YENADU VIDIPONI - SRI KANAKA MAHALAKSHMI RECORDING DANCE TROUPE

Part 1

Mathematics is usually defined as the language of the universe helping understand the vagaries and wonders of the world by means of a number based system. Though this notational system is totally relative, it makes quite an appreciable effort in dealing with the "why"s and the "how"s in a logical way. Now that is as far matters of the mind are concerned. Move a few inches down and try coming up with a system to satisfy the heart in the same way. A good piece of writing leaves a lasting impressions long after he had read the piece. Same goes with a great painting or an enthralling sculpture, an invigorating dance recital. Most of these art forms move in well-defined paths, clearly demarcating their boundaries of good taste (like, what is good penmanship and what is not, what extra ingredient does a great paint possess that an ordinary one lacks, why are sculptures carved on the walls of the caves of Ajanta and Ellora still considered the seminal pieces of the erstwhile civilization and the like) and engage their audience on a more cerebral level. Music is different beast altogether. It is an abstract art form that defies the norms of tradionality and structure. Like everything it starts off having an accepted and a standardized syllabus - 7 notes of interleaving frequencies, with each note in some sort of geometric progressional factor with the one before and after it; some notes can only go upto a certain level and some are forbidden to come any lower; certain notes can only appear after certain others; thre should a quorum of notes to make up a swaram (even this rule is toyed with nowadays). Well, all that is for people on one side of the line.

For the rest who see no difference between a note and a notation, swaram and a raagam, swarajati or a raaga prasthaaram, music is just a repition of sound; music is just a pattern; music is all about pattern repeating itself over and over. Same notes repeating themselves again and again in a given period of time to create an effect that just cannot be ignored. In the end music is that incredible science, that indelible art, that is solely aimed at moving the heart. The sense of music is something that is inherent and integral to the human being, immaterial of whether he formalizes the process through education and education. Even an untrained ear could be able to pick between a series of notes that would create a plesant feeling from among other that create disturbance, without knowing or understanding fully well the reasons behind such impact. To him, it is not the "suddha gaandhaaram" or "chatusruthi rishabham" in the swaram or E flat or the D minor in he octave that created the effect, that caused that feeling. 

The heart that beats with a certain rhythm, the pulse that beats at a certain rate, the air that whooshes at a certain pitch, the birds that chip at a certain frequency - music is in the air, harmony is in the life, melody is in the living and symphony is just everywhere around. Recall Sirivennela's famous words about the rhythms of life

janinchu prati Sisu gaLamuna palikina jeevana naada tarangam
chaetana pondina spandana dhwaninchu hrudaya mrundanga dhwaanam
anaadi raagam aadi taaLamuna ananta jeevana vaahinigaa
saagina srushTi vilaasamule ||virinchinai virachinchiTini||

Chakravarthy, true to to his name, ruled the music scene for more than a decade from mid seventies to well into the eighties, when telugu movie started its painful trek away from the artistic interpretation of the medium towards where money is the only language spoken. He had taken over the baton from stalwarts who had created memorable everlasting tunes that would live for as long as the sun and the moon would. Inheriting a great legacy at such a trouble point of time, when it willingly broke away from what made it standa on part with other media of great repute during that era, was hard on all departments, particularly on music and words, as they could never reach to the high standards set by their predecessors, creating purposeless and meaningless sounds - be it in the form of notes, or in the form of words. After the trouble period passed on, and it had been decided that the new standards of cinema revolved entirely around instant gratification and constant entertainment, many a change came over, particularly in the music side, aimed specifically at regaling the masses. Songs like "gu gu gu gu guDisundi, ma ma ma ma manchamundi", "vangamaaka vangamaaka vangi vangi tongi tongi chooDamaaka" won commercial applause and acceptance for the kind of the frivolity of the tunes and frothiness of the words. It went without saying that cinema dropped out of the contention, when it came to which was a more serious and far-reaching medium. It was good to an extent to have the mission statement clearly spelling out at appealing to ignorance than to intelligence, and to have the clarity that cinema was no longer the cultural torch bearer of the generation. From out of such clarity and mission statements, music directors like Chakravarthy took shape.

He created tunes, thousands in number, most of which fizzled out and faded over the passage of time and yet were immensely popular and widely accepted, within the context of the few hours of the screen time and a few days after the scheduled run. It is a testament to his great talent of churning out one commercial hit after another, while simultaneously working on 20 or so films at the same time, in one calendar year. Between his commercial successes like "konDa meeda chandamaama kOna lOna kOya bhaama", "kuDi kannu koTTa gaane kurraaNNi, yeDam kannu koTTagaane yerrONNi", "manchamaesi duppaTaesi andamanta istaanu raa raa raaja", he scored the occasional "ee madhumaasamlO ee darahaasamlO", "taaralu digi vacchina vaeLa, mallelu naDichocchina vaeLa", "maru mallela kannaa tellanidi, makarandamu kannaa tiyyanidi", without getting COMPLETELY mired and seeped in mindless commercialism. Without any assistance from inventive orchestration or innovative compositions, Chakravarthy, like his predecessors, took the safe (and dangerous) route of relying entirely on the soul of the tune to bear the entire burden of the song, sticking to the same standards to well over 10 years, as telugu cinema rode over his shoulders and rose to greater heights of market reach and commercial viability of its products.

Around late seventies, a new wave started to rise up in Tamil cinema. Although it adhered to the same standards of commercial format, it started treading a new ground, bringing some amount of realism and neutrality to the proceedings, without completely going over the top, all in the name of entertainment. Bharatiraja, to a large extent (and Balachander to some extent), ushered in this new era with his take on the village milieu, blending them with more human and real life-like emotions and imparting the sensibilities of the common man. As his movies started to find wider audience, so was the acceptance of his themes in telugu cinema, thanks to the art of dubbing and act of remaking. One such village based theme (though, not directed by Bharatiraja) was "Raamachilaka". The movie, dripping in melodrama, was about a wide-eyed village belle, who meets the man of her dreams, a fresh entry into her village from the near-by city, and starts to build her life around him, and as hte story would have it, she sacrifices him to unforseen situations, getting killed in the process. The movie was no great shakes, but a couple of tunes in the movie ("raama chilakaa peLLi koDukevarae", "maavayya vastaaDanTa manasicchi pOtaaDanTa"), reworked by Satyam for the telugu audience, stood out from the rest. Around the same period Bharatiraja's "16 Vayathinile" struck the right chord with the audience on both sides of the Andhra-Tamil border. This time it had Chakravarthy at the helm rehashing the great original tune, to come up with the soulful melody of S.Janaki, that had innocence, aspirations, hope and optimism blended into it and the result was "sirimalle poova, sirimalle poova, chinnaari chilakammaa".

It is particularly striking how this song is hauntingly reminiscent "raama chilakaa peLLi koDukevarae", when the song steps into the "charaNam" part with the omni-present "Dappu", echoing the heart beat of the aspirations in both the occasions. The styles were eerily similar thought the music was credited to different directors for both the movies. Shortly thereafter, Bharatiraja, moving away from his trademark villages, made a suspense thriller, setting it in an urban mileu. "Erra Gulaabeelu", a bonafide winner in both the original the dubbed versions, credit much of the success to not only a bold theme handled in a slick and a mature manner, but also to a couple of great melodies that became instant classics ("ee erra gulaabee virisinadi", "aedO toli valapae"). With Western orchestration and very unique composition (particularly with the latter one), the momentum slowly started shifting towards innovation, in the way a tune is scored, moving consciously away from what was considered standard. When "Don" went on to become a great success in 78, K.S.R.Das promptly transported the theme into telugu medium for NTR and hired a virtual no-name to rehash the great tunes of Kalyanji-Anandji from the original. Though the interest didn't quite pique with an aging NTR portraying both a stoic and silly DON, the way the song "yeh meraa dil pyaar kaa deewaanaa" was completely changed into "naa paruvam nee kOsam" into a worthy, if not better, composition, with trumpets, guitar and percussion, each going haywire but together creating a perfect harmony, that matched the energy and vigor of the original, and yet remained completely independent and inspiring, marked the formal arrival of a new music director, whose tunes, but not the name, had become familiar to the telugu audience from a couple of years ago - Ilayaraja.

Part 2

(continued from Part 1)

Brilliance is never an on/off phenomenon, showing its splendorous best at one instant and fading into obscurity the very next. There are 2 distinct phases that is usually associated with brilliance - 1. The formative years, when all the pieces haven't completely come together and crystallized yet and the final result still has a lot of rough edges to it 2. when everything has fallen in place and each piece seem to move as part of a well-oiled machine. Yugandhar came and went. The movie didn't go down as a memorable one and neither did the songs. The signs of welcome hadn't been put up to the fledgling music director in telugu yet, while the winds of change have started to gather full strength in the neighboring land. Once in a while a great tune came wafting down from the south of the border only to be conveniently and easily adapted "to suit the nativity" by the local talent. The movie - Bhadrakali. Before "vaTapatra Saayiki varahaala laali" crept into the lexicon of lullaby songs, before "lAlijO lAleejO oorukO paapaayi" climbed up the charts to take the seat right beside the former, there was this great melody by Yesudas and Suseela that had the wonderful effect of calming down the senses and taking the listener right to the door step of deep sleep - "chinni chinni kannayya, kannulalO neevayya, ninnu choosi murisaenu, naenu naenu marichaenu". It was quite unlike any other lullaby composed in telugu film music. Lullaby songs have a grammar completely of their own - thou shalt never have more than 5 words in each stanza, thou tune shalt never be complex, thou lyrics shalt have more of (in fact, entirely, if possible) "saraLaalu" and less of (read, none of) "parushaalu", "dwittwaaksharaalu" and "vattulu", thou shalt be in such a way that even a tone/tune deaf person should be able to connect with it instantly - "chandamAma rAvae jAbilli rAvae", "uDataa uDataa oosh, ekkaDikeltaavush", "edagaDaani kendukuraa tondaraa" to name a few.

