Narada Gana Sabha
Impeccable alignment mesmerises listeners
Bombay Jayashree ... well-balanced concert.
HER VOICE had gained power, and the music more inward-turned in Bombay Jayashree's recital at the Narada Gana Sabha. Majestic Kedaram ("Ananda Natana"), sparkling Mohanam ("Bhavanuta") — the initial ragas traversed confident moods across the spectrum. However, the recital touched a high point in Gowlai, where, backed by a violin (Embar Kannan), sensitive in support and alapana, Jayashree's impeccable, resonant alignment with the two tamburas on the stage mesmerised listeners.
The singer plunged into the kriti, "Mahishasuramardhini Mampahi" in khanda chapu with an eyes-closed concentration, with ringing neraval on the euphonious line, "Mahadeva Manasollasini." Nor did the swara abort the mood, but heightened it with restraint and sense of timing. After that, instead of a brisk wake up call kriti to cross over to the main Sankarabharanam, Jayashree chose the languorous pace of the Ritigowlai lullaby, "Jo Jo Jo Rama."
It made a welcome change from routine thinking, an apt prelude to a fine-shaded, feeling-loaded Sankarabharanam. It was balanced with restraint too, as brigas, gamakas, karvais, swaras plain and ornamented, tempo and rhythm changes were all balanced in the right proportions, not mechanically, but by a mind that relished the profundity of the raga. There was vibrancy in the lower, clarity in the upper, and assurance in the middle octaves. But a vital component was missing: open-mouthed enunciation, though not absent, was occasional and fleeting.
Also, a grander composition than "Enduku Peddala" was indicated by the grandly structured alapana to which the violin had made its value additions with instrumental prayogas.
A swara-rasa contrastive Shanmukhapriya made a thoughtful choice for the ragam-tanam-pallavi, especially when frilled out with many ragas in both tanam and pallavi. Saveri and Begada stood out on the former, while each imperceptible glide from melody to melody enchanted in the swaras tagged to the pallavi, where both the singer and listener floated dreamily, effortlessly, over the swells. The punch in the pallavi's ("Devi Sri Rajarajeswari") khanda jati in chatusra triputa came out in the tani (P. Satishkumar, Trivandrum Rajagopal). "Bhavayami Gopalabalam" cast a madhyama sruti, Yamuna Kalyani spell. Jayashree's voice pierced through the high notes, and finally melted into twilight mist and dew.
Chaste patanthara
Anuradha Suresh Krishnamurthy's recital at the Narada Gana Sabha was marked by chaste taste and more chaste patanthara. True, the mikes were so unbalanced at the start that rasikas complained vociferously. But this audio problem, corrected somewhat as the music progressed, was not the only reason for the recital's failing to reach the level it should have done. Take the plus points first. High on the list is the intelligence in the arrangement of ragas and kritis, every one of them in the classic mould, mostly associated with her father K. V. Narayanaswamy's masterly handling.
After "Jayajayajaya Janakikanta" to create alertness as only Nattai can, Anuradha moved to Saranga, unfolding it with a regard for the raga's steel as well as softness, its identity intact. "Arunachalanatham" missed no detail. Kaapi, the best essay of the day, also adhered to its Carnatic swarupa, refused to flirt with Hindustani phrases, was fastidious about quality, especially in those lines just made for neraval "Swararagalaya" in "Inta Saukhyamani."
Poorna Vaidyanathan's violin following the classic ideals, was restrained in support, and raga-focussed in its own forays. The ragam-tanam-pallavi (Purvikalyani) explored the three modes with competence on both voice and strings. The pallavi with its swift eduppu and sprightly mishra beats had continuity of phrase and grip on melody. Anuradha's brief forays into ragamalika included a fine Hindolam and a Behag standing out for its touching use of the two madhyamas and nishadas. Right through the recital, percussionists Melakkaveri Balaji and G. Ravichandran remained fully, even protectively supportive.
