Perched on a stool that was too tall for me, I manage to reach the keys of the piano with the help of two large books and a cushion placed under me. I am three and already, the piano is the only truth I hold sacred. As I grow older and learn to love and cherish my instrument, I realize that it is an expression, and an articulation of everything that is on my mind. Automatically, the fingers move on the piano keys and they dance around when I am happy, and plod on wearily when I am depressed. The impulses are neurologically controlled and the change in body heat and reactance is nonconscious. Procedural memory, or the idea of “wiring” something into your system with repeated trials, can do this to you. And in my case, it is about thirty years of playing my instrument and counting.
When I first read John Bargh and his notion of automated processes, I thought that this was a further glimpse of the obvious. Surely, we all know that we reach out for a switch at night we do not consciously know where it is, but its “wired” deep inside. However, it is only on detailed analysis of this notion that I understood that it has implications on how we approach music, for instance, or more broadly, emotion. Emotional processes are automatically controlled as well. A certain person evokes a bodily and automated response, as does a certain situation or a certain piece of music.
So how does “new music” or a “new genre” get created? For both the musician and the listener, this requires rewiring, changing the way the body responds to music in a far more extensive way than we think. There are a select group of musicians in the world who excel at this task. We call them the renegades or the mavericks until their vibrations seep into our internal processes as well, and we start responding automatically to their sound. It’s a process that takes time, a lot of effort and in today’s day and age, more exposure and publicity.
When John Mayer took the blues and married it with the rock n’roll tradition, we got classics such as “Free Fallin’” and “Your Body is a Wonderland”. The trick has been to use certain sounds that evoke automated responses (the layered guitar intro to Free Fallin’) and then introduce the new sounds very subtly, almost subliminally. And the process of transformation begins. As the momentum grows, the subliminal becomes the dominant, and an entirely new sound and scape is created and we have entered new territory.
Take another John. In this case, John McLaughlin and his wonderful work across the past several decades. John took the world of the blues and jazz and infused elements of those domains into the experience of Carnatic music, a form that he enjoyed as much. What works for it is the deep reverence that the artist exhibits for each element of the whole. Harmonic elements and instrumentation is sometimes heavy handed, but often times, virtuosic, and in the quiet that follows several alaaps, resonant. The opening measures of the much-loved “Giriraja Sudha” from Remember Shakti flow from guitar to U Srinivas’ mandolin in a seamless glide. There is something profound in the tantalizing silence that follows. John McLaughlin is definitely not an ordinary musician. He is a philosopher, and is telling powerful stories through music. And in his considerable effort to rewire, he has created a new template, and continues to “reautomate” the listener.
I am not saying that rewiring requires a “break from” or “alternative to” traditional music and its expressions. It can happen within existing traditional forms of expressions too. To be successful, however, it requires the performer to have automated his emotional pulse
through adequate effort and tooling in the traditional form to such an extent that his or her flight into new territory appears painless, and takes the listener along with it.
Maybe I am getting too theoretical, and so I will stop. However, I think there are three deep thoughts here. First, that it requires a great amount of intensive practice or “sadhana” to be able to make changes or alterations to existing patterns. Second, that the listener will “automatically” follow the performer, provided the latter’s ability to guide the former slowly and gently, step by step. Last, that this process is considerably facilitated by providing “hooks” in the music that the listener is more used to, and more anchored to, and then gradually expanding his aural horizon.
After all, we have to keep creating more original music and showing the world that we are capable of great things. We are capable of creating new listeners, “rewire” the world if necessary. A R Rahman has raised the bar. Let’s follow suit.
Copyright New Sunday Express. This article appeared on 5th April, 2009
Showing posts with label Indian music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Indian music. Show all posts
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Indian music beyond Rahman?
Music, Magic, Madness and Madras
ANIL SRINIVASAN (Courtesy, The New Sunday Express, Mar 1st, 2009)
So what happens now? I remember reading an essay by psychologist Cialdini in what he termed “Birging” (Basking-in-reflected-glory). I think nearly all of us are guilty of it at this point, when “our city boy” has done “us” proud and alarmingly, “we’ve done it!”. Some of it is justified, I suppose – we have seldom had great showings at international award functions, least of all that pinnacle of all glory – the Oscars. There is no doubting that A R Rahman is perhaps the most intelligent designer of music and sound, especially in the popular genre, that we’ve had in a long time. However, all the euphoria and excitement aside, my big question remains unanswered. Where do we go from here?