And here was this entrant that broke every one of the aforementioned and still became immensely popular - "ettukuni muddaaDi vuyyaalaloogaenu, jOla paaTa paaDaenu, laali paaTa paaDaenu". While Bhadrakali had a couple more numbers ("aDigAvae akkaDa, iTu chooskO ikkaDa" etc) that suited the changing tastes of the audience, "chinni chinni kannayya" remains the perennial favorite of haunting melodies even to this day and age. That was around the same time that K.V.Mahadevan weaved his magic to come up with "Adavi Ramudu", which set the tone for future telugu songs to become more or less filler items between reams and reams of dialogues. Mahadevan adapted to the changing trend beautifully (as he did to a few more over the couple of decades), while the rest quickly adjusted their styles and faithfully followed. Amind the cacophony and furore, Bhadrakali went down as an "also ran". If the telugu filmdom hadn't yet warmed up to this new style, there was the tamil land, encouraging the new talent to come up with a gem of an album - Kizhakke pogum rayil (in telugu, toorpu veLLae railu). Helmed by the then new age director, Bharatiraja, it is about a young poet, living in a remote village, held back against his wishes, from making it to a place where his skill and talent are recognized and rewarded, as he pours his heart out in his poetry, all the time dreaming that his fortunes are somehow tied to the train track heading east, passing through his village. The prospect of a repressed poet raging with new and innovative ideas, able to see the world in a radically different way he choose fit, produced one of the rare albums, where every tune ascended to the level of greatness and immortality, that few are blessed with. Among the other great tunes, there is this one, which was later used in "kottha jeevitaalu" - "kavvinchae kaLLallO kaLaevO aevO kadalaaDae ee vaeLa".

It stands out for the unique usage of percussion (in this case, mRdangam), set against the deep bass vocal of Jayachandran (in tamil and Balu in telugu), in the way that the percussion does not faithfully join the vocal, as is the case with any regular tune, but instead stands aside and challenges the vocal to match its varying rhythm. And the fact that the rhythm matches the dance steps of the heroine makes the tune a sort of a way three-way duel. It is interesting in the way the ending of the "charaNams" of "kavvinchae kaLLallO" beautifully flows into "seetaakOka chiluka laetA raama chiluka" (Stuvartupuram Police station) as though the former was only half the composition, and was left unfinished, until it met its match in the latter. In the same year as "kizhakke..." came a bilingual directed by the veteran handler, Sridhar, that came as close to having the most well-rounded, complete, film ablum, as one could possibly imagine. It had everything - melody, folk, regular (routine), and even a bit of rock and roll, and in the way, each song went to become popular in its own right, this was the first and firm proclamation, that the one odd popular tunes here and there prior to this, were no mere flashes in the pan. The title "Vayasu Pilichindi" alone hurls the musical part of the mind into several different directions all at once. The "Dappu" beats feverishly and rhythmically, before settling down to form the base for the full throat rendition of the vocal "mutyamalle merisipOyae malle moggA, arae muTTukunTae muDuchukunTaav antaa siggaaa...". The "anupallavi" silently gives way to the guitar, which continue the rhythmic beat set by the "Dappu" earlier as the words "mabbae masakaesindilae poga manchae teragaa nilichindilae" ease into the "pallavi".

The folk tune set in the low notes of the "Dappu" and the high pitch of the vocals ("paiTalaaga nannu neevu kappukOvae, gunDelOna guvvalaaga unDipOvE") heralded a new era of contrasting orchestral arrangements. (Compare it to the arrangement in "vinara vinarA daeSam manadaerA" from Roja, when the brass at the end of the interludes reach the crescendo, their highest point, as the vocal starts at the lowest possible level in the next note). If the song set a new trend in folk music, the music takes a complete detour to land in a place and melody and melody alone rules. And to start the proceedings, the delightful lilt of the flute takes the stage and rest of instruments follow its cue - "ilaagae ilaagae sarAgamADitae, vayyAram ee yavvanam ooyaloogunae". The song epitomizes the vintage era of the 70s, when music directors were freshly discovering their Eastern idioms and ideologies in Western instruments. Guitars, Drums, Trumpets, whose scales and styles usually stuit the less complex Western structure, started to find place in the (South)Indian classical sounds and if songs like "hello my Rita, aemaindi nee maaTa, paaDaevu sarikotta paaTa maarindi nee baaTa" were composed keeping in mind the reverborating scale in the scream of the trumpet, the organiv beat in the thump of the drums, the resulting fusion contained the best of both the worlds. Though the expression was Western, the essence remained strictly Eastern. "vayasu pilichindi" caused the audience to sit up and take notice of the great setups, both the vocal and the instrumental, of each of the songs (including the routine, yet, very foot-tapping "nuvvanDigindi aenaaDainaa laedannaanaa"). The true fusion that started in "hello my Rita, aemaindi nee maaTa" was taken one step further in "Tik Tik Tik" with "O naTana mayuri vayyaari", when the traditional "taaLam" of the Bharatanaatyam was pitted against the groove of regular rock and roll. However, the experiments and the fusions fell on the wayside and it wasn't until another teaming up with Bharatiraja, that the sway of this new sound took firm hold.

seetakOka chiluka - nothing would better describe, in terms of the blossoming of the sound from a raw and rustic form, cocooned in a chrysalis, to finally emerge out in what can only be a combination of beauty and brilliance personified. The "peLLi aaSeervachanam" starts - "SatamAnam bhavati Sataayuh purusha Sataendriya aayushshaevindriye pratidishTati", as the christian choir joins the cheer, handing it over to the Veena, which completes the rest of the unsaid, wishing hundreds of years of togetherness and bliss, as the words starts to pour over - "maaTae mantramu manasae bandhamu, nee manasae nee mamatae mangaLa vaadyamu". The song entirely belongs to one instrument - Veena - the one instrument that can convey the feelings of devotion and deep passion at the same time. The strings continue to taunt and torment in the interludes goading on the words to say more, something more - "neevae naalO spandinchina, ee priya layalO Sruti kalisae praaNamidae". Satisfied, it eases on the plucking, to let - "naenae neevugaa, poovu taavigaa, samyOgAla sangeetAlu virisae vaeLalO", to come back full fore to merge back into the pallavi.

If strings form the foundation of the emotion in "maaTae mantramu", conveying the tenderness in heart tugging expression, on the other end of the spectrum is resonance of the heart beats in the continuous thumps of the percussion (mRdangam again), forming "sAgara sangamamae, praNaya sAgara sangamamae". It is not the tunes or the orchestrationthat is paramount here. It is the choice of the instruments. Particularly when the songs have to mean something (like in situational songs), the choice of the lead instrument decides the understanding of the music director of not just the sounds coming out of his instruments, but also the meanings buried deep in those sounds. The turmoil raging inside the protagnoist, unable to come to terms with the religious differences that keeps his love at bay, and unable to convince her about his true intentions, rises like the tides that keep crashing against the unmoved (heartless) rocks on the shore. What better way to interpret the thudding of the waves, the thumping of his heart, than in the continuous percussion on the mRdangam. "seetakOka chiluka" displayed the entire range of the new sound - right from the delicate, down to the devastating. The movie marked the formal arrival of the music director, not just his music, but his person, achieving the rare artistic success that is usually reserved to the traditionalists and the conformists. The formative years of the brilliance was thus characterized by the early flashes of great promise before settling down into what came to be known as Ilayaraja's music. After showing his mettle on the artistic side, the sound started its battle on the commercial side of telugu film music. That too, with a war cry - "Eurekaaaa...". The year was 1983.

Part 3

(continued from Part 2)

In fact, it was a dubbed movie. And the year was 1979. The movie, though directed by Balachander, was considerably weird for mainstream's taste. But the music helmed by the veteran, Balachander's regular, M.S.Viswanathan was nothing short of spectacular. And from that album springs about the song in question. "SambhO Siva SambhO" was the pick of the litter from among the other melodies in teh album "andamaina anubhavam". The song, sung by M.S.Viswanathan in the original version and Balu in telugu, is known for its manic energy first, and for its unrelenting orchestration next. The full throated rendition (both by MSV and SPB) matches the feverish pace and pitch of the guitar and the drums, both running amok in the background. It is not often that songs, as above, are scored with a such a gay abandon, setting aside the sliderules and format principles for a second, and just let the moment, content and context completely take over. Ecstacy is one of those emotions that is particularly difficult to be conveyed through musical notations, like how it is with the regular emotional pallette, containing sorrow, happiness and aggression. Ecstacy requires some kind of break way mechanism, from the standards to let the emotion alone dictate the expression. Consider for a moment, the instant when Meenakshi discovers the joy (not the happiness, but joy) in the dedication and application of her senses to the art of dancing in the movie "swarNa kamalam", during the song "andela ravamidi padamuladaa.." and contrast it to the other moment when is genuinely happy like an unfettered bird in "aakASamlO ASala harivillu..". While both the songs speak of the joy within, "andela ravamidi" goes one step forward in completely surrendering all her defences, as she lets the soul soar ("ambara manTina hRdayamudaa...").

The song in discussion talks about one such ecstatic moment. The movie is "abhilAsha" and the song "navvindi malle chenDu, nacchindi girl friendu". It is about a guy, who just professes his love to somebody, with whom he supposes his chances are next to none to none. And as fortune favors the brave, both the heroine and the auidence get ready for an earful, from a guy who is deliriously ecstatic. And the result is loud and clear. Balu's rendition of the song was one of pure joy. Janaki's interluding with waves of unabashed laughter never lets the tempo down. As far as the orchestration goes, the song is distinctly divided between the constant blare of the horn section (particularly the ever energetic trumpet) and resonating beat of the drum. While the trumpet sets off the ignition charge during the intro and the pallavi, the ever present drum beat safely sees the song off, during the interludes and the charaNams, to not skip a beat with each of Balu's howls of joy and Janaki's peals of laughter. Needless to say that after "SambhO Siva SambhO", no other song matched the exuberance and the raw energy of "navvindi malle chenDu" since, and the way the song was translated on the screen, with not somuchas scripted choreography, but more of playful movements (dangerously bordering on circus buffoonery) brought out in Chiranjeevi's performance (and Kodandarami Reddy's brilliantly cut montages interspersing the dance moves), made it a grand (re)entry vehicle for Ilayaraja.

Sadly this is the age of data banks, in film-music parlance, song banks, meaning, the composer is going to have a reserve of tunes that he had previously composed but not yet used, which he is going to distribute among the people seeking his music, sometimes on a first come first serve basis and some other times on a favorite basis. A smaller movie would get insignificant tunes while a bigger production would get most of his attention and better tunes. In such times, it is particularly hard to even conceive of the idea that there was a day and age, when each song was painstakingly composed just in time, and the output of the music director not only reflected on his ability to compose, but also on the team of the producer, director and the lyricist to extract the apt work out of him. And those certainly weren't the days, when music directors tried to space out and spread out their winning compositions over more movie, consciously thinking about longevity. Or how else could one explain tune after tune, each more melodious than the previous, and the previous more haunting than the latter, that Ilayaraja composed for "abhilAsha". The flute speaks out innocently and the guitar joins in ever so gently as a succession of quick thumps give way to the haunting chorus that gradually joins into the song "bantee chamantee muddaaDukunnaayi lae". "urakalai gOdavari urike naa voDi lOniki", "vaeLaa pALa laedu kuurraaLLaTaki", "sande poddulakADa sampangi navvindi"...

