The aim must be to breathe life into ragas

OUR SABHAS pride themselves on their promotion of classical Carnatic music. Why then do they continue to ignore the quality of the acoustics they provide? Forget the subtle stuff, what about the basics - like adjusting the volume to suit each individual performer's needs?

For example, Sriram Gangadharan's recital at the Mylapore Fine Arts Club suffered badly because the amplification was too loud for his type of singing - a full throated blast, innocent of any modulation. Whether alapana or kriti or swara, the tone remained an unvaried roar.

Above a certain decibellage, and particularly in the higher sancharas, this was bound to stop being music, and turn into noise, as it happened with the opening alapana of Hamsanadam, and in ``Banturiti'', Adi, where the swara singing opted for racy virtuosity.

The singer's intention was apparently to stun rather than soothe the ear, as evident again in Andolika, which built swara pyramids of uniform and similar phrases in the alapana. Nor was there any ``Raga Sudha rasa'' in the kriti that followed. The rattle of swara prastaras was exhaustive rather than selective.

Good support from mridangam (Tanjore Murugabhoopathy) and morsing (A. S. Krishnan) was augmented by highly competent violin by V. Sandhya, whose additions balanced the singer's improvisations with a finer gamaka focus.

On the whole, the programming was a strength, not only in the choice of ragas, but also in the kritis, which included a lovely Yadukulakambhoji piece ``Paramakrupasagari''. His sound training also made the singer establish raga identity with easy assurance each time.

But if the main piece had to be cut short, why not choose a shorter kriti like ``Pakkala nilabadi'', instead of stripping ``Chakkani raja'' (Karaharapriya) of its regal grandeur? That others have done it before is no excuse for hasty compression of such a beloved gem.

On the whole, the concert made you regret that a singer of talent like Sriram Gangadharan seems unaware that adherence to the rules is not enough. Our ragas can be invoked only when life or jivan is breathed into them.

The artiste can opt for a faster or slower style, depending on his temperament. But bhava or deep feeling in the singer is a must, if he is to communicate to the listener the bliss we term rasa.

Savvy choice of ragas

Duo singing has always enjoyed a special place in Carnatic music because it offers a richer continuity and tonal variety as in the concert by the sisters Shanmukhapriya and Haripriya. Polished exposition, proportionate gradation of the content, and time management were their other assets.

A definite plus point was that they enjoyed their own singing, and singing together.

A major advantage for the listener was that the kriti had to be very tidily and crisply structured for two voices in unison.

There could be no playing around with the form in the name of manodharma, a problem we face with many musicians today. The Priya Sisters had also grasped the fact that a savvy choice of ragas can give a fillip to the concert, especially when they are refracted through the imagination of different songsters.

On that day, it was a delight to hear the renditions of the tisra gati song ``Ammamma yemamma'' and that heartwarming Saurashtram composition, ``Ranganathude'' (Rupakam) by Ponniah Pillai, whose work has a distinct stamp all its own. (``Karikalabhamukha'' in rousing Saveri, and ``Yeti janma'' in Varali, flowing on a tender Misra Chapu, had already prepared the ground for our enjoyment of them). ``Parvati nayakane''(Shanmukhapriya, Adi) retained the sure touch of Papanasam Sivan in blending melody with meaning.

There was also a slice of the rare in ``Sadamahindalatu'' (Gambhiravani).

The raga expositions were neat and managed with a greater ease by younger sibling Haripriya who took on the major responsibility in this concert. The ragam tanam pallavi with its sweet pun on velai and kalai was put through the technical paces in Khanda nadai Triputa, without undue fuss in any department.

The focus was unfailingly on the melodic wealth of Karaharapriya. The ragamalika frills were naturally developed and with finesse in the bhava impact. This was good, if not great music, and as such, it left you with a sense of satisfaction often missing in more adventurous or eccentric displays. Usha Rajagopalan on the violin melded intelligence with a sweet touch. K. R. Ganesh (mridangam) and B. S. Purushotthaman (kanjira) made a good percussion team.

Concert of the season

For this writer, the concert of the season was the one given by P. Unnikrishnan at the Mylapore Fine Arts Club. The vocalist has shown determination and grit in pulling himself out of a downslide.

Undaunted by (perhaps benefiting from) adverse criticism in the last three years, he has swung himself back to the top among the rightful heirs of the mainstream tradition of Carnatic music.

How hard he must have worked to get his style back to that arduous trail, after flirting with lighter forays which guaranteed easy applause.

The crooning has yielded its place to a rich, powerful voice, unafraid to essay the top register in akaram and in trying to establish a similar malleability and reach in the lower.

By this honest, no holds barred exploration of his vocal range, the singer has replaced sentimentality with genuine, poignant emotion.

Excellent programming offered the fullest scope for the newly crafted style. It did not miss any beauty in the Bhairavi varnam. It could establish the identity of a raga like Devamrithavarshini (``Evaranee''). Latangi was shaped, not in bits and pieces, but with its wholeness always in mind, and not allowing the brigas to swamp the possibilities of gamaka.

Every kriti was rendered with its mood intact, as outlined by the words and shaped by the melodic forms, and accented by its own pace, slow or fast. We saw this in the piercing cry of ``Pirava varam taarum'' (Latangi, Adi). The cool swara showers in the second speed, uniting technical control with a feel for the melody, were enough to indicate that a great concert had begun.