There is palpable optimism in the air. Indian cinema has come of age, many movie buffs claim. In one unforgettable email I received recently, a fellow musician claimed that India has finally been given her due. This set me thinking if perhaps getting a globally recognized award was the only proof of all the sophistication and rapid strides we have made intellectually, musically and economically. If Rahman did not win, would we declare ourselves “not yet” ready for global approbation and acclaim? Surely, we have a lot to be proud about already, especially given that Rahman has been astounding us and his global fans for nearly two decades now! And I am not saying all this to sound like a wet blanket or take away from what is surely a great moment for Indian entertainment history.
In another interesting argument I was a part of, some zealous Rahmaniacs claimed that this was a good way of “showing ‘em who’s boss”. Who are we showing off to, and what are we showing off about? I do not think that a Western music listener ever decried the quality of Indian music, nor did he or she ever claim that great music only comes from the West. Having lived in the United States for a good part of the last decade, I can confidently state that the sentiment, if at all expressed, was quite the opposite.
I choose instead, to draw a different set of inferences from all the brouhaha. One, we can finally admit that music is a viable career option and stop being ambiguous about how we answer people asking us musicians “so what else do you do?”. Two, we can assure ourselves, that despite infrastructural constraints (our favourite excuse for not being upto snuff at international competitions), we are capable of fantastic stuff. Three, this only means that we need to pull up our socks and start working harder to better the standards that have now been set. Finally, we need to be equally magnanimous in acknowledging some other wonderful musicians who have been making waves in international circles, creating new musical idioms, and lay the same unquestionable claim on Madras as their home town.
In previous articles, I have referred to Madras as having something magical in the air we breathe that fosters so much originality and creative excellence. This becomes obvious when I take the example of musicians such as U Shrinivas, Chitravina Ravikiran and most appropriately for this week’s essay, Guitar Prasanna. I am sure, that by now most readers will be aware of the documentary “Smile Pinki” that also won on Oscar. Prasanna composed the musical score for this documentary and has contributed in no small measure to the Oscar win.
My first experience of Prasanna’s music was listening to him play “Ksheerasagara Shayana”, a moving composition in Raga Devagandhari on the guitar. What I loved about the effort was the fact that the composition was so complete in itself that I was least bothered about the fact that it was an unconventional instrument rendering it. There was something unique in the way it was rendered, with each note stretching itself languorously across the measure and creating a web of images in the mind’s eye that managed to be both soothing and vivid at the same time. Here is a musician who quit a cerebral and potentially rewarding career post his studies at IIT Madras, who straddles the world of South Indian classical music and jazz with graceful felicity. Prasanna seems to have experimented boldly with silences. There are pauses in his solo renditions that are pregnant with possibilities, several layers of consciousness embedded in the twists and the slides on his instrument. This is an intelligent musician who has charted a very unique path over the last two decades. It so happens that his medium of articulation is the guitar. This is made all the more obvious when listening to his soundtrack for “Smile Pinki”, where the soundscape is richly coloured with the solo guitar playing with and around the strains of a sitar and a bansuri in addition to a rich percussive template. This is contemporary excellence in addition to being uncannily traditional and classical in its melodic treatment.
Coming back to the point about musicians from Madras who are moving dimensions and crafting new paradigms, the most important take-away seems to be the rich collaborative pool we have managed to cultivate. With a plethora of studios buzzing with activity around the city, and schools for audio engineering and classical music (both western and Indian), Madras is living up to its description of being an idea framed by music.
Rahman’s Oscar and Pinki’s smile may just be the beginning of a wonderful era of musical excellence to emerge from our beloved hometown. However, we need to look beyond awards and recognize each and every musician from this city who is making a difference, in his or her own way. We need to go back to the concert halls and breathe in the magic they all create, and use it to channel our collective energies towards making the social and economic climate more conducive towards propagating the city’s musical output.
ANIL SRINIVASAN (Courtesy, The New Sunday Express, Mar 1st, 2009)
So what happens now? I remember reading an essay by psychologist Cialdini in what he termed “Birging” (Basking-in-reflected-glory). I think nearly all of us are guilty of it at this point, when “our city boy” has done “us” proud and alarmingly, “we’ve done it!”. Some of it is justified, I suppose – we have seldom had great showings at international award functions, least of all that pinnacle of all glory – the Oscars. There is no doubting that A R Rahman is perhaps the most intelligent designer of music and sound, especially in the popular genre, that we’ve had in a long time. However, all the euphoria and excitement aside, my big question remains unanswered. Where do we go from here?
