Several years ago, Prabhudeva starred in Alaudin, yet another in a string of forgettable movies. The name of the movie is etched in my mind for a very different reason. The movie’s trailer told you, “மணிசர்மா-வின் மாயாஜால இசையில்… அலாவுதீன்”. Oh, really? The music that played in the background was so inane it made one wonder how anyone could call it “magical”. In fact it was a stretch even to call it music.

As the famous Tamil philosopher Koundamani would say:

“மூணு வீலும், ஒரு தார்பாலினும் இருந்தா நீ owner-ஆ? படுவா, அப்படினா டாட்டா பிர்லா-வையெல்லாம் என்னடா சொல்லுவீங்க?”

The stupidity of the declaration in that trailer would have been forgotten right that moment, had it not been followed by another promo… unassuming, understated and haunting.

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Like they say, “யாரு புள்ள!”

 

Despite numerous recommendations, I have not watched Vinnaithaandi Varuvaayaa. For one simple reason — Aaromale. The song is so perfect that I cannot imagine how the movie would do justice to it, let alone improve on it. I first listened to this song about ten months ago while driving through the mountains of western Pennsylvania on a misty morning, and have been hooked on it ever since. (I think Governor Rendell should make it the state anthem.) The song has beaten every record even for a notoriously one-song-playlist guy like me. Needless to say it is one of Rahman’s best compositions ever.

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Here’s why.

Ezhezhu thalaimuraikkum from Goa (2010). Composer: Yuvan Shankar Raja.

 

Listening to one’s entire song collection in shuffle mode has many advantages — for one, it enables me to remain lazy. More importantly though, I love the feeling of anticipating the next song — அடுத்த வினாடி ஒளித்து வைத்திருக்கும் ஆச்சர்யங்கள்! Today, two songs that the music player served up one after another caught my attention. In an earlier life, one of my favorite lines of thought was how, as time flies by, we have regressed as a society. While I do not intend this post as a social commentary, I cannot help wondering if that is indeed true.

The first song was an old classic, Chithiram Pesudhadi from the 1958 Sivaji Ganesan movie Sabaash Meena. I love the simple construction of the song, the unobtrusive music, and the civil choice of words to express passionate longing. Sample the first two stanzas:

சித்திரம் பேசுதடி; எந்தன் சிந்தை மயங்குதடி
முத்துச் சரங்களைப் போல் மோகன புன்னகை மின்னுதடி

தாவும் கோடி மேலே ஒளிர் தங்கக்குடம் போலே
பாவை உன் பேரெழிலே எந்தன் ஆவலைத் தூண்டுதடி

The last line is a personal favorite because of its subtlety. It probably would have just been ordinary in another age, when subtlety was a given in popular culture. But somewhere along the way, I think we lost that sense, and as a populace, decided that crude — even senseless — lyrics were OK, so long as it gels with the tune.

For long, creators have blamed this on the audience. Their comfortable excuse is that “this” is what their audience craves for. And that is plain stupidity. As Henry Ford once said, “If I had asked my customers what they wanted, they would have told me ‘Give us faster horses!’“. It is therefore the creator’s burden to uplift society’s appreciation. However, popular culture is a volume game, and so, pecuniary considerations demand that society be dumbed down.

For which reason, while I enjoyed the song that followed (Kalloori Saalai, from the movie Kaadhal Desam) , I will never be able to reconcile how Vaali — one of my favorite lyricists — penned the lines:

கண்கள் silicon graphics
Girls வந்தாலே jam ஆகும் traffic
V-channel choice உன் Dolby voice
Lightning கன்னங்கள் LASER
நம்ம love matter சொல்லாது pager
நான் காதல் computer நீதானே software

 

Yet another series of long nights this week, and I had, for some reason, decided that I will listen only to Tamil kritis. I think it all started with a desire to listen to the song “enna thavam seidhanai, yashOdA“. One led to another, and I chanced to listen to Madurai Mani Iyer’s rendition of Subramanya Bharatiyaar’s “veLLai thaamarai poovil iruppaaL” after a long time. And it set off a train of thoughts, and I have been feeling nostalgic ever since. To say nothing of the many dozen times I have listened to the song in the past two nights.

First the lines.

வெள்ளைத் தாமரைப் பூவில் இருப்பாள்!
வீணை செய்யும் ஒலியில் இருப்பாள்;
கொள்ளை இன்பம் குலவு கவிதை
கூறும் பாவலர் உள்ளத்திருப்பாள்!

