Problems with being in Classical Music here right now

It is hard to be a classical musician in India right now. It may be hard to have been a classical musician anywhere at any point of time, but here are my key observations about here and now, since i live there. I acknowledge that my experiences and interpretations don’t represent very large parts of India – I have lived in only a couple of cities, and perhaps there are other people whose experiences have been very different from these.

Get educated to educate?

To ask, “What is that knowledge good for?” is an unfortunate question, but let us say it is impractical not to ask such a question for the sake of ensuring a life with some money to preserve oneself.

HCM is a tradition that has produced a grand legacy of students in music, who learn with their masters for several years, move on to entertain rasika listeners for another part of their life, and spend the rest of it teaching their craft to other students. The purpose of this education, thus seems, like several other academic disciplines – to get educated in order to educate.

Day in and out in music classes across the country, young students who want to become playback singers go to their teachers hoping they could teach them a ‘base’ through classical music. And then they would be free to explore the rest of it. But what is there in the rest of it that isn’t there in classical music? Why are these people not interested in careers in classical music? Teachers try to answer this in different ways.

It is easy to shrug this question off, pretending that new students must be lazy, and technology must be causing it, and that in a fast moving world, nobody has time for a slow paced art that requires deliberate effort and years of practice. But if we examine the structure of resource allocation / ‘job’ allocation in classical music, it is not easy to see how hard it would be to foresee a dream career. If you wanted to be a performer, how would you get that job? There are no job postings anywhere. It’s hard to find an artist manager in the beginning of your career. It is hard to imagine that you want to spend a life teaching classical music? In the end we implore people to think that they should want to learn from a pure desire to learn, rather than an expectation from classical music. Which is okay, but how can one not have an expectation from the economics of classical music?

The dilemma of warranted change and frivolity

When are you ready to make change? What is the difference between change that comes from within and change that comes from without?

I used to have a teacher who would express her dissent towards fusion music consisting of a trained vocalist with a flair for improvisational variations, who is juxtaposed with a guitarist playing some accompanying chords, and a drummer who destroyed the polarity in the taal of khyal. The irritation of this teacher towards destroying the principles that run the system of khyal is understandable, but it is also equally true that bands aren’t performing khyal at all. But then what are fusion musicians performing?

It is traditional for classical musicians to place some musical styles simply out of the scope of musical reasoning. This kind of fusion music doesn’t matter to classical music, because it isn’t classical music. Although, must we remember that this was also what was said about ghazals more than hundred years ago. Ghazals which, then, slowly snuck in to capture many mainstream classical singers and managed to reach the classical auditorium, standing side by side with a tarana. This was also said about the harmonium, suspected as an instrument with vice, completely unsuitable for the Indian Classical form because of its fixed intonation. This was, to go far behind, also said about the khyal itself. These forms somehow stuck around and became ‘classical’. Should we start to expect such a thing out of a fusion form which relies on harmony as well? If yes, how are we to elaborate the theoretical structure of such a form and who does that responsibility lie upon.

If we keep telling trained musicians that it is not their right to change classical music, we forget to account for the changes that occur regardless of telling or not telling musicians what is their right.

Form and Function

Classical music is not the only or not among the few ways of entertaining oneself through music that is available to us. Music – and effectively music producing any kind of affect – is available to us literally everywhere. People now have started to think of classical khyal music as more and more ‘meditative’ and absorptive, rather than mentally engaging, mathematically challenging. This doesn’t leave khyal music with the credit of being extremely mathematically complex and poetically demanding.

In fact, raga music is increasingly is accessed just to seek the affect of trance and devotion. It is increasingly rare to find an educated rasik listener especially in cities, who can point towards the nuances of notes and moods, who can identify the technicalities of classical music and not just absorb in the mood.

Electronic music, computers, and digitization

Thorough knowledge in theory of music helps one understand the basics of using computer systems fairly easily – but wait. Trained as a classical musician in India, one only trains their ears in melodic listening. It is difficult to hear and get used to the nuances of harmony regardless of how many years you spend training for melodic listening.

