I was recently in Bangalore in Southern India on a business trip. It was my first visit and I thoroughly enjoyed the city. It was, first of all, delightful to be in a big city which has lots of tree-lined boulevards and roads, although like Bangkok they always seem to be bumper to bumper with all kinds of vehicles. The food was terrific, the tea delicious and people everywhere were very friendly.
Music posters in Bangalore.
Bangalore is a musical town. In a previous column some years ago I wrote about the brilliant local guitarist Raghu Dixit and his band, the Raghu Dixit Project, and the town has a very lively Indian rock scene. The state of Karnataka has many kinds of folk music, and the sound of filmi music — from the soundtracks of movies made in the local language Kannada, as well as in Tamil and Hindi — could be heard in the streets and in the busy markets.
The local language cinema, part of the "Bollywood" Indian cinema industry, is known as "Chandannavana", or "Sandlewood" cinema. I was introduced to some catchy Sandlewood songs on a trip north of city, along with some Karnatik singing, by my hosts as we sped into the agricultural areas of the state. Time did not permit any Sandlewood music quests on this trip but I'll go back to do some crate-digging at a later date for sure.
Prior to my trip I spent a little time researching Karnatik music because I've always been a fan of the vocal styles of the singers from this region. The ones that I have heard seem to have the same ability as qawwli singers in Pakistan to move the listener, to transport us mere mortals to a higher plane.
One singer I like in particular is T.M. Krishna, whose vocal pyrotechnics are something to behold. You can see and hear his work on YouTube — check him out, he is a brilliant musician. He seems to be able to hold a conversation with an instrument, often the violin. After researching his background a little I discovered that last year he released a tome on Karantik music, A Southern Music — The Karnatik Story (Harper-Collins India, 2013).
On my last afternoon in the city, a photographer I'd been working with, Satish Kumar, took me for a motorcycle ride around town to visit book stores and places that sell music, stopping to refuel on masala dosas and local milky coffee. As luck would have it I found a copy of Krishna's book in a second-hand book store called Blossom Book House, which is well worth a visit if you're in Bangalore; it's just off MG Road. You can find more information on the bookstore at www.blossombookhouse.com.
Krishna's study of the Southern Indian classic traditions is encyclopaedic. He has set up the book like a typical concert or kutcheri (a place where people gather to listen to a classic concert), in three sections: experience, context and history. And he begins with the most fundamental questions of all: what is music? He builds his "story" from this simple question to present a detailed overview of the Southern classic tradition.
He doesn't shy away from controversy either. He notes the misogynistic tendencies of some performers and he has no time for any elitist notions, but at the same time says that the tradition has been welcoming to new influences and instruments, citing the examples of the violin, the saxophone and the clarinet, all of which have been absorbed into the music. The harmonium, on the other hand, a stalwart in North Indian music, he feels does not have the right sonics to work with the tradition.
I have to say that I found some of the sections hard work without having a background in the music, but that is more than compensated by the fact that you can read many of the chapters as standalone essays. It is also good to finally be able to place the music in some sort of social and historical context, too. But for me the best aspects of this passionate book are the glimpses the reader gets into the mind and imagination of the classical musician. A great read — highly recommended.
Many thanks to Satish Kumar for translation and the craic.
