Indonesian trio Thee Marloes play soulful 60s-inspired music, but their new album is more than just retro weirdness.
Indonesian Soul Music: Thee Marloes Photo: Ryo Annas Dinata
Indonesia, an island nation in Southeast Asia, is huge, but invisible on the pop map. From a German perspective, Indonesian trio Thee Marloes and their album “Perak” will not change anything. It does not live up to expectations. There are no electronic beats in the traditional sound. The three musicians’ concern is rather a global level of retro sophistication. How they do it is something that only a few other places in the world can imagine. What do they actually do?
The sounds of the 1960s are heard, especially Thee Marloes’ passion, a form of soul music that is lost in our time. “Perak”, which starts the series with a somewhat menacing piano feel, soon gives way to a warm mid-tempo groove sound of bass and beats, and the flute begins the melody. Keyboardist Natassya Sianturi sings about an unhappy love affair that remains the theme of the entire album: a disappointed look back, an injury, an attempt to free oneself from yesterday.
Thee Marloes never attempt any kind of grand dissonance or lofty gestures. They have learned their arrangements and sound aesthetics since the mid-1960s, when soul music was gaining success and they were looking for new ideas and building a sleepwalking sound world of current pop music influenced by psychedelics.
Historically, Indonesia was a period of disappearance from popular music. In the Netherlands in the early 1960s, Indonesian bands such as the Tielman Brothers still played a rough and virtuosic form of rock and roll. Subtle soul elements were introduced into the garage rock of the mid-60s girl band Dara Puspita, as well as Thee Marloes from Surabaya.
The eldest of the three sisters who formed the Dutch trio Hearts of Soul was born in Indonesia. Her rich orchestral soul takes us back to the era that the three revivalists longed for.
Same album cover from 1969
The album could have been produced between 1969 and 1971, judging by the appropriately designed cover featuring Thee Marloes. Congas, vibraphone, trombone, trumpet and glockenspiel accompany the song, but never overpower it. The early funk of “Midnight Hotline”, full of drum breaks, leads to a dance floor with a sparkling brass section. There she gives him her number. Will he call her back? Why would he ask?
As part of the 1990s’ embrace of “downbeat” electronic music and the subsequent resurgence of psychedelic soul elements, Zero 7 often sounded frozen in the lifestyle.
Over the past decade, artists like Silk Rhodes, Khruangbin, and Tim Maia have taken ancient sounds and recreated them with classical precision. They want to sound “real”, especially. It’s a weird boast, and it’s shameful. No one will ask about the fate of the characters in the lyrics.
Thee Marloes also do not adhere to the sound of the early Earth, Wind and Fire and Undisputed Truth, and find role models in the styles of lesser-known musicians such as Shuggie Otis’s guitar playing. They are also influenced by the soul of a young Ben E. King.
But even if you look at the list of references, it’s hard to really figure it out. In “Nona,” the second song with Indonesian lyrics, Sianturi sings: “Scratch Montmartre on the screen / Sing ‘Sweetest Taboo’ / Sounds dark.” Remember the number on the dance floor? So he called her back, and now she lives a sad yet captivating bohemian reverie. Or has it been a long time? As she sings about remembering his light, tragedy shines through the language.
More than just retro weirdness
The music’s uniqueness becomes clear right from the moment the text mentions Sade’s hit. The melancholy of Sade, the 1980s atmosphere, touches the music. No retro nerd would have thought of it. It doesn’t sound like it can be named, but it exists. The departure from the road, the revealed soul that doesn’t need a form, is what makes this music so rich. Perhaps Françoise Sagan described the soul similarly to Thee Marloes: “The music is over / The morning comes faster / It’s time to leave – departure”.
Dream music for lost dreams. Her beauty will not let you go.
Mr. Malos: “Perak” (Big Crown Records/Cargo)
