“And what transpires then is indeed a strange and unheard-of silver noise. Nobody knows who is singing—the voice called David Gilmour that sings the song, the voice referred to by the song, or maybe the voice of the listener who makes no sound and is nonetheless supposed to sing once all the conditions of magic have been met. An unimaginable closeness of sound technology and self-awareness, a simulacrum of a feedback loop relaying sender and receiver.”
—Friedrich A. Kittler, Gramophone, Film, Typewriter
What Kittler depicted is the odd feeling people have when they hear the machine-transmitted sound. They can hear the song coming miraculously from a rotating vinyl disc on the phonograph, without seeing anyone actually singing. Accordingly, Kittler described such a feeling as “a simulacrum of a feedback loop relaying sender and receiver.”
In traditional Malay poetry, silver moonlight often alludes to longing or romance. It was not until the Federation of Malaya declared independence from British rule and became an emerging country in 1957 that its National Anthem Committee chose a moonlight-related “melody” to be the national anthem.
My country,
The land where my blood has spilt;
The people living united and progressive;
May God bestow blessing and happiness;
May our King have a successful reign;
May God bestow blessing and happiness;
May our King have a successful reign.
Blood, solidarity, progress, God, King, and happiness collectively formed a simulacrum of a feedback loop between sender and receiver. Except for the national anthem, the other versions of this “melody” were thenceforth banned in the Federation of Malaya as well as in Malaysia founded later in 1963 whose territory was finally confirmed in 1965.
This article seeks to recount the story about the reincarnations of this “melody.” It begins with a prince in exile, which seems to portend the treacherous, exile-oriented narrative of this mixed emerging country born eight decades later.