Ilayaraja was in no mood of letting up dishing out one delectable tune after another, each melodious in its own right and each one memorable for its own reason. "abhilAsha" went on to become a milestone in each of the significant player's careers connected with the movie - K.S.Rama Rao, the producer, Kondandarami Reddy, the director, Veturi, the lyricist, and of course, Chiranjeevi - and the fellowship was forged. It is very befitting that most of the players involved with the movie were just starting out, early in their careers, with a burning desire to try something different and with a raging fire to make a mark. And make a mark, they certainly did. More than with anybody else, it is the association with Veturi that Ilayaraja's compositions would find a greater acceptance and universal appeal, im the scores of the movies to follow. That Veturi's words could cut both ways, commercially and aesthetically, found a fitting match in Ilayaraja's tunes, which are equally ambidextrous and equally engaging. For every 10 movies that Ilayaraja wielded the baton in Tamil, he scored for one movie in telugu. Again, as is the case of the current generation's cross pollinated composers who routinely rehash their hits in one language in another language, most of Raja's compositions were fairly original, sounding completely native and utterly divine.

The movie - Rajkumar. The song - "rAmuDu kalaganalaedu, jAnaki sati kaagaladani aanADu...".

What is the truly distinguishing feature of a great tune? Take away the orchestral accompaniments completely out of the picture and the song should be able to stand on its own merit without the crutches of technological wizadry of orchestral gimmickry. And the haunting melody "rAmuDu anukOlaedu..." is one such great tune. With minimal instrumental treatment, Ilayaraja relies entirely on the soothing and the soft tune to glide through the stanzas and the interludes to deliver a song, that is as everlasting as it is fleeting - the former in effect and the latter in listening time.

Bapu's movies move at a languid pace. They have a tinge of laid-backness associated with them. Frenzy, franatic, manic are some of the adjectives that do not apply to his principle of movie making. Music in his movies are more for moving and framing words along a poetic path. Word have a higher precedence in his film lexicon as the process of orchestration takes a back seat. But when Ilayaraja joined the zany world of Bapy "mantri gAri viyyankuDu", the result was just electric. K.V.Mahadevan understood Bapu's rhythms, ever since "saakshi", and therefore never stepped on the pedal even when the situation called for it (like in, "buddhimantuDu", when even for the unruly ANR, Mahadevan provided a more sober "bhoommeeda sukha paDitae tappu laedurA", than an aggressive "maava maava maava maava" that he provided for another ANR starrer). It is inherent to Bapu's style that his characters are more energetic than they are aggresive and consequently when the need arose for the show of arms, his style proved his drawback. But not so with Ilayaraja. With the unique advantage of not being saddled with Bapu's tag and baggage, when the scene called for an introduction song for teh hero, whose characterization is one dripping in aggression, youth and limitless energy, Ilayaraja answered the challenge with "manaku dOsti okaTae aastirA, jabardastee chaestae SAstirA". Again it was Balu, again it was Veturi, and luckily, again it was Chiranjeevi.

Bapu's picturization of the unique song was so different and completely against his natural tendencies of subtleties and slow paced nature, that the image along with the the sound, jumps out the screen and grabs at the attention of the viewer. It was as though the infectious enthusiasm of the whole group had rubbed off on Bapu. "mantri gAri viyyankuDu" unleashed the full spectrum of Raja's repertoire. As a complete contrast to "manaki dOsti okaTae AstirA", starts the slow melody with his trademark acoustic guitar strumming the familiar notes, as the singers settle into a slow and a gentle rhythm of "aemani nae madi pADedanu, tikamakalO ee makatikalO". A more traditional beat sets the tempo for "manasA SirasA nee nAmamu talacheda neevaeLa", while a more commercial tunes plays for "koluvainADe kOTla viluvainADe mA kobbarikAyala subbarAyuDe", making the entire album a memorable experience, not just in Raja's career, but also, surprisingly, Bapu's. Ilayaraja was just getting started that year, as all the above was only half the story...."Sagara Sangamam" flowed into the other half.

Part 4

(continued from Part 3)

Sagara Sangamam - Like most of K.Viswanadh's movies, the genius of Sagara Sangamam is how much it is not about the underlying art, as much as it is about it. The year, 1983, was particularly important to the dance mileu, when another remarkable movie, Ananda Bhairavi, went on to trump Sagara Sangamam for the coveted statuette "bangAru nandi". Though both movies, to a certain extent, deal with the mentor-protege relationship set against similar backgrounds, the music that had been composed to both the movies, cannot be more contrasting. Ananda Bhairavi takes a traditional approach as Ramesh Naidu dips his "swaraalu" and "sangatulu" in "mudralu" and "reetulu" - "chaitramu kusumAnjali", "rA rA rA rAgamai", "sRthikae dhRthi laedA" and many such numbers tread the beaten path of the traditional art, without deviating much from the established accepted norms where traditional dance movies sound only one way (another example, V.Shantaram's classic, Jhanak Jhanak Payal Baje). Here the emphasis is more on the dance form, as the music serves only as a platform, allowing for the dazzling display to feast the eyes more than the ears. It is just for this same reason that the music in dance movies is remembered less, than its counterpart, in say, movies that revolve around classical music. This very curse of the dance movies on their music, is what that sets Sagara Sangamam apart from its ilk.

Transport the entire setting of Sagara Sangamam into a classical music environment, like Sankarabharanam, and the movie would work just as splendidly, as every care has been taken to a minute degree that the sound should not follow the beaten path of "dhi dhi tai, takiTa tai". The musical template of Sagara Sangamam allowed the lyrics to soar to great heights. The musical pattern of Sagara Sangamam allows the dance bits to be every bit as dramatic. The entire scheme of the score at no point allows itself to dominate the proceedings, just as how Ramesh Naidu's score did in Ananda Bhairavi. When Viswanadh went out of his way to court Ilayaraja to score for Sagara Sangamam, instead of going with his regular, Mahadevan, the intentions of the maker were amply clear that the sound he was looking for was beyond the realm of accepted structure, and Ilayaraja didn't fail him in his choice. Words, which usually take a back seat in dance themed tunes, are allowed to share the pedestal, sometimes even allowed to completely hog the limelight. The opening song "Om namah sivaaya" itself sets the right tone. Veturi's lyrics praising "gaNa"pati (the Lord of pramadha gaNaas) as a "gaNaanka"pati, renders a new dimension in viewing Lord Siva not just as the prime destroyer, but as someone who pervades the entire universe, overseeing everything from sRsTi, sthiti to laya. Veturi's extrpolation of "gaNaanka"pati is, to put it mildly, out of the world.

1 - advaitam, aadi yOgamu
2 - layalu, kAla gamanamu (divamu, niSi)
3 - tri kAlalumulu, naetra trayamu
4 - chaturvaedamulu, praakAramulu
5 - panchabhootamulu, mukha panchakamu
6 - aaru rutuvulu, aahaaryamulu
7 - pArvati tO naDachina aeDu aDugulu, sapta swarAlu
8 - drukkulu, ashTa dikkulu
9 - vAkkulu, nava rasamulu
10 - gAnamu, daSA upanishattulu

Observe how the music for the song caters for all the essential ingredients that drive the purpose of the song - allowing of the words to transcend the situation, the dramatic moments to allow the key behavior, and its primary function - providing the platform for the display of the art form. And that was only the beginning...

The strings of the guitar strum continuously to set the tone. Flute joins in providing a very melodious start off point, handing over the baton back to the guitar. The opening notes of "vae vaela gOpemmala" are as exhilarating as they come. The requirement of the tune is to evoke a sense of childish innocence, a youthful playfulness and yet deliver a deeper meaning beneath the pranks and the play acts. Observe how the charaNams start off at a crescendo and linger there until it is time to come down and settle for the hidden meaning - "vEyi pErulunnavaaDE vEla teerulunnavaaDE, raasa leelalaaDinaaDE raayabaaramEginaaDE" forms the text, while "geetaardha saaramicchi geetalennO maarchEnE, neelamai nikhilamai kaalamai nilichaaDE" stands as the sub-text. Veturi's lyrics constantly alternates between the vastly contrasting moves setting up a frivolous case at the beginning of the stanza ("mannu tinna chinnavaaDE ninnu kanna vannekaaDE") only to reveal the true nature of the act - leela - ("cheeralanni dOchi dEha chintalanni teerchinaaDE"). A classic case of "samvaada rachana", where the lyricist takes both sides of the case and argues with equal gusto. And then there was the dramatics. It was a very tricky situation to start with. The tune cannot be too classical that it cannot lend itself to be choreographed commercially as per the situation, nor could it start off being too commercial that it generates the required innocence and purity need for the situation. Cometh the moment...cometh the man - and the output is a song lending itself to be heralded and degraded at the same time. No mean feat, that.

The lazy breeze of a mid summer night heats up the surroundings and proceedings to just the right temperatures. The whispering silences of the nearby trees comment on the youthful activity scheduled for the moment - "mounamaela nOyi, ee marapu rAni raeyi, edalO vennela, veligae kannula, tArADae hAyilO...". It is quite difficult to answer which ultimately won the contest - the words or the notes - when it comes to lazy, lilting melodies. Do the words, with enough room to live, breathe and infuse energy, come on the top or is it the tune, that has willingly provided the space at its own expense, that needs to be rewarded for its largesse and sacrifice. Such an engaging tussle between the lyrics and the notes is always a welcome sign for both the maker and listener. The song "mounamaela nOyi" is devoid of any orchestral accompaniment. The magical tune, in the able hands of the singers of good repute, Janaki and Balu in this case, attains a haunting quality that is often a rare commodity in telugu film music. Back in the golden age of cinema, an amusing phrase was in vogue that exactly described these kinds of songs - "Daabaa paaTalu" (loosely translating to open terrace songs). Little or no musical accompaniments, very brief interludes, slow pitch of the singers, a tune that is usually drawn out with not too many variations within, generally characterize "Daabaa paaTalu". The most important ingredient that would greatly enhance the enjoyment of the song is that it needs to be listened to on an open terrace, eyes closed, during the nights, preferably alone. "aayegA, aayegA, aayegA, aayegA aanaewaala" from Mahal, most of Rafi romantic solos and renditions, and almost all of the Hindi songs during the 50s, fall under this interesting category. They are not many that come under that category, with only a few making it to the list, in telugu. The ghazal type structure (where the male lover sings longing for his paramour) suits the Hindi format more than it does the telugu variety. And by virtue of its interesting attributes, "mounamaela nOyi" joins the memorable list of "Daabaa pATalu".

