For many Asians living abroad, an old Bollywood tune or the smell of frying spices on a cold winter’s evening is all it takes to evoke memories of an entirely different life once spent elsewhere. And, a riff of Carnatic music from the mandolin of U. Shrinivas would leave you in nostalgia and a yearning for an idea of home that exists only in one’s head.
Mandolin U. Shrinivas was known in the west, at first through his appearances at Womad in the 1990s, but his touring with John McLaughlin and Zakir Hussain with the fusion band ‘Remember Shakti’ will be indelible. For Indian families around the world who’ve seen him play from when he was a young boy, it feels as if an affectionate brother or a beloved son has disappeared.
He was a 12-year-old in neatly pressed shorts and shirt, carrying a tiny mandolin when he stepped onto the stage at the Music Academy in Chennai, with his doe-like eyes and angelic smile. This image still evokes a thrill and in a small way has become quite iconic — the many thali cafes around Bristol have this poster along with other retro-1980s Indian memorabilia.
The child prodigy only got better in adolescence and adulthood. In an interview for BBC Network East, recorded at Womad, he says that having his father on stage keeping rhythm filled him with confidence. He is seen paying homage to the Hindu Gods, Rama, Hanuman and Ganesh, and says he meditates and prays daily for a ‘good imagination’.
That imagination was always rich and fresh — his music was filled with an abundance that had the power to elevate anyone listening to him. I interviewed him after a solo performance at St. Georges in Bristol sometime in the mid-1990s. It was the first concert of his that I was attending outside of Chennai and I was eager to see how he would play to such a different audience. He performed a traditional ‘cutcheri’, accompanied by a violinist and two percussionists. He was not so much shy as painfully modest. I asked him why he hit high speeds right from the start, instead of taking us gently through the raga in its softer forms. He told me he did it because that’s what people in the west wanted to hear. The effect it had on the crowd was instantaneous — whoops and foot stamping from the start.
I tried not to miss a concert whenever he toured Britain and made sure I saw him play when I went back to Chennai in December. Here was a master magician who knew how to mesmerise any crowd. He could play like Eric Clapton or Santana to a mainstream western audience and be able to tug at people’s heart-strings with a moving bhajan for a predominantly expat Indian crowd. At the Music Academy, his permutations and combinations during his ‘Ragam Thanam Pallavi’ could leave the audience and some accompanists gasping. The diamonds on his fingers would twinkle as they flew along the tiny fingerboard of the mandolin instrument.
There was room for subtlety and speed when his talent found its perfect showcase with the band ‘Remember Shakti’ in 1997. John McLaughlin discovered him when he was sent a tape of a 14-year-old performing at the Berlin Jazz festival by his friend and ‘ghatam’ player Vikku Vinayakram (of the original Shakti). But he had to wait for 12 years before he could start working with him. On his sudden passing, McLaughlin told a newspaper, “He was like an angel, like these special beings who come to earth to mingle with us humans and then leave us in a short time with a gift from beyond. What a great legacy he left. Collaborating with him was one of the greatest experiences of my life and I have played with the greatest.”
Shrinivas collaborated with Michael Brook on the album Dream. In this, the mandolin speaks slowly and more eloquently than ever before, revealing unheard depths of melancholy and bleakness. There were notes of darkness that I’ve never heard him play elsewhere.
The last time I saw him play was in November 2013 at the Royal Festival Hall in London with Remember Shakti.
In the past, the encore would normally be resurgence — a blast of joyous rhythm and manic melody from McLaughlin and Shrinivas on the strings, Zakir Hussain and Selva Ganesh on the percussion and Shankar Mahadevan on vocals. Shrinivas once again surpassed my expectations — it was a slow, expansive melody that somehow managed to convey a note of inevitable farewell. Sadly, it seems to make sense now.
(The author is a writer/ journalist based in Bristol, U.K.mitesn@hotmail.com)
