...9:05 PM - Back at our place. The amplified chanting of the monks from Mrs. Bopha's house wafts across the town. Here, a half mile away, the sound of the monks and funeral music rises and falls on the wind, from nearly inaudible to jarringly loud.

Foreigners, including myself, often complain of the seemingly over-amplified music that accompanies Khmer funerals and weddings. I think this time, for the first time, I got a little hit of the cultural logic behind it. The whole town is, in some sense, part of the funeral. We, her friends and those who knew her, though not at her funeral at this moment, are still participating. We know what's happening at her house right now. The sad and nagging question, "I wonder how the family is doing?" has at least some answer so long we hear the monks and music. They're receiving guests, burning ghost money, praying, talking about her, serving food... No matter how far away her friends in this town, we all derive the benefit, the comfort of continued inclusion.

The amplified music would seem a tradition of a smaller community, a village tradition in which every funeral and every wedding was an event that affected the entire community. In larger, more disconnected communities where the death or wedding of some stranger has no direct impact on us, it seems an intrusion rather than inclusion. I have felt so in the past. But tonight, it's consoling...

http://ltocambodia.blogspot.com/2011/03 ... riend.html

LTO wrote:Here is an excerpt from something I wrote a few years back about Cambodian funeral practices, with some thoughts about the amplified music, shortly after the death of a friend.

...9:05 PM - Back at our place. The amplified chanting of the monks from Mrs. Bopha's house wafts across the town. Here, a half mile away, the sound of the monks and funeral music rises and falls on the wind, from nearly inaudible to jarringly loud.

Foreigners, including myself, often complain of the seemingly over-amplified music that accompanies Khmer funerals and weddings. I think this time, for the first time, I got a little hit of the cultural logic behind it. The whole town is, in some sense, part of the funeral. We, her friends and those who knew her, though not at her funeral at this moment, are still participating. We know what's happening at her house right now. The sad and nagging question, "I wonder how the family is doing?" has at least some answer so long we hear the monks and music. They're receiving guests, burning ghost money, praying, talking about her, serving food... No matter how far away her friends in this town, we all derive the benefit, the comfort of continued inclusion.

The amplified music would seem a tradition of a smaller community, a village tradition in which every funeral and every wedding was an event that affected the entire community. In larger, more disconnected communities where the death or wedding of some stranger has no direct impact on us, it seems an intrusion rather than inclusion. I have felt so in the past. But tonight, it's consoling...

http://ltocambodia.blogspot.com/2011/03 ... riend.html

vladimir wrote:So the shutting of Martini's and the absence of such ceremonies anywhere HE's residence are also 'political'?

They don't like excessive noise, neither do most Khmers.

vladimir wrote:LTO: keep dancing, you're good at that. Walls shaking: acceptable? Wait, tell us. We need your enlightenment a la alleged junkie-style.

vladimir wrote:Acceptable noise limits: hey, Brit Embassy/ French Embassy/Russian/Chinese Embassy etc have any weddings lately? Nah, didn't think so.

I wonder why.

Red Ops wrote:I hardly think that angry rants by foreigners on barely noticed internet forums are likely to change the status quo any time soon.