Moving on to the business side of things, the 2 songs that truly capture the essence of the art form - "nAda vinOdamu nAtya vilAsamu parama sukahamu padamu", "vaeDam aNuvaNuvuna nAdam" delve more into the dramatic side than explore the nuances of the art. Likewise the dance depicted on the screen isn't traditional in the strictest sense, but as the character explains, is an amalgamation of the important traditional dance forms of the country. The ecstacy emotion (rasAnubhooti) that the notes repeatedly strike in "nAda vinOdamu naTya vilAsamu" compares on par another of Ilayaraja's composition in another's Viswanadh's venture - "andela ravamidi padamuladA", in that, both the songs try to unleash the true feelings of the artist from a more personal level. Veturi's lyrics, particularly "nAda vinOdamu" needs special mention. Expressions like "pramidae laeni pramadhA lOka hima deepam", "Sitagiri charaNam suranari payanam", "tapamuni kiraNam tAmasa haraNam" ascribe a divine feeling relating the celestial dance of Lord Nataraja ("Sivuni nayana traya lAsyam") to the proceedings on the screen. "vaeDam aNuvaNuvuna nAdam" takes a different route though, as it compares the drive within to "sAgara madhanam" to cause to produce the "amRtam" like art that is divine, eternal and blissful, and lives long after the artist has passed on. Veturi's conclusion of the lyrics with a splendid Bhratruhari Subhaashitam "jayanti te sukRtinO rasa siddhA kaveeswarAh, naasti taeshAm yasah kaaye, jarA maraNajam bhayam", translating to, great accomplishers immortalize their lives through their works of art that remain everlasting. Apt words (self) referencing the album Sagara Sangamam and everyone involved - Viswanadh, Veturi and Ilayaraja. 

Part 5

(continued from Part 4)

Commercial film music if often look down upon with an air of contempt, and condescension, and often disregarded when talking about an illustrious career. A graph is usually drawn upon the high classical and semi-classical notes that a particular singer or a music director has hit upon in his lifetime, completely ignoring probably the equal, if not greater, amount of work, passion and effort that went into the making of regular commercial music. What is commercial music? The one without any redeeming values whatsoever in regard to the situation of the song, the lyrical content or the musical contribution? A situational song usually has the weight of the context backing up the need of the song and consequently the musical quotient.

 A classical or a semi-classical piece, for most of the times, escape the close scrutiny based purely on its lineage, even when the song is completely out of place. As an example, make the case for the song "neyyamulallO naereLLO" in the movie "Subhalekha". The song appears to have come completely out of the blue and totally out of context. And for the only reason that the composition was by the much revered Annamaarcharya, it gets to pass off as one of the great songs in the movie. Commercial music seriously lacks that kind of backing, and neither is its cause helped by the parameters of commercial cinema, that songs be placed more at regular intervals than at opportune moments, however much they seem to be out of sync with the natural flow of the movie. In such a situation, how much responsibility should the lyricist and the music director take on trying to create something out of nothing. What would be the inspiration for the lyricist to come up with great words that in the final product may mean absolutely nothing, and what would drive the music director in pushing himself beyond the boundaries of his imagination in coming up with a haunting hummable tune?

The above needs to be understood by the discerning listener before dismissing a song completely as just another commercial tune. Under such a stifling and support-less structure, if a music director consistently comes up with one winning tune after another and the lyricist matches up the music director's passion by providing words that would breathe life into an otherwise moribund moment, the result is exactly what transpired during much of the 80s and 90s, as Ilayaraja infused life into many a commercial movie, often with the aid of greats lyricists like Veturi, Aatreya, Sirivennela and the like. This is a journey into the seemingly easy but often hardest part as a music director - composing commercial film music.

Post his arrival, Ilayaraja's career moved along two parallel and equally rewarding paths - one, where his music aided the cause of the movies (the ones with Viswanath, Vamsi etc), and another, where his music provided the lifeline to the movies (the commercial potboilers made under the rest). As much easy as it was to dismiss the songs in the latter catetory, considering the output turned in by Ilayaraja, it is quite apparent that he made no distinction between the two in his mind, in terms of the opportunity, creativity and finally the equality in quality. The contrast would become even clearer, if one were to look into the case of other music directors, and their contributions in passable fares. Considered to be outstanding in their own right, Laxmikanth-Pyarelal's compositions for Subhash Ghai's cinema do not quite match up with their efforts in a no-name or smaller profile movies. Though it is unfair to an extent blaming the lack of right intent on the part of the music director, it is equally to the music director to provide for the entire content without the support of any context. This is where Ilayaraja scores over the rest of the lot, in the manner in which he took up the challenge of repititon and tedium, and treated them as opportunities to always do something that he hasn't done before, creating a vast repertoire of songs that would stand on their own merit without the clumsy clutches of commercial movie context/content.

The cue for the song would not be anything more than the hero and the heroine looking into each other's eyes approvingly, and moreover 20 minutes has passed on since the last song. It is another regular duet and yes, the hero can dance a bit. So the song needs to be peppy, catchy and importantly, danceable. Also it would help if the song is "different" (the dreaded word that no one seems have the right definition for), something that wasn't heard before. The baton has been handed down to the music director and here was what he came up with - The drums wake up from slumber and rattle about their presence. The guitar joins in the moment when the drums fall silent. The male voice chimes in at the lower note and the female voice pitches in with a higher note. A few seconds pass before each of those sounds find a point to merge into the harmony. The lyricist comes up with a "saayamkaalam" and the trumpets blare, he adds "saagara teeram", the trumpets blare again, "naa cheli voLLO", trumpets, "chali sandaLLO", trumpets, "rOjoo mOjugaa, jalsaa chaeyarA, virajAji poola gandhamanTi andamanta neediraa" concludes the pallavi. And the music director was just getting started. What follows in the interludes was exactly what the director wanted - something he has never heard before - 2 sets of trumpets, one at a lower note and the other at higher, competing with each other as flute, guitar and drums are trying to have say in the medley. 

That song from "Challenge" was one the most complex, complicated and very exhilarating musical arrangement in Ilayaraja's career, for the sheer energy and gay abandon that comes across in the final product, an output that has far surpassed the context and the expectations. 20 minutes pass by; time for another song; hero looks disarmingly this time into the heroine's eyes; another duet; this time the song reads "induvadana kundaradana mandagamana madhura vachana..." - completely different from the previous one and yet, dropping even iota of energy. Another 20 minutes, another duet; this time, the heroine looks enchantingly into the hero's eyes - "Om Saanthi Om Saanthi vayyaari vaasanthi" and the hits just keep comning on.

Every regular telugu (for that matter, any language) duet has pretty much the same aim and apparatus. Aim: To make a catchy, hummable, yet, danceable duet. Apparatus: Foreign locales (sometimes, the geography dictating the kind of instruments at work), dancing stars, junior dancers and costly costumes. Procedure: Introduce the foreign element early into the song to establish the mood, cue in the chorus to account for the background dancers, start the beat and stir the mix slowly. Result: "ek dO teen sakhee priyaa, ninne maine pyaar kiyaa". Movie: Rudra Netra. The hundreds and hundreds of songs that Ilayaraja had composed for such kind of routine, regular dancing fares duets and the innumerable number of memorable tunes he chalked out of such situations speak volumes about his prowess and his passion. Each opportunity offers a chance. Each chance poses a challenge. 

Each challenge is again an opportunity to rise to and above the situation. But for this singular drive, a personal motivation for excellence, no other reason befits the quality of his output for even the most mundane moments. Here is a duet - "Subhalaeka raasukunnaa kalayO nijamO", here is another - "kalyaa nijamaa toli raaya haayi mahimaa", and another - "khajuraahO lO kasi praemaa", and another - "sarasaalu chaalu Sreevaaru vaeLa kaadu", and another - "raasa leela vaeLa, raayabaara maela"...and the list goes on. The worse the situation, the better was his composition. The movie - "Chaitanya". The backdrop was race car driving. There was absolutely no room for a duet and yet movie rules mandates the need for it. There are no hooks for the song - no special reason why it needs to be sung, no special traits of the hero or the heroine to go with, no help whatsoever from the director. The result - an absolutely bewitching number, sung by Balu at his basest best and what can be characterized as one of his career's best - "paapa eeDu gOla, paapa paeru jOla, oogutOndi baala, yavvanaala DOla...".

There are a different kind of duets that do not fall under the above standard fare, that try to gain some respectability by setting themselves apart from their boisterous brethren, by being meaningful, slow, and not necessarily, foot-tapping. They are the semi-classical in the semi-classical vs classical comparison, but in the reverse. They lack in stature and the grandeur, when the director visualizes them on the screen, yet they seem to possess the longevity and the much needed soul, that its prodigal sibling so seriously lacks. From among the classical, semi-classical, light and the loud, these little light lilting numbers truly mirror the musician's capabilities, given the right mood, context, singers and the words. These are the moments that a music director pines for, craves for and lives for. The musical arrangement for such tunes remain strictly perfunctory. The singers are in their right elements to elevate the beauty of the tune. Withe all the pieces in place, the parade starts - "maLLee maLLee idi raani rOju, malli jaaji allukunna rOju", "karigipOyaanu karpoora veeNalaa, kurisipOyindi O sande vennela", "jaabilli kOsam aakaasamalle vaechaanu nee raakakai", "priyatamaa, nanu palakarinchu praNayamaa", "nelaraaja, iTu chooDaraa", "ennO raatrlostaayi gaanee, raadee vennelammaa"...The simpler the tune, the greater the enchantment; the greater the enchantment, the stronger the effect. There are more than can be counted, the experience is richer than the words can try.

Consider the song, "nee meeda naaku idayyO.." from the movie "rAkshasuDu". A supposedly seductive number, Ilayaraja turns the situation right on its head to give it a delightful feel with a disarming tune and haunting melody. Take the lyrics out that would give away the intent of the song, and the usage of flute (the instrument of choice for purity) and the purposefully slowed down beat and tempo make the case for this song to be filed under a soft under and not under anything else. Here is a music director who brought the much needed credibility and respect for commercial film music, here is a music director who treated the job of creative tunes for repetitive situations with the same vigor as scoring for a much venerable situation, here is a music director who made the listening experience of commercial music no less inferior to listening to a classical or a semi-classical piece.

