It’s the 25th Anniversary of the boutique record label, MoonJune Records. You have likely never heard of them, but perhaps you are familiar with some of the artists who have affiliated themselves with MoonJune over the years.
Before we get into the story, let me introduce myself and where I fit in.
I am Arlo Hennings, who played a key strategic role as a business consultant and Director of Business Development for MoonJune Records.
The MoonJune Asia Expansion
My involvement was highly specialized, bridging MoonJune’s expansion with its major artistic pivot into Southeast Asia:
- Executive Leadership: I served as Director of Business Development at MoonJune from September 2013 to October 2015. Operating out of Bali, Indonesia, I worked closely with label founder Leonardo Pavkovic to expand the label’s international footprint.
- The Indonesian Avant-Jazz Expansion: My most visible impact was helping curate, manage, and consult for MoonJune’s growing stable of world-class Indonesian progressive jazz artists. I personally managed the progressive international Indonesian band I Know You Well Miss Clara, whose acclaimed debut album Chapter One was released globally by MoonJune Records in 2013.
- Cultural Crossover: Leveraging my deep expertise in the Indonesian music scene (where I also founded the Indojazzia label and consulted for the Indonesian Music Expo), I acted as a crucial cultural and professional liaison. I helped MoonJune establish a dominant Western distribution pipeline for prominent Indonesian jazz icons like guitarist Dewa Budjana and keyboardist Dwiki Dharmawan.
During my tenure as Director of Business Development from September 2013 to October 2015, MoonJune Records aggressively expanded its global footprint by releasing and promoting a wave of avant-garde jazz and progressive fusion albums out of Indonesia.
Operating primarily from Bali, I oversaw marketing, international distribution, and corporate structuring for several landmark releases that came to define this distinct catalog:
I Know You Well Miss Clara
I personally managed this Yogyakarta-based avant-prog quartet. I championed their highly complex, Canterbury-influenced jazz-rock sound to international distributors.
- Chapter One (2013): The band’s critically acclaimed debut studio album. It blended heavy Crimson-esque riffs with intricate jazz fusion and served as a foundational release during my early months with the label.
Dewa Budjana
As one of Indonesia’s most iconic and prolific jazz-fusion guitarists (and a member of the pop-rock band GIGI), Dewa Budjana used MoonJune as his global platform. I helped push his solo projects into Western markets.
- Surya Namaskar (2014): A powerhouse power-trio album recorded in New York, featuring legendary session masters Jimmy Johnson (bass) and Vinnie Colaiuta (drums).
- Hasta Karma (2015): An atmospheric, highly progressive album featuring the virtuoso New York jazz quartet of Antonio Sanchez (drums), Ben Williams (bass), and Gary Husband (keyboards).
Dwiki Dharmawan
A legendary Indonesian cultural ambassador, keyboardist, and composer, Dharmawan used this era to bridge massive cultural sounds, combining Western progressive jazz fusion with indigenous Indonesian gamelan scales and rhythms.
- So Far Away (2015): Recorded in London, this expansive double album featured a powerhouse international lineup including bassist Yaron Stavi, drummer Asaf Sirkis (now in Soft Machine), and guitarist Jerry Goodman (Mahavishnu Orchestra).
Tohpati Bertiga
Led by premier Indonesian guitar maestro Tohpati, this trio project leaned heavily into high-energy, technical jazz-rock and progressive power-trio fusion.
- Riot (2014): A raw, aggressive, and highly kinetic instrumental album featuring Indro Hardjodikoro on bass and Bowie on drums, drawing immediate comparisons to artists like Allan Holdsworth and Tribal Tech.
simakDialog
Led by the late keyboardist Riza Arshad, simakDialog was the pioneering crown jewel of MoonJune’s Indonesian catalog. The band famously replaced standard jazz drums entirely with a wall of traditional Sundanese percussion (kendang).
- The Sixth Story (2013): Released right at the start of my tenure, this live-in-the-studio album perfectly encapsulated the label’s ethos of deep, hypnotic, polyrhythmic ethnic jazz-prog.
- Live at Orion (2014): A live double album capturing their historic performance at the legendary progressive rock venue, The Orion, in Baltimore, Maryland, showcasing their genre-defying sound to an American audience
Meeting Leonardo Pavkovic
The story began when I first met Leonardo Pavkovic at a music industry conference in Bali.
