Showing posts with label dumdadadumdum. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dumdadadumdum. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Jebon mein hum raatein liye ghooma karen..

"Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life." - Berthold Auerbach.

Listening to Aashish Khan on the sarod playing the deeply mellifluous Raga Chandranandan devised by his late father, I feel somehow more alive than I've felt in weeks. Perhaps it is because it starts off on a (to my ears) discordant, almost chaotic note and slowly but surely grows melodious and harmonious and ends in an incredible crescendo of joyful strumming. In a way, it reflects my own mental trajectory these past few days.

I've always thought of the sarod as a rather sombre instrument with the Raga Lalita Gauri being the traditional melancholy music that underscored melodramatically tragic scenes in old Hindi films. That's pretty much why I've been so wary of listening to it.

But I'm starting to discover its playful side. And what Chaitanya once scornfully called the "glorified Indian mandolin" is finally starting to appeal to me in ways that not much has these days.

It's like looking anew at an acquaintance you've vaguely known pretty much all your life but befriended only recently after a long heart-to-heart. Which is exactly what last night's conversation with S. felt like. I have her to thank for the recording that fills me with so much joy right now.

It'll be a while before I completely reconnect with the world I guess. But atleast there is this night - this magical musical marvellous night. Like there was Christmas eve. It's feels so good to be myself again.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Music of the Heart

Evenings at the NCPA are turning into a most delightfully regular weekend fixture for me. Tonight was very special indeed. On a whim, I'd picked up tickets for a performance by the Bombay Chamber Orchestra at the plush, truly beautiful Tata Theatre a couple of weeks ago, hoping that when I finally heard it, I'd actually like chamber music. And voila! It turns out I needn't have worried after all. It turned out to be so spectacular that time flew by and my mind is swimming with happy thoughts.

It was also kind of a payback treat for KKD (mgeek, if you will) who invited me to watch a fabulous collection of short plays with him at the NCPA some months ago. I asked him if he was alright with chamber music and he said he actually preferred it over symphonies because it was more concentrated and more vivid.

That settles it, I thought. I wondered if I should look this stuff up on youtube to put in, you know, a sort of preparation. A practiced ear is better for appreciating classical music, so my music teacher told me way back in school. But then, I thought, what the hell? There's something to be said for spontaneity. Besides, nobody ever acquired a practiced ear over a fortnight, anyway.

Now, I'm not really trained in music unless one counts eight months of harmonium and three years of tabla lessons in my early teens. Much to the dismay of my music-loving parents, I am nowhere near disciplined enough and I think I tend to get easily distracted from the task at hand. So that was the end of that.

My brother is really the musical one. He plays the tabla and the guitar and aajoba's old harmonica with equal felicity. He is comfortable with classical and popular music and not stuck up about either.

I am mostly a sort of occasional listener. I like listening to music and it doesn't matter if it's a smattering of jazz, or the sharp, exotic wailing of the zither or even, the foot-tapping, hand-clapping of East-European gypsy songs.

I actually prefer it eclectic, which is further testimony to my easily-distracted mind and short attention-span. I cant listen to one thing for too long. And then, certain songs go with certain moods. It's Schumann's piano concertos on sleepless nights alternated with Shubha Mudgal's soulful songs with the tiniest amounts of old Hindi film songs thrown in. For early morning train rides, it's Red Hot Chilli Peppers or U2. And for endless evening bus-stop waits, it's Coldplay or in desperate times, Enya even. Music seems rather deliberately tailored to fit moods.

Which is why I was surprised to find that today, listening to relatively short concertos by Beethoven, Mozart, and finally and most magnificently Dvorak I realised that sometimes, good music creates its own mood.

You cant but smile when a flute pipes up in a mischievous little love song or listen in wonder when the cello purrs the lower notes in the silences before a soaring symphony.

I have often heard people say music is a kind of universal language. This was illustrated rather literally when the conductor was a young Japanese woman and the musicians were a mixed group aged between 15 and 75, not to mention from atleast three different countries. The listeners in the audience were equally disparate. I love people-watching at the NCPA. It's a more polished, more genteel, more eccentric crowd than you'd find at a multiplex. It's also older and more worldly somehow.