Continued in the next part: What would the music director had done, if he had everything going for him - the situations, the words, the singers and the visionaries (the directors) who wanted the right music for the context?

Part 6

(continued from Part 5)
Technicians seldom have fairy tales to tell. The toil behind whatever appears on the screen also is seldom told. An eye catching piece of cinematography or a jaw dropping piece of choreography usually have hours, even sometimes days, of hard work put into them, that it is rarely enjoyable to the technicians working in the field, sweating it out, trying to pull miracles out of thin air. Different is the turmoil of the lyricists and music directors. Right amount of stimulation and general dosage of inspiration are paramount to this brand of technicians. If true talent comes out to the fore under adverse conditions which, in this context, mean unforgiving commercial parameters, then true worth is what is brought out when the terms and conditions are set right for the right creative output. 

If the direction is little more than "hero and heroine fall in love, they sing to celebrate the moment", if the inspiration for the situation is a little more than "more than 25 mins have passed on without any song", if the motivation for the creation of the magic is a little more than "a foot tapping tune full of dance beats to accommodate the dancing stars", the result is pure aural treat that could be cherished for generations together. Pick any song that had lived on long since it has been created, the strength of the situation had more than lent a helping hand in extending the lifeline of the same. For those songs, the situation is as indispensable as words are for the songs. The better the situation, the better is the music; the better the music, the better are the words; the better the words, the greater is the enjoyment. As the saying goes

yatO hasta tatO drishTi
yatO drishTi tatO tatO manah
yatO manah tatO rasah
yatO rasah tatO bhaava

Where go the hands, there go the eyes
Where go the eyes, there goes the mind
Where goes the mind, there goes the meaning
And where goes the meaning, there lies the true enjoyment

The hero is just made aware of his terminal illness. The transition of his situation is so sudden and abrupt from the playful side to the philosophical side, that it lingers long in a state of shock, trying to come to terms with his new condition. But when he finally settles down and accepts his fate, things start looking up again and the world around him start appearing beautiful and natural once again, if not vibrant as before. As the director narrates this situation and presents it to his lyricist and the music director, it is quite unlike what they would have heard from an otherwise commercial director, in that, the song has a purpose, the song has to have a meaning, and importantly, the song has to convey the hero's current mental state. Rarely do technicians get the opportunity to explore the character, by reflecting their art and their skill in the nature of the character. The state is set.

The flute wakes up from slumber sounding pleasantly and melodiously, as it joined by the chirps of the early risers. Setting the mood quickly as one of thoughtful melancholy, the music gives way to the words - "aamani paaDavae haayigaa, moogavai pOku ee vaeLa...." chimes in the lyricist. The beauty of this composition lies entirely in its simplicity. Without trying to dominate the proceedings, without trying to bring out the required effect musically, the tune creates the right platform, deferring to the power of the words to bring out the pensiveness, and stands aside allowing the words to take the majority of the credit. This unselfishness of the composition and the magnanimity of it makes the song a truly memorable one, for, whenever the song is recalled, the greatness of the words are given as much due as the near perfection of the composition. "marO prapanchamae marinta chaeruvayi, ee vaaDi pOyina ugaadi vaeLalO, gatinchi pOni gaadha naenaee...". Quite apt as it applies to not just the resilience of the character but also the longevity of the music the words.

Some movies are visual treats. Particularly in the current age of great technological inventions and innovations, the desire to unleash on the screen great visuals, employing the latest and the greatest gadgetry, burns so greatly in the current generation of film-makers, that they overlook the other important facet of cinema - sound. On the contrary, most of the movies of yesteryears were aural treats. Script on paper dictated the visuals on the screen. Words dominated visuals. The notion that movies are natural extensions to stage dramas was strictly adhered to. Bringing the best of both the worlds, "Geetanjali" was as much a visual feast as much as it an aural delight. Images sparred with the sound and the result was nothing short of spectacular. Just as the lyricist and the music director who stand as the natural heirs to the accolades and the awards, the director, who stands as the direct beneficiary, deserves as much credit for his sensibilities in creating the situations that motivated the technicians to aspire to greatness.

"Geetanjali" is not just great visuals strung together with great music and great words. Each song has a purpose, each word within the song actually convey something - quite a rarity in teh mainstream fare. The compositions are purposefully slowed down in tempo so as to allow the lilting words to take precedence. Yet the interludes play the full gamut of emotions is soul-stirring strings, adhering to the theme of "Geetanjali". Who can ever forget the mesmerizing combination of 'bulbul' and violin that feed the soul in the interludes that lead up to the charanam "onTari baaTasaari janTaku chaeragaa, kanTiki paapa vayitae reppagaa maaraanaa...", or the festival violins that just do not let up leading up to "O maeghamaa uramakae ee pooTaki, gaalilO taelipO veLLipO...", or the ominous chorus that portend the inevitable separation of the star-crossed lovers in a booming sonorous tone before the charanam "nippu lOna kaaladu, neeTilOna naanadu, gaalilaaga maaradu, praema satyamu..". "Geetanjali" is a celebration of the image and meditation of the sound.

If strings are tugged deeply to resonate pathos on one side of the spectrum, here, on the other side, is the constant beat of the percussion celebrating the spirit of life in "Rudra Veena". Observe the instrument of choice between these two themes - pathos -> strings, passion -> percussion. The drums in "Rudra Veena" beat endlessly signifying the indomitable spirit of the lead character Suryam. His frustration at the indifference of art unable to reflect the reality of the human condition brought up in the wonderful song "naenu saitam viSwa veeNaku tantrinai moorchanalu pOtaanu..", particuarly at the part when the character cries out "asahaayatalO daDa daDalaagae hRdaya mrudanaga dhwaanam, naaDula naDaka taDabaDi saagae aartula aarani SOkam..." underlines the importance of the right choice of the instrument to convey the correct emotion. Duet is generally an evocation of the tender feelings. It is not a hurried expression and neither should it very loud. But on the other hand, the character is supposed to be very vibrant, radiating positive energy at every moment. How would a duet involving such kind of persona sound?

Wouldn't the tempo slow down if it were to sound just like a regular duet conforming to the established standards? Cometh the moment, cometh the man. Without compromising the tempo, without letting down the spirit of the character's nature, the composition "lalita priya kamlam virisinadi, oohala jagatini..." is perhaps one of the most vibrant duets that have ever been scored. The transitions from the pallavi to the charanam and then from one charanam to another, happens with such urgency that it almost feels that Suryam does not want to waste his time running around trees romancing his lady, while the world around seems to drown away in despair. And the same pattern is followed in the rest of the scores, where his heart beat resonates through each number with a different degree of immediacy - "bratukuna laeni Sruti kaladaa, yedasaDilOnae laya laedaa...", "tarali raada tanae vasantam, tana dariki raani vanaala kOsam...", "swargaalanu andukonaalani vaDigaa guDi meTlekkaevu, saaTi manishi vaedana choosi, jaali laeni Silavainaavu..."

The question is as old and eternal as the chicken and egg - which method talks more about the worth of the composer? Pre-selecting a tune to a situation before the words are chosen? Or setting a tune to an already prepared text that talks about the situation. The issue is still raging with no clear cut winner. Pre-determining a tune to a situation talks about intutive response of the composer, which in fact is the true definition of music - the expression that has risen above words. On the other hand, setting a tune to already framed words talks about the talent of the composer balancing the words against the mood and the mood to the tune. While the first method is more reflexive, the latter one seems a more thoughtful response. It would come as a pleasant surprise to know that most of the songs of yester years were words set to pre-determined tunes and not the other way round, as one would have thought. But that still didn't diminish neither the quality of the songs, nor the listening pleasure. For every Mahadevan or a Ramesh Naidu who insisted on setting their tunes to a text, there was an Ilayaraja who challenged the lyricists to match the beauty of the tune. The aforementioned "Geetanjali", "Rudra Veena" were as much worthy creations of Veturi and Sirivennela as they are of Ilayaraja's. "Swarna Kamalam", in the way the tunes are set to words, shares equal ownership (saha bhartRtwam) of Ilayaraja and Sirivennela. Without the fore-knowledge of which came first, the words or the tunes, albums such as "Swarna Kamalam" categorically answer that the question is irrelevant when talking about true talents.

As Kalidasa prayed to the Divine Couple

"vaagardhaa vivasampruptau vaagardha pratipattayae
jatagath paitarau vandae paarvatee paramaeswaram"

Like the inseparable bonding of the word and its meaning, I bow to thee, the Divine Couple, Siva and Parvati, who remain inseparable and incomplete without each other....

Be it in the wakeup call of "kottagaa rekkalocchenaa gooTilOni guvva pillakee...", or in the gentle chiding of "paDamara paDagalapai merisae taaralakai raatri varichakae sandhyaa sundari...", or the new found joy in the age old art in "andela ravamidi padamuladaa, ambara manTina hRdayamudaa..", or in the unfettered happiness in a structure free life "aakaSam lO aaSala harivillu, aanandaalae poochina podarillu..", the perfect fusion of the apt word and the exact tune never bothers about which arrives first, as long as, the word compliments the tune and the tune completes the word.

Part 7

(continued from Part 6)

Mohd. Rafi held two distinct voices for much of his career. One, that he used for regular occasions, no matter the kind of song and no matter the kind of emotion, and the other, that he reserved specifically for Shammi Kapoor. The former, however sweet and mellifluous, had an indistinguishable quality, in that he sang for Raj Kapoor the same way he sang for Rajendra Kumar. Mehmood's voice sounded the same as Manoj Kumar. But enter Shammi Kapoor - "Tumse acchaa kaun hai", "chaahe koi mujhe junglee kahen", "deewaana hua baadal", "aaja aaja main hoon pyaar teraa" - were as much Rafi's renditions as they Shammi's songs. The irreverent, energetic style of Shammi Kapoor rubbed off on Rafi and brought out his playful side and consequently the songs of their combination were cast in a different mold, when compared with the rest. Observe the lazy drag in the voice when Rafi croons

maanaa ki jaan-e-jahaa
laakhOn mein tum ek ho
hamaarii nigaahOn kee bhee
kuchh to magar daad dO, kuchh to magar daad dO
bahaarOn ko bhee naaz jis phool par thaa
vahee phool hamane chunaa gulasitaa se ||ishaarO ishaarO||
Movie: Kashmir Ki Kali

or the extra dosage zest and an extra helping of verve he adds to the song

chakke pe chakkaa
chakke pe gaaDee
gaaDee pe niklee apnee savaaree
thoDe aagaaDee thoDe pichaaDee
thoDe aagaaDee thoDe pichaaDee
Movie: Brahmachaari

What differentiates between these and many others that he had sung for other heroes before, is the willfull acknowledgment of the attitude of the character (and the hero, Shammi) and the playful attitude to go along with it. It is not only the singers that take the extra leap of faith to dance in step with the character (like how Balu does when he sings for a comedian or someone who has a special trait in his voice, like Nutan Prasad), but also music directors, who dare to share the ride.

