SAMVADA — A NEW SERIES BY SAMPRADAYA
Srikantan in conversation with Ravikiran
In January 2009, T.M. Krishna succeeded fellow Carnatic vocalist Alleppey Venkatesan as president of Sampradaya,
the Chennai-based resource centre engaged since its inception in 1980 in preserving south Indian music traditions.
Keen to carry forward its mission of documenting, archiving, researching and disseminating the various aspects of
the south Indian music heritage, he and his team at Sampradaya plan, among other things, a monthly programme
entitled Samvada, which will feature a veteran musician in conversation with another senior vidwan.
The series will be launched by a dialogue between Sangita Kalanidhi R.K. Srikantan and N. Ravikiran, to be held at
6.30 pm on 28 August 2009 at the Kasturi Srinivasan Hall at the Music Academy. In the months to follow,
mridanga vidwan Sangita Kalanidhi T.K. Murthy will be engaged in conversation by Palghat Rajamani,
and vainika Kalpakam Swaminathan by S. Sowmya.
Raja Rao's birth centenary in Bangalore
- KUSUMA RAO
The birth centenary of 'Veena' Raja Rao (1909-1979), vainika of the Mysore school, vocalist, composer, teacher,
author of books on music theory, and theatre personality, was celebrated in a grand manner on 5th July in
Bangalore. His disciples and family members had flown in from different countries to participate in the
day-long event. Raja Rao’s contribution to the methodology of music in Kannada is of historic significance.
A 'Guruvandana' veena recital by Suma Sudhindra was followed by the formal inauguration of the celebra-tions
by Dr. U.R. Ananta Murthy. The Veena Raja Rao national award was conferred on well known vainika and vocalist
Prof. R. Visweswaran. Dr. A.H. Rama Rao released reprints of Raja Rao’s books which included Sangeeta sastra
chandrike, Haridasara kritigalu (with notation), Sivasaranara kritimanjari (with notation), Bharatiya
sangeeta vadyagalu, Sangeeta sastra sara, Bhairavi Laxminaranappa, and Mysore Sadasivarayaru. R.K. Padmanabha
released CDs of Raja Rao’s compositions.
Three great Indian musicians have left us in the recent past — Ustad Ali Akbar Khan and Gangubai Hangal from the
world of Hindustani music and D.K. Pattammal, the last of the Titans of Carnatic music. All three of them
were pioneers in their field, the ustad playing a major role in the propagation of Hindustani music in the
West, the US in particular, and the two women storming male bastions with their powerful voices and
uncompromising musical values.
The success of Sruti was assured when Pattammal offered her unconditional cooperation in a two-part profile with
which we launched the magazine in October 1983. This is how that profile began — with a graphic description of a
Madras Music Academy kutcheri:
"The auditorium is full; a young woman has cast a spell over the listeners. Clad in a maroon silk saree with
mustard and gold border, the pallav covering her shoulder, she presents a picture of modesty and feminine grace.
The coruscating diamonds on her ears and nose enhance the old world elegance of the occasion. There are no sudden or
jerky movements either in her person or in her music. She has sung Vachaspati raga elaborately, with subtle and
imaginative touches. Now she is singing the tanam in the same raga, weaving rhythmical patterns skillfully into
melodic phrases. There is palpable excitement and as the tanam draws to a close, the audience visibly holds its
breath in avid expectation of the main attraction of the evening. This is the pallavi. The singer now renders
it in a complicated rhythmic structure. The development of the pallavi "Navasakti swaroopini, nada omkara roopini",
follows the dictates of classical tradition, and niraval leads to kalpana swara-s. Nowhere is there the slightest
infraction of artistic decorum. Nor is the intellectual handling of rhythm allowed to become a mere display of vocal
gymnastics or solfa without soul. The emotional content runs through the whole like a luminescent silver thread.
Perspicuity and poignancy, held to be the two aspects of all great art, fully realised on the razor's edge
balance of intellect and emotion. This finesse and depth coupled with original creativity amaze listeners."
Appreciation of classical music has been part of the ethos of the south Indian middle class. Over time,
music became a part of education for young people in many households. Pursuit of devotional and classical
music has been at both the amateur and professional levels.
Music was always an integral part of life in some families and functions like marriages and navaratri kolu.
Until recently, accomplishment in music was counted as an additional qualification for girls in the arranged
marriage system. Large scale migration from the villages and towns in the regions of Tanjavur, Tiruchi,
Tirunelveli, Palghat (then in the combined Madras Presidency) to the metropolis, led to the 'sabha system'.
