Incalculable

 Last year around the month of December, the Tamizh Nadu government suddenly announced a proposal to charge entertainment tax on tickets for music concerts and dramas. Coming as it did just when the Margazhi Music Season was on in Chennai, one could easily read between the lines. Thankfully, it was not implemented during the season though the Bill was introduced in the Assembly.

The big question is – Is Music a form of entertainment?

Though some (or even many) would answer ‘yes’ to that question, I differ. In fact, I still remember the kind of arguments and debates I indulged in during my college days on this topic. Ah, yes, those were informal and not like the ‘Patti MandRam’ one would see on TV those days. Yet, there were heated arguments.

Let us get into the meaning of the word Entertainment. It means to ‘amuse’ people; that is, to make them laugh; to make them feel happy. While I do not have any dispute with regard to the happiness part, I disagree with that ‘amusement’ and ‘laughing’. Music does make one laugh, but it also makes one cry. That ‘laugh’ too is different and surely does not reflect the kind of happiness one gets from listening to music. Music enters our ears, pierces our heart, and stirs the soul. Well, I am talking about real and genuine music and not the ‘sound’ that masquerades as music!

The song I have taken up today is a classic example of genuine music. Before that, I must also tell you the background. In a recent interview to a Kannada channel, the Master himself referred to this song and narrated something about it (which is a rarity!). It seems an elephant calf in Thirussur refused to fall asleep. One day (or night), the mahout sang this song and the calf calmed down and fell asleep. Since then, it has become a habit for the mahout to sing this song for the calf to sleep.

AlliyiLampoovo from Mangalam Nerunnu (1984) is a very special song and the reason has to do not just with this incident. Generally, lullabies are composed in ragas like Neelambari, Yadukulakambhodi, Kurinji or even ShankarabharaNam. I have hardly come across a lullaby in Madhyamavati or Brindavana Saranga. If the former is considered to be a very auspicious raga, the latter- which in a way almost sounds like the former except for a subtle difference and variation- has contours of romance and love. But this composer who has time and again defied logic challenging the status quo without crossing the boundary, has composed this lullaby in Brindavana Saranga. It goes to show yet again that a raga is just a tool and that it is less important than the feelings it evokes by the way it is used.

With the keys producing that special sound (this sound was his trademark during the late ‘70s and the early ‘80s), and the flute joining in, the akaaram of Krishnachandran is as soothing as the breeze in a forest. The keys keep repeating the same melody- though it becomes subtle once the vocals start- until almost the end of the prelude, suggesting that certain things in life are repetitive and yet never tiring.

The breezy feel continues in the Pallavi with the percussion playing    1 2 3 4/ 1 2 3 4 giving the stress on the last two syllables in each part ( 3 4).

The reason for my mentioning ‘breeze’ will become more apparent and clearer if you listen to the first interlude. The flute which is the partner of the wind and without which it cannot exist musically, caresses us like how one’s father used to caress us while putting us to sleep when we were small. The special keys take over with glee and complement the flute in the second half of the interlude.

With the percussion following the same pattern, the lines in the CharaNams ooze with compassion and love. Without a doubt, the ‘between the lines’ sound towards the end, gives it a special complexion.

The special sound continues in the second interlude until yet another sound from the keys takes over. If I call this sound intriguing, I don’t think I will be exaggerating. The flute appears again, but this time it has a totally different shade. With a child-like enthusiasm, it moves, prances and even crawls.

Are you the young flower/or the sweet honey/ or the tender coconut/or the one with sweet words/ or the moon that has come to the earth? – says the Pallavi.

Doesn’t this apply to immortal music too? And can we imagine ‘taxing’ such music?

Hope the powers that be are listening. Oh, aren’t they busy with something else?

 

 

Pleasurable Pain

 Love duets in movies are very interesting and surely call for a deep study.

Sometime back, I had written about how unrealistic a song sequence is in an Indian Film. Just imagine a man and a woman running around, chasing each other, ‘dancing’ to the beats, grimacing, ‘smiling’, and smooching- in real life say in a park or a beach. Would we not immediately call the number of a mental asylum or a police station? And how rhyming and musical they sound! I remember watching a Hindi movie ‘Chashme buddoor’(1981) where such a sequence was parodied.

But aren’t films always films? Why should one relate it to real life? This is another school of thought.

 I do not want to take any sides now. As mentioned in my old post, if only the concept of song sequence was not invented, we would have been deprived of listening some great music and also some great poetic lyrics. A new idiom or a new form called ‘Film music’ would not have been born which would have surely been a great loss.

At the same time, what is most irritating is the way the song sequence is shot. Vulgar movements, obscene gestures and horrible lyrics make one squirm. But this is surely not the case always. A majority of old songs-especially love duets- had meaningful words and even gave some new dimensions to love. For example- ‘Naan kaadhal ennum karuNai seithen kattilin mele, andha karuNaikku naan parisu thanthen thottilin mele’. I don’t think Love or even Love making can be described in a more subtle way.

The great Kaviyarasar has of course penned many love duets like this and the song of the day, Sindhu nadhikkaraiyoram from Nalladoru Kudumbam (1979) which of course is in the Raaja-KaNNadasan combo is special in terms of the way the newly married couple speak to (or is it sing to?) each other.

The poet takes us to the banks of the river Sindhu. As you all know, Indus valley civilization is one of the oldest and is believed to have been born and grown on the banks of this river. It is also said that the ‘Hindu’ is derived from this ‘Sindhu’. The Emperor of Poetry in Tamizh Cinema says(or makes the hero and heroine say) that he/she sing in Tamizh on the banks of this great river in the evening.