There is palpable optimism in the air. Indian cinema has come of age, many movie buffs claim. In one unforgettable email I received recently, a fellow musician claimed that India has finally been given her due. This set me thinking if perhaps getting a globally recognized award was the only proof of all the sophistication and rapid strides we have made intellectually, musically and economically. If Rahman did not win, would we declare ourselves “not yet” ready for global approbation and acclaim? Surely, we have a lot to be proud about already, especially given that Rahman has been astounding us and his global fans for nearly two decades now! And I am not saying all this to sound like a wet blanket or take away from what is surely a great moment for Indian entertainment history.
In another interesting argument I was a part of, some zealous Rahmaniacs claimed that this was a good way of “showing ‘em who’s boss”. Who are we showing off to, and what are we showing off about? I do not think that a Western music listener ever decried the quality of Indian music, nor did he or she ever claim that great music only comes from the West. Having lived in the United States for a good part of the last decade, I can confidently state that the sentiment, if at all expressed, was quite the opposite.
I choose instead, to draw a different set of inferences from all the brouhaha. One, we can finally admit that music is a viable career option and stop being ambiguous about how we answer people asking us musicians “so what else do you do?”. Two, we can assure ourselves, that despite infrastructural constraints (our favourite excuse for not being upto snuff at international competitions), we are capable of fantastic stuff. Three, this only means that we need to pull up our socks and start working harder to better the standards that have now been set. Finally, we need to be equally magnanimous in acknowledging some other wonderful musicians who have been making waves in international circles, creating new musical idioms, and lay the same unquestionable claim on Madras as their home town.
In previous articles, I have referred to Madras as having something magical in the air we breathe that fosters so much originality and creative excellence. This becomes obvious when I take the example of musicians such as U Shrinivas, Chitravina Ravikiran and most appropriately for this week’s essay, Guitar Prasanna. I am sure, that by now most readers will be aware of the documentary “Smile Pinki” that also won on Oscar. Prasanna composed the musical score for this documentary and has contributed in no small measure to the Oscar win.
My first experience of Prasanna’s music was listening to him play “Ksheerasagara Shayana”, a moving composition in Raga Devagandhari on the guitar. What I loved about the effort was the fact that the composition was so complete in itself that I was least bothered about the fact that it was an unconventional instrument rendering it. There was something unique in the way it was rendered, with each note stretching itself languorously across the measure and creating a web of images in the mind’s eye that managed to be both soothing and vivid at the same time. Here is a musician who quit a cerebral and potentially rewarding career post his studies at IIT Madras, who straddles the world of South Indian classical music and jazz with graceful felicity. Prasanna seems to have experimented boldly with silences. There are pauses in his solo renditions that are pregnant with possibilities, several layers of consciousness embedded in the twists and the slides on his instrument. This is an intelligent musician who has charted a very unique path over the last two decades. It so happens that his medium of articulation is the guitar. This is made all the more obvious when listening to his soundtrack for “Smile Pinki”, where the soundscape is richly coloured with the solo guitar playing with and around the strains of a sitar and a bansuri in addition to a rich percussive template. This is contemporary excellence in addition to being uncannily traditional and classical in its melodic treatment.
Coming back to the point about musicians from Madras who are moving dimensions and crafting new paradigms, the most important take-away seems to be the rich collaborative pool we have managed to cultivate. With a plethora of studios buzzing with activity around the city, and schools for audio engineering and classical music (both western and Indian), Madras is living up to its description of being an idea framed by music.
Rahman’s Oscar and Pinki’s smile may just be the beginning of a wonderful era of musical excellence to emerge from our beloved hometown. However, we need to look beyond awards and recognize each and every musician from this city who is making a difference, in his or her own way. We need to go back to the concert halls and breathe in the magic they all create, and use it to channel our collective energies towards making the social and economic climate more conducive towards propagating the city’s musical output.
My piece on Rahman that made it to the cover page
Light at the Edge of the World
And so a golden age begins. The floodgates are open and we are now firmly on the mainstream musical map of the world. And its all down to the inimitable ARR. This is tremendous, because it means that the paradigm for listening has shifted. It also means that there is now a new standard to aspire for, a greater commitment towards musical aesthetics than ever before. With this comes a responsibility to understand the music of this rather self effacing, reticent mind that sits so productively on the shoulders of a man who grew up in the same magical city as us.
Rahman's music has always been ahead of the times, each composition containing an element that is unique. In fact, the Rahman era has galvanized sound engineering, spearheading a movement towards finding a truly global idiom, one which instantaneously appeals worldwide. I remember telling friends that to truly appreciate ARR' music, one needs a high-fidelity stereo system, since his music is not made for ordinary boomboxes. There is always that extra timpani that one hears after a stanza, the extra sarangi layer beneath a truly moving melodic line. Sometimes, it is a whiff of a theme, played repetitively in the background that uplifts the entire song (the guitar in "Kabhi Kabhi Aditi" for instance). Other times it is the use of the strings, played with a sensitivity that defies description (the theme from "Bombay'). In fact, the musical speciality of ARR's music is that it is unpredictable, and there is nothing that one can call a signature other than the entire envelope of it – to view it as a "sum-of -component parts" would be doing the music a great travesty. This is not an ordinary mind, as it works holistically. It is a mind that "views" the music in its entirety, obtaining the best combinations of instruments and voices, balancing rhythm and harmony with an innate sense of precision.
