Bitty Ruminations #13

Posted on May 6, 2010

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MAY 4– Thanks to Rahman-worshipping friends and colleagues, I have been sucked into a couple of mildly vituperative discussions these past days, after my views on the Raavan soundtrack snaked their way into press and, subsequently, into Cyberia. Here’s a mild-mannered attempt to lay out the salient points.

Accusation: The Raavan soundtrack is like this (as in, not appealing to the heart, the way you so callously put it) because Mani Ratnam is no longer interested in picturising songs. Most of these tracks will be used as background for montages. You should have taken that into account while writing about Raavan.

My rebuttal: Hmmm.. I’m not sure about him no longer being interested in picturising songs. But if that is indeed the case, why not release this as a soundtrack album, like Slumdog Millionaire? I think everyone, like me, thought this was a regular “song album,” and that’s how I viewed it while I wrote about it.

Accusation: That’s because it doesn’t make business sense to publicise an album as a “soundtrack.” And the audio market is already down…

My rebuttal: So you’re saying I should buy a regular “song album” and listen to all the “songs” but write about it as a “soundtrack album?” I’m not even sure what that means (or if that makes sense). Besides, even if it is a “soundtrack album,” what prevents the tunes (the melodic aspect) from being more appealing? Aaromale was a pure-soundtrack number, used throughout the film in mutilated bits and pieces. But it worked as an audio-only experience too, right? Just like other non-lip-sync Rahman tracks like Masakkali (again, a montage situation) or Khoon chala? That’s what (and that’s all) I’m saying.

Accusation: But give it more time and you’ll see that the melodic aspect, too, will begin to appeal. You can’t review a Rahman album in just a week. Some of these songs need a lot of careful listening, on the right kind of headphones…

My rebuttal: So what are you saying? People writing about Rahman’s music should only do so after six months? A year? Ten years? How much time is a valid interval? And I’m sorry. I cannot be investing in hi-tech equipment just to listen to music. Whatever comes through the average pair of headphones works just fine for me.

And then the Raja aspect of the accusation, inevitably, kicks in, that I’m a product of the Raja era and therefore not, ideally, the best-suited to analyse Rahman. (I wasn’t born in the MSV era either, so that music is out of bounds too? Seriously!)

And then I’m hauled over coals for liking, say, the ensuing Vijay Antony number. Rock-solid rhythms for a characteristically lively Vijay dance number (even if, lately, they’ve all begun to seem the same). Lovely flavour of Kaapi. (Paadhamilla paadhamilla pachirisi saadham.. Aaah!) Of course, silly lyrics, and a sillier chorus. (“Come on and get me with your loving machan!” Ulp!). But who said life, these millennial months, hands you everything at once?

I bring up Vijay Antony (who’s quietly been bringing out some of the more catchy raga-percolated numbers of late, and with really good singers to boot) because that was another part of the discussion — that pure “heart music” is meant solely for the movies meant for B- and C-centres, and that “class” films will increasingly go the Raavan way, all esoteric experimentation and (relatively) less emotion.

If that’s so, I’m a little scared. Is it really such a bad thing to want to feel music, anymore?

PS: The discussion then veered into the contention that the overall feel of the Raavan music was intentionally non-melodic (and more percussion-laden) because it was supposed to be “tribal.” And I just shut down from sheer weariness. I knew that bringing up Raja, at this point, would just lead to bloodshed, so I refrained from mentioning his “tribal” efforts, like Raaman aandaalum (raga shadings from the little-heard Andolika, plus a really inventive rhythm pattern that stretches from the middle of one line to the middle of the next, as opposed to starting where the line starts and ending where it ends) or Kanni ponnu kaimela (with its pounding tattoo of a drumbeat, indicative of the pounding heartbeats of the youngsters falling in love perhaps?)…

But I’m sure there must be non-Raja instances of such sound, which functioned as stimulators to both head and heart, and which are presently escaping my rapidly decaying mind. Any suggestions?

PPS: I reallyreallyreally wish I could label these articles something other than “Reviews” (whether film or music). I mean, who am I to pass judgment on Ilayaraja or Rahman or Mani Ratnam or even Sajid Khan, for that matter? But yes, like everyone else, I have opinions on the work they create, and those opinions I like to lay out as discussion generators. But I don’t suppose my editor, in his lifetime or mine, is going to let me rename “The Sunday Review” to “The Sunday Discussion Generator.”