Professional Documents
Culture Documents
The Persistent Refrain of The Colonial Archival Logic (Unsecure)
The Persistent Refrain of The Colonial Archival Logic (Unsecure)
The Persistent Refrain of The Colonial Archival Logic (Unsecure)
The Persistent Refrain of the Colonial Archival Logic / Colonial Entanglements and Sonic
Transgressions
Author(s): meLê yamomo and Barbara Titus
Source: The World of Music , 2021, Vol. 10, No. 1, Postcolonial Sound Archives: Challenges
and Potentials (2021), pp. 39-70
Published by: VWB - Verlag für Wissenschaft und Bildung
REFERENCES
Linked references are available on JSTOR for this article:
https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.2307/27032505?seq=1&cid=pdf-
reference#references_tab_contents
You may need to log in to JSTOR to access the linked references.
JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide
range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and
facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org.
Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at
https://about.jstor.org/terms
VWB - Verlag für Wissenschaft und Bildung is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and
extend access to The World of Music
Abstract
meLê yamomo
I know Barbara Titus for six years now. The last three of them saw a deepening of
our friendship and scholarly cooperation. When I began the Sonic Entanglements
project in 2017, I was not only interested in postcolonial sound research. I am also
committed to finding modes of scholarship that reflect the critical and decolonial im-
plications of dialogic thinking and writing and the collaborative possibilities of per-
formance and musicking. I found a collaborator in Titus. Together, we experimented
with the self-critical possibilities of carnivalesque conference panel discussion and
the dialogic focus of intimate round-table workshops. This paper is our parallel at-
tempt to experiment with writing face-to-face/side-by-side, exploring ways of colla
borative writing that foreground our three years of sustained conversation.
Barbara Titus
sources. She reconsiders the archive Kunst Collection meant coming full
from archives-as-things to archiving- circle for me. I was raised in an aca-
as-process. Stoler situates colonialism demic family with an expertise on In-
in “the principles and practices of gov- donesia, where Jaap Kunst had always
ernance lodged in particular archival been a ringing name: a humanist, a man
forms” (Stoler 2009:20). Stoler defines of reason, a scientist, and a protector
“archival form” as the “prose style, re- of fragile indigenous cultures against
petitive refrain, the arts of persuasion, a voracious globalised mass culture.
affective strains that shape ‘rational’ Moreover, after a doctorate in German
response, categories of confidentiality music history and a decade of research
and classification, and not least, genres into South African popular music, I felt
of documentation.” (ibid.) re-united with artefacts and memories
This essay functions as a refrain. from my childhood when I travelled
It is a short story and reflection of my back and forth between the Netherlands
expeditions to, encounters with, and and Java where my father was affiliated
learnings from my decade long rela- for a few months per year as a guest lec-
tionship with the colonial Southeast turer at the Universitas Gadjah Mada in
Asian archives. I write it in conversa- Yogyakarta. It was a space I had firmly
tion with Barbara Titus’s article—to located in an irretrievable past, like one
provide context to our growing col- does with one’s childhood. Yet, when I
laboration in the Sonic Entanglements started paying renewed visits to Indone-
project. Sonic Entanglements: Listen- sia, after almost 20 years, I found that
ing to Modernities in Sound Record- I could still move around there—physi-
ings of Southeast Asia, 1890–1950 is cally, socially, linguistically—as easily
a research project that examines extant as I used to.
early sound (musical and non-musical) My time in post-apartheid South
media in and about Southeast Asia dur- Africa, however, had made me acutely
ing the emergence and development of aware of the privileges that enabled my
early recording technologies in the re- mobility. I had also witnessed the vio-
gion.2 One of the collections that con- lence of apartheid categories of cultural
stitutes this historical investigation is difference that eerily resembled Kunst’s
the Jaap Kunst Collection that is under categorical distinctions between mass
Titus’s curation. In writing this essay, I culture and indigenous cultures, and
trace the recurrent conceptual roots of court and folk traditions. Roughly
my examination of the sound archive— speaking, these apartheid categories
making this a thematic recapitulation of cultural difference revolved around
rather than a denouement. Here, I re- the dichotomy of embodied, spontane-
flect on the notion of the archive both ous and improvised performance prac-
as an institution that stores and protects tices versus intellectual, contemplative
documents, and as an embodied site of and precomposed ones, which enabled
memory. white South Africans to single them-
After my PhD and ten years of spas- selves out as cognitively and culturally
modic relationship with archives in and superior. Such violence went far be-
about Southeast Asia, I could now look yond the realm of the conceptual with
back and reflect beyond the content of devastating consequences far into the
the archive. As I was submitting an ap- post-apartheid era, since people kept
plication for a postdoctoral project to perceiving themselves and each other
the Dutch Research Council four years according to these dichotomies. I had
ago, I realised three recapitulating realised that the excesses of apartheid
paradigms that frame my thinking and had been the normalities of colonial-
scholarship today. ism that preceded apartheid’s institu-
First, the abilities to archive and tionalisation in 1948, not only in South
to access the archive are positions of Africa, but in all colonies including the
privilege and hegemony. They are priv- Dutch East Indies where Kunst lived
ileges since they become invisible and and worked in the 1920s and 1930s.
imperceptible to those who are in posi- This also made me more susceptible
tions of power. Second, the archive is to the implications of these normalities
neither merely a repository of histori- for my own position as a white Dutch
cal sources; nor is it a representation of girl growing up in Indonesia half a cen-
history. Rather, it is a site of contradict- tury later. The country was a postcolo-
ing efforts to order and create knowl- nial nation-state by then, but my privi-
edges about the constructed Other and leged childhood there—with a maid, a
the Self. Thus, universalising global cook, a gardener and a driver whom we
historical narratives are ultimately then called servants—had not been that
colonial historiographic enterprises. different from the childhood of many
Third, as an artist and scholar work- of my white South African friends in
ing on sound and music, I also became the 1980s.
acutely aware of the epistemic implica- As Kunst’s successor at the Univer-
tions of the senses in how we encounter sity of Amsterdam and as a curator of
the archive through what I call acoustic his collection, these biographical de-
epistemology. tails are a case in point. My own past
I became aware of the power ma- is entangled not only with Kunst as a
trix of archive and privilege while writ- researching individual, but also with
ing my doctoral research project at the his legacy as a whole, which includes
Centre for Global Theatre Histories archived material, ideological stances,
(GTH) at the Ludwig Maximilian Uni- disciplinary constellations as well as
versität (LMU) in Munich, Germany. the contributions and agencies of many
My postgraduate and doctoral degree actors that have remained subservient
in Europe allowed me to enter most of or nameless. In this article I employ my
these spaces without being policed. In entanglement with this past to critically
those instances, my acquired privilege scrutinise this legacy.