Computer tools for music use piano as the basis for most of the work. Piano roll writing is the most common way to give midi information to a computer for any digital audio workstation, and we don’t use a piano for classical music. Despite introducing western notation reading in the coursework for Hindustani training, most students are unfamiliar with this, as it is almost never used to represent Hindustani music.

In most courses for classical music, there is very little or no teaching of Digital workstations, recording equipment, and we like to pretend that those don’t exist and cannot interfere in the realm of classical music. We want to isolate the electronic from the ‘real’, and pretend as though the electronic doesn’t matter to the real, regardless of how many electronic CDs we may churn out, and amplifiers we may use to help music be heard in auditoriums.

The disparity between industry requirements and classical training

Playback singing, session music and composition seem like other routes that a classical musician may take after they’re sufficiently trained.

But there is always the complaint that film composition is ‘light’ and thus a lesser form than classical music. Mainstream composers have time and again been uneducated and uninformed about what they are writing. A film song is an object that exists in and of itself, while a raga is a semantically insatiable object. You may sing it for all of your life, but never have completed singing it, never have finished finding it. How do we look at the compatibility of these methods of hearing as one?

In a country that is obsessed with loose terminology like ‘passion’ ‘mood’ ‘creativity’ to describe arts that are in fact precise and elaborate, like music, it is hard to stress upon the requirement for specificity as a measure of divergence from cliché. The things we like as ‘new’, may not be that at all – but there is no way to know, unless we examine with education.

Indian things are cool again

I was sitting with some south Bombay-ites in Leopolds once, and one of my friends remarked “Oh you learnt the sitar?! How cool is that?”. Despite the fact that I was perplexed by his statement, walk into any music shop and you will probably find 100 guitars and 0 sitars.

As far as marketing and popularization goes, we have clearly not done that great a job – but wait! It’s coming back. It’s very cool to find a small Hindustani ‘taan’ embedded in a dub track played in your club on Saturday. At least one devotional song or a heartbreak song with alaap is still a staple per movie that we produce. Musical ‘objects’ are, in this way subverted to serve as token reminders of affect.

But should we rely on systems like this to keep our musical system alive? Isn’t participation the best way to keep something up?

We must answer the hard question of what education in classical music really helps you build. Until then, there is just a reiteration of reticence and judgement from the experienced, and quick object-production by the young.

Dolpat Music – The status of folk

Folk songs, as a cultural artefact, are fast disappearing from modern life. Urban communities, with plenty of music listening opportunities available to them, have musical experiences in private more often than with other people. Passive listening of music far outweighs actively playing or even listening to live performances. Even as music constrains itself to an art to be enjoyed more than experienced directly – with performance and education, folk music upholds not only musical, but community traditions and practises. The hallmarks of folk music are functional as well as structural. In important occasions that dictate cultural practises such as weddings, funerals and childbirth, these songs pass on the moral and ritual values of cultural groups. Songs about daily life, labor, work and relationships remind of the normative nature of hardships and turn troubles into a shared experience. Songs of supplication to god, and pride about the culture or nation, too, incite a ritual experience, woven with cultural values and shared identities.

With the coming of urban life, and the invasions of urban comforts in rural life, folk traditions are slowly changing. Folk songs that existed solely for the purpose of communities coming together, now also exist for commerce. This changes the paradigm, by transforming functional music into a commercial object. This can be seen in almost every state in India – there exists a mainstream commercial musical project, along with an underbelly – folk music, that is written in an old folk style, but is about urban problems, involving poorly orchestrated versions of rich folk songs. These new folk songs are cut into cds and sold in street markets, and their value as a community heritage is diminished by mass production and mass consumption. These songs don’t cut well with urban listeners – who will look up songs from the folk traditions from different languages, and make fun of their humble lyrics and simplistic production techniques. How does folk music undergo this transformation? From being a pillar of rituals and dances that were sung and played by large communities – to being poorly produced and written not to last? Simply put, the value of folk music is not in buying a cd and playing it on your system – but its value is only realised when communities interact with the music together – singing along, participating in practises, writing new songs about unique experiences within the culture. To see a culture that preserves

