Restoring Authenticity in Indonesia’s Musical Culture: A Personal Vision

One day, a guitarist plays their heart out with years of passion and emotion. As the last sound fades, someone speaks,

“Wow, that was great! But [name of a famous guitarist] is better than you.”

At its roots, music is a way to share feelings, stories, and identities. It’s more than just a form of entertainment—it’s a shared experience, a bridge between generations, and a thread woven into the fabric of daily life.

But today, much of that essence feels lost.

Music is often treated as a product rather than an art form. It consumed in passing rather than deeply felt. The rise of mass production and viral trends has shifted the focus away from meaning. In the rush to be spotlighted, social behavior has made music just a background noise rather than an experience.

Even certain communities see music performers as someone who must always be perfect. They are admired so much that people forget they are ordinary people too—bringing music to our lives while also living their own life.

Well, I don’t come from a musical family, yet somehow, I found myself as a musician on my very own path. While many musicians navigate the trends in different ways, I have always approached music as a way to connect and express, rather than focusing on validations. Moreover, it has always been about something deeper—a personal vision to restore the heart of music in Indonesia, not just through performance, but through education, appreciation, and intentional artistry.

Music is everywhere, but are we truly listening?

We attend and record concerts, but do we take the time to engage with the music beyond the spectacle?

We stream endless playlists, but do we pause to understand the stories behind the songs?

Even traditional performances once held in communal settings, are now often viewed through smartphone screens rather than with presence and attention.

This shift in how we interact with music is an aspect to reconsider. It’s not that easy access is a bad thing— digital platforms have made it easier for musicians to reach audiences. But the threat lies in passive listening.

Nowadays, I witnessed this disconnection in social platforms. I have friends who are fingerstyle guitarists posting cover videos, and performing in gigs and concerts of their own arrangements. Instead of discussing the emotion they conveyed, the audience began comparing their techniques to notable guitarists. Well, people missed the vulnerability in their performances—the tremors, micro mistakes, and whatnot. This way of thinking creates distance between musicians and listeners.

For me, music is not just a passion; it's also a cultural responsibility

These days, a musician’s value is often decided by how impressive they seem, rather than how deeply they can move someone’s heart. This culture of comparison (and, maybe, ‘idolization’) does not encourage appreciation. It turns musicians into icons rather than people with stories, struggles, and emotions.

Unlike many musicians, I wasn’t born into an artistic family. My childhood was filled with books, academics, structured routines, and touches of youth exploration (i.e., playground memories with friends). Yet, somehow, music found its way into my life. I picked up the violin as a child, drawn by something I couldn’t explain. Crafting melodies with my own hands felt like discovering a language no one had taught me. Music became my way of understanding a wider world.

As time passed, I noticed how the music world increasingly focused on speed or trends, rather than the raw and honest expression that first drew me in. This shift sparked a realization: music was more than just a personal pursuit—it was a cultural responsibility. In a world where artistic depth is often overshadowed by trends, I felt called to protect what makes music meaningful. I felt my role is to help rebuild that connections through music, not just for myself, but also for a generation seeking genuine artistry.

Beyond competition: how can we shift the culture?

Music should not be a race to outshine others. It should be an invitation to connect, to feel, to understand.

For me, the real power of music lies in its ability to tell stories, to move people, and to foster a culture of appreciation. That’s why my approach to music has never been about competing—it has been about creating spaces where people can experience music meaningfully.

Imagine if musicians uplifted one another instead of competing. Imagine if audiences simply allowed themselves to experience music instead of comparing. Imagine if we embraced musicians as people with stories worth listening to.

To build this kind of appreciation, we may shift our perspective to:

🎼 See musicians as storytellers, not just performers. Every piece of music has a journey behind it—one that deserves to be recognized. Instead of asking, “How impressive is this musician?” we should wonder, “What are they trying to express?”

🎼 Move beyond comparison. Every musician has their own voice shaped by personal experiences. Rather than ranking artists, we should celebrate their uniqueness.

🎼 Listen with presence. In an age where music is often treated as background noise, we need to relearn how to listen with intention. When we truly listen, we don’t just hear the notes. We feel the emotions, the effort, the humanity behind them.

This is why I am passionate about educating people in musical arts, because I see opportunities to improve how we value and understand music in Indonesia; from the rise of scam instruments to the lack of proper appreciation for artistry. Through music, we are (and should be) preserving and restoring a culture of respect, and emotional connection.

Restoring authenticity in Indonesian musical culture

For me, music has always been more than just a skill or profession. In Indonesia, we have a rich musical heritage, and I see an opportunity to deepen our appreciation not just for the music itself, but for artists who bring it to life.

I’ve observed certain patterns in Indonesia’s music scenes. For instance, on stages, we enjoy performances but rarely recognize the dedication and creativity behind them. Many traditional musicians work hard to preserve Indonesia’s rich heritage, while independent artists push boundaries with original works—yet their contributions often need to be recognized. While we take great pride in embracing international talents, we can also create more space to uplift local talents within our own communities.

To enrich the appreciation of music in Indonesia, we must value the people behind the music. This means, at our heart:

• Recognizing the humanity of musicians, not just their technical skill.

• Valuing effort and expression, not just perfection.

• Creating spaces where music is experienced with depth and sincerity, not just judged.

After all, I have seen it in our home country that the circulation of our musical works is improving each year, and it’s our role to expand this growth by fostering a culture that values both the art and the artist. When we move beyond passive listening and start embracing music as a shared experience, we help shape a future where Indonesian musicians can thrive both at home, at communities, and on the global stages.

In the end, the role of music is not just to entertain. It’s also to communicate something meaningful because it’s a language beyond words. But for music to fulfill this role, there must be a willingness to listen not just to the sound, but to the story behind it.

If we can shift the way we appreciate music—not just as a product to consume, but as an experience to engage with—then perhaps we can restore its genuine meaning.

Not just for musicians. Not just for listeners.

But for the soul of music itself.