from my association with academic I build on the concept of entangle-
institutions of the imperial centres of ment developed by theatre and sound
Europe made me blind to such advan- scholar, theatre maker, and composer
tage. It was in later moments, when I meLê yamomo, with whom I collabo-
was refused access to these collections, rated intensively on a related sound ar-
that I became painfully aware of the chive project while I was writing this
implicit power dynamics of archival article. Our exchange of ideas and its
institutions. In conversation with other sedimentation in this article raises
scholars and artists, I realise how some multiple questions about intellectual
racial, gender, or class identities are en- ownership that I discuss with regard to
tangled with our ability to access spac- Kunst’s legacy as well as in my ongo-
es and documents. ing collaboration with yamomo (in the
My research was about the routes parallel column). The prominence of
of travelling European music, the- yamomo’s ideas in my part of the ar-
atre, and opera companies in South- ticle made me aware of the power of
east Asia in the 19th century. With the collaborative thinking. It also pointed
generous support of the GTH Centre, I me to the problems of single-author-
was able to conduct transregional and ship conventions within the humanities
transcontinental research in the differ- as well as normalised logics of capital-
ent archives in Southeast Asia and in ism that easily prompt an appropria-
the metropolitan capitals of the former tion of ideas and previous intellectual
colonisers of Southeast Asia in the 19th labour. In earlier drafts of this article I
and early 20th centuries. My archival had credited yamomo for the concept
journeys brought me to Manila, Sin- of “colonial entanglement” in passing,
gapore, Kuala Lumpur, Jakarta, Hanoi, but I had also started to regard it as my
Bangkok, Amsterdam, Leiden, Lon- own through our intensive collabora-
don, Michigan and Sevilla. Having ac- tion. This became clear to me only
cess to the different archives allowed when I received credits from reviewers
me to trace the broad strokes of global for “introducing” the concept of colo-
cultural migrations in the Pacific and nial entanglement. It worried me that
Indian Ocean rims. Such understand- yamomo, who has been working with
ing of the global is, of course, in fact and through this concept much longer
colonial. These migration routes are than I have, ran the risk of becoming
premised by the colonial trade routes invisible in its exposure to our peers.
of former European empires. This potential invisibility is particu-
The funding allowed me to trace larly poignant since he is an untenured
these translocal migrations by travers- postdoc and I am a tenured associate
ing the national circumscription of the professor. In order to foreground the
archives. In using the term translocal collective ownership of our ideas, ya-
rather than transnational, I underscore momo’s research has been made ex-
the notion of interconnected localities plicit as a conceptual frame for my ar-
that predate the national logic, which ticle on the left-hand side of this page,
in Southeast Asia did not transpire un- in order to disentangle our respective
til decolonisation in the 20th century. agencies in the collaborative thinking
In these archives, some have digitised that has been so productive for both our
their collection, and most materials are projects: the Sonic Entanglements proj-
available online. This was the case of ect and the disclosure of the Jaap Kunst
the historical newspaper collection in Collection. This disclosure takes shape
Singapore and the Dutch East Indies as part of a recently started project:
(which are included in the Delpher Decolonizing Southeast Asian Sound
project of the Dutch Royal Library Archives (www.decoseas.org) that ya-
in The Hague). Most of the colonial momo and I coordinate together.
documents in Southeast Asia are ac- yamomo explains that
cessible only on paper in their respec- rather than a presumed purposive
tive national archives. The Malaysian or meticulously woven tapestry of
National Archive has digitised most of imperial machination, colonialism
its paper archives, but the collection is, in fact, an entanglement of the
is only viewable in the reading room. different threads of social, cultural,
The financial support from GTH en- and political narratives of impe-
abled me to implement a transnational rial hegemony and subaltern agen-
investigation. It also allowed me to re- cies. Entanglement as a metaphor
conceive[s] histories of multiple
peatedly cross national borders to fol-
intertwinings of intentional, but
low leads that would turn up from one
often accidental historical trajec-
archive and follow them into another tories. Researching global and co-
archive. Some of the musicians whose lonial history, therefore, is an en-
lives I have been tracing would often terprise of disentangling the knots
first arrive in Singapore as the last port and twines of these translocal and
stop of the British Mail express ship. transregional connections. (yamo-
While Singapore was not an important mo 2020)
theatre or music city in the 19th century, yamomo situates such entanglements
these musicians would perform in the in the archive as a site of knowledge
multi-purpose room of the city hall formation, and he highlights the impor-
while waiting for their onward ship to tance of listening to sound recordings
their next colonial metropolis destina- in the scholarly enterprise of disentan-
tion. French opera companies would glement. These recordings enable us to
further travel to the Dutch East Indies hear the ways in which individuals and
for a nine-month residency in Batavia groups of people positioned themselves
(now Jakarta), or Italian opera com- and related to each other in colonial en-
panies would hold an opera season in vironments through speech, voice in-
Manila. Oftentimes, these touring com- flections, musical skill, singing styles,
panies would also switch cities within performance styles, the use of musical
the region or sail northwards to Shang- instruments—and the exchanges there-
hai and Japan, or further southeast to of. Hearing multiple voices and parts
Australia. In the same period, Manila simultaneously facilitates acts of dis-
musicians also began to travel with entanglement. Through his conception
performing troupes, or they would be of entanglement, yamomo interrogates
hired to form resident bands in other two hegemonic conceptual dichoto-
Asian cities. mies that I also intend to question in
While it shouldn’t come as a sur- this article: between coloniser and col-
prise that music and other cultural onised, and between past and present.
practices crossed geographic and ideo-
the colonial state. Often, they could not Kunst and his consociates to conceive
write at all. of distinct, homogeneous and static
In Sonic Entanglements, I inter- cultures as an abstracted “ethnos” to
rogate the “sensory” dispositive of which often nameless singers and in-
universalised European knowledge. strumentalists contributed their voices,
Since the Enlightenment, visual per- sounds and bodies as specimens of it
ception has been given dominance in (Kunst 1950 [1959]:20).
academic discourse. Seeing is regard- The taboo on transgressing the
ed as the “objective” sensory tool of border between people as specimens
ethnography—with its presumed dis- and people as recordists-researchers-
tanced observation (see Connor 1997). scholars (or colonised and coloniser)
Scholarship founded on hermeneutics accounts for Kunst’s purist conception
is a cultural technology premised on of culture. For him, unlike his prede-
literacy. Writing and reading, after all, cessors, the taboo went both ways.
