sound of change

During the late 1930s, Krishna Rao Shankar Pandit, the royal musician from the Gwalior state, was going through a sweaty and ‘‘harsh’’ recording session, his first, on an iron disk at one rich Seth Lakshmi Chand’s room in Karachi. Pandit, according to his son, maestro LK Pandit, earned a ‘‘decent sum’’ out of this recording.

Almost 60 years have passed since Pandit Krishna Rao Shankar Pandit moved to Mumbai’s HMV studios during the late 1940s. Since then, there have been vast changes in the Indian classical music scene. The All India Radio, once considered a custodian of Hindustani and Carnatic music, has reduced its recordings to one-fourth. And HMV is no longer showering invitations to artistes. There are, however, some surprises. For instance, this month, Benaras gharana’s maestros, Pandit Rajan and Sajan Mishra received — ‘‘two cheques of Rs 2.35 each as royalty’’ from HMV. ‘‘We are planning to preserve the two cheques, so that the coming generations of musicians know how they are going to be treated,’’ says a miffed Pandit Rajan Mishra.

In the age of world music, e-gurukuls, ‘‘tailor made’’ kutcheris, musical downloads, star performers, and capsule concerts, opportunities for artistes are fading fast. However, it’s the concert format that has seen a sea change, both in trends and presentation. From mandapam to microphones It was at the Nootukkaal Mandapam (hall of hundred pillars) that Vidwan Lalgudi Jayaraman heard the best of legends perform. ‘‘With no mattresses and ACs, concerts weren’t as comfortable for musicians and artistes as they are today. Yet, there was this sense of composure you seldom see these days,’’ observes Jayaraman. Till the late 1940s there were no microphones. Says tabla legend Pandit Kishan Maharaj of Benaras, ‘‘You got to know the worth of the artiste, his voice quality and skills sans the microphone. There were many artistes who became popular only after the microphones were introduced.’’

Jayaraman says he was ‘‘baffled’’ initially when he used the microphone for the first time at the Woriyur Ambal Temple in the 1950s! According to Carnatic vidwan T K Govinda Rao, shruti levels were altered with the inclusion of microphones. ‘‘Great musicians like my guru, Musiri Subramania Iyer, maintained a high pitch. Though I follow the same style, I had to change my shruti levels for using a microphone,’’ says Govinda Rao. From 1 hour thumris to shortcuts Unlike now, with the 10 pm deadline and the two-hour time limit at concerts, senior artistes in the 1930s had the luxury to perform for five hours.

In Benaras, where the baton was passed from the courtesans (the Baais), to male stalwarts, concerts happened ‘‘in the background of temples’’ to be relished by ‘‘the masses rather than the maharajas.’’ According to Kishan Maharaj, ‘‘a thumri was sung for an hour. The accompanist on the tabla had enough time to wander from his theka into the complexities of dadra, jhaptaal and teentaal (types of rhythm cycles in Hindustani tradition).’’ But gradually, the lack of time and other constraints crept onto the concert scene. Even down south. According to Govinda Rao, ‘‘only senior vidwans were allowed to perform for four to five hours. The time limit gradually reduced to two to three hours in the 1960s.’’ Khayal singing (a form in Hindustani tradition in slow rhythm) — vilambhit khayal (slow), drut khayal (fast) and taraana (a blend of lyrics and percussion syllables) — saw many changes happening in form and presentation. Gradually, the vilambhit khayal, with shrinking improvisations, became shorter. Giving little attention to the gharana boundaries, listeners started expecting thumris, jhoolas (traditional delicacies celebrating the rainy season) and bhajans to follow khayal singing; like they would expect a dessert from Benaras after the main course.

The music scene down South saw a shift from elaborate evenings. Kutcheris not only made room for the pious grammar of Carnatic music, but also soaked in the kritis and varnams of great composers. ‘‘The Ragam Tanam Pallavi with tani would stretch to about two hours, and all great masters would give equal importance to sahitya and grammar,’’ reflects Govinda Rao. Gradually, with the willingness to explore rhythmic improvisations came the opportunity for many percussion instruments to perform alongside mainstream musicians. ‘‘Besides the mridangam, artistes started using the ghatam, kanjira, morsing, koanakol etc,’’ he adds. The time crunch saw many aspects in Hindustani and Carnatic music being squeezed or vanishing from the scene. Its direct impact on the Carnatic tradition according to this expert, is the ‘‘vanishing of the elaborate pallavis.’’

The ‘‘loss’’ — probably greater in volume — has been felt over the years in Hindustani music as well. The alap (swara improvisations bound or unbound in rhythm), jod alap (bound in rhythm) and swar vistaar (improvising within the khayal) in vilambhit khayals have shrunk over the years, even at the famous music conferences at the Tansen and Harvallabh festivals. Power packed performances being in vogue, generous rendition of thumris and tappas is rare. “At least two generations haven’t heard taranas in vilambhit. The trend of singing ashtapadis too is fading fast,’’ rues L K Pandit. Earlier, only the pure, basic ragas were chosen for performances, now mishra ragas (a blend of ragas), initiated by the Jaipur gharana have gained popularity, which according to maestro Pandit Ulhas Kashalkar at Kolkata’s Sangeet Research Academy is because listeners want to hear ‘‘new melodies.’’

From the times when, according to L K Pandit, listeners, ‘‘kept a control on musicians’’ to ‘‘the times,’’ as Jayaraman describes it, ‘‘where listeners press the need for superficiality’’, gimmicks (of the musical kind) have kept the masses enchanted. ‘‘Carnatic music has got the gimmicks from artistes who have been singing for films,’’ quips Govind Rao. The next generation artistes, complain maestros, are lapping up all these ‘‘shortcuts.’’ This month, Kashalkar, while examining young musicians, came across ‘‘ostentations in grammar’’ being tried by one of them. ‘‘Where have you picked this up from?’’ Kashalkar had enquired. ‘‘From one of the websites, guruji,’’ came the quick reply. ‘‘These are worrying changes. I am afraid, it will have a bad effect on the concert scene in the Hindustani tradition,’’ claims Kashalkar.

Well, the microphone will pick up these luxurious shortcuts and gimmicks. And listeners with a ear for good music will always be able to judge the difference.

copyright: the new indian express