We first heard Dolpat music in a wedding at Lakshadweep. It is an astonishing artefact that has survived despite television, pop music and mass media from the mainland being present on the islands. This music is untouched by both – the production methods that dictate the use of instruments, and recording methods as they do on the mainland – as well as the classicization and adaptation of folk music to classical music. We find in Dolpat, a unique sustenance of all these characteristics that help fortify a community through the help of music. Not only do these songs serve as essential elements of ritual ceremonies on the island, but the administrative authorities have also participated in this tradition, as the Kurikals are appointed by the governing officers of late, as opposed to being selected by the community. This is a unique feature, and it means that the state takes interest in actively upholding the cultural practises of the region. This music is also completely untouched by musical practises in the mainland, as Kurikal from Kavaratti mentioned about not knowing or being taught the so called classical music from the mainland.

By visiting the islands and interacting with musicians who practise dolpat and other music and dance forms, I hope to gain a comprehensive understanding of this musical tradition, and create an archival repository of their musical material. This way their songs will stay written somewhere for reference, and we can hear their recordings and more. By talking about this unique folk form, we can help preserve this music. Amarras records from Rajasthan has made it possible for practitioners of Manganiar folk music to enjoy enormous success, but more importantly made it possible for many many people to enjoy their wonderful folk form.

More importantly, I wish to learn about the interactions of this musical community and the governing authorities, and how they work together in maintaining this important facet of their cultural life. This model could be useful at other places where folk traditions are in danger. By keeping community musical traditions alive in other places, we can help diversify our knowledge of folk communities, and help these musical traditions find their own ground.

Locus of power in performing

Performing music in front of a crowd always gives me the heebie jeebies. Talking about something in front of a crowd does not. Making jokes in front of a crowd is even worse, but singing in front of a small room of people does not. This anxiety, as i have come to find, is not really about other people. It is absolutely pleasurable to get someone interested in a new type of music that they have never heard before. It is great to get them involved in what are the pressure points of that music, what makes it great, and why they could develop an ear for it. But then there is always the question of why and how i must be the one to deliver this information. How can i be confident that I am delivering it correctly and that i deserve to be delivering this. I don’t want to dismiss this simply as an anxiety about self.

It could also be that once you practise and become better and better at something, you want to showcase those skills to going in front of other people, and express the fruits of your practise. It is a sort of a dig at showing off, but giving the pleasure of listening to other people. Which bothers me too. The desire for others to appreciate something that you did that was good – and not just others you know who care about what you have to say – *any* others, some others – ‘others’.

What power dynamic dictates whether a person feels desirous and deserving to go in front of an unknown audience – and what unknown audience – why them and why you.

Often times while engaging with music, questions of power need to get asked. These are very explicit in ethnomusicology / musical anthropology contexts, given as it deals with ethnic contexts at the outset. Power questions in whose musicology should be considered ‘ethno’ and why, have now established themselves as the base of modern thinking in ethnomusicology. Ethnomusicological questions sometimes also deliberate about the nature of power within different performers who are playing together. In some cases, this hierarchy is automatically arranged, for example, the conductor is an authority over interpretation and leading the whole orchestra; the concertmaster has an authority over tuning the violins and so on. Other hierarchies are more complex and implicit, such as the one between collaborating performers in Hindustani music, where the instrumentalist must take the back seat and follow the lead vocalist.

These hierarchies and power equations are a matter of the musical culture itself, and perpetrate through performances and through the tradition. However, there has to be another power dynamic in play simply to get up and to say: you must listen to me and i have something important to say now (through music). This question has often confused me as i delve deeper and deeper in trying to understand more about classical and social music – what is that should make one go up in front of other people, confident that what they have to say is important and deserves to be heard.

In classical music, there is also a lot of talk about a ‘worthy’ audience. A lot of the inside secrets of classical music aren’t delivered to unworthy audiences, who wouldn’t understand or wouldn’t be able to comprehend the level of music that you want to be playing.

In community musical styles, this is easily resolved. We all sing together, and the power and the beauty of music is shared. It is known to everyone, and everyone takes agency of it. Even if it is some more than others, everyone is an equal partaker. In a concert hall, you are the messenger, and you have found an abstract message through music. You are a carrier of an unknown abstract message, thickly tainted with your own interpretation, and heavily crusted and cornered with your abilities.

