffet spread before the concert, and munching on satay and watermelon were suited corporates alongside batik-clad composers with nothing to say to each other. If food be the music of love, eat on.
Inside, the stage was set up for a piano concerto, framed by panels designed by Raja Malek and inspired by Parliament House and Angkasapuri representing democracy and music.
Khazanah managing director Tan Sri Azman Mokhtar and Datin Saidah explained the genesis of the unique project to preserve the nation’s musical khazanah, bringing the sense of anticipation to an unbearable zenith.
Finally, the musicians assembled, followed by conductor Ahmad Muriz Che Rose, and the evening’s long emotional crescendo was heralded: for it quickly became clear that this wasn’t merely about music.
This was about history, patriotism and nationhood: assiduously researched, lovingly produced (by Zai Johari), and delivered with abundant star power. Out came Datuk Sheila Majid, Dayang Nurfaizah, Musly Ramly, Rachel Guerzo (a third-generation musical luminary) and Zamzuriah Zahari accompanied by Mei Lin Hii on piano to sing melodies that either triggered long-dormant memories or spurred newfound curiosity about our nation’s cultural past.
In the audience were key figures in Malaysian musical history — performers, composers and producers — or their descendants, including Tan Sri Azman, whose father Haji Mokhtar Daud worked in RTM and was director-general of Filem Negara. The guest of honour was Sultan Nazrin Shah, for whose great-great-grandfather acquired a state anthem that evolved into Negaraku — a story brilliantly brought to life in interspersed scenes portrayed in period garbs and authentic accents by Datuk Zahim Albakri (a grandson of the first Keeper of the Rulers’ Seal who sat on the National Anthem Committee) and Chacko Vadaketh.
We learnt that by June 1957, the judges had rejected all 514 entries submitted for the national anthem competition, prompting invitations to leading international composers. These were performed by the Police Band for the judges on August 5, 1957, and these too were rejected, including Benjamin Britten’s sketch (which we heard in an orchestration by Dr Tazul Tajuddin).
The band was told to play the state anthems, then Tunku Abdul Rahman asked its Director of Music to play Perak’s again, then to arrange it, then to add a drum roll, then to repeat the ending (God Save the Queen, last part tu, patah balik … kalau lagu omputeh tu ada yang last part tu gostan, kita buat begitu juga), and then to record it. (This led one banker to remark: “Even in Tunku’s time, open tender didn’t work, had to use direct nego” — though this one saved money.)
The penultimate item of the concert was Tan Sri Ahmad Merican’s deeply powerful Tanah Pusaka, which many assumed was the musical climax, since the denouement was merely listed as “Last part tu patah balik”.
But as soon as the audience heard the distinctive submediant jump, they rose silently in unison, now armed with an intimate knowledge of what they were hearing.
The trumpet flourish from the original arrangement was intact — at Ideas events we always play the 1957 anthem — and the audience remained standing for a long time, their applause masking sobs of happiness that such art, history and inspiration could converge so perfectly in our still-promising nation.
For Datin Saidah, of course, the concert was just one product of her remarkable journey. Every attendee received her new book Rosalie and other love songs which may turn out to be the single most important volume so far written on Malaysian musical history, explaining changing socio-political contexts accompanied by evocative images and documents, and retelling our anthem’s origins in detail.
After the concert, I told Tan Sri Azman that it would be a shame for there to be only one Malam Terang Bulan. There must be many more, so that our young can hear a lesson they will never get in their classrooms.
He agreed, but said Petronas’ assistance in making the hall available is vital. So to Tan Sri Shamsul Azhar Abbas, I make this appeal: what happened in Dewan Filharmonik on September 29, 2014 was truly precious.
Citizens who have never set foot in the DFP nor heard a note from the MPO, if given a chance, will surely cry as they hear members of the Malaysian Philharmonic Youth Orchestra express their patriotism in Datin Saidah’s opus magnum.
* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.