S.D.Burman's "Chalti Ka Naam Gaadi" is a classic example of a music director coming out of his mold to deliver a score that is in tune with the tone of the movie. The orchestral arrangements for some of the songs in "Chalti Kaa..." like "baabu samjhO ishaare, aur hum pukaare, rum pum pum", or "hum they woh thee aur samaa rangeen samjah gaye na", or "ek laDkee bheegee bhaagee see" do not lock in step with what is generally regarded as an S.D's arrangement, in that it is more a melody of harmony. The music director here seems to clearly enjoy the challenge of cacophony as he goes off on an entirely different tangent to what he has composed for similar situations many times before. So a regular duet that usually plays in a prescribed format attains a new form and plays out

F - haal kaisaa hai janaab kaa
M - kyaa khayaal hai aapkaa
F - tumtO machal gaye O ho ho
M - yuhee phisal gaye aa ha ha

The peculiarity in this composition is the length of each line, waiting to be cut short by the one succeeding it. This rapid-fire exchange creates a new energy in the song that remained hitherto hidden. The situations aid in a large extent to the eccentricities of the score. Only because it was Kishore Kumar and only because the movie was supposed to be a wacky comedy (with more emphasis on the former) does the music director create a situation that allows Kishore Kumar's yodeling be a part of the song. It is the attitude that dictates the song completely.

Here is a couple whose love affair is cloaked in secrecy. The heroine is at the hero's place, masquerading as someone else. The situation is such that the tiff that happened before causes the hero to go starving for the night, as the heroine approaches him and cajoles him to loosen up a bit. As the blanket of darkness drapes the surroundings, the heroine whispers

gopemma chaetilO gOrumudda
raadhamma chaetilO vennamuddaa
mudda kaavaala muddaa kaavaalaa
aa vindaa ee vindaa na muddu gOvindaa 

Movie: Preminchu Pellaadu

The tone is low and the tune is slow. The song is a series of interjected conversations, going back and forth, with each trying to complete the other's sentence, trying to vie for the mouthpiece. S.D.Burman's "Chalti Kaa Naam Gaadi" became a benchmark to this combination who stamped on each song their distinct brand that came to be known as a Vamsi-Illayaraja song.

Intentionally or otherwise, a long term association with a director establishes a template for the music director, a proprietary zone that he finds suits the tastes of the director, specially if the director comes with the baggage of his own trademark, be it in the picturization of the songs or picking an odd moment for the placement of one. It is for this reason alone that one can easily pick out the songs of a, say, K.Viswanath or a Bharatiraja or for that matter, a Raj Kapoor from a given line up. The classical bent of Viswanath's tunes, the rustic folk touch of Bharatiraja's songs and the sweet meaningful and heart-touching melodies of Raj Kapoor reflect the respective makers' tastes and aesthetics. 

Consequently the corresponding music directors do not sway too much away from the established path. Going along that line, Vamsi's trademark remains the unrelenting tempo. Whereas the rest of the world moves at its own lackadaisical pace, Vamsi's characters are caught up in a time warp operating in their own time zones. This rapidity in thought and action gives rise to an unintentional side effect - zany humor. There is nothing funny about a character cycling his way along the road, reaching his destination, parking the cycle along the wall and walking inside the house. But Vamsi's pacing is different. His characters fumbles and bumbles along the road escaping and avoiding the earthly decorations in a dangerous manner, and upon reaching his destination, alights the cycle in a hurried away even before it has come to a complete stop, pushing it in a ditch that runs along the wall and darts into the house, making the whole sequence unintentionally hilarious.

When the characters move such way, when the dialogues are rapid-fire and when the plot moves moves at a break-neck pace, it forces the music director's hand to move furiously on the harmonium and the result sounds something like

sundaree sundaree
iTTaa raaavae iTTaa raaavae
tippukunToo tippukunToo
aTTaa aTTaa poTaavaemae
kotta raikaa? chakkagundae
mucchaTaestaa muddugundae
kannukuTTae kuTTu chooDu
kuTTinODu gaTTivaaDu
kaTTukunna ninnu choosi
kannu kuTTanODu evaDu
Sobhanamgaa chuTTabeTTi
sambaramgaa pongutunna
inta chittaraala raika kuTTinODu evaDe?
paDamaTeedhi sandulOna
paata inTi mundurunna tailaru
paeru sundaram...

Thus starts what is arguably one of fastest songs ever scored in telugu "ekkaDa daakkunnaavae lakkunu tecchae chukka" from the movie "Ladies Tailor". The temp never eases down, the pacing is relentless and the rendition, truly breathless and breath-taking. Even unenviable is the task of creating the shot division of the song that totally lacks the usual cut away points, only because the only time the song slows down to catch its briefly is during the interludes.

Interruption and interjection play a prominent role in Vamsi's world. Even before a character finishes his statement (even when delivered in a rapid-fire fashion), the second character cuts him off and goes off on his own rant, only to be shortchanged just before the final delivery, by the former. Again, this constant back and forth creates a unique rhythm of its own, and it needs are a few orchestral accompaniments to turn it into a song

M-vennelai
F-paaDanaa?
M-navvulai
F-pooyanaa?
M-mallelae
F-podaganaa?
M-puvvulO
F-ha
M-navvulO
F-ha
M-muvvalaa
F-a ha haa 

Movie: Sri Kanakaamaalakshmi Recording Dance Troupe

M-aekaanta vaeLa
F-kougiTlO
M-aekaanta saeva
F-mucchaTlO
M-paDuchamma dakke
F-guppiTlO
M-dindaLLe unDu
F-niddaTlO
M-kavvintagaa, vaLLu tuLLintagaa, malle puvvuLLO taavalle kannullO vennela

Movie: Anveshana

This style didn't emerge pre-packaged, all wrapped up. The origins of it are found in the hard labor of the maker trying to find his footing. The hardest part for any film-maker is finding his own style (baaNee). In the 75 years of telugu cinema, only a handful dared to ditch the prevailing trend in the hope of finding their true inner calling - Bapu, for moving out of the stifling studio indoors into more natural outdoors, Varma, for stylizing and glorifying the technical aspects and definitely Vamsi, for dictating a new pace to the movie, through the use of the lens, scissors and music. The repeated imagery, the constant cutting away, and the interweaving of abstract aspects into the regular flow, are something that Vamsi took right out of Bharatiraja's leaf, having assisted him on a couple of ventures. And it wasn't until "Sitara" that Vamsi was able to find his forte, especially during the song "ku ku koo, ku ku koo, kOkila raave". While the rest of the songs in "Sitara" bear a typical Illayaraja mark, this song stands out from the rest for its innovative song design and inventive camera work. This is where the seeds for the interjecting style were sown, only to see them come to fruition in the innumerable melodies that followed soon after.

The combination of Vamsi and Illayaraja took this template however far they could take right from the slowest melody possible ("kOnalO, sannajaaji malli jaaji malli, maenulO, ponna poola valli paala velli"), to the fast beat Sanskrit discos ("oorvaSi groubha, praeyasi hreema") and all the ones that fell somewhere between ("aa kanulalO kala naa cheli, aalaapanaku aadi mantramai", "gOpee lOla nee paala paDDaamuraa", "nirantaramoo vasantamulae mandaaramulaa marandamulae", "allibilli kalalaa raavae, allukunna kadhalaa raavae"), branding a unique style that is as much inimitable as it is throughly engaging. It is impossible to take Vamsi's name without the mention of Illayaraja, and the world is certainly an interesting place because of their combined efforts.

Part 8

(continued from Part 7)
Playback singing is such a vital cog in music composition nowadays, that it is hard to believe that there existed a time of K.L.Saigals and Chitturu Nagayyas, when what was asked of the singers wasn't just sound knowledge of the classical music and the ability to sing along the tune, but also a little emotive ability to carry off the tune both on the screen and off the screen as well. Though the requirement brought out a lot of jack of all trades, real masters were hard to come by for the fear of the added responsibility, thereby most of the tunes that were created during that period (late 30s till late 40s and early 50s) though very melodious in nature, didn't really exploit the vocal abilities of the actor/singers or singer/actors. 

That most of the tunes chose a lower-medium pitch to firmly root themselves in a comfort zone, rarely venturing into the higher strata, was either because of the composer's apprehension of the singer's abilities or the maker's proclivity to err on the safe side by siding with his actor than take the side of his composer. As professionalism started to seep into every craft of film-making, replacement of the hyphenates (actor-singer, singer-music director-actor) and multi-taskers with professionals became a very natural and an evolutionary phenomenon. An actor strictly remained an actor and the singer was relieved of the acting responsibilities, allowing him to concentrate solely on his craft. In telugu, Ghantasala was credited as the first one to separate the shared responsibilities and the results were something to cheer about. For a period of a good 20-25 years, Ghantasala's voice resonated all the emotions irrespective of the actors on the screen, giving the music directors the great advantage of coming up with exhilarating compositions, even if they were a little complex at times, without unduly worrying about the singing capabilities of the actor on the screen. "Siva Sankaree Sivaanandalahari" suited perfectly for an NTR, in spite of the near-breathless, break-neck speed in the composition, in just the same way as "rasika raaja taguvaaramu kaama" fit the bill perfectly for an ANR, portraying a musical prodigy. The separation of the singer and the actor proved to be a richly rewarding move in the process of film making, providing the composer with a plethora of possibilities to fully exploit the range of the singer.