But when i stand in front of an unknown audience, why should i take upon myself, the agency to convey abstract messages that are highly open to interpretation, in front of people i don’t know who have no reason to care about me or the message i want to deliver.

When you are a member of the audience, you share the agency of listening to something with anywhere from 50 to thousand people. When you perform, you share it with far fewer. When you are in the audience, and you feel like walking off, what do i do – how should i modify my craft – what do i do to engage you? If i do everything in my power and still fail, should i blame you? Should i expect you to sympathize with my music or voice and its quirks? Should i expect you to understand me or revere me? To respect me or to relate to me? Should i expect you to love me or to think I am cool? Do these questions in part depend upon genre?

Which of these questions gets to determine the voice of my musical style, the core values that i would like to project? How do i carry this along with the weight of musical tradition and how do i balance it with personal preferences in the artform?

How much of my life do i open in front of an unknown audience? Given how replacable we all are, does my life in particular even deserve any guardedness? Why should my going ahead and playing make me vulnerable? What do the messages say about me anyway? If they are shared and abstract messages, then what does it even matter that I have to deliver them – why should i even get vulnerable. Why are you even celebrating? If i perform, am i not, by default, an exhibitionist?

The answer to most of these questions is – that it is different for different audience. In music, there is not just power in authoritative stature of the performer, but also in the multiplicity of intention and agency, which makes it a very different kind of power place. I don’t feel like i want this power, regardless of whether i could handle it. Armchairs are far more comfortable than any stage could ever be.

Music in Lifestyle Magazines

Music found in lifestyle magazines

Lifestyles of blind beggars on local trains
Playing prayers on old harmoniums suspended

Lifestyles of instrument merchants and makers
With nobody left to buy what they make

Lifestyles of the kamchi iktara maker
Selling ten rupee instruments every summer

Lifestyles of Kirtankars and Priests
Making prayers possible for unrelated people

Through the beat of their word
Their repeated insistence on blurring
phonetic and morphemic boundaries
channeling play between words and feelings
and actions and their empty entry points.

What does this have to do with
Electronic devices and consumption.

Why is
Music is featured in lifestyle sections in newspapers
Next to jewelery and diamonds
Next to white truffles and fine suede
Next to celebrity.

Irrational Fears


Tejaswinee Kelkar

“What are your insecurities about, even? I just don’t understand”, my grandmother yells at me just the same as everyday – trying to get me to open the windows and doors of my room, and let the air in. It used to happen everyday. I used to latch all the glass windows and put on thick grey curtains so that no light or fresh air ever came in. “You like to suffocate yourself”, she used to say, trying to folk-psychoanalyze me.

I was an angry teenager who didn’t want to meet anyone at home – just stick around in my room, latch the door, and sit inside the huge blue steel almirah that was in my room. I would sit under the bed for hours sometimes, until my grandmother would  ‘sweep’ me out with a broom. Or sit inside a small window with glass latch doors.

But the almirah was…

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How to analyze but love?

In India, there is still a lot of talk about playing music from the ‘heart’. Music is mostly still described as something that requires emotional engagement, involvement from love and absorption rather than active engagement with mathematical or analytical parts of you. Music is also taught and learnt by absorption, imitation, involvement and feeling. Although advanced studies include some very complex mathematics and practice, analytic is not the most embellished and overt feature of the narrative of music here. This carries into several other notions, such as musicians are ‘born’ and ‘gifted’, it’s impossible to learn if you weren’t already born with the gift, you might try your hand at some music, but once without a gift is always without a gift – and several such misappropriations are commonly heard.

This perhaps has to do with enigma within love itself – that nothing appears like love if you know it too well and that if something isn’t mysterious enough, then its likable qualities – now transparent before you – are not desirable. That nothing is worth loving if you know it too well. How does this concept scale and compare with music?

When i started to learn to read and write western classical music, it was confusing to a lot of my friends. Ear training drills especially so.  A lot of people would ask: “Well if i know the contents of it thoroughly, how will I love it anymore?” That is to say, how will your absorption be overwhelming if you spend too much of your mental resource analyzing musical schemes. At first, I dismissed such a question as an offshoot of popular impressions of musical abilities – that performers are god’s creation and so on. But later, this question seemed not so trivial to me, and the reason is not because of improved musicianship.