The flowering of the Mylapore culture set new trends, season festivals gained in significance, and professional
artists converged for better prospects. The development of radio and gramophone was among the other important
factors relevant to an interlinked analysis.
The influx of south Indians into Delhi started with the shifting of the capital of ‘British’ India, after 1911.
THANKAMANI KUTTY – 50 YEARS
Teaching dance in Kolkata
- SUNITA CHOWDHURIE
It all began in 1954 when little Kunhilakshmi happened to watch a dance performance of Vasanthi Menon,
daughter of Vallathol, founder of Kerala Kalamandalam. It was a private show at the residence of the great
poet where Kunhilakshmi happened to be visiting with her father, the late Krishnan Nair who was a member
of the communist party. After the programme, Vasanthi seeing the expression on the enthralled child’s face
asked her if she was interested in learning dance. Kunhilakshmi had only one answer – a big "yes".
A few days later, were the enrolment interviews for Bharatanatyam and Mohini Attam classes at Kerala Kalamandalam.
Six girls were shortlisted for the course. When Kunhilakshmi appeared for the interview, the board rejected her as
very small, thin and unimpressive, but finally admitted her on the personal intervention of Vallathol.
It was a residential school and all the six students were on scholarship.
Soon, Kunhilakshmi became popular with her classmates and teachers, thanks to her lovable nature and harmless
pranks. It was possibly the most wonderful time of her life, staying all day and night with her friends in the
hostel and bathing in the Bharatapuzha river.
Diehard traditionalists of Carnatic music who often lament the lack of decorum – and Pavlovian tendency to
burst into applause as if on cue – of our audiences, may draw some comfort from this account of the
Western classical music scene through the ages by Alex Ross, music critic of The New Yorker since 1996,
and author of the bestseller The Rest is Noise: Listening to the Twentieth Century.
WHY SO SERIOUS?
How The Classical Concert Took Shape-
Alex Ross
The modern classical-music performance, as audiences have come to know it and sometimes to love it,
adheres to a fairly rigid format. The music usually begins a few minutes after eight, listeners having
taken their seats beforehand to peruse programme notes or chat with neighbours. The evening falls into
two halves, each lasting around forty-five or fifty minutes. An orchestral concert often proceeds from
overture or short tone poem to solo concerto, and then to a symphony or some other major statement;
a solo recital builds up to a big sonata or a virtuoso showpiece.
The audience is expected to remain quiet for the duration of each work, and those who applaud between
movements may face embarrassment. Around ten o’clock, the audience claps for two or three minutes,
the performers bow two or three times, and all go home. Opera has a slightly looser code – the length of
the evening depends on the composer’s whims, and the audience makes its feelings known with sporadic
applause and very occasional boos – but there, too, an atmosphere of high seriousness prevails.
Guitar Prasanna, one of my favourite musicians, said in a recent interview, "Jazz is constantly
evolving, while Carnatic music is static. That is the reason Carnatic music is in such a pathetic
state today.” He goes on to state that musicians do not express themselves anymore, and that there
aren’t enough Balamuralikrishnas and GNBs around.
He was making a fair point, I thought at first glance. But, the more I think about it, the less
convincing it seems. When tradition and history are crucial ingredients of an art form, they are the
form's greatest strengths and weaknesses. On the one hand, they give the art its mystifying depth,
its breadth, its microscopic subtleties, and crucially, its distinct identity; on the other, these
traditions define boundaries, they channel innovation within these boundaries, and most disgustingly,
they scoff at perceived transgressions. Yet, these art forms evolve constantly. With outside influences
seeping in, the atmosphere within which this art is enjoyed changes. The forms that fail to adapt and
evolve die out.
THE WINDS OF MUSIC A conversation with Gangubai Hangal - SHRINKHLA SAHAI
You mention the name 'Gangubai Hangal' and every musician bows his head in reverence. For people in
Hubli, her home in Deshpande Nagar was the virtual centre of the city. Her home and heart was
open to everyone and she was called 'Ajji' (grandmother) by all.
Just about a year ago, after her 96th birthday, I met and interviewed her in Hubli for Radio Gandharv,
the 24-hour Hindustani classical music station on WorldSpace Satellite Radio. The news of her death on
21st July brought back a kaleidoscope of memories for me — the disarming warmth of her smile,
her child-like enthusiasm, and the refrain of her famous bandish in raga Jogiya Hari ka bhed na payo.