The event, IMEX 2012 — the Indonesian Music Expo, now defunct — was held in Nusa Dua, Bali, Indonesia. During the conference, Pavkovic learned that I had previously served as Director of Universal Music Publishing in Los Angeles.
After the event, Pavkovic emailed me and suggested we meet in Jakarta.
From that first meeting, I found myself fascinated by Pavkovic. An article in DownBeat had compared him to Marco Polo, the legendary merchant-explorer. Yet the man I would work with over the next two years seemed far more complex than that description suggested.
Marco Polo’s reputation, after all, was built on adventure, commerce, and stories that some historians believe were occasionally embellished. Pavkovic, meanwhile, had developed a reputation in music circles as a visionary curator with an ear for unusual and difficult-to-categorize artists. Through his boutique label, MoonJune Records, he championed progressive, experimental, and international musicians who existed largely outside the commercial mainstream.
Pavkovic often spoke openly about the challenges of running an independent label. He sometimes described MoonJune as a company that generated little profit and operated more out of passion than financial reward.
His background was equally unconventional. Raised in Bosnia by an Italian stepfather, Pavkovic studied literature before spending time in Italy, North Africa, and eventually Brazil, where he married a Chinese woman. The couple later immigrated to New York City during the 1990s.
There, Pavkovic found work at a graphic design company known as Studio T Design. According to his own account, he taught himself design software and gradually advanced within the business. Just as importantly, the position introduced him to musicians and industry professionals who would eventually shape the course of his career.
One story often repeated is that through those connections, he met members of the progressive rock group Soft Machine, including acclaimed guitarist Allan Holdsworth. Pavkovic would later become involved in managing and representing Holdsworth, a development that surprised me, as I wondered how someone with limited music-business experience had earned the trust of such an established artist.
Those questions lingered as I sat across from Pavkovic at a hotel restaurant in Jakarta, listening to what I describe as the “salamander.”
Pavkovic’s latest vision, he explained, was something called “MoonJune Asia.”
Details were scarce, but his enthusiasm was unmistakable. He painted a picture of new opportunities, new relationships, and a growing network of artists across Southeast Asia. Pavkovic suggested there would be a place for me at the center of the project.
As breakfast continued, Pavkovic outlined MoonJune’s record label and booking activities. While I recognized Soft Machine, many of the other artists were unfamiliar. Further research, however, revealed a roster filled with respected musicians, including Allan Holdsworth, Markus Reuter, Pat Mastelotto, Tony Levin, Gary Husband, Jimmy Haslip, Asaf Sirkis, Yaron Stavi, and Robert Wyatt.
The music was adventurous, ambitious, and artistically impressive. It was also decidedly non-commercial.
That left me with a practical question:
How did the business sustain itself?
As breakfast continued, the conversation drifted from artists and albums to health care, travel, and money.
At one point, Pavkovic mentioned that he would soon be returning to New York for knee and eye surgery. According to him, the procedures would be covered through New York State Medicaid. The comment caught my attention. I knew enough about the system to wonder how someone who seemed to spend much of his life traveling the world qualified for public assistance.
I took a long sip of coffee and said nothing.
The contradiction seemed to fit the man. Here was someone who spoke of visiting ninety countries, organizing tours across multiple continents, and operating an international record label. Yet he often described MoonJune as a labor of love that generated little income. I could never quite reconcile those two realities.
Then again, the music business is full of people who somehow survive between the cracks of conventional logic.
The more Pavkovic talked, the more I became convinced that MoonJune operated almost entirely on personality, improvisation, and enthusiasm. There was no grand corporate infrastructure. No army of assistants. No expensive offices. Just Leonardo, a telephone, a laptop, and a remarkable ability to persuade people that anything was possible.
To his credit, he never pretended to be something he wasn’t. He readily admitted that much of what he knew about artist management and booking had been learned on the fly. In his view, success depended less on credentials than on persistence. Pick up the phone. Call people. Keep calling until somebody says yes.
That philosophy had carried him farther than anyone would have predicted.
The reason he wanted my involvement, however, had little to do with booking concerts. He needed help with publishing. My years at PolyGram and Universal had given me experience in an area where he felt less confident.