Anticipation mounted with the initial notes of Lalita which took us at once to the profound realms of Syama Sastri in ``Nannu brovu lalita'' (Mishra Chapu).

The delicate enunciation relied on the odukkal technique, quite natural when the singer gets lost in the music which offers endless scope for nuances. Unnikrishnan chose to accent the nishada more than the dhaivata here, which brought a colour all its own to the raga.

The phrase ``O maharagni rang'' was straight from the heart.

Familiar as it is, Mukhari is not an easy raga. But on that day, Unnikrishnan could do no wrong. His neraval for ``Kanulara sevinchi'' (``Entanine'', Rupakam) was sound in method, and soaked in all the bhakti fervour the raga could evoke.

What made the main ragas Kedaragowlai and Todi so interesting was that their distinct qualities, and their differing attributes for stretching and contouring, dictated their structure, and not any mechanical rules of traversing the scales.

Kedaragowlai, a blend of twinkle and flash, had imperceptible anuswaras to link its notes and phrases. Sometimes an excellent raga essay is marred by a flabby kriti. But Unnikrishnan delivered a silk-edged ``Saraguna palimpa''.

Todi had a creamier flow, with strong fades in and out. It was superb in the first phase. The second had some phrases which did not work as smoothly (nor did the violin do any bolstering here), though the descent was a splendid affair, curving round the lower notes and touching the madhyamam.

True, the voice in the upper register needs to cultivate more subtlety, but it was effective enough; the long karvais rendered with reverence for the raga and fidelity to the pitch anchored the alapana on firm ground.

It was in the tanam that one saw how hard work and discipline can create an illusion of effortlessness, and achieve a dynamic continuity, especially as the singer slid from raga to raga, with an unforgettable Varali among them.

The khanda triputa pallavi had syllables euphonious in repetition. Unnikrishnan showed restraint here, confining himself to swaras in the second speed, just four ragas for the mala, and rounding off the piece without any tadinginatom contrivance.

The tailpieces each had a character of their own, whether the nostalgia inducing ``Radha sameta krishna'' or the lilting ``Jagajanani sukapani''. The surprise came with a charged slokam, followed by a Surdas bhajan in Mishra Kaafi, whose sweetness and subtle modulation moistened our eyes. That despite the very loud amplification throughout the concert, which was inimical to rapture.

No concert can elevate unless it has teamwork. Unnikrishnan was lucky to have chaste bowing from M.A.Sundaresan. But one was puzzled by his long karvais; what purpose do they serve in instrumental music?

The percussion was superb. K.V.Prasad (mridangam) and Harishankar (kanjira) found a thousand ways of backing, enhancing and adding value to kriti and swara-neraval. In ``Nannu brovu'' they dammed the overflow adroitly, and the bhajan gained a new dimension in unobtrusive sophistication. For once, one wished the tani was longer. Together, the artistes made one realise how the absence of bang and clatter brings style, clarity, crispness - and yes, melody - to intricate drumming.

In the classical spirit

T. M. Krishna's New Year Day recital, was hampered by a sore throat that curbed expression. Also, the discomfort compelled him to show a restraint in volume which was really an advantage. This did not mean any lightening of the load (for he essayed so ripe a kriti as Dikshitar's ``Chetasri''), but only a pleasant, soft touch sometimes lacking in this vocalist. The measured Dwijavanti at once ushered in a mood of contemplation, and stilled the listening mind to quietude. In contrast, Kalyani made a sparkling entry with a short ``Birana brova'' at a spanking tisra pace, all bubbling effervescence in the kalpanaswaras.

The ambience was so firmly established that the main Todi could weave its spell unhindered by physical drawbacks. And how well structured it was! The singer dared to dwell on long karvais on the different notes at every stage, with no teetering on weak links. The phrasing had slow and fast oscillations, curves and flashes. ``Krishnam bhaja manasa'' was the obvious choice to follow this kind of alapana. It rose in tides of a keenly nuanced tradition. The neraval was a mellow effort, while the swaras accentuated a steady flame rather than transcient glitter. The continuity and modulation of the sarvalaghu swaras were modelled on the Semmangudi bani.

At the end, the javali ``Sakhi prana'' was sung with so much feeling for Chenjurutti that it automatically ensured the underscoring of the wistful lyrical content! In fact, this was also true of the verse from Andal (``Karpooram naarumo''), where the line referring to the many- splendoured notes of the Lords conch made the hall ring.

What a relief it was that the singer had a violinist who empathised wholly with him! V.L.Kumar served the needs of the day faithfully while also displaying his own manodharma skills on the strings. Laya wizardry on mridangam and kanjira was an asset to the recital. The rhythm patterns for the music avoided empty chatter and enhanced the bhava. The tani was just splendid. Quite literally, it had you on the edge of your seat, breathless with anticipation, anxious not to miss a single note.

The volume control made for sharp, lucid and tuneful enunciation. One expected this of the seasoned J. Vaidyanathan, but young B. S. Purushothaman proved a match for him, making his kanjira evoke resonances not usually associated with its rather flattish tones.

GOWRI RAMNARAYAN

Send this article to Friends by E-Mail

Section  : Entertainment
Previous : Marked by clear expression
Next     : A fitting finale to a century