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Music Season
MUSIC ACADEMY
Touched the intellect, not the heart
GOWRI RAMNARAYAN
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It was not the mellow and moving OST that one came across that evening. O.S.Arun’s Madhyamavati brought his manodharama to the fore and Rashid Khan’s recital, though short, revealed a deep tradition.
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Photos: V.Ganesan
Sampradaya: (From left) O.S.Thiagarajan, O.S. Arun and Ustad Rashid Khan.
O.S.Thiagarajan was not at his best. True, he is a purist with a fine imagination hooked to raga bhava. But on that day, his recital seemed initially destined not to go beyond sampradaya chastity as it crossed ‘Nivada Ne Gana’ (Saranga) and ‘Teliyaleru Rama’ (Dhenuka).
Suddenly, in mid-alapana, a black and white Abhogi began to gain tints, aided by the violin (T.K.V.Ramanujacharyulu) which had a sraddha-guided grip on the raga. It was good to hear G.N.Balasubramaniam’s ‘Tamasamika Talanu’ instead of the familiar ‘Sabhapatikku.’ Well-paced but unhurried swaraprastara followed, providing a meaningful exchange between voice and violin. ‘Dasaratha Nandana’ (Asaveri) bridged Abhogi and main raga Kalyani.
Listeners settled down anticipating a mellow Kalyani as rendered many times through the decades by the same OST. But with a voice not wholly co-operative, the focus was on something else. True, the raga was expanded with assurance and knowledge, pegged on ikara-akara karvais, grounded in an old style approach, replete with seasoned vidwat. What it lacked was bhava. The approach was mind-grabbing, not heart-melting. Relaxed ears were jerked off track with eerie echoes of Mohanam and later Suddhadhanyasi in sruti bhedam exercises.
‘Etavunara’ with niraval and swara had nothing out of place, but hardly any moments of magic from a vidwan like OST, at least, not enough to satisfy. B. Harikumar (mridangam) and Coimbatore V. Mohanram (ghatam) fulfilled the roles expected of them.
Their thani began with a bang but quietened down along the way to play some relishable passages.
O.S.Arun’s firm Bhairavi varnam beguiled listeners into expecting weighty sampradaya in his concert of the day. But Hamsadhwani shifted tracks. The song ‘Ullam Irangi’— with sangatis deploying avarohana skips to suggest grace descending — was neither classicist, nor in keeping with the poignant feeling infused in the lyric. The jaunty swaras (hooked effortlessly to the line with different endings on ga or ri and ni) suggested a mood contrary to pathos.
Hindolam was high drama in the phrases modulated in ukara-ikara-akara. ‘Ma Ramanan’ (Papanasam Sivan’s film song from the 1930s) once again proved how malleable it is to all styles. Arun deployed his own methods of pitching sahitya phrases and never-at-a-loss swara cascades. ‘Niravatisukhada’ (Ravichandrika) had listeners cantering with voice, violin, mridangam (R.Ramesh) and ghatam (Kottayam Radhakrishnan).
Then came Madhyamavati and Arun showed another side to his music. It brought his training in tradition and raga-driven manodharma to the fore, and capacity for sustained, serious explorations in these directions.
The raga glided in quietly and progressed by stages to upper octave panchama. There were racing sangatis fired with brigas, some ending on pleasant akaram. Mullaivasal Chandramouli’s violin came into its own here, banking with respect to the raga, and realising its spirit in his alapana. ‘Rama Katha Sudha’ was a fitting choice where the niraval sought to emphasise feeling without lightening the load, classical in idiom except for a permissibly deployed jaru or two. Kalpanaswaras ended in a sparkling arudi.
The singer followed brother OST’s path in choosing Kalyani for the main piece. But he began it on the higher gandhara, for a moment creating the illusion of hitting mid-alapana without the preliminaries. Just as listeners got adjusted to this deviation, sruti bhedam waves propelled them into Harikhambodi. Virtuosity dislodged subtlety.
A tanam proportionate to the crisp pallavi touched three speeds. ‘Maname Chidambaresanai Maravade’ was slotted into tisra rupakam in misra gati, both in odd numbered beats, fun for mridangam and ghatam, carried over into their thani as well. Nothing was longdrawn in the recital, no sense of hurry over time slots.
Of course when the bhajan came, another Arun came to the stage, now in a perfectly professional populist mould. The lighter style bridged yearning and fulfilment, as Radha tells Krishna they should exchange roles – he in her bangles, and she wearing his pitambaram. The mridangist’s enjoyment added to the aura shift.
Not only is he a celebrated vocalist of today but has performed brilliantly in the city before. But Rashid Khan’s much awaited New Year eve recital was a major let down. The Academy recital started late and ended early. No voice was raised in protest or asked for an encore when he announced Bhairavi, the finale. That tells its own tale. After launching a low key tepid-voiced Yaman, Rashid Khan went through ‘Kaise Ke Kaise’ in vilambit khayal mode, accompanied by a very pleasant-toned, unobtrusive tabla (Shubhankar Banerji). The voice opened up somewhat in the upper shadja, and brought off some delicately nuanced phrases, simple in form, short in span but revealing a deep tradition. Slow curves like ri-ni-ma or ma-ga-ma-ga in successive repetitions were lit up in shot colour glints. But why make the taans so sparse? Why deprive the discerning audience of a splendid variety of taans that they are eager to hear from Hindustani vocalist? Why flood the hall with swaras in this Mecca of Carnatic music?
The faster khayals — ‘Ari yeri Aali’ and ‘Ao, Ao, Balma’ riding on teen taals — had some lovely glides, even in sequences sung for the bright but measured tabla displays. However, they were mostly hidden in more lacklustre foliage. On the whole Yaman seemed less structured, with spurts of ad hoc energy.
Next came an unannounced raag, later identified as Chandrakaunsi in teen taal – short, with greater volume in voice. The scale was similar to Chandrakauns, but with a chatusruti dhaivatam. The harmonium’s (Jyoti Goho) fillers followed their own tracks, not fading in and fading out of the ustad’s vocal melodising, at times going ahead of the vocalist in raga progression. Here as through the concert, the harmonium was too loud for comfort. A romance steeped verse ‘Baaton Baaton Mein Beet Gayi Raat, Sajna Tum Rooth Gaye’ was sung with a yearning tenderness, the Pahadi lilts misting around the words. An unremarkable Bhairavi ended the recital.
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