are cultural technologies of the eyes. Through his recording and documen-
It is within these sensorial priorities of tation practices (to be discussed be-
knowledge that we find epistemic vio- low) Kunst implied that not only did
lence in the silencing of subaltern voic- European culture need to stay white;
es. In this research project I investigate indigenous cultures also needed to re-
sound and the epistemologies of listen- main indigenous. Kunst detested what
ing as the site of post- and decolonial he called the “contamination” of in-
strategies. digenous musical and cultural prac-
tices with European influences (Kunst
1947:26). In Kunst’s eyes and ears, missionisation was the most destructive force
in such transgressions, making people denounce their own songs and rituals, and
causing irreparable damage to indigenous cultural practices. He observed how
whole communities became uprooted and faded away due to the loss of their in-
digenous modes of expression (1947:12–13). He did not, however, interrogate the
presence of missionisation and colonial imposition per se, and their purpose to “ci-
vilise” the colonial subject. Thus, he subscribed to and reinforced the colonial strat-
ifications of Indonesian society in which everyone should have their fixed place
and in which entanglement was actively discouraged and denied.
Such ethnographic practices testify to the intrinsically racist setting in which
ethnomusicology developed and flourished, and how it continues to influence the
discipline’s current constellation (Brown 2020; Averill 2020; Ewell 2020). Where-
as racism has been denounced and race debunked in the early 21st century, disci-
plinary practices that were implicated in racialisation have remained remarkably
consistent: the field is still predominantly staged by the ethnographer who—from
an Archimedean point—takes decisions about who and what is being recorded, se-
lected, preserved and on what terms (see Fig. 1).
One of the aims of this article is to expose this Archimedean point. I do this not
only by looking back at the ethnographer, but also by listening to the voices that ap-
pear as shades in between the lines of his written testimonies. In doing so, we might
Fig. 1: Jaap Kunst recording the voice of an anonymous person in the village
Urbinasopèn, Waigéo, 1932.
become aware of significant Others that staged the field with him and that decentre
his agency. Redirecting our attention to these actors might help the decolonisation of
standing research and archival practices whose consistency comes under increasing
critical scrutiny.
In this context, a critical examination of Kunst’s work is long overdue.3 Kunst’s
research is often cited by those studying the many musics of Indonesia (Becker 1975;
Messner 1989; Barendregt & Bogaerts 2014), or discussing Dutch ethnomusicology
(Roon 1995). Kunst’s assistants and later successors at the University of Amsterdam
and the Royal Tropical Institute, Ernst Heins, Felix van Lamsweerde, and Elisabeth
den Otter, compiled a volume with a selection of Kunst’s publications in English
translation with clarifying articles (1994). It contains useful meta-data concerning
the archived sound material in the Jaap Kunst Collection (Van Lamsweerde 1994b),
and it presents relevant biographical information concerning Kunst’s field practices
and career (Heins 1994; Van Lamsweerde 1994a). There is only limited reflection
on the dynamics of power between Kunst and his consociates without whom Kunst
could not have produced his writings and built his career. Such critical reflection
would enable further investigation of the scholarly norms, premises and practices
that shaped the worldwide institutionalisation of ethnomusicology as an academic
discipline in the 20th century, and the implications of these norms and premises for
music research in the early 21st century.
into Native American song at the frontiers of early modern music were, despite their
status as “European ‘master narratives,’ […] forged in the crucible of early modern
colonialism and slavery and that they never lose this doubled origin—the debt of
their belonging both ‘here’ and ‘there’” (2008:23). In my view, this is her account
of yamomo’s notion of colonial entanglements. Ochoa and Bloechl question eu-
rogenic epistemologies as self-referential and independent (Bloechl 2008:23), and
they attend to testimonies of Europe’s cultural and epistemic dependence/entangle-
ment that have remained unnoticed, illegible and/or barred from the realm of “plau-
sible knowledge” (6). Before I address those testimonies in more detail, I provide
an overview of what Kunst’s collection encompasses and who was involved in its
constitution.
Trained as a lawyer, Kunst lived and worked in the Dutch East Indies between 1919
and 1934 as a colonial administrative officer. He worked in the office from 7am to
2pm and devoted all his spare time, including late evenings and early mornings, to
his research of musics of the Indonesian archipelago that he regarded to be at the
brink of extinction. In 1930 and 1931 he occupied the unique post of government
musicologist, a job he had lobbied into existence by himself, with the help of his-
torian Johan Huizinga and government official Bep Schrieke (Heins 1994:16; Roon
1995). His many letters speak of his urge, obsession almost, to capture, collect and
safeguard as much music as he could before it would stop being practiced. To a large
extent he paid his research—recording equipment, expeditions, musical instruments,
archiving tools—from his own private means (Heins et al. 1994:41).
During his expeditions on the island of Java, Bali, Sumatra, Celebes (Sulawesi),
Nias, Sumba, Flores, Timor, the Kai Islands, Banda, and Waigeo, he and his wife
Katy Kunst-Van Wely recorded music on wax cylinders, collected musical instru-
ments, took photographs and shot silent film. They also recorded music on events in
Java with music from Kalimantan and the Moluccas. Missionaries and colleagues,
such as Father Verschueren and C. C. F. M. le Roux in West Papua and pastor Pieter
Middelkoop in Timor, recorded material on Kunst’s request or sent their recordings
to him in order for them to be galvanised and copied (Van Lamsweerde 1994:247).
Kunst’s wax cylinder collection encompasses more than 300 indexed items recorded
by Kunst & Kunst-Van Wely, about 25 indexed items from Father Verschueren, and
around 50 indexed items recorded by Le Roux (Ziegler 2006:391–413). The con-
tinuous stream of publications, initially in Dutch and later also in English, (Kunst
& Van Wely 1924–1925; Kunst & Goris 1927; Kunst 1931a; Kunst 1931b; Kunst
1934; Kunst 1939; Kunst 1942a; Kunst 1945) that resulted from these recordings
presented Indonesian music to a northern-hemisphere readership—often based in
colonial metropoles—and it established Kunst’s reputation (his, not hers) as the fore-
most expert on Indonesian music.