There was something palpably electric in the air I thought towards the end, when the applause just wouldn't die down. People seemed proud of the home-grown musicians, especially cheering on an old violinist who looked like she'd been one of the founder members when the Bombay Chamber Orchestra was formed way back in 1962.

The two soloists, the flautist and the cellist had to come out and bow atleast three times before everyone stopped clapping.

It was almost magical to experience how good music evokes in people such strong emotions, and such unique thoughts. But I wondered if I could go one better on my experience. What if I could borrow the ears off of a trained musician and hear, really hear the nuances and the technique that I clearly miss?

But then perhaps, it doesn't matter. It is enough to derive pleasure from it without knowing all the nitty-gritties. After all, it seems tied in with our basic biological design. KKD mentioned a rather interesting fact about the scales of music. That no matter, how we divided sound frequencies, the octave relationship remained constant, a perfect interval, a "basic miracle of music" as wikipedia calls it. So in that sense music really is universal. Well, turns out we wont be needing that famous Babel fish after all!

Monday, August 23, 2010

Night on the Sun

I'm attempting to study orthopaedics from this mediocre textbook as my iPod shuffles and serendipitously begins playing Jeff Buckley's "Lover, you should have come over" and like I do for every Buckley song, I pause to stop contemplating Pott's spine and begin contemplating the lovely song.

The song begins characteristically with a sound that tugs me right back to the first time I'd heard it and wondered what exactly produced that sound for about thirty seconds before I realised how simple the answer was.

I close my eyes as if this wud help me listen better. The song starts off part-plaintive, part-despairing in Buckley's deliciously intimate voice and then, takes a fast turn for soulful longing before finally settling into aching passion and sensuousness.

And I realise how missing someone so much that their absence starts to physically hurt you can be a soul-searing sensation transmitted directly thru this breathtaking song.

I grab my iPod about ten seconds before the song ends and play it again. This time I actually listen to the lyrics.

"Maybe I'm too young
To keep good love from going wrong
Oh lover, you should've come over
'Cause it's not too late.
Well I feel too young to hold on
Too old to break free and run
Too deaf, dumb and blind to see the damage that I've done.
Sweet lover, you should've come over
Oh, love I'm waiting for you."




And I realised I'd missed an emotion in the rendition the first time around. Regret, sadness, guilt?

And then it ends with Buckley gently intoning "Oh no, it's not too late." And I smile. All will be well.

The song ends and I suddenly feel the absence of this music as a real tangible loss as the iPod shuffles onward to Remy Zero's Fair. The spell is broken.

I am reminded again of the tragic circumstances of Buckley's premature death. I take a moment to imagine what songs he cud have produced had he lived longer, knowing full well that thinking that way serves no purpose.

I shake my head as if that wud help me empty it of these thoughts and turn to the page I've been neglecting for these fourteen minutes.

Remy Zero are singing "It's cold as you fade into the sun." but I'm barely listening now.

I think of Buckley again only once before the song ends. Tonight, the sun shall see its light.



Friday, August 20, 2010

(May You Stay) Forever Young

What is it about evening time and ceaseless rain and Bob Dylan that makes me think about unfashionable things like the relentlessness of time, growing old and Peter Pan?

Smiling to myself, with Uncle Bob's warm nasal twang in my head at the bus-stop has never done much to help the handful of people who are inclined to believe that I'm a (somewhat) sane person.

Nor has clapping and shouting out "I do believe in fairies, I do, I do!" while jumping on a particularly bouncy mattress.

Yes, it has been that kind of a day.

Perhaps, a big cup of chocolate milk will soothe these frazzled nerves. Now if only it wasnt such a windy, rainy evening.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head

There's few things more enjoyable than driving along lushly green country roads on a rainy afternoon-evening, thanking the powers that be for the gross absence of potholes and for the existence of All India Radio's Rainbow 107.10 FM channel on the car radio playing Audioslave's I am the Highway. And while the lyrics are no great poetry, they definitely go with the mood and voila! I have a new song worm.