In the first CharaNam, the Heroine lists out her ‘seer varisai’(gifts given by the bride’s family to the grrom). Yet again a subtle description of love making- bed of flowers, mantra of kaama and the music of the cuckoo!

The second CharaNam is a Masterstroke indeed! The poet’s passion for tamizh literature is very well known. Long back, he wrote ‘Kamban thandha Seetai undhan Thaai allava..kaaLidasan Sakuntalai un Sei allava..’. In this song, he says, ‘TheLLu tamizh silambugaLai aLLi avaL aNindhu koNdaaL’. ‘Silappadhikaaram’, one of the oldest epics is referred to as ‘Silambu’ which also means the ‘Ankle bell’. 

‘She wears the beautiful Tamizh Silambu’. What a fertile imagination!! One of the reasons for my listening to this song quite often is this line (many times I hum this line too of course when there is no one around me!).

There are other reasons too that make this song one of my all time favourites.

The tune in ‘Suddha Dhanyasi’ with a sprinkling of the swara ‘ri’ in the CharaNam (which gives an abheri touch) is another reason. The most attractive part is the use of ‘ga3’in the penultimate line and the last line (kaadal kaNNama).

The prelude is simple in the audio version though the OST has the sound of the birds played by the flute. Though it is simple, it is very intense and powerful.

The prominent Sitar in the first interlude pierces our hearts while the strings make us all fly.

The second interlude has the western contours with the guitar smiling and the flute romancing with the strings. The sharp sound at the end of the interlude adds to the beauty.

TMS-Suseela is a rare combo in Raaja’s music and this is one of the few songs where they have been paired together. I simply love the sangati in ‘Andhi neram’ when Suseela renders it.

The Tisram beats of Tabla is another high point.

A song which flows as majestically and beautifully as the River Sindhu….and ….Tamizh.

Exosphere

 Two Saturdays ago, I was driving on ECR. What is special about this? It is just that it was my special day. My family was there in the car and there was somebody else as well in the form of music. Suddenly, my son said – “His next song from Dorothy will be released in 30 minutes’’.

My thoughts went back to those days when I would be with my transistor radio waiting with bated breath to listen to his ‘latest’. With that excitement back now, I kept asking my son if it was out. Finally, he said, ‘Yes’ and started playing it on his phone.

‘Bamchika Bamchika Bamcha Bam’ sang a very different voice repeatedly even as the electronic sounds backing the vocals. And this went on almost for nearly one and half minutes with a couple of instruments (Synth Shehnai and the Flute) appearing in between and the chorus humming a tune. After 2 minutes, my son said ‘I think it is just the background music and not a song’. But then appeared the female voice (Swetha Mohan). After nearly 3 and half minutes, the Master’s voice appeared too.

‘Such a long prelude!’ I thought and at the same time wondered as to why it was sounding so repetitive. I was also not that happy with the same beats continuing without any change. For a person who has listened to thousands of his songs thousand times, where the beats keep changing every now and then, this sounded odd. And to top it all, the number of instruments was too less. And yes, there was no interlude. So, when my son asked my ‘verdict’, I said ‘I am sorry, I am not impressed; I like his portion alone’.

I stuck to this ‘verdict’ for nearly 2 days until I started looking at the song from a different perspective.

To start with, I must admit that the genre ‘Trance’ was something new to me. After I tried to get more information, I understood that the beats – essentially 1 2 3 4- remained constant almost through the song in this genre. I also deciphered that EDM was part and parcel of this genre and that there will be a kind of emotional breakdown after a build- up.

With an open mind, I listened to the song and it opened new vistas and avenues.

Experimentation: Right from 1977 when he innovated and came up with a technique called ‘super-imposing’ (Kaatrinile varum geetam/ En KaNmaNi), this composer has always experimented with sound- even when technology was just at its budding stage in our country. So, this new experiment does not come as a surprise at all.

Raga/Scale : It is based on a raga called Udaya Ravichandrika, though it is popularly known by another name – Shrotsavini. But this is not the only speciality. When the (synth) Shehnai plays in the beginning, it plays the notes of Shuddha Dhanyasi. After a while, when the flute joins in, it becomes the raga I mentioned. How? If one replaces the variant of the swara ‘ni’ with the other variant in Shuddha Dhanyasi, it becomes Udaya Ravichandrika. This is not Gruha Bhedam, but just the substitution of a variant of a particular note.

Vocals : The Master is very well known for his expressive rendition. The way he sings in the second half is something incredible. But what is to be noted is the fact that he traverses the different octaves with consummate ease. Please also recall that in Trance, there is a sudden emotional breakdown and match it with this.

Lyrics: I am not sure about the sequence in the movie, but to me this seems to be a celebration of womanhood. Knowing the composer’s piety, I feel the wordings in the second half must have just rolled out of his lips spontaneously.

MutthumaNi – A different plane!

Avian Flight

 

One of my all-time favourite compositions is 'Ninaivo oru paRavai' from 'Sigappu RojaakkaL'.

The gentle humming of Janaki with just the chord of Bass Guitar as the accompaniment in the Prelude is elegant , while the ‘pa pa pa pa’ of the young Kamal (he was just 23 then) in the Pallavi is vibrant.

The first interlude has the impish beats, dazzling strings, rollicking brass flute and electrifying trumpets. The way the gait changes seamlessly, is something extraordinary.

The second interlude is a marvel.

Designed cohesively, what sets this apart is the feathery piano, its quiet rendezvous with the western flute, the razor-sharp strings and the pellucid whistle sound at the end.

The 4 lines in the CharaNams twirl, sway, trundle and coruscate.

The usage of both the ‘ga’(ga2 and ga3- E and D#) one after the other is an aural treat.

This bird which started its flight in Nov 1978 is still flying and will continue to fly forever...