Kunst sent his sound recordings directly from Batavia to Berlin where his friend
and mentor Erich Moritz von Hornbostel galvanised and copied them at the Berlin
Phonogramm-Archiv. The Phonogramm-Archiv sent copies to the Colonial Insti-
tute in Amsterdam (later Royal Tropical Institute), where Kunst worked as a curator
from the late 1930s onwards, after his return to The Netherlands. He was succeeded
there by Felix van Lamsweerde who made an inventory of Kunst’s sound material in
this Institute (Van Lamsweerde 1994b). In the early 2000s, the Phonogramm-Archiv
digitised and systematically described all wax cylinders (Ziegler 2006). Not sur-
prisingly, Van Lamsweerde’s inventory and Ziegler’s description of Kunst’s sound
recordings largely overlap. When Kunst left the Indies in 1934, he expected to re-
turn, so he left the musical instrument collection at the Museum of the Koninklijk
Bataviaasch Genootschap (Royal Batavian Society). The instruments are currently
maintained by the National Museum in Jakarta.
Kunst was a very active and successful networker and devoted special attention
to maintaining his social and professional relations, to a large extent through writ-
ten correspondence. Not only did he keep the letters he received, he also kept cop-
ies of the letters he sent out. Thus, the Jaap Kunst Collection holds ca. 10,000 let-
ters, including scholarly correspondence, from the period 1920–1960 encompassing
40,000 pages. These letters include scholarly correspondence to colleagues in the
Dutch East Indies, Germany, the Netherlands, Britain, among others, members of
the Javanese nobility, government officials, universities, museums and professional
societies. Correspondence before 1940 has been indexed (Proosdij & Roon 1992).
Correspondence after 1940 is ordered chronologically, but has not been indexed.
The collection also encompasses research reports; about 6,000 projection slides for
teaching purposes with images of musicians, musical instruments, orchestras, music
transcriptions, dance forms, mostly taken from books and periodicals; 1,600 glass
plates (copies from those held at the National Museum in Jakarta); 6,500 photo-
graphs of musical instruments, dance and theatre practices, and numerous music
practices from the entire archipelago (the negatives of these photographs have been
lost); travel diaries from trips to Australia and the U.S. in the 1950s; and ca. 2 meters
of publication manuscripts.
When Kunst passed away due to cancer in 1960, Katy Kunst-Van Wely had to
sell the collection in order to make ends meet. She sold it to the University of Am-
sterdam (UvA)—where Kunst had been teaching since 1942—on the condition that
the material would be kept together. Correspondence between Kunst and Hornbos-
tel’s successor Marius Schneider (10 January 1934) points out that Kunst paid for
the galvanisation and copies of the records at the Phonogramm-Archiv. The records
in Berlin are hence part of the collection that Kunst-Van Wely sold to the University
of Amsterdam in 1960. Kunst’s assistants and successors Ernst Heins and Felix van
Lamsweerde maintained and enlarged Kunst’s collection with material from their
own collections and those of their students and colleagues. They also inherited simi-
lar cataloguing styles from him. Heins founded the Ethnomusicologisch Centrum
Jaap Kunst (ECJK) at the UvA that was dismantled in the early 2000s. Thus, against
Heins’s wish, the University violated the agreement with Katy Kunst-Van Wely to
keep the collection together. Kunst’s written archive (correspondence, reports, pho-
tographs, teaching material, manuscripts) is currently stored at the UvA’s Special
Collections division at the University’s Allard Pierson Museum. Kunst’s library was
usurped in the University Library’s general collection. The sound archive of the
ECJK (with recordings from many parts of the world, recorded by Kunst’s students
and successors on a range of sound carriers) is still part of the musicology depart-
ment and is currently in the process of being digitised. New discoveries of letters and
photographs by Kunst’s granddaughter Clara Brinkgreve will probably enlarge the
existing collection in the near future.
Involvements
A church service?
Although there is no information about these items, Van Lamsweerde has obtained
some information about the adjoining numbers in the Collection from Kunst’s letter
to his successor in Batavia, Karl Halusa, an Austrian musicologist who continued
curating the material that was still in the Dutch East Indies after Kunst returned
to The Netherlands in 1934 (Van Lamsweerde 1994b:270). On 5 May 1936 Kunst
writes to Halusa that two sets of copies from Berlin must have reached Batavia with
numbers 312–315. One set should stay at the collection, the other should be sent on
to one pastor Middelkoop in Kapan on the island of Timor. Kunst calls them “record-
ings of an Atoni recitation from Kapan (Central Timor).”4 Halusa responds on 19
May that two sets of five roles have indeed arrived from Berlin, and that he will send
one set to pastor Middelkoop. This set of five might have been numbered 312–316
instead of 312–315. Van Lamsweerde assumes from a letter from Kunst to Marius
Schneider on 26 November 1936 that items 317–321 must have come from West
Papua. He poses the hypothesis—with a big question mark—that items 322–327
(the final numbers of the collection) could also stem from Timor (Van Lamsweerde
1994b:270).
Items 312–316 are held neither in the Phonogramm-Archiv nor in the Tropen-
museum, just like the ones that Van Lamsweerde assumes are from West Papua
(317–321) and item number 322. They should be considered lost. Items 323–327,
however, the ones that struck my ear and possibly come from Timor too, are acces-
sible even though they lack all meta-data.
Items 323 to 326 contain speech and recitation in a local language, alternating
between an exalted lead speaker (probably male) and a just as exalted congregation
(consisting of men, women and children) responding with excited shouts and calls.
The lead speaker declaims with an abundant prosodic variety in pitch, rhythm and
volume, articulating clear divisions between sentences through his prosody. He starts
a sentence high in pitch and gradually descends at the end of sentences. The congre-
gation lifts this up again by repeating and confirming specific words and clauses with
renewed energy and vigour. This speech periodically shifts into recitation with quick
formulaic repetitive clauses that are much more tone-steady and constitute a pattern
of melodic arches in the spoken formulas. Here the participation of the congregation
is more regular and more abundant. The responses have audibly been internalised in
the congregation’s bodies and voices.
The lead speaker and response “chorus” seem to consist of the same voices
throughout items 323 to 326. Some parts of the recitation seem tailor-made for the
length of the wax cylinder (that is relatively long with more than four minutes); the
speaker seems to wrap up sentences and wind down his intonation when the cylin-
der reaches its end. Did he get a cue from the recordist? At other times the speech
quickly fades away on the recording and picks up again on the next cylinder; it
seems unlikely that the speaker halted his speech in between.