உள்ளதாம் பொருள் தேடியுணர்ந்தேன்!
ஓதும் வேதத்தின் உள்நின்று ஒளிர்வாள்;
கள்ள மற்ற முனிவர்கள் கூறும்
கருணை வாசகத்துட்பொருளாவாள்.

மாதர் தீங்குரல் பாட்டில் இருப்பாள்;
மக்கள் பேசும் மழலையில் உள்ளாள்;
கீதம் பாடும் குயிலின் குரலைக்
கிளியின் நாவை இருப்பிடம் கொண்டாள்;
கோதகன்ற தொழிலுடைடைத் தாகிக்
குலவு சித்திரம் கோபுரம் கோயில்
ஈதனைத்தின் எழிலுடை யுற்றாள்
இன்பமே வடிவாகிடப் பெற்றாள்.

The song is etched in my memory because it was the prayer song back in school. But that used to be lifeless – of course, if you assemble 2000 teenagers in the open sun and ask them to blurt out a few lines, it won’t produce the same effect as Mani Iyer rendering it in glorious Bhimplas, flanked by Chowdiah (methinks).

But I swore to myself that I have listened to Vellai Thaamarai in Bhimplas, and it wasn’t by Mani Iyer. In fact, I could attest that the memory was even before I started listening to Carnatic music seriously. And then it all came to mind. And my eyes welled up with tears.

My grandmother took a keen interest in Carnatic music. (My grandfather too, and I know for a fact that my veneration for Ariyakudi Ramanuja Iyengar stems from him.) Apart from being a avid listener, she was a good singer too. When I was 5, we bought a tape recorder, and my hobby was to use the record function a little too much. So much so that I have upset my father so many times for having overwritten tapes of his favorite songs.

The one enduring memory is that of my recording my grandmother singing Vellai Thaamarai. I cannot be held guilty for overstatement when I say that, as a kid, I found it every bit as delectable as I find Mani Iyer’s version today. It is quite possible she had listened to his records many, many times, and had, as result, internalized it. It was so good that when I transferred to this school, my first reaction to the prayer song was “No, this is not how it must be sung.”

That red tape recorder is no more. The Meltrack audio cassette which contained my grandmother’s voice was probably cast aside when our house was repainted or remodeled, and is now lost forever. My grandmother passed away a year ago this very week. As Marcel Pagnol says in Le Château de ma Mère (which incidentally is the greatest movie ever), “Telle est la vie des hommes. Quelques joies, très vite effacées par d’inoubliables chagrins.” (Such is the life of man. Some joys, quickly erased by unforgettable sorrows.)

 

Ilaiyaraja deserves an “Ilaiyaraja Award for Excellence in Background Score” for his work in Naan Kadavul.

 

Katradhu Thamizh is one of the best Tamil movies of this decade. Unfortunately, most people get lost in its social commentary and forget that it is, at its heart, a bittersweet romantic tale. This song is my favorite from the movie. Ilaiyaraja’s rendition is awesome; the percussion, especially as the song opens, is a Yuvan trademark.

All of Yuvan Shankar Raja compositions that Ilaiyaraja has sung are excellent. I’m trying to think of one which I don’t particularly like.

 

Sometimes, Ilaiyaraja must amaze even himself!

 

Friend Vijay Ramachandran has an interesting observation here on the number of songs composed by A.R. Rahman that start with what is known in Tamil grammar as an adukku thodar — immediate repetition of the same word. This was new to me, in that while I have listened to these songs multiple, in some cases, hundreds of times, I have not observed the pattern.

Given the sheer size of Rahman’s work, one can discern many other patterns. Like how some of his popular songs are centered on a one-word theme, that appears throughout the song (or form the basis either the pallavi or the charaNam).

  • Chinna Chinna Aasai (Roja) — aasai
  • Kaadhal Rojave (Roja) — gnyaabagam
  • Kannukku Mai Azhagu (Pudhiya Mugam) — azhagu
  • Poovukkul Olindhirukkum (Jeans) — adhisayam
  • Pachchai Kiligal (Indian) — aanandham
  • Anjali Anjali (Duet) — anjali. Incidentally, this is a double whammy as it can be classified under both patterns — the keyword is anjali, and the song begins with an adukku thodar.
  • Kannum Kannum (Thiruda Thiruda) — artham. Oh, a triple whammy — the name of the movie is also an adukku thodar.
  • Anbendra Mazhaiyile (Minsara Kanavu) — thOnrinaanE.
  • Break The Rules (Boys) — thappu
  • Thenalikku Ellaam Bayam (Thenali) — bayam

Not listed above are favorites like Oorvasi Oorvasi (Kaadhalan), Kuchi Kuchi Raakkamma (Bombay), Madrasai Suththi (May Maadham), Azhage Sugama (Paarthaale Paravasam) and Oru Dheivam Thandha (Kannathil Muthamittaal), and not-so-favorites like No Problem (Love Birds) which can receive half-votes.

