The music market is abounding with hundreds of categories. Fusion is perhaps the overarching category into which most of these new fancy classifications belong to. If fusion is the coming together of different musical world views, then there is little doubt that most of these new labels belong there. Most in fact, go beyond music itself – they are “performances” that attempt to enact music. As case study, let’s take this genre called Unwind/Rewind Mix, which is mostly a re-rendition of Hindi film music. Why are these old songs recast, and what does such an exercise eventually achieve?
Film music has captured the imagination of the Indian mind like no other genre has. Extraordinary composers, lyricists and singers have occupied this galaxy. The songs seemed like they were composed and sung just to express the personal happiness and sadness of each of us. It has unified human beings and their emotional condition across the length and breadth of this country. They became so intimate to one’s existence that, everyone, from times immemorial, has had the desire to sing them. Orchestras in fact, have thrived on this public emotion. The genre Unwind/Rewind Mix is therefore neither contrary nor a surprise – it is a continuation of this phenomenon that has had a long history.
But there’s more to it than mere remembrance or reiteration. Aspiring singers have used these timeless classics to get a breakthrough -- pick an all time favourite and win public appreciation. Instrumentalists have used them to display their skill and technique. More importantly, in this age where visuals take centre stage, singers double as actors. They croon with “feeling” as they help configure a pretty image.
What exactly is this “feel”? Self-expression is fundamental to all art, and hence even if art is perceived as imitation, it creates its own reality. So, these songs – the Unwind/Rewind Mix – do create a new reality. But the nature of this reality can be best explained by what the great philosopher Edmund Burke distinguished as sublime and beautiful. Burke was among the most important writers who could aesthetically separate these two ideas and explain their difference entirely in terms of the process of perception. He says that mostly, these two ideas are irreconcilable and if a reconciliation does take place, it will only be with diminished effect on the passions. “Beete Na Bitai Raina”, the masterpiece of a song sung by Lata Mangeshkar and Bhupinder Singh ( Parichay ) has been rendered by singers Abhay Jodhpurkar and Savaniee. The song is a transformation from its stunning original. While the original is a coming together of complex emotions -- intense and regal -- the remake is deliberately pretty and synthetic. The percussion track literally pounds on your chest: insistent on making a point come what may. The singers over embellish the rendition making it a canvas to showcase their virtuosity. It is not as if Lata and Bhupinder were incapable of mastery over technique. But every creative work has a purpose and in the original song’s mindscape there was no place for ornamentation.
Shashaa Tirupati and Prajakta Shukre’s telling of the lovely Man Kyon Behka(Utsav ) is also bogged down by problems of over simplification. The phenomenally talented Harish Sivaramakrishnan – profound and penetrating that he is – weighs down his renditions by over interpretation. He sings the song “Malargale” from the film “Love Birds” rendered by Chitra and Hariharan. Harish has a voice that listens to him, which is capable of producing any kind of gamakas and murkhis. It has a timbre that can capture subtle emotions. But can the inner voice of a composition be replaced by talent? What then is talent? Is it the ability to produce a good turn of phrase? Why are modern renditions of the evergreen pieces of music and poetry ridden with an outwardly sophistication? Sublime, as Burke says, cannot exclude pain from beauty, and hence it reaches out to a form that is higher than beauty, a phenomenon that largely remains intrinsic to the creative process. In most renditions of the Unwind/Rewind Mix, the tendency is to drift to a beauty that is visual, that is aural and not soulful.
There are exceptions: Jahnavi Shrimankar’s rendition of O Sajna (Parakh) is exquisite, while it is modern. She strips the song of all its elements and works just on the melody. With a guitar that beautifully enhances her insights, Jahnavi is remarkable. So is Raman Mahadevan’s rendition of Tu Hi Re (Roja). He focusses all his energies to capture the most elusive aspect of music – the emotional sub registers. Even the background score is mellow and plaintive, never missing sight of the song. To recast a song into a new frame is to also be awed by its mysterious, a magic that can never be captured in any of its elements -- from words to notes.
After Socrates’ dialogue with Ion, he concluded that there is “art by divine inspiration”. Plato disagreed. However, generations of creative artistes have repeatedly and consistently said, “I don’t know how it happened!”, attributing the making of art to an element beyond the human. Art, in most truthful experiences, supersedes human thought and reveals things that we do not normally see. Great art encapsulates the ‘unconscious’. The problem with Unwind/Rewind Mix is that it is self-conscious, controlling, programming and directing art in a particular way. It loses its magic and becomes manufactured. All great art is an act in humility, it happens when human beings shed their arrogance and let their ‘art’ take control of them.
Inner Voice is a fortnightly column on film music.
