Yen Ing Tawang: The Best of Kroncong – A Nostalgic Dive into Indonesian Folk
Alright, let’s talk about Yen Ing Tawang: The Best of Kroncong. If you’ve ever wondered what it feels like to step back in time and soak in the soulful vibes of Indonesia’s rich musical heritage, this album is your golden ticket. It’s not just music—it’s a warm hug from the past, wrapped up in twangy guitars, lilting vocals, and melodies that stick to your heart like sticky rice on a banana leaf.
First off, kudos to the crew behind this masterpiece. You’ve got Orkes Keroncong Radio PTPN Surakarta and Orkes Keroncong Sedap Malam bringing their A-game, with Darmono leading the charge. And don’t even get me started on Nuning D. and Sofia M.—their voices? Pure magic. Like sipping sweet tea under an old banyan tree at sunset.
Now, I gotta shout out two tracks that really hit me right in the feels: “Yen Ing Tawang” and “Brambang Bawang.”
“Yen Ing Tawang,” the title track, feels like a love letter to simpler times. The ukulele-like plucks of the kroncong guitar float around you, soft and tender, while Nuning’s voice pulls you into a dreamy world where everything moves slower. There’s something so raw and real about how she sings—it’s not perfect, but that’s exactly why it’s perfect. It reminds me of those lazy afternoons when life felt endless and full of possibility.
Then there’s “Brambang Bawang”—and oh boy, does this one slap! Don’t let the playful title fool ya; it’s got layers. The rhythm is infectious, almost teasing you to tap your feet or hum along. I found myself randomly muttering “brambang bawang” for days after hearing it (and yes, I had no clue what it meant until I looked it up). Turns out, it’s about shallots and garlic, which somehow makes it even better because…why not? It’s quirky, fun, and totally unforgettable.
What strikes me most about this album is how alive it feels. Every note seems to carry stories—of laughter, longing, and everyday moments that feel universal yet uniquely Indonesian. Listening to it, I could almost picture the streets of Solo, the chatter of people, and the faint smell of street food wafting through the air.
But here’s the thing—I didn’t expect to cry during “Luntur.” Something about its melancholic melody and heartfelt delivery punched me right in the gut. Maybe it was the late-night coffee I drank before playing it, or maybe it’s just THAT good. Either way, it left me staring out the window thinking about all the things we lose and find again without realizing it.
So yeah, Yen Ing Tawang isn’t just another compilation album. It’s a reminder of how music can bridge gaps—between cultures, generations, and even emotions. Honestly, if kroncong were a person, I’d wanna hang out with them. They’d probably have killer stories and zero chill, but who doesn’t love that combo?
Final thought? This album made me want to book a flight to Indonesia ASAP. And also learn how to pronounce “kr. telomoyo” correctly. But hey, that’s progress, right?