Eventually, the breakfast came to an end.
Then came the proposal.
Would I like to become his associate under the auspices of MoonJune?
The arrangement, he explained, would be what he called a “pal deal.”
No contracts.
No formal agreements.
Just trust.
“MoonJune is one big family,” he said. “I only work with friends.”
I remember thinking that family and business were not always the same thing.
In my experience, contracts were not signs of distrust. They were signs of clarity. They protected everyone involved and prevented misunderstandings later. Still, after decades in the music industry, I had heard every variation of the phrase, “Trust me.”
Some of those stories ended well.
Many did not.
Part of me knew I should politely decline.
Another part of me was curious.
Who was this man who had somehow assembled a roster of extraordinary musicians while operating far outside the normal structures of the industry? Why had so many talented artists placed their faith in him?
Curiosity won.
We agreed that MoonJune would cover half of my airfare and hotel expenses within Indonesia. Any publishing income generated through the relationships I developed would be divided according to a mutually agreed percentage.
The mission was straightforward enough.
Build relationships.
Represent MoonJune.
Develop goodwill.
And, if possible, encourage several Indonesian artists to enter publishing arrangements that might expand their opportunities internationally.
There were also promises of broader collaboration. My name would be promoted through MoonJune’s network. I would be introduced to the larger MoonJune family. New opportunities would emerge.
Whether those things would actually happen remained to be seen.
I was aware that others had already come and gone from the organization. Some departures raised questions. But I was at a stage in life where adventure still appealed to me.
So I accepted.
Two Years in the Field
For the next two years, I traveled throughout Indonesia carrying a MoonJune business card in my wallet. I spent countless hours navigating Jakarta’s legendary traffic jams, meeting artists, promoters, journalists, and venue owners.
Some of those experiences were rewarding.
Others were bewildering.
I succeeded in persuading several Indonesian artists to sign publishing agreements. Yet, to my surprise, the contracts were never fully utilized. The reasons were never clearly explained to me.
Questions accumulated.
The Indonesian musicians themselves seemed remarkably unconcerned about matters that would have alarmed artists in the United States. Many viewed international exposure as the primary reward. Detailed accounting, royalty statements, and contractual precision often appeared secondary.
For some artists, simply having a release available outside Indonesia was enough.
Perhaps they were right.
Perhaps I was looking at the situation through a different cultural lens.
Still, I found myself increasingly puzzled by the disconnect between the idealistic language surrounding MoonJune and the practical realities behind the scenes.
What could not be denied was that Pavkovic possessed genuine passion.
He believed deeply in the artists he championed.
He worked tirelessly.
He traveled constantly.
And he dedicated years of his life to promoting musicians that larger labels would never have touched.
That commitment earned him admiration from many people.
Yet admiration alone could not answer every question.
As time passed, my concerns grew. I wanted greater transparency regarding certain business matters. In particular, I wanted information concerning royalties and accounting related to artists I represented.
The responses I received were not what I had hoped for.
Conversations became more difficult.
Trust began to erode.
Eventually, I challenged Leonardo directly regarding information I believed should have been available. Rather than resolving the disagreement, the exchange marked the end of our relationship.
After that, we never spoke again.
What Remains
Years have passed since those events.
The Indonesian music scene that existed during that period has changed dramatically. Several important figures are gone. Many of the relationships that once defined the scene have faded with time.
MoonJune itself evolved, relocated, and continued in different forms.
Looking back, I cannot say the experiment was a complete success. Neither can I say it was a complete failure.
Opening a new market for progressive and experimental music in Indonesia was an ambitious undertaking. Ambitious ideas rarely unfold exactly as planned.
What remains with me today is not anger so much as fascination.
Leonardo Pavkovic remains one of the most unusual people I encountered during my half-century in the music business. He was part impresario, part idealist, part salesman, and part adventurer.
Perhaps the comparison to Marco Polo was not entirely wrong after all.
Like the famous traveler, he seemed perpetually in motion, always chasing another destination, another artist, another possibility beyond the horizon.
Whether he found what he was looking for is something only he can answer.
As for me, I was left with a story — one of those uniquely improbable stories that only the music business can produce.