A quick examination of the early 50s through the 70s shows how singing was elevated as an art of its own, raised in tone, tenor and pitch, compared to the old sing-along karokes. During this era the singers and the music directors found themselves in a comfortable maneuverable groove, where each emotion had an established pattern - both in singing and composing - and the singers were distinguished more by the uniqueness of the voices. A romantic song delivered by Ghantasala could easily be distinguished from one rendered in the same pitch by P.B.Srinivas, a pathos song by a M.S. Rama Rao had his distinct stamp, compared to a similar one sung by Madhavapeddi (compare it to the current crop of singers, both male and female, where every voice sounds just like every others). Sames goes with the female singers - Leela, Suseela, Jikki, Jamuna Rani and the like. Just when it was time that evolution took its next step in composition to move towards higher notes and higher pitches, appeared the right talent at the opportune time, who till then was languishing in the long shadows cast by the seasoned stalwarts. Cometh the right moment, cometh the right man (or woman, in this case). The rise of Ilayaraja coincided with the resurgence of the most versatile singer on the female side - S.Janaki.

Madan Mohan had Lata Mangeshkar, O.P.Nayyar had Asha Bhosle, and Ilayaraja found S.Janaki. It is important to note that Ilayaraja didn't stick with Janaki, either for novelty purposes or on grounds of loyaltly. It is only because his style started to hit the higher octaves more times than not, that he found Janaki as a worthy representative to present his brand of music to the world. Till that point of time, Suseela, who ruled the music world, was relegated to (rather, chose for) medium range octaves that usually made up the conventional structure of "lalitha sangeetam", which most of the compositions till mid 70s fell under. The first song of Ilayaraja's career ("ramachiluka peLLikODukevarae...." - a telugu translation of his "annakkili" in Tamil) announced his inclination for going beyond what was considered traditional at that time, with the singer that took the tune to even greater heights (hear the song just before the charaNam reaches the crescendo and falls back nicely into the pallavi, in a tune that goes along the lines of the ramadasu keertana "palukae bangaaramaayenaa..."). The alliance of Ilayaraja and Janaki is a better example of the forging of the penchant and talent, than Madan-Lata or Nayyar-Asha combination, only because the former is a more natural fit and the marriage is one more of mutual interests than one of compromises and conveniences.

The instrument "sannaayi" has probably the sharpest pitch of all, able to drown in it, the murmurs of like instruments, or the heavy handed percussions, not to mention the soft crooning voices. So when the requirement when out that the singer's voice match the sharp tone of "sannaayi" at every move, turn and corner, S.Janaki was summoned to take up the challenge and render "nee leela paaDeda daevaa" from the (dubbing) movie "muripinchae muvvalu", which stands as a great exercise of the competing and complimenting tones - vocal and instrumental - involved in the play, with the wild fluctuations of the instrument, coupled with long interminable moments of uninterrupted play, matched in equally rich voice, step for step, play for play. Which is why, it should come as no surprise, when the requirement arose for a seductive number that starts with a sharp shrilling note of ecstasy, twisting and turning at every move, only to settle down into a nice rhythmic beat later, Janaki was chosen to shoulder the responsiblity, and the composition and the rendition ("oorinchae vayasidi, vaedhinchae sogasidi..." from the "vasanta kOkila") set a new standard for such numbers, rivalling the earlier benchmark set by R.D.Burman for the song "piyaa tu ab tO aaja" from "Caravan", in the process (an interesting observation is how both the songs start off on a similar platform - a sharp call, followed by heavy breaths, that ultimately settle into the rhythm, before forking off into their individual territories). On a different note, for the movie "Srutilayalu", she takes off another sharp note (this time a high high octave of a crying kid) and blends it expertly into the aarOhaNa of a traditional raaga, before finally seeing it off on the other end of emotional side - a blissful side. While high pitch comes naturally to Janaki, which is demonstrated in many many example over a career that spanned decades, it is indeed Ilayaraja's innovative use of the equally heavy bass in her voice, that fetched Janaki, the maximum dividends, viz. a national award.

"vennellO gOdaari andam" from "sitAra" shows the immense range of Janaki, in her ability to tackle the lows with the same aplomb as when she revels in the highs. The challenge for this song was compounded by the fact that the prime instruments at play - violin and the percussion - remain constantly on the lower end of the note spectrum, causing the singer to make adjustments, in the low bass in which the tune plays, to find the innumerable "gamakams" (microtones). Hear to the portion where it plays

ninnaTi Sara panjaraalu
daaTina swara panjaraana nilichi
kanneerae pongi pongi
terala chaaTu naa choopulu
chooDalalaeni manchu bommanai

to see how Janaki never goes beyond the established barriers, and still rarely remains still, plain and ordinary - the hallmark of a great vocalist at work.

Versatility doesn't entail hitting the high points and covering the low ends alone. The game is to touch every note and nerve, every beat and heart, just like another beautiful composition-rendition that does just that - "aakaSam aenaaTidO anuraagam aanaTidi" from "nireekshaNa" starts off as a casual low key affair. As time progresses so does the tempo and the variations and by the time it reaches its zenith at "paruvaalae praNayaalayi, ennennO Srungaarala leelalu, kannullO rangaeLi alarenu", the singer had already stretched her chords, testing their tensile strength to the hilt. The one obvious way that Janaki differentiates herself from the rest of the pack - predecessors or compatriots - is the way she immerses herself completely in the moment, throwing away any reservedness, reservations or predisposed feelings towards that song to the wind. The movie - "kshatriya putruDu", the song - "sannajaaji paDaka, mancha kaaDa paDaka, maaTa vinakundi endukae...", the reward - another national award. The song starts off without any help from the orchestra, relying purely on Janaki to evoke the required emotion of playful innocence by mouthing the rhythm herself, before moving on to the next plateau and settling into a nice groove. Janaki, and probably Asha Bhosle, remain the only mainstream singers to slip into any kind of garb quite easily, fully justifying their presence at each outing. And Janaki has a leg up on Bhosle, as she remains the only singer to provide playback to a male character (albeit, a teenager). For the song "paapa paeru malli, naa vooru kottha Dhilli" (movie: "mouna geetam"), Janaki modulates her voice in a way that is not one of the regular high pitch, usually associated with pre-teen kids - both male and female - (remember, "gOvulu tellana gOpayya nallana" from "Saptapadi"), but one with a flat, breaking, loud adolescent tone, making it impossible for an unwitting listener to make out her voice.

Sure, the combination of Ilayaraja and Janaki has the regular great set pieces to show for their individual talents ("mounamaela nOyi ee marapu raani raeyi", "maLLee maLLi idi raani rOju", "porapaaTidi taDabaaTidi gunjeelae teeseyyanna", "jaabilli kOsam aakaSamalle vaechaanu nee raakakai", "priyatama tama sangeetam, virise sumamulayi vasantam", and many many more), the high points of their relationship shone in the innumerable great fluctuations that transpired in between.

Part 9

(continued from Part 8)

The students saunter slowly out of the college campus, with a few proceeding towards a tea stall nearby. The local ruffian finishes his tea as he waits patiently for his prey. When he spots his victim, the goon and his cronies coolly pull out a variety of weaponry and walk towards him. Scuffle ensues, and the thug beats the student and his friends to pulp, leaving the main one sprawled out on the road, unconscious. And then it happens. As the guy and his cohorts walk toward the car, the rattle begins in the background, as though some heartbeat somewhere, that has till then held back, starting beating full speed again. And it does not let it up. The drum beat continues (matching exactly the spliced frame editing effect on the screen). As the car pulls out blowing plumes of thick dark smoke into the camera, the drumbeat changes into a complicated stringed arrangement of guitar and violin. The transition is truly astounding. The confusion and the tension that has been built up to the moment, thanks to the unrelenting percussion, is released into an equally confounding violin bit, except here, the emphasis is more on the inexplicable nature of the gruesomeness that just transpired on the screen. Welcome to the great art of re-recording (also known, as background scoring), which is indeed the unsung portion in a music director's career - quite literally. So what is re-recording? After the film has been shot, processed and edited, the music director takes the stage and comments on it. To put it simply, it is nothing more than that. Re-recording is merely the music director's observation of the proceedings on the screen, and just like the editor, who can change the pacing of a certain sequence (refer to aforementioned example), the music director can change the tempo of the scene with his (wise) choice of instruments and his style of orchestration.

The hero who has just finished his graduation, goes out with his gang to celebrate the occasion. On their heady trip, captured in a pounding foot-tapping number, tragedy strikes as the hero meets with an accident. The next few minutes throws a gauntlet at the music director. The moment has to capture the melancholy of the situation without sounding overly dramatic. As the gurney moves through the hospital corridors passing the overhead lights, symbolizing the constant interplay of light and dark, the moment calls for a reflection of the confusion of the character - whether his life is going to be cut short or not, whether he would come out with all his faculties in tact or not. The predominant emotion of the moment is confusion. Rising to the challenge, the music director shuns his trusted accompaniments of the trade - violin, guitar and the cliched 'sannaayi'. Instead, grand piano takes the stage. As the fingers run over the keys, producing a rich deep sound reverberating the gravity, and yet reflecting the graveness of the situation, the audience is subconsciously made aware of the seriousness of the moment. The notes could have been the same, but the choice of the instrument, sometimes, leaves a greater impact.

If 'sannaayi' is usually avoided like the plague nowadays, reducing the instrument to nothing more than a cliche, observe how he takes the same instrument and turns to his advantage. The heroine, a widowed single parent, befriends the hero, a mentally under-developed character. What starts as a friendship turns into a relationship of mutual comfort. At some point, she stands by him, takes his side (and his hand), when the hero's grandmother recognizes this as the passing of the torch, in terms of looking after the hero. She urges the heroine to never let go of the hand, and in the background, the 'sannaayi' starts. This is not a cliched moment, and this is not a trademark instrument. The moment signifies the true union of the man and the woman, and the instrument, simply serenades the point. At that moment, the instrument is not merely a regular 'sannaayi', it is a 'mangaLa vaadyam'. The hand-holding is not merely for support. It represents 'paaNi grahaNam'. The wise choice rightly adds a lot of subtext to the scene.