Yet, the recital showed that the singer had not settled into a clearly identifiable bani. Moreover, the lack of control in vocalisation — its projection and volume, and the absence of finesse in modulation, took a heavy toll on overall quality. The no-holds-barred akaras became aggressive in the upper sancharas, arbitrary in emphases, and frayed in the stretching.
Though Anuradha avoids crooning in favour of full-throated expression, the uneven, ad hoc jerks were inimical to the tranquil ease demanded by her patanthara, and raga choices of the day.
Bhava at bay
Listening to T. N. S. Krishna is to wonder how the man can succeed so completely in keeping bhava at bay right through a concert of two hours.
Valaji, spun into an initial alapana, does have straight, simple notes, but Krishna reduced it to a roller coaster ride, where gimmicky intonations, blown through different vowel sounds tired the ear. After that military parade, S. Varadarajan's violin had to only align itself (as it did) to a sruti-perfect gandhara in order to soothe, before offering an appealing alapana. Krishna's "Jalandhara" in the same raga performed a trapeze act with swaraprastara. Next came Lalita, clearly identified from the very first swara. It pleased, before the populist patterns took over. Not for a minute could the singer lose his self-consciousness and become one with the beauty of the raga, or the evocative lyric prelude, "Marakatavadive saranam," or the exquisite kriti, "Nannu Brovu Lalita" where Syama Sastri pours out his yearning devotion. "Ranganayakam'' (Nayaki) was given more respect, followed by a lack lustre "Manasuloni" (Hindolam). Kalyani managed to establish its identity despite gimmicks galore and the lack of vocal sophistication, from high-volume phrases of relentless length ending in closed-mouth humming, down to in-drawn breaths used as punctuation marks. Kalyani decided to ignore sthaana suddham in alapana, shone in tanam and scattered itself across the tala in pallavi (Chatusra triputa), and plunged into applause-drawing sruti bhedam.
The violin somehow managed to touch up raga and song with mellowness, and to contribute alapanas, and swaras (though to a lesser extent) soaked in melody. The percussionists gave a touch of class to the show, with their canny anticipation, and in creating excitement without stridency. If you looked forward to their tani, you were in for a disappointment. Since the singer gave the sign five minutes before curtain down, K. Arun Prakash and B. S. Purushothaman had no option but to launch straight way into the kuraippu. A loss.
Traditional mould
O. S. Thiagarajan's recital was, as usual, bound by traditional values in every mode and aspect of presentation. On that day, an unvarying madhyamakala from start to finish, cast every alapana and kriti in the same mould, whether "Amma Ravamma" (Kalyani), "Pirava Varam Tarum" (Latangi) or "Eti Yochanalu" (Kiranavali), however different they may be in melodic value, lyrical intent or rhythm structure. This also brought some predictability to the percussion (J. Vaidyanathan, S. V. Ramani), and had the violin (T. K. V. Ramanujacharyalu) toeing the line.
Mukhari brought a slight change mainly due to the appearance of a few karvais (why could he not sing more of them, so loyal to sruti and accurately swara slotted?) Here we saw what old timers call kelvignanam - the maturity springing from listening and internalising the music of the masters. It had OST venturing into little, less-known, often bypassed nooks and crannies of the raga. The singer did not pour everything he knew pell-mell into the alapana. But each phrase showed how he had a vast wealth to choose from.
The violin had the same concern for rakti and raga swarupa, and excelled in Surutti. This mellow raga got the most expansive treatment, as also more karvais, some hooked reverberantly to the upper shadja.
Again, the alapana consisted of definitive prayogas, with one or two unfamiliar combinations — unusual ways of accenting the same swaras really — in sudden flashes of colours now and then. "Gitarthamu Sangita" rounded off the experience.
Among lighter pieces, Behag was framed in beauty ("Muruganin Marupeyar Azhagu"). The tani did justice to the tenor of the entire concert, avoiding virtuosity, and retaining the sheen of dignity.
GOWRI RAMNARAYAN
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