 

Whichever lesser mortal coined the term “Mozart of Madras” to refer to A.R. Rahman did, in three short words, a great disservice to Mozart and Rahman both. So he / she would do well to step forward, accept his / her mistake and take it back.

Carlos Queiroz, former assistant manager at Manchester United had this to say about a certain Welshman:

“You cannot be a special person in the world if you are a copy of something. You really become a star when, with your football, your art, your style, you create your own identity. So the best tribute we can pay to Ryan Giggs is not that he compares to Best or anyone. It is to say that he won the right to be Ryan Giggs.” (source)

For delighting us with his music over the past two decades, let us accord A.R. Rahman the rightful honor of being known as Rahman of Madras, India’s pride!

 

Listened to the song “Megam Karukkudhu” from Aanandha Raagam after a long time. A fabulous song, stunning in its simplicity. Hats off to Ilaiyaraja!

 

There are many memorable songs from the 1944 classic, Haridas. One of my favorites from the movie is the Annaiyum Thanthaiyum Thaane, sung by M.K. Thyagaraja Bhagavatar. I have only listened to the song before, never watched it. But I chanced to find it on Youtube today. Here it is.

Did you notice something funny in the song? At around 1:15 (just after the line “சேயின் கடன் அன்னை தொண்டு…”), you see Haridas’ (MKT) mother sweeping the front portion of her house with a broom. Haridas sees this, and (since this is a song about serving one’s parents), drops what he is doing currently (collecting flowers and logs), gets the broom from his mother, and starts sweeping in the opposite direction i.e. towards the house, instead of away from it. (You can say that MKT thus invented the “reverse sweep”.)

Despite this obvious gaffe, the song is delectable.

 

Yuvan Shankar Raja, Ilaiyaraja’s second son, is (probably) the heir to Raja’s throne. Along with A.R. Rahman and Harris Jayaraj, he is one of the top three contemporary music directors in Tamil. His partnerships with the current crop of movie directors – Selvaraghavan (they have fallen out now), Vishnuvardhan, Venkat Prabhu, Ameer and Simbhu – has produced some of his best music as well as among the best ever director-music director combinations in Tamil.

But what this Ilaiyaraja scion lacks is the ease of his father’s rendition. Let’s face it, Yuvan is not the best singer around, and he has proved it on many occassions. On the contrary, Ilaiyaraja is a fabulously gifted singer – you can name a number of songs that couldn’t have been any better if sung by another person. The depth in IR’s voice made him an automatic choice for songs that required transitions to a higher pitch. Which is why you would find that a good percentage of IR’s songs (the one he has sung) are of the sad variety. It is a testimony to IR’s abilities that Yuvan himself picks his father to sing in his movies. “Ariyaadha Vayasu” from Paruthi Veeran is a top pick.

Not all of Yuvan’s efforts are poor. He excels himself when the song does not require the singer to maintain a high pitch consistently – the effortless songs, so to speak. “Pushing It Hard” from Kanda Naal Mudhal comes to mind instantly. Another song that has grown on me over the past week is the title song from Yaaradi Nee Mohini (Youtube link).

But the more emotionally charged songs? Most reviews of Pudhupettai’s soundtrack felt that the album’s best(?) song could have been much better if the music director had picked someone else to sing it. Similar comments have been made about many other Yuvan songs. Maybe this Raja protege should restrict himself to his core competence! After all, he is very, very good at it.

 

There are some songs that are older than you are. And when you listen to them for the first time, you wonder what you were doing all your life. As if your existence would have otherwise been incomplete, or could not be justified.

Here is one such song.

 

A few months ago, I had posted the links to Suryan FM’s live stream.

A few readers have commented that the stream no longer works. This is true. I checked Suriyan FM’s website, and I see that their live online stream is “under process“. So it is possible that the folks at Sun Network are working on this, and that they might resume live streaming in the future.

Previously Aahaa FM 91.9 Chennai had live streaming on its website. They still do, but now you have to register on the site (free) and be logged in to get the stream. The website is http://www.aahaafm.com

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