A teacher of mine once said: “I listen to music all the time but if you asked me to name a song or two, I wouldn’t know any.” Is it not me then, and just by the virtue of its being ubiquitous now, music has taken over the form of a collective noun in our heads rather than a concept. Another old teacher disapprovingly adds: “He was a musician, but couldn’t dance! You know what that means, right?”. Another who listens to music day in and day out – gets more and more overwhelmed by the complex and engaging capacities that his sophisticated listening abilities enable him. It is in these and many other profound ways that music remains being substantial, but if you ask me to just play a song, I am sure i couldn’t think of one in under 10 seconds. Maybe I could zero in on genre by then. There is so much good work!

Our musical affairs really really intensify during teenage and some studies suggest that the music we hear and love around that time just stays with us for the rest of our lives. This is what happened with me too. I learnt five or six new instruments around that time. I gave them up all one by one, in the interest of focusing on a primary instrument to love – the voice. I played the keyboard every single day when i was a teenager. When my brother would come by during vacations, we would sit together at the keyboard everyday, him singing songs he loved, and me accompanying him, and my mother listening on. I had a small field tape recorder in which i taped tens and hundreds of new compositions. I was just figuring out how to layer instruments on top of each other. When I think of how not-so-long-ago this was, I don’t know who to point the accusatory finger towards – adulthood or music education.

I wasn’t a great musician either – I wrote cheesy lyrics sometimes, I sometimes romanticized the fact that I felt like crying while singing to other people. Me and my friends spent countless hours around that keyboard. I taped on it, sequenced, imitated the songwriters I loved, and just – engaged.

When i think about going home now and sitting by a keyboard – the only songs i can think of playing are those old ones. I am, I guess more accomplished as a musician now – I can hear much more nuanced music, recognize many more things. I even spend a lot of time trying to develop listening of new genres and trying to reproduce and analyze different things people were doing with music. But. I don’t know to engage with any of those songs if I were given a keyboard. I could accompany you if you wanted me to. If you pull up a set list, I would sing all of it perfectly, knowing exactly when and how to emote and what vocal gestures to execute. But I probably would never cry from singing now. Maybe this experience resonates with some?

I have listened to a piece too many to study though – to listen carefully – and this hasn’t meant that humming habits and downtime singing is different now. I still do it all the time – it’s just that I take the question about analysis and lovability more seriously. I find study music more absorptive, it’s qualities more forbearing and powerful, it’s structures more firm and desirous of categorical exploration.

Do you or should you fall out of love with all pop music, all cliche, all things known? Should you, as soon as you see a pattern, abandon absorption and immediately abhor the pattern altogether? If not led by curiosity, what are we really good for? But if led by curiosity, is over-familiarity a dire consequence? Should i care about history, context and quality all the time?

I don’t even think much of the heart-brain cliche, that suggests that there must be notable and separate differences between our reactions from curiosity and our reactions from relatability and love, and don’t see the merit in that. I just wish there was a way to love as intimately the music that i wanted to stomp my foot on the ground firmly for, saying – “This song is mine. I sang it last year.”

Repeat what everyone knows: Yaman Kalyan

We might be stuck in a Yaman (Kalyan) loop.

1. Most concerts are in the evening – night.

2. Yaman is the most popular evening raga – everybody knows popular yaman melodies.

3. Everybody learns Yaman as it’s usually the first raga that is taught.

4.  Because of having heard Yaman often, people don’t know other night ragas.

5. Play Yaman.

Consequently, nobody has heard other night ragas again and again. Power structures of prevalence to certain ragas due to certain times of the day get repeated and we are left with concert after concert of the sweet taste of ni-re-ga-ma-pa.

If you break the kaalchakra and sing or play something that’s not a night raga – blasphemy, and incorrect feeling. Lack of mood generation.

If you don’t, then other choices you have may pass over the audiences’ appreciation.

This is just me venting frustration after time after time of having heard yaman after yaman dope.

Attribution of Symbolism to Music

A piece about the river bubbling?
Or the rolling hills.
Winter leaves rustling
Or springtime joy.

