Endless Kenny G or brutal ringtones — industrial music is out to get you

A honey voice, supported by a full orchestra, was serenading me: “1 million SMS freeeeeheehehee, mobile-to-mobile absoluuutely freeee, incoming freeeee, outgoing only 90 paisayyyy.”

June 08, 2019 04:02 pm | Updated 04:02 pm IST

Our IT age has taken its defining music several steps up the inanity scale.

Our IT age has taken its defining music several steps up the inanity scale.

There is music (the food-of-love kind) and then there is ‘industrial music’. When I first heard the phrase, I was so happy that there was actually a term that described the soulless grouping of notes played at you in elevators, in lobbies, while you’re put on hold on the telephone, in the background of some random documentary film, or as accompaniment to some mind-numbing computer game played on a mobile phone.

If every age has its defining music, why shouldn’t the Industrial Age have its own anthems? And our IT age has taken its defining music several steps up the inanity scale. Heading the list is the music belted out by a phone company while you wait for your call to be attended. A mellifluous female voice actually sings out numbers. I have never held on long enough to understand what exactly these numbers mean, but swear-to-god, the lyrics go something like this: Nine-eight… tra la la …four-two-one… tum ti dum …six-nine-eight… la la la …three-five… rappa pum pum . The tune is that of some haunting ballad, but the lyrics, as you can see, are somewhat lacking in poetic effort.

Once when I held on to the phone and heard out one whole verse of this song (more numbers, more tra la la), it was followed by more singing, but this time there were words. A honey voice, supported by a full orchestra, was serenading me with actual words. But no, the song wasn’t about Love and Life and the like — the lyrics were something like: “1 million SMS freeeeeheehehee, mobile-to-mobile absoluuutely freeee, incoming freeeee, outgoing only 90 paisayyyy.” And so on and so forth.

In some places, like office lobbies, the music is oversimplified into a nursery song-like five–six note phrase. It’s usually got the musical scope and range of a Hello Kitty meets Teletubbies kind of score.

What about the modern-day hazard of being trapped in an elevator, going slowly up, up, up to the 14th floor, with only the collar of the man in front to look at, and Kenny G’s (or should it be Kenny-ji, Bollywood style?) saxophone wailing a tune that seems to have no beginning, middle or any promise of an end. A few minutes of this, and you even fantasise idly: if the elevator cable breaks under the weight of so many large executives going importantly up to work, and hurtles down to the ground, will that at least put an end to Kenny G’s soft, persistent and endless ‘melody’?

Motivational music

Phone ringtones are now a music form. It’s interesting sometimes, to hear the snatch of an electronified old song. But if you have one of those and don’t pick up on the fourth ring, be sure that people around won’t be too thrilled. The other day, at a doctor’s clinic, a fellow patient’s mobile went off — and the tune, to my utter amazement, was the Mangalashtak, the Marathi getting-married shloka. On and on it went, till I wanted to shout, “Oh someone marry them off soon, so this will stop.” Intriguing, that the person who chose this ringtone wants to constantly recreate her getting-married moments. Or maybe she was a matchmaker and this was her motivational song? Who knows?

If things go on in this way, people like us are soon going to be driven to do one of two things. We might, like Nana Patekar in that film… well in all his films… beat our head with our hands and go “aaaa aaaa aaaa” till the music stops.

Or, like children do when they don’t want to hear what’s going on around them, we could put a finger firmly in each ear and loudly sing our own favourite songs. Imagine being in a lift, fingers completely blocking out Kenny-ji, and singing loudly: “ Teertha vithala, kshetra vithala, deva vithala, deva puja vithala.

So now you know how you can drown out all that industrial music. You can choose your own song. Just remember that you first read about it here.

The writer is a novelist, counsellor and music lover who takes readers on a ramble through the Aladdin’s cave of Indian music.

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