The antiphonal character of the spoken and recited exchanges made me think of
a church service. Item 327 confirmed this suspicion. The congregation sings a me-
tred, strophic hymn in F-major. It is sung a cappella, in unison (or parallel octaves
by women and men) apart from the cadential last three notes of each verse, where a
discant gesture is added in the male voices. One louder male voice seems to guide
the predominantly female chorus in the a cappella singing. The recording starts at
a moment when the singing has already begun. The next four verses are sung inte-
grally. The ritenuto at the end of the fifth verse is longer than the ritenutos of the
previous verses and this is precisely the time that the cylinder runs out. It might well
be possible that this performance, too, was tailored to be recorded.
After having heard this unquestionable signifier of Christian missionisation, I
started listening out in the previous items for sounds that could confirm my hypoth-
esis of what this recording might be. Did I hear “Amen”? Maybe, sometimes. Did
I hear “Hallelujah”? No. Did I hear Indonesian/Malay words? Maybe. Yet, would a
congregation in Timor in the 1920s or 1930s use that language at all, or would it be
Portuguese, which is now one of the official languages of Timor Leste? Most likely
it would be Dawan or Tetum language, which are most widely spoken in West and
East Timor, if, indeed, the recordings were made on Timor.
At this moment of listening, the framing of this event as a church service was
a preliminary hypothesis. I had no idea what information was exchanged between
speaker and congregation, whether it was a sermon or a prayer or music or all of it.
Whether it might have been a call to political action or a reminder of the power of
some god or gods. Whether people were married or buried. The hymn sounded prot-
estant to me for its strophic and metric structure. Having sung in anglican services
myself, and to a lesser extent in Dutch protestant services, I knew I had sung this
hymn, even if I wasn’t able to tell which one it was.
Apart from this ontological question (What is this?), the epistemological and
ideological ones are just as poignant. If the recordings were samples of a Timorese
church service what were they doing in Jaap Kunst’s collection? He vented his cri-
tique of missionary work as an instigator of harming indigenous musical and cultural
practices with European contaminations (Westersche smetten) at a lecture at the mis-
sionary school in Oegstgeest in 1946 (1947:26). The unison F-major strophic hymn
would have abhorred Kunst, and he would certainly not have brought it forward as
a specimen of Timorese musical practice, even though—after centuries of catholic
and protestant presence—so many people in Timor had internalised this music in
their bodies, minds and voices as much as their religious consociates at the other
side of the globe. Might this be the reason why these items have not been annotated
in any way? Have they been buried on purpose in the abundance of representative
indigenous musical samples that encompass most of the collection? Or have they
simply been neglected, considered unworthy of ethnomusicological attention? And
who decided this? Jaap Kunst, Katy Kunst-Van Wely, Karl Halusa?
Natoni rituals can be executed at all kinds of occasions for a range of purposes:
initiation rites such as births, marriages and funerals, as means to educate children
and pass on (hi)stories in a largely oral culture, and to add lustre to important events
such as the welcoming of guests. With its historical, religious and social dimensions,
it is an important mode of knowledge formation (Banamtuan 2016:86–88). Natoni
researcher Banamtuan talked to practitioners who suggest that one can make any
event or occasion into a natoni (the verb: ber-natoni [to make into-natoni]) if one
attributes a certain ritual value to this event or occasion, or if the message to be com-
municated warrants natoni expression (ibid.:84–85). Thus, Banamtuan states, natoni
is occasionally carried out in church, to mark important church feast days (ibid.:76).
Banamtuan’s findings, almost a century after Kunst and/or his consociates re-
corded a natoni ritual, point at the fluidity, permeability and flexibility of ritual prac-
tice per se, not only in the globalised world of the early 21st century, but also in
colonial societies of the early 20th century in which people exchanged their customs
in complex and imbalanced constellations of power. What does this tell us about
the presence of the protestant hymn? Christian missionisation has been extremely
successful in Timor. Currently, more than half of the Timorese are catholic, another
35 % are protestant.5 Yet, we cannot be sure that cylinders 323 through 327 belong
together. The hymn only features the last cylinder (327) and the recording comes in
when the singing has already started. It could have been recorded on another day
and at another location than the natoni recitation exchange on cylinders 323 to 326.
I received confirmation that the singing on item 327 is indeed a protestant hymn
from a choir mate, Bram Trouwborst. Born and bred in a protestant family, he iden-
tified the hymn on first hearing. It is the hymn “Even Me” (Lord, I hear of showers
of blessing) composed in the U.S. in 1862 by William Batchelder Bradbury (1816–
1868) on a text by Elizabeth H. Codner (1823–1919). It was translated into Dutch
(Heer, ik hoor van rijke zegen) by the Surinamese-Dutch poet Meier Salomon Brom-
et (1839–1905) who studied theology in Britain before joining the Scottish Mission
in 1872 and devoting the rest of his life to spreading the gospel in Suriname. At
present the hymn features in basically all Dutch protestant hymn books, and is wide-
ly sung by protestant church choirs and congregations throughout The Netherlands
(Meier Salomon Bromet’s setting can be consulted at http://www.journaltheworldof
music.com/insidewom2021-1/ together with the hymn’s rendering by the Timorese
congregation on wax cylinder 327).
Pastor Pieter Middelkoop (1895–1973), the alleged owner of the lost items
312–316, was also protestant. He spent 35 years of his life in Timor, from 1922 to
1957. His missionary post in Kapan was located in the Dawan speaking area of the
Atoni Pah Meto (People of the Dry Land), the predominant practitioners of natoni
(Banamtuan 2016). This makes it very likely, in my eyes, that Halusa indeed sent
items 312–316 to Middelkoop and that items 323–327 are the duplicate set that
Halusa mentions in his letter to Kunst. I’d like to substantiate this hypothesis by say-
ing more about Pastor Middelkoop’s involvement with natoni practice that compris-
es a fascinating counterpoint to Kunst’s ideas about missionisation and indigenous
culture, and that demonstrates the necessity to look beyond Kunst’s agency and that
of Middelkoop towards those individuals who worked with them.
their new protestant faith. The physical destruction of indigenous sites and practices
of worship was for him not only a clear and reassuring sign that heathen worship had
been left behind, but also that distance from catholicism was observed (Middelkoop
2006:33).
Acknowledging the gap between ideal and reality, Middelkoop was, however,
also very pragmatic in optimising the spread of the word of his lord. He regularly
explains how he consciously employs existing indigenous phrases of worship in
his prayers and sermons delivered in Timorese (letter to his parents-in-law, 20 May
1927). This makes it all the more compelling that a thoroughly protestant hymn and
an indigenous natoni ritual have been recorded by Middelkoop, and sent to Kunst,
who abhorred missionary influence. What did Middelkoop want to demonstrate with
this? And might Kunst’s abhorrence of this influence have been sparked, fuelled or
softened by Middelkoop’s material?
