There are three kinds of audiences at a T.M. Krishna concert: those who love his music but hate what he says, another lot who come because they like his social commitment, and those who appreciate both. And lest we forget, there are also many who have boycotted his concerts for his often acerbic views on caste, religion, culture and the current political dispensation. Rebel, maverick, enfant terrible of Carnatic music are only some of the sobriquets used to describe Krishna.
In our collective consciousness, Krishna is the ever-questioning avant-garde musician, who also speaks at literary festivals, lectures extensively on inherent biases in our musical ecosystem and spares nobody from Prime Minister Narendra Modi to Rahul Gandhi in his columns. The Ramon Magsaysay Award was recently conferred on him in recognition of his advocacy for “social inclusiveness in culture”. The only other Indian musicians to have won the much-coveted honour include Pandit Ravi Shankar and M.S. Subbulakshmi. Is Krishna, therefore, the poster boy for 21st century Indian music: catholic and inclusive?
It is precisely this pigeonholing of art and artists which annoys him the most. He was speaking to The Hindu on the eve of a series of events, provocatively titled ‘Karnatik Modern — Concerts and Conversations on Music Art and Society’, and curated and organised by the cultural organisation First Edition Arts. The events will feature Krishna across venues in the city.
“More than defining me, all these adjectives describe the people who use them. It is always convenient to trap a person into one singular identity. This allows you, then, to immediately put anything that the individual says or does into that one container. This is what people have done with me and therefore it does not bother me,” Krishna says.
A staunch traditionalist by admission, Krishna was groomed by the likes of Vidvans Seetharama Sarma, Chingleput Ranganathan and the legendary Semmangudi Srinivasier. Influenced by a variety of musicians at different stages of life, he credits vocalist T. Brinda as his greatest influence. Brinda’s music, for him, epitomises ‘the Carnatic’. From the Hindustani music pantheon, he is drawn to Kumar Gandharva as “someone who creates silence”. These musicians give us a profound glimpse into why art is reflective. But what about Subbulakshmi? “I learnt to imbibe her music only when I became more sensitive to the art. Initially, like many within the Carnatic fraternity, I considered her a well-marketed average musician with an incredible voice. It is only when I immersed myself in music and experienced its unfathomable breadth, did I realise M.S.”
Krishna has often been subjected to harsh censure from self-proclaimed traditionalists for his fiercely original and uncommon interpretation of music. He says, “We understand tradition in two ways. For some, it is an old, unchanging, rigid structure that needs to be implicitly followed. Others use the trite cliché, ‘tradition is change’. Both are traps that do not allow us to reach deeper into the idea of tradition. Tradition is complex, nuanced and at times reconcilable, but sometimes displays contradictory ways. Tradition lives at the intersection of the aesthetic, philosophical, social and political. Therefore, any serious engagement with this idea requires that the individual investigates this meeting place in a non-judgemental, detached fashion. This is, of course, easier said than done!”
Although Carnatic music lays heavy emphasis on bhakti , Krishna treats a composition as a creation born out of the triangular relationship between raga , tala and text. Bhakti needs to be experienced in this coming together, and he says with confidence, “the religious is not the intentionality of Carnatic music”.
Talking about his much-discussed upcoming collaboration with the Jogappas, Krishna says, “The collaboration was a result of a conversation I had with Shubha Chacko of Solidarity Foundation. I heard their music and felt we could structure a concert that allowed both forms to co-exist and challenge artistic and societal discriminations. It was also a way for me to experience something that I was uncomfortable with. I was carrying all the baggage of a Brahmin, upper class individual and this interaction has made me aware of my limitations. The Jogappas are wonderful musicians and human beings, and they have taught me so much about life and myself.” There is no latent activism here, but only a quest for self-awareness.
While Chembur, Sion, Matunga are traditionally pedigreed Carnatic music spaces in Mumbai, Krishna’s upcoming concerts in Dadar, the stronghold of Hindustani classical music, is no less a provocation. But can music enable creation of alternative, non-hegemonic space? “Music can enable a non-hegemonic space only if there is serious thought put into the texture and nature of the artistic space. If not, it will lead to hegemony. Let us not fool ourselves that art automatically unites people. It does not, unless the artistic community consciously makes an effort to break down walls”.
Kunal Ray is a freelance arts commentator and teaches English literature at Flame University, Pune.
T.M. Krishna will be in conversation with writer Jerry Pinto at Sophia School of Communication (December 2 at 11 a.m.) followed by a lec-dem on creativity and improvisation in Carnatic music at G5A Black Box, Mahalaxmi (December 2 at 6.30 p.m.). He will also perform a full concert at Veer Savarkar Hall, Shivaji Park (December 3 at 6 p.m.) and present a collaborative performance with the transgender musical community from Karnataka, the Jogappas, at Sitara Studio in Dadar’s old working class neighbourhood (December 4 at 6 p.m.) For details, see bookmyshow.com
