In academics, peer review is a common and accepted practice of judging and assessing new work. It is the evaluation of work by people with similar competencies to the producer of the work. This seems to be a fair and beneficial exercise — for both reviewers and reviewees. It seems, however, to be largely restricted to the world of medical, scientific and technical work.
In the performing and other arts, it seems to be largely absent — even in an informal sense. In literary circles, writers do invite and listen to or read peers reviewing or talking about their work, whether in print or at lit fests. But in the field of music, I have only always heard performers either dismissing their peers or ignoring them altogether; including in a city like Pune, where at times they have grown up and lived two lanes from one another!
It was not always this way, from what we gather about musicians of earlier times — when budding performers as well as established ones held all-day or all-night sessions to present their ongoing work, and were open to feedback, review, and exchanges.
Proudly aloof
But in the past few decades, I have not heard a single good word by a musician about a contemporary. And I have yet to see a musician attend the concert of another one. Sure, you will hear lots of fulsome praise and paeans to the old, dead and gone musicians. But ask a contemporary musician which peer’s music he or she listens to, and you will draw a blank. In fact, you will hear a proud “I don’t bother with all these people, I never go for music programmes.”
I am not making this up, but I have entered the homes of some performing musicians and heard something playing on their music system — and when I ask who it is, the answer is, “I am playing my own recordings.” It’s from their own recital on AIR or a U.S. trip, or Europe tour! At most, it may be a recording of their guru or a dear departed great. And no, they are not listening to figure out how they can improve — they are listening in rapt admiration of themselves. Talk about living in an echo chamber!
Recently, a moderately well-known, low-profile chef was invited by a painter to inaugurate his art show. Although a friend, she was surprised at his choice of ‘chief guest’. Why me? I am not an expert, or a collector, or an aficionado, or a critic, or an artist — not by a long chalk, she said. She felt a little foolish to show up and pose for pictures at an art exhibit, given that it was not her area of expertise or interest, and suggested a string of other more appropriate worthies. But the artist simply would not take no for an answer, and as he was booking her time months in advance, she couldn’t throw a ‘not-in-town’ excuse.
Peer snubbing
Only later did it dawn on her that this artist simply did not want to bestow this honour on anyone from his biradari — his peers and contemporaries. He had rarely or never attended or shared space with any of them, or said one good word about their work, and the best way to continue ignoring them all was to import someone from a completely unrelated field to declare his show open. Far from looking for peer review, this was an exercise in peer snubbing.
Rare are the musicians who go to one another’s recitals. Even if they are to perform on the same night at the same venue, one after the other, they usually find excuses to perform and immediately leave ( on a jet plane , as the song goes).
A couple of years ago, it was remarkable and wonderful to see several of Sharad Sathe’s peers attend his performance in Mumbai. Legend has it that when Kumar Gandharva returned to singing after his long illness-related hiatus, Bhimsen Joshi went door-to-door on a bicycle, inviting people to come and listen to the re-emergence of a genius.
When I watch music talent shows — classical as well as contemporary music — on TV, it is heartening to see the really young competitors on stage enjoying and applauding each other’s performances. May their tribe grow.
The writer is a novelist, counsellor and music lover who takes readers through the Aladdin’s cave of Indian music.