Musically speaking, it would be very easy to point out that Rahman's speciality has been his ear for unconventional sound – human and otherwise. He has always put in a voice that the prevailing convention of the time may have not appreciated as fully. Interesting use of instrumentation (remember the "singing" violin in 'Pakkadhey Pakkadhey" or the use of a capella voices in "Rasaathi En Usuru"?). And he does not stop with just bringing in this element. There is a treatment to it that reflects a keen understanding of audiences as well as musical tonality. For instance, when Unnikrishnan sings "Katre En Vasal Vandhu" from Rhythm, it is the rustic percussion and desert echo voices that lift the song from just carrying a pleasing melody.
The use of the moving bass is yet another feather to Rahman's cap. From the very first song that drifted our way in the early 90's ("Chinna Chinna Aasai") to the latest offering from Slumdog Millionaire, the bass (guitar, cello or strings) is like a spring unwound – restless, energetic and dynamic. This feature reaches for the gut, forcing even the most unmusical to start tapping their feet unconsciously.
I could go on, but this is not a time for analysis. It is one for celebration. Rahman has taken us a long way, showing the world that there is tremendous light emanating from this edge of the world. Our stars are on the rise yet again. Lets look up!
ANIL SRINIVASAN
Courtesy The New Sunday Express, Jan 18, 2009
And so a golden age begins. The floodgates are open and we are now firmly on the mainstream musical map of the world. And its all down to the inimitable ARR. This is tremendous, because it means that the paradigm for listening has shifted. It also means that there is now a new standard to aspire for, a greater commitment towards musical aesthetics than ever before. With this comes a responsibility to understand the music of this rather self effacing, reticent mind that sits so productively on the shoulders of a man who grew up in the same magical city as us.
Rahman's music has always been ahead of the times, each composition containing an element that is unique. In fact, the Rahman era has galvanized sound engineering, spearheading a movement towards finding a truly global idiom, one which instantaneously appeals worldwide. I remember telling friends that to truly appreciate ARR' music, one needs a high-fidelity stereo system, since his music is not made for ordinary boomboxes. There is always that extra timpani that one hears after a stanza, the extra sarangi layer beneath a truly moving melodic line. Sometimes, it is a whiff of a theme, played repetitively in the background that uplifts the entire song (the guitar in "Kabhi Kabhi Aditi" for instance). Other times it is the use of the strings, played with a sensitivity that defies description (the theme from "Bombay'). In fact, the musical speciality of ARR's music is that it is unpredictable, and there is nothing that one can call a signature other than the entire envelope of it – to view it as a "sum-of -component parts" would be doing the music a great travesty. This is not an ordinary mind, as it works holistically. It is a mind that "views" the music in its entirety, obtaining the best combinations of instruments and voices, balancing rhythm and harmony with an innate sense of precision.
Musically speaking, it would be very easy to point out that Rahman's speciality has been his ear for unconventional sound – human and otherwise. He has always put in a voice that the prevailing convention of the time may have not appreciated as fully. Interesting use of instrumentation (remember the "singing" violin in 'Pakkadhey Pakkadhey" or the use of a capella voices in "Rasaathi En Usuru"?). And he does not stop with just bringing in this element. There is a treatment to it that reflects a keen understanding of audiences as well as musical tonality. For instance, when Unnikrishnan sings "Katre En Vasal Vandhu" from Rhythm, it is the rustic percussion and desert echo voices that lift the song from just carrying a pleasing melody.
The use of the moving bass is yet another feather to Rahman's cap. From the very first song that drifted our way in the early 90's ("Chinna Chinna Aasai") to the latest offering from Slumdog Millionaire, the bass (guitar, cello or strings) is like a spring unwound – restless, energetic and dynamic. This feature reaches for the gut, forcing even the most unmusical to start tapping their feet unconsciously.
I could go on, but this is not a time for analysis. It is one for celebration. Rahman has taken us a long way, showing the world that there is tremendous light emanating from this edge of the world. Our stars are on the rise yet again. Lets look up!
ANIL SRINIVASAN
Courtesy The New Sunday Express, Jan 18, 2009
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