Thanks to the publication of Middelkoop’s correspondence and research reports
it is possible to read his report of his attendance at a natoni ritual in his capacity of
assistant pastor in 1924. The series of events at this funeral service make a huge im-
pression on him:
Suddenly—in passionate language—with the rhythm of a galloping horse—exten-
sively exclaiming at the end of each sentence, the old mafefa started to speak—no, to
call out—as someone who proclaims and resists, who passionately both charms and
begs. And each time—at the end of each sentence indicated with a long extended final
syllable, the choir standing behind him repeated in one voice the most important word
in the flood of words that the mafefa had just poured out, often accompanied with a
pound of the feet. (Middelkoop 2006:117)6
The rhythm with which the mafefa had spoken stayed in my ears and it can be com-
pared with a dactylus, i.e. as follows: one arsis—two theses—one arsis—two theses,
etc. The first syllable or sound with clear emphasis, then two without emphasis, the
first three metrical feet quickly poured out, the subsequent emphases somewhat ex-
tended, the accompanying unaccented theses also somewhat less short and then the
voice keeps exclaiming extensively after an emphasis that has been started in an ex-
plosive manner and ends with a hardly audible unvoiced closing sound. This metre
is not always maintained, but no matter how quickly it is spoken, each change within
this main rhythm remained clearly audible and sensible in our experience (Middel-
koop 2006:120—translation by the author).7
Middelkoop’s detailed report of what he sees and hears with acute attention to sound
indicates that he wanted to record it, both in textual and aural respects, in order to
study it for future aims. He explicates these future aims right at the end of his report.
Here we arrive at a crucial paradoxical—but certainly not unique—colonial initia-
tive. Middelkoop, in his own words quite spontaneously and taken by the spell of
the moment, decides to explore options to use this ritual for missionary purposes:
If the right form, with as much indigenous elements as possible—also rhythm and
thought that fits the Gospel of Jesus Christ, Saviour of the world—can be maintained,
found and [if] subsequently the old and useful [can be] filled anew, deepened and ex-
tended by appropriate sentences from the Gospel, then the longing and intention can
be realised to give the Timorese people their own comprehensible funeral procedure
in their mother tongue, and a new door to preaching will be opened. (Middelkoop
2006:122–123—translation by the author)8
Crucial is his acknowledgment that this is not (only) his own idea, but that his reli-
gious assistant (pembantoe agama), P. Maboi, reached the same idea on his own ac-
count, namely to conceive a protestant natoni ritual (Middelkoop 2006:122). Thus,
Middelkoop instructs Maboi to “document” or “record” (vastleggen) the usual idi-
omatic formulae that shape the ritual in order to use it for the construction of a prot-
estant natoni. The meaning of the Dutch word vastleggen could encompass the act of
written documentation of the formulae, or indeed the aural documentation through
sound recording/phonographing.
Is the ritual recorded on roles 323–326 the natoni ritual that Middelkoop de-
scribed in his research report in 1924? Or does it encompass Maboi’s later attempts
to document the rituals for the aim of protestant adaptation? Or is it Middelkoop’s
proud registration of an already fabricated protestant natoni ritual, conceived by
Maboi and himself for the further glory of their protestant lord? The hymn on item
327 points at this latter option, especially considering the fact that correspondence
between Middelkoop and Kunst about securing the recordings takes place ten years
later, between 1934 and 1936.
Colonial entanglements
The items 323–327 in the Jaap Kunst Collection provide an insightful example of
how colonial entanglements can be heard, and that they can be heard in different
ways by different people. The presence of this alleged protestant natoni ritual in
Kunst’s Collection of ethnographic specimens of indigenous Indonesian cultures
provides food for thought, indicating many potential subject positions vis-à-vis the
Collection’s constellation. As a curator of this Collection, bringing my own colonial
entanglements into the field, I see it as my task to foreground this variety (or messy
din) of subject positions that can lead to a more diversified dialogue about the cura-
tion of this legacy.
Kunst’s correspondence indicates that Halusa did not send the duplicate set of
items 312–316 to Kupang as planned, since Middelkoop was on leave in The Neth-
erlands, just like Kunst. Instead, Halusa was instructed to ask one of Middelkoop’s
acquaintances in Batavia to take the duplicate set along with her to Holland for
Middelkoop (Letter Middelkoop to Kunst 20 June 1936, letter Kunst to Halusa 27
June 1936). Halusa seems to have followed this instruction since in December 1936
Middelkoop writes he has received the recordings and asks Kunst for technical ad-
vice about the play-back of the cylinders. The two men meet in Kunst’s residence
in Bilthoven in December 1936 to discuss this, just before Middelkoop returns to
Timor where he would stay until the late 1950s.
jodipoero’s role in the conception of scholarly ideas about music and culture from
Java (2019) similarly foregrounds the entanglement of various actors in colonial so-
cieties. Their research offers a productive model for researching the sonic and visual
material in the Jaap Kunst collection.
An academic reorientation towards such involvements implies a potential trans-
fer of agency from the colonial recordist to the current inheritors. These involve-
ments demonstrate the importance of the archive as a site of colonial knowledge
construction. This might be one way of exorcising Kunst from his archived sonic
specimens. What idiomatic natoni formulae did P. Maboi document and/or record in
order to conceive of a protestant natoni ritual? What was R.M. Djojodipoero’s role
in Kunst’s normative descriptions and constructions of Javanese court music? How
did all these actors experience their position in colonial society? In foregrounding
their agency, colonial entanglements can be described in all their complexity. Actors
like Maboi and Djojodipoero were central in setting the terms and establishing the
parameters for the ontological determination of these practices as they were record-
ed and stored in European archives as well as described in academic publications for
a Euro-American readership.
Thus, restitution might not (solely) encompass the physical repatriation of the
recordings to those places and communities where they are said to have been prac-
ticed, but also the shaping and facilitating of a more inclusive discourse about what
these recordings are supposed to represent and do. Sensitivity to the positions of
various (new) participants in this discourse and the situatedness of their stances re-
quires the exorcising of ancestors by foregrounding and dispelling their hardly ques-
tioned autonomy and hegemony in the conception of culture and history. A focus on
colonial entanglements complicates the relationships between coloniser and colo-
nised and forges new relationships that might reconnect archived objects with those
people from whom they were removed and alienated.