Background scores depend a lot on the gravity on the situation. It is a delicate balancing act, that has the power of either soaring a scene or sinking it. Which seems to be the reason why background scores of serious important movies tend to leave a lasting/haunting effect, than the regular ones, as they offer a chance for the music director to add his own contribution to elevate/heighten the emotion. Take into account the small duration of a scene, typically never lasting for more than a couple of minutes. Take into consideration, the gaps or the moments of silence between the dialogues. So in a narrow window of opportunity that lasts for less than a minute, the music director has to fill in the gaps, with what he thinks is implicit commentary. Consider the situation where the hero and heroine are at the beginning of a budding relationship, after graduating from a more comfortable friendship. The scene is about the heroine trying to get a picture with both of them in it. She sets the camera timer, adjusts the framing, and stands in position, asking the hero to push the button, rush to her side, just in time for the snap. As the hero looks into the viewfinder, he finds the heroine occupying majority of the frame space, and says "kaasta mee pakkana naaku kooDaa chOTu ivvanDi". The dialogue catches her completely off-guard, as it attains a different meaning altogether, considering their context of their relationship. The heroine, who already has a soft-corner for the hero, starts reading between the lines, and aiding her cause, is the chorus that joins in the background, whose notes take off upwards, signifying the sudden urge of her emotions. The beauty of that little score doesn't just end there. At a later stage in the heroine's life, whenever she is reminded of those moments, and the person that caught her fancy and captured her thoughts, the same chorus chimes in with the same notes, allowing her to relive that fascinating period and recollect to her, her then state of mind. The ability for a few seconds of score to hook on to a moment, and get identified with it speaks volumes about the longevity of its little life.

The next step in the challenge is when the filmmaker takes out the talking parts and gives wide berth to the music director to move the scene along. This becomes a litmus test to both the director and the music director as they try to replace the textual narration with their visual and aural interpretation. The pre-requisite for such a situation is the creativity and the aesthetics of the maker (sRjanaatmakata, bhaavukata). The hero finds himself in a fix. According to his astrologer, his career would take off only if he marries a woman who has a birthmark on her thigh. Not an easy thing to find out without getting married, but cannot get married without finding about it first. The first thing the director does is throw the dialogues out of the window, and takes on the onus of presenting his trouble situation and the hero's brilliant solution visually. The hero gets into action, as he furiously pedals the sewing machine and down drops a wear, with an little opening at the desired position. He immediately runs to his prospect, makes her wear it, and finds out he met his match. He then proceeds to check the remaining two prospects in his list, and finds himself confronted with similar results. He is now in another bind - which one to choose. The whole 10 minute segment is completely wordless. After the sequence is shot and masterfully edited, the director passes the baton to the music director. Even though it is comic situation, it cannot be scored as a broad comedy, as it throws, the furious pacing of the scene, completely off and the unintended effect would be quite jarring. Hence the scene is treated on its own merit - the idea is to represent the mental situation of the hero, as one who is anxious, excited, worrisome and very tense. Consequently the score follows the same rhythmic pattern of the hurried heart beat. Note that there is no usage of strings here, only the percussion, only the constant drum beat. And the end result achieves the intended effect.

Here is another scenario. What if the scene does not any extra commentary? What if silence is the perfect statement, stating the obvious? It calls for great restraint on the part of the music director to leave certain sequences alone, as they cannot bear the extra weight of the word or the note. A mentally retarded child comes back into a happily family, upsetting the rhythm of their lives. The mother, who thought her child was dead at birth, comes face to face with the child for the first time, and tries to maker her call her "amma". As the mother gets closer, the child backs away with unfounded fear. The mother becomes a mixed bag of emotions - delighted at the discovery, crushed at the handicap, frustrated with her inability, and agitated at the whole situation. And the genius of the music director comes to fore, as he lets the scene play without any background intrusion, as the mother begs, pleads, urges the child to come to her.

While a song lasting for a few minutes announces its agenda openly, the background score lasting for far less than that achieves an even greater effect by remaining entirely behind the scenes. And kudos to the music director who exercises the right judgment in deciding how each scene should play out, all in a matter of few seconds.

Part 10

(continued from Part 9)

After all the twists and turns in the road, the milestones crossed and destinations reached, after all the crests and troughs in the journey, the high notes scaled and the low points touched, what one word/phrase/adjective can sum up a lifetime of experience, a life full of experiments, and capture, even in general sense, the true essence of the being? Does the person in question draw a demarcation line clearly showing the difference before him and after him? The graph that charts the course of every genius' path reads pretty much the same. A blazing start, a rapid rise to the top, a comfortable period of settlement, and the eventual step down from the pedestal. The gradual slowdown and slipping into history is as inevitable as it is natural. And only when a career ebbs and comes to its final resting point among the pantheon of other pioneers, path pavers and path breakers, do calls for legacy slow gain a voice. So what does Ilayaraja leave behind beyond thousands of memorable scores? 

There were music directors of great repute before him, who enriched the film music scene with their unmatched talents and great expertise - Ghantasala, Pendyala, Rajeswara Rao, K.V.Mahadevan and the like. Each of them joined the mainstream at some point, but left it only after changing the course of the stream, even if it is by a little degree. Each of them introduced their own variations, stamped the compositions with their signatures and left a mark that is bright and everlasting. Rajeswara Rao was the first music director (on the telugu scene) that toyed with instrumentation. Orchestration for him was as important as composition. Pendyala had a penchant of fusing the rich traditions of Carnatic and Hindustani. Amid an august company of fellow music directors, Ghantasala asserted himself with his simplicity in the design. And by the time it came to Mahadevan, the music scene exploded beyond everyone's imaginations. A music director was required to cater to every genre - from thrillers to thillanas, from traditional to 'tapori's. In effect, it wasn't a forte anymore, it became a requirement - flexibility.

If one looks at the current music scene one can clearly note, how each of the above traits shaped the path of the progress and how each of the music directors was instrumental in scripting yet another page in the annals of telugu film music history. So when the time comes when Ilayaraja rests his baton for one final time, what would he be leaving behind? There is no easy way of answering that question. However an attempt could be made by looking at the present state and then working backwards from it. Currently, composition happens in soul-less ways. A music director composes a basic base track, which would be filled in with words by the lyricist. The music director then starts to work from there on, adding more instrumental tracks, picking and choosing from a wide variety of traditional and foreign instruments - either played by artists or produced by machines, correcting any imperfections that might creep in at some stage, before ending up with a complete song. 

Note that, it is only at the final moments of this entire process that life is infused into this song. The current music scene is entirely instrument driven. For better or worse, that remains Ilayaraja's legacy. Bestowing an instrument the same honor as a vocal, placing a lifeless organ on the same pedestal as a live voice, is entirely because of him. Whether it is right or proper is subject to one's own judgment or discretion. With a cacophony caused by a clutter of sounds on one side of the spectrum, and a perfect harmony produced by a seamless fusion of pitch perfect instruments and vocals on the other side, the argument is no more about appreciating/denouncing the kind of music produced in this mould, but rather the existence of such a choice that might give rise to pleasing harmonies and speck less standards (A distant comparison could be made to the invention of the dynamite, that could be used to the detriment of society if used maliciously, or to the development of the same, if used judiciously). If Ilayaraja is to be held liable for albums that are produced in a heavy handed manner by throwing in every possible sound known to mankind simply because the technology is available, he should be equally lauded for creating the space for the music directors to produce nuance-rich perfect albums, without worrying about timing, coordination and other overhead duties unrelated to the act of composing. Either way, the new milestone named after him would read 'an instrument is just as expressive as a voice'.

Just like a parent who doesn't distinguish between his kids, a music director tends to maintain the same kind of impartiality towards his creations. No song is less important than the next and no composition is purposefully scored in an inferior way. Inspite of best efforts and best intentions, some compositions never reach the intended audience to the fullest extent. "vaevaela varNaala ee naela kaavyaala" was one such from an eminently forgettable "Sankeertana" (this composition is curious precursor to hugely popular "kottagaa rekkalocchenna gooTilOni guvva pillaki" from "Swarna Kamalam"). The entire soundtrack of "Sankeertana" could very stand proudly next to other successful semi-classical numbers of Ilayaraja, both in intent and content. Sometimes the strength of the soundtrack could overcome the inertia of the image on the screens, stand on its own legs, gain the mileage and make inroads into public acceptance. Some other times, the burden of boredom of the image is too great, pulling back the popularity of good scores. 

Pratap Potan's "Chaitanya" suffered the latter's fate. The song "paapa eeDu gOla, paapa paeru jOla" ranks among the best Ilayaraja-Balu combinations, in terms of exploiting the great bass in Balu's voice. The entire album, smacking of Goan/Portugese influence, particularly the duets, was an exercise of great style, marrying the composer's creativity to the exotic expression. Owing to the listless performance of the movie, the songs that should have echoed through the passages of time, died down in the halls of silence - "vana mayoori kulikae chilikae idi vasantamae" ("kirAtakuDu"), "aevaevO kalalu kannanO madilO" ("jwAla"), "madhura muraLi hRdaya ravaLi, adhara sudhala yamuna porali pongae" ("oka rAdha iddaru kRshNulu"), "teeganai mallelu poochina vaeLa" ("ArAdhana"), "keechurALLu, cheekaTinTa maggu chicchu rALLu" ("keechurALLu"). It is unfortunate, despite the best of efforts, the chances of a song appealing to the audience's taste, have so little to with the actual content of the song. As some wise man once said, heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.

Even before the appearance of it on the Eastern front, the sun casts a dull golden glow. It doesn't show its full splendor, and neither is it known what is in store. Gradually, the dull glow gives way to an orange hue as it makes its way. As time passes by, what has been perceived merely as a passing delight gains strength and by noon, rises to the top of the sky, blinding the whole world with its brilliance. As it settles down into the evening dusk, the image is one pure bliss. And here is the beautiful part. Even after it slips into the Western horizon and makes its exit, it still shines through the light it casts on other celestial bodies. Literally, sun is why the moon glows, figuratively, sun is why the stars shine. After regaling millions over dozens of years, spread across multitude of languages, the exit of a legend like Ilayaraja from the front line cannot be a sudden and unceremonious. Sure, he may not still hog the headlines and grab the limelight, but the music he created and the legacy he leaves behind are much greater than the individual himself, in the ways they outlive him, they outshine him, and in all the ways his style is emulated, imitated and taken inspiration from. For, there could be no better adulation than imitation and emulation. In spite of his proclivity for fusion, in spite of his command over orchestration, in spite of his great re-recording abilities, the common man, unaware of the technicalities and nuances of the music world, would remember Ilayaraja for the simplest of reasons - his melody, which, ultimately, is what that decides the longevity of the song. 

Sure, the beats temporarily get the mood up, the up-tempo soars the spirits even if for a short while, the pace might get the ears ringing and the hearts thumping, but at the end of the day, all of the above - the moods, the spirits, the ears and the hearts, all beg to be blessed with the bliss of a sweet melody. And if it comes by the way of a Raja's tunes, so much the better. Men may come and men may go, but the sweetness of the song is what that echoes through the ages.

nAsti te shAm yasah kAye, jarA maraNajam bhayam

Ageless is the work and timeless is the creation
A work of art lives through many a generation

End.