Piano speaking of a yarn spinning
Or the night sky in string harmonics
Or the conversation of a trumpet and a voice.


But the sound of time rumbling?
A piece about the essence of life?
A soundscape that captures all of love?
Rather than a small story?

The song of the harmony of the spheres?
Instead of tops spinning

Why associate higher symbolism to something
As temporal and recurrent as music?

Why project our ideas of what is worthwhile
and aim for every word we write?
Every note we sing, to be a masterpiece?

Instead of just being what it is for itself.
A temporal little being.

Ragas are more than the notes in them

Melodic development of Ragas is what truly characterizes the style of Indian music. 

We come across a difficulty immediately upon thinking of notating Indian music: Most of it is improvised, and hence, it is possible to conceptualize notating or transcribing a performance by someone, but comparatively harder to notate a raga or a bandish itself, since how it sounds and how it is formed is completely dependent upon who performs it. It’s an entity with some rules, that are entirely open to interpretation. Like a color-scheme for an artist, maybe.

Raga performance is much more than notes, and it is easy to understand that based on the following examples:

  1. There are paintings to describe the mood of every raaga. There are paintings in the Madhubani style of painting from the Mughal period, dated early 17th century, which describe the feeling of each raga. There is also a couplet to describe what the mood that the raga should create.
  2. Raga and rasa are closely related to each other. Prof B Chaitanya Deva has tried to explore this relationship by quantifying the moods of ragas based on 22 attributes (Pairs of opposites, like light- heavy, weary-refreshed and so on). He has revealed commonalities and differences between the perception of ragas across two generations of musicians and performers. 
  3. Ustad Z. M. Dagar and Ustad Z.F. Dagar, who are singers of the Drupad tradition have said that it is impossible to notate Indian classical music. In fact, their claim is that the notation has in fact destroyed the premise of Indian music, which is based on the flexibility of pitch. Notating Ragas reduces them to just a few ‘catchphrases’ and destroys the potential abilities of expression that are inherent in them. 
    1. Many Indian musicians and scholars believe that it is not only difficult but impossible to notate Indian pitches and Ragas properly, especially using the musical notation commonly used today. 
    2. On the other hand many musicians feel that we have to notate our music, even we lack a suitable system of notation. So we notate our music somehow. However it is time we asked ourselves if notating our ragas is contrary to the nature of this ancient music.

Not only does this raise questions of whether this will modification of style by changing some inherent  features of the form of music, but also makes us wonder what kind of change is, in fact desirable and what isn’t. As much as Indian music has changed due to influences – Mughals, Light classical forms, the introduction of records, the North-south split, Indian music flows into time periods. Even things that survive from previous eras have changed shape and only now can have we come to a point of consciously thinking whether we want the precursors to change or not. 


Bitter experiences with Jazz Fusion

The world was celebrating international music day on the 21st of June. Someone procured passes for us to go to a fusion music concert happening in Shilpa Kala Vedika. Pt Ronu Mojumdar, Pt Bickram Ghosh and an array of instruments, from an electronic Veena to a Bollywood vocalist. There were two canadian Jazz Saxophonists, a keyboard player, a drummer to add to this mix of flute, veena and tabla. It sure looked intriguing.

Jazz and Indian music. The relationship goes back several decades in this century. The interests of many american performers who formed the story of jazz as we know it were piqued by similarities in Jazz and Indian classical music – the use of modality, the blending of a composer and a performer as an improviser. John Coltrane became very interested in Indian music and also wrote several pieces inspired by ragas in the early 60s. Later in the 70s with Shakti, John McLaughlin and others experimented with mixed modality, where independent styles could come together and share a piece of music. Louis Banks, with his reinterpretations of Miles Davis, and Indian sounds in Jazz writing was even nominated for a Grammy for his work.

Having said this, it makes me very sad to report the utter lack of study and practice that was this concert. Masters of a style cannot hop into another and expect themselves to excel at it. A part of being a great musician is to understand your limitations. If you have to reach out beyond what you’ve always been doing, you ought to learn about the new form first. The one thing that a musician must never appear to be – at least in front of an audience that pays to listen to you – is unprepared, and that is exactly what happened on this night. The performers had a setlist of about 3 songs, after which they even said, “ok. Now we’re just going to make something up on stage and play for you”. And they continued this unrehearsed fiasco for another hour and a half. Everyone could see their lack of preparation, and they made no attempts to hide it.