Her memories spanned the three octaves of music history, taking you into a grand narrative of Hindustani
classical music. She reminisced about her camaraderie with guru-bhai Bhimsen Joshi when he used to
accompany her to the station after the day’s lesson in their younger days, and she laughed about winning
a card game against Kumar Gandharva. Her eyes brimmed with tears while remembering her dear daughter
Krishna who was her constant shadow. She waved away all questions about her struggles with a smile. It
was an intense, enriching experience as Gangubai Hangal went down memory lane.
The Music Bug bites many an unsuspecting victim and persons living abroad are not immune; in fact, the
farther away they are from their motherland, the more deadly is the bite. A symptom is that the person
so bitten forgets his or her environment – that he or she is in an alien country with the main aim of
earning oodles of money; gets romantic ideas of going professional in music whatever the academic
training; and imagines that the whole world is waiting for the arrival of the genius on the performing
stage! Have we not heard it all before, the innumerable hopefuls dreaming of making it big in moviedom?
And how many actually make it?
sruti.com
In January 2009, T.M. Krishna succeeded fellow Carnatic vocalist Alleppey Venkatesan as president of Sampradaya,
the Chennai-based resource centre engaged since its inception in 1980 in preserving south Indian music traditions.
Keen to carry forward its mission of documenting, archiving, researching and disseminating the various aspects of
the south Indian music heritage, he and his team at Sampradaya plan, among other things, a monthly programme
entitled Samvada, which will feature a veteran musician in conversation with another senior vidwan.
Three great Indian musicians have left us in the recent past — Ustad Ali Akbar Khan and Gangubai Hangal from the
world of Hindustani music and D.K. Pattammal, the last of the Titans of Carnatic music. All three of them
were pioneers in their field, the ustad playing a major role in the propagation of Hindustani music in the
West, the US in particular, and the two women storming male bastions with their powerful voices and
uncompromising musical values.
"The auditorium is full; a young woman has cast a spell over the listeners. Clad in a maroon silk saree with
mustard and gold border, the pallav covering her shoulder, she presents a picture of modesty and feminine grace.
The coruscating diamonds on her ears and nose enhance the old world elegance of the occasion. There are no sudden or
jerky movements either in her person or in her music. She has sung Vachaspati raga elaborately, with subtle and
imaginative touches. Now she is singing the tanam in the same raga, weaving rhythmical patterns skillfully into
melodic phrases. There is palpable excitement and as the tanam draws to a close, the audience visibly holds its
breath in avid expectation of the main attraction of the evening. This is the pallavi. The singer now renders
it in a complicated rhythmic structure. The development of the pallavi "Navasakti swaroopini, nada omkara roopini",
follows the dictates of classical tradition, and niraval leads to kalpana swara-s. Nowhere is there the slightest
infraction of artistic decorum. Nor is the intellectual handling of rhythm allowed to become a mere display of vocal
gymnastics or solfa without soul. The emotional content runs through the whole like a luminescent silver thread.
Perspicuity and poignancy, held to be the two aspects of all great art, fully realised on the razor's edge
balance of intellect and emotion. This finesse and depth coupled with original creativity amaze listeners."
Appreciation of classical music has been part of the ethos of the south Indian middle class. Over time,
music became a part of education for young people in many households. Pursuit of devotional and classical
music has been at both the amateur and professional levels.
Tirunelveli, Palghat (then in the combined Madras Presidency) to the metropolis, led to the 'sabha system'.
The flowering of the Mylapore culture set new trends, season festivals gained in significance, and professional
artists converged for better prospects. The development of radio and gramophone was among the other important
factors relevant to an interlinked analysis.
It all began in 1954 when little Kunhilakshmi happened to watch a dance performance of Vasanthi Menon,
daughter of Vallathol, founder of Kerala Kalamandalam. It was a private show at the residence of the great
poet where Kunhilakshmi happened to be visiting with her father, the late Krishnan Nair who was a member
of the communist party. After the programme, Vasanthi seeing the expression on the enthralled child’s face
asked her if she was interested in learning dance. Kunhilakshmi had only one answer – a big "yes".
Guitar Prasanna, one of my favourite musicians, said in a recent interview, "Jazz is constantly
evolving, while Carnatic music is static. That is the reason Carnatic music is in such a pathetic
state today.” He goes on to state that musicians do not express themselves anymore, and that there
aren’t enough Balamuralikrishnas and GNBs around.
You mention the name 'Gangubai Hangal' and every musician bows his head in reverence. For people in
Hubli, her home in Deshpande Nagar was the virtual centre of the city. Her home and heart was
open to everyone and she was called 'Ajji' (grandmother) by all.