My aim to salvage the voices of those archival actors, like Maboi and Djojodi-
poero, and reinscribe them in history has not been achieved in this article since I,
Kunst and Middelkoop are still the main protagonists of the narrative. Is this the
beginning of a larger process of recovering these voices, and if so, am I the right
person to do this? It is clear to me that these questions draw attention once again
to the deadlock in which ethnomusicology currently finds itself. More attention is
needed for who shapes, conceives and speaks in practices of researching music, or
in Danielle Brown’s critical view of institutionalised ethnomusicology: “Changing
the system […] means that when large numbers of BIPOC are finally put into certain
leadership positions that white people show up. Show up, listen, and learn” (2020).
The writing of this essay has made I began this essay with a descrip-
me aware that this listening and learn- tion of my digital research archive. I
ing takes place out there in the world would like to end it by telling an ex-
on public forums and debates, but also perience from our archival tour, giving
inside my body and mind. The social, voice to an embodied research archive.
personal, ethical, familial, and profes-
Notes
1 Southeast Asia, whose unitary naming did not happen until the middle of the 20th century, was
previously part of the bigger geographic area of the Asia Pacific. Prior to this naming, the dif-
ferent colonies were separated and segmented by the imperial powers in the region. The term
Southeast Asia first appeared in the 1940s, as a military-political term during the Second World
War. Much later the term was formalised through the publishing of several books specifically
coining the term to refer to the region by former colonial civil servants working in the region.
See for example: John Furnivall (1941) and (1943); Rupert Emerson, Lennox Mills and Virgi
nia Thompson (1942); Bruno Lasker (1944) and (1950); and the first attempt to write the his-
tory of the region by D. G. E. Hall (1955).
2 For more information on the Sonic Entanglements project, please visit the Dutch Research
Council website: https://www.nwo.nl/en/research-and-results/research-projects/i/47/29747.
html and the project website: https://sonic-entanglements.com/.
3 The unpublished MA thesis by Stef Koenis (2018) provides a decent start of employing cur-
rent theories of listening, aural knowledge and its cultural situatedness (Bloechl 2008, Ochoa
2014) to Kunst’s legacy. Friedlind Riedel (2019:14) critically discusses Kunst’s notions of at-
mosphere and sound.
4 “U zult bij de phonogrammencollectie ook nog in duplo aantreffen vier opnamen van Atoni-
reciet uit Kapan (Midden-Timor), wellicht reeds genummerd 312 t/m 315. De duplicaten daar-
van komen niet het Kol. Instituut, doch den hulpprediker Middelkoop toe, welke ze met z’n
eigen toestel opnam en de origineelen mij ter fixatie toezond.” (Kunst to Halusa, 5 May 1936)
[Translations from Dutch to English are my own, unless otherwise stated.]
5 The divisions between catholicism and protestantism reflect the colonial histories of the island,
having been under Portuguese and Dutch rule. The Dutch and the Portuguese struggled for cen-
turies for the control over the island and divided it in 1859 in a Portuguese east part and a Dutch
west part. Whereas the Dutch left “their” Indies in the 1940s (with West Timor becoming part
of the new Republic of Indonesia), Portugal remained until 1975, which prompted Indonesia to
invade East Timor as soon as the Portuguese left and occupy it with brutal violence until 2002.
Since 2002, Timor Leste is an independent nation state. It is no coincidence that, throughout the
20th century, high numbers of Timorese (if not the majority), like the inhabitants of many of the
other Lesser Sunda Islands in East Indonesia, fought on the side of the Dutch and Portuguese
against the Indonesian nationalists.
6 “Eensklaps—in hartstochtelijke taal—in het rijthme van den paardengalop—aan het eind van
elken zin lang uithalend, begon de oude mafefa te spreken—nee, te roepen—als een die uit-
draagt en afweert, die hartstochtelijk bezweert en smeekt beide. En telkens—aan het eind van
elken zin aangeduid met een lang-uitgehaalde slotlettergreep herhaalde het achter hem staande
koor, dikwijls vergezeld van een voetstamp, als één stem het belangrijke woord in de pas door
den mafefa uitgestorte woordenvloed.”
7 “Het rythme waarmee de mafefa gesproken had, bleef me in ’t gehoor hangen en kan vergele
ken worden met een dactylus, dus als volgt: Een arsis—twee thesen—een arsis—twee thesen
enz. De eerste lettergreep of klank met duidelijken klemtoon, dan twee zonder klemtoon, de
eerste drie voeten snel uitgestooten, de daarna volgende klemtoon iets gerekt, de daarbij behoo-
rende, niet-beklemtoonde thesen ook iets minder kort en dan blijf[t] de stem na een explosief
begonnen klemtoon lang uithalen en eindigt met een nauwhoorbare geen stemhebbende slot-
klank. Niet altijd wordt deze maat volgehouden, maar hoe vlug ook gesproken, elke wisseling
in dit hoofdrythme bleef duidelijk hoor- en voelbaar in onze gewaarwording.”
8 “Is eenmaal de geschikte vorm, waarin zooveel mogelijk al het eigene—ook het rythme en
de gedachtengang, die past in het Evangelie van Jezus Christus, den Heiland der Wereld—zal
worden behouden, gevonden en voorts het oude en bruikbare nieuw gevuld, verdiept en uitge-
breid door gepaste zinnen aan het Evangelie ontleend, dan zou daarmee het verlangen en het
voornemen om den Timorezen een hun eigen en goed verstaanbaar begrafenisformulier in hun
moedertaal te geven, verwezenlijkt zijn en een nieuwe deur voor de prediking geopend.”
9 “[D]e weg naar hart en ziel van het te bekeeren volk wordt door hem het zekerst betreden, die
zooveel mogelijk gebruik maakt van uitingen van dat volk zelf. Het Christendom pretendeert
terecht universeel te zijn; het heeft geen speciaal Westersche vormen van noode. Men late
een volk zijn cultuur, voor zoover niet bepaald in strijd met de christelijke levensopvatting en
wereldbeschouwing, dus, om met zendeling Fries te spreken, de adiaphora, en men zal er wèl
bij varen.”
10 For more information about the tour, you can visit the short report on the Sonic Entanglements
website: https://sonic-entanglements.com/2019/10/01/sonic-entanglements-on-tour-a-short-
update-by-mele-yamomo/.
References
1942b De waardering van exotische muziek in den loop der eeuwen. ’s-Gravenhage: Martinus
Nijhoff.