Although improvisation is about coming up with music on the spot, it’s not about the lack of structure. It’s not about pulling wool over everyone’s eyes. It is about an ensemble that creates one music. Not about trying to subdue other performers. It’s about enhancing other performers. Not trying to cut into their slice of sound and constantly try to seek attention. The only rainmaker was Pt Mojumdar, whose eccentric flute saved every song except for the tabla solo. The band very much lacked a leader who had an idea of what to do and how. There can’t be an ensemble performance without a vision. The Saxophone duo from Canada, the Kay brothers did a great job of playing their parts, although the overshadowing memories of the concert were senior performers trying to be in the limelight. Sowmya Raoh was introduced almost as something to look at on the stage, but as a singer, was caught off guard in all improvisation sections. Pulak Sarkar on the keyboard did his job, but Arun Kumar was a pleasure on the drums.

It is sad to see a concert where the performers bank on the general lack of musical education and awareness that has become a norm here in our country. The average audience only wants to be entertained. I feel that it is the duty of an educated, learned classical performers to show people the different ways to be entertained in, even if the way to do this starts from popular sensibility. It is a musician’s responsibility to share joy of music, lead people to understand what to listen for in a piece of music. To explore the sensitivities of the listeners instead of overconfidently churning out the crass regurgitations of old masters.

There is a German youth jazz orchestra by the name of Bujazzo that came to India last year and made music with Rama Mani, T A S Mani and others. They had an amazing conductor / arranger, Mike Herting had carefully planned the music and the sequence. He understood the delicate balance of the styles, and of excesses. They generated soulful music – a genuine experiment with two styles. Using for example, the rhythms of Carnatic music, with deceptive cadences, typical of Jazz. As a musical population, we have to understand that what sounds ‘jazzy’ doesn’t have to be jazz. We cannot be expected to carry on like this – learning nothing from Jazz, exploiting the freedom of jazz, and reinterpreting it without understanding it. There has to be methods in which systems interact with each other where the result is not chaos. One would think this progression will be a responsibility of learned professionals.

The philosophy of Indian music is about creating rasa, bhaava. The aim is not to be a rockstar and psych the audience, but be a messenger of music itself and move them. To take them on a journey and to make them feel. Not to show off but to use your skill as a device. The audience should be able to see through performers who use their skill to intimidate. We should, in the very least – realize when we’re not touched by the music. The coming together of musical styles is also the coming together of their ideologies. The pensive meditation of Indian music and the variability and the sheer good humor of Jazz.

I think the critical reception of music is where we are lacking. The educated audience that could tell the weaknesses of a classical singer, though they weren’t singers themselves – are an audience of the past. Music journalism in this country now, is about ‘Wah-waahi’. As long as someone is entertained, we really don’t bother to look into the musicality, the sensibility, and the subtlety of our own tradition. Four speeches – not one but four – that preceded the concert talked about how music brings everyone together and crosses boundaries. Is that all that we have to say about music? It entertains us and connects us? Have we stopped thinking critically if the son of a master is performing – have we stopped bothering to really listen if a big name is playing? We need more vocabulary here! Better ways of talking about music in an educated spirit.

I realize that the world we live in is about live telecasts. Television space is crowded and everyone wants a piece of attention. What i don’t understand is when performers would try to appeal to thousands of people flipping through channels lazily in their pajamas instead of the few hundred who payed and bothered to be at their concert in flesh and blood. I am reminded of an Aruna Sairam concert i had the great pleasure of attending, where she made the organizers switch on the lights in the auditorium so she could see the people she was communicating with. She wasn’t making youtube videos. She was singing for the people who had come to hear her. While the memories i’ll carry from last night are of Bickram Ghosh trying to tell the sound engineers what a bad job they were doing in the middle of a Veena solo. I’ll carry the memories of everyone trying to tell the sound engineers to increase their own volume. I’ll remember last night because the performers didn’t know how to conclude their pieces, and not because of overflowing content but because of an overflowing ego.