When he appeared in the second half of his family show at The Hindu November Fest 2015, violin vidwan L. Subramaniam said with a beaming smile, “I am happy to play in Chennai, which has serious rasikas.” He added sotto voce , “Perhaps too serious!” Subramaniam would have been glad to note that the people who thronged The Music Academy that day were certainly not those “high serious” listeners he mentioned. They came to have a good time, and their generous applause showed that they wanted to be entertained by the eclectic variety provided by the family of show folks.
And why not? There was wife Kavita Krishnamurti, a noted Bollywood playback singer, to render film songs. Violinist-son Ambi Subramaniam giving a taste of his virtuosic skills. Daughter Bindu to sing interfusion songs in English. Cameos by elder son Narayana, son-in-law Sanjeev Nayak, and little granddaughter Mahati. Pater familias L Subramaniam himself brought to centre-stage the original genre of global fusion that he has evolved. And how can we forget the group of seven dextrous accompanists from Chennai, Bangalore, Mumbai and Kolkata – Atul Raninga (keyboard), Alwyn Fernandes (guitar) Prakash K N (bass), DSR Murthy (mridangam), Tanmoy Bose (tabla), K.V. Balu (percussion), and Karthik Mani (drums)?
The youngsters launched the show with Bindu rendering ‘Days in the Sun’ and ‘Your heart is as black as night’ from the SubraMania band. The strings came into full play in ‘Make it Count’, where Ambi and Alwyn grabbed attention with their spunky violin-guitar medley.
Next came Bindu’s violinist-husband Sanjeev Nayak, of the folk/fusion Swarathma band, Bangalore, to celebrate with what-else-but-music their seven days old marriage, remaining somewhat low-key as a new entrant to the clan. L Subramaniam’s songs like ‘God is love’ expressed predictable sentiments in word and melody, as Narayana joined his sister to sing of love and peace. His solo showcased the Mukesh classic ‘Saranga teri yaad mein’, sans the pulse throb and yearning sigh of the inimitable original.
Kavita Krishnamurti transformed the ambience with a haunting Tulsidas bhajan, ‘Sri ramchandra kripalu bhajman’ . Composed by Pandit Ramnarayan, its melodic contours shimmered with its own special shuddh madhyam. Ahir Bhairav was all joy in ‘Albela sajan ayore’ ( Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam ). She soared into taans in the tarana she had appended to this film song, which also signalled a welcome tabla and konnakol exchange.
Kavita’s professionalism was evident in the liquid ease with which she glided from RD Burman’s perky, playful ‘Pyar Hua Chupke Se’ ( 1942: A Love Story ), to A.R. Rahman’s piercing, poignant ‘Tu hi re’ ( Bombay ). You hardly missed the words sung by the male partner in the original duet, as Ambi made them come alive on his strings. This superb bonding brought heart and soul to the performance. (We were to see some more bonding later, when the child Mahati was coaxed to sing by doting grandparents).
Intervals in a music recital have a way of making the event sag. But when L Subramaniam appeared after the break, even his sedate manner and quiet humour could not mask the energy. Standing like his classical western counterpart to play the violin, and moving across the stage like a pop artiste, Subramaniam played his own compositions. In the racy ‘Indian Express’ (inspired by trains, not the newspaper!), he shifted multiple gears to accelerate the pace, scattering superfast swaras with amazing clarity and purity of tone. Clusters of straight notes with janta and dattu repetitions climaxed in exploding rhythms.
However, we had a brief taste of mellow music too in his finale, a new piece inspired by the image of dancing peacocks.
Subramaniam sailed on a slow gamaka-lit Kafi-Pilu ragascape, before joining the collective crescendo of choric refrains and sawal jawab exchanges with the percussionists.