1945 Een en ander over de muziek en den dans op de Kei-eilanden. Amsterdam: Koninklijke
Vereeniging Indisch Instituut (Mededeeling 64; Afdeling Volkenkunde; 18).
1947 De inheemsche muziek en de zending: Voordracht op 1 Mei 1946 gehouden voor de
Zendingsschool te Oegstgeest. Amsterdam: H. J. Paris
1950 Musicologica: A Study of the Nature of Ethnomusicology, its Problems, Methods, and
Representative Personalities. Amsterdam: Koninklijke Vereeniging Indisch Instituut
(Mededeling 90; Afdeling Culturele en Physische Antropologie; 35) [2nd exp. ed., re-
titled Ethnomusicology, 1955; 3rd ed. 1959].
Kunst, Jaap & Wiranatakoesoema
1921 “Een en ander over Soendaneesche muziek.” Djåwå 1:235–252.
Kunst, Jaap & C. J. A. Kunst-Van Wely
1924 De toonkunst van Bali: Beschouwingen over oorsprong en beïnvloeding, composities,
notenschrift en instrumenten. Weltevreden: Koninklijk Bataviaasch Genootschap van
Kunsten en Wetenschappen.
1925 De toonkunst van Bali, II: Aanvullende beschouwingen naar aanleiding van nieuwe
vondsten en van Von Hornbostels Blaaskwinten-theorie. Weltevreden: Albrecht & Co.
Kunst, Jaap & R. Goris
1927 Hindoe-Javaansche muziekinstrumenten. Bandoeng: Koninklijk Bataviaasch Genoot-
schap van Kunsten en Wetenschappen [2nd rev. ed. Hindu-Javanese Musical Instru-
ments 1968].
Kunst, Jaap & RM Koesoemadinata A.
1929–30 “Een en ander over Pelog en Salendro” Tijdschrift voor Indische Taal-, Land- en
Volkenkunde 69:320–352.
Lasker, Bruno
1944 Peoples of Southeast Asia. New York: Alfred Knopff.
1950 Human Bondage in Southeast Asia. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press.
Lysloff, René T. A. & Leslie C. Gay Jr.
2003 “Introduction: Ethnomusicology in the Twenty-first Century.” In Music and Techno-
culture, edited by Rene T. A. Lysloff and Leslie C. Gay Jr. Middletown: Wesleyan Uni-
versity Press, 1–22.
Messner, Gerald Florian
1989 “Jaap Kunst Revisited. Multipart Singing in Three East Florinese Villages Fifty Years
Later: A Preliminary Investigation.” the world of music 31(2):3–51.
Sri Margana
2019 “The Genealogy of Colonial Knowledge on Javanese Gamelan: Correspondences be-
tween Jaap Kunst and Jayadipuro.” Paper presented at the Euroseas Conference on 13
September 2019 at the Humboldt University Berlin.
2020 “Sonic Entanglements between South East Asia and Western Europe.” Team presenta-
tion at the Inward/Outward Symposium on 25 January 2020 at the Dutch Institute for
Sound and Vision in Hilversum.
Middelkoop, Pieter & Jet
2006 Als hunner één: Brieven van Piet en Jet Middelkoop, 1922–1942 West Timor, edited
by. C. G. F. de Jong. Zoetermeer: Uitgeverij Boekencentrum (Uitgaven van de Werk-
groep voor de Geschiedenis van de Nederlandse Zending en Overzeese Kerken; 12).
Middelkoop-Koning, Cornelia
2006 “Voorwoord.” In Als hunner één: Brieven van Piet en Jet Middelkoop, 1922–1942 West
Timor, edited by C. G. F. de Jong. Zoetermeer: Uitgeverij Boekencentrum (Uitgaven
van de Werkgroep voor de Geschiedenis van de Nederlandse Zending en Overzeese
Kerken; 12), vii–ix.
Middelkoop, Pieter
2006a “Een ‘Conferentievrucht’, Kapan 14 November 1924.” In Als hunner één: Brieven van
Piet en Jet Middelkoop, 1922–1942 West Timor, edited by C. G. F. de Jong. Zoeter-
meer: Uitgeverij Boekencentrum (Uitgaven van de Werkgroep voor de Geschiedenis
van de Nederlandse Zending en Overzeese Kerken; 12), 115–123.
1982 Atoni pah meto: Pertemuan Injil dan kebudayaan di kalangan suku Timor asli. Jakarta:
BPK Gunung Mulia (Gereja, agama dan kebudayaan di Indonesia; 9).
1948 Si knino oenoe ma moeni: nok lasi tola knino ma onèn totis (Psalmen- en Gezangen-
bundel met liturgieën en gebeden). ’s-Gravenhage: J. N. Voorhoeve.
Nettl, Bruno, & Philip V. Bohlman (eds)
1991 Comparative Musicology and Anthropology of Music: Essays on the History of Ethno-
musicology. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press (Chicago Studies in Ethnomu-
sicology).
Ochoa Gautier, Ana María
2014 Aurality: Listening and Knowledge in Nineteenth-Century Colombia. Durham: Duke
University Press.
Proosdij-ten Have, Loekie van & Marjolijn van Roon
1992 Jaap Kunst, Correspondence 1920–1940: An Annotated Index. Amsterdam: Proosdij/
Van Roon.
Rappoport, Dana
2009 Songs from the Thrice-Blooded Land: Ritual Music of the Toraja Sulawesi (Indonesia).
Paris: Maison des Sciences de l’Homme.
Riedel, Friedlind
2019 “Atmospheric relations: Theorising music and sound as atmosphere.” In Music as At-
mosphere: Collective Feelings and Affective Sounds, edited by Friedlind Riedel & Juha
Torvinen. London: Routledge, 1–42.
Roon, Marjolijn van
1995 “Jaap Kunst, Government Musicologist: An Unusual Incident in the Colonial Politi-
cal History of the Netherlands East Indies” Oideion: The Performing Arts Worldwide
35(2):63–84.
Stepputat, Kendra
2012 “Performing Kecak: A Balinese Dance Tradition between Daily Routine and Creative
Art” Yearbook for Traditional Music 44:49–70.
Sterne, Jonathan
2003 “A Resonant Tomb” in The Audible Past: Cultural Origins of Sound Reproduction.
Durham: Duke University Press, 287–333.
Stoler, Ann Laura
2009 Along the Archival Grain: Epistemic Anxieties and Colonial Common Sense. Prince
ton: Princeton University Press.
Taylor, Diana
2003 The Archive and the Repertoire: Performing Cultural Memory in the Americas. Dur-
ham: Duke University Press.