You
Don't Need To Know Music To Appreciate Music
(This was carried as an article in eambalam.org in 2013)
It is no irony that every human being's singing career flourishes in the confines of a bathroom, for both music and time spent amidst running water everyday are liberating experiences. No wonder, many of us simply break into our favourite song as soon as we relieve ourselves of the garments that thus far sanctified us by protecting our morality.
When I received an
invitation to write a blog from Ambalam for their website on Indian
classical music and dance, I felt both honoured and amused. The
closest I have come to appreciating carnatic classical music is
through the songs of the Tamil film Sindhu Bhairavi and the Telegu
film Shankara Bharanam. And the closest I have come to playing any
form of carnatic music is by dabbling my fingers on an old, creeky
harmonium at my place, courtesy a few lessons from a teacher many
years ago as a kid.
I wondered whether the
promoters at Ambalam had mistaken my innocent nods at one of the
concerts in their premises to be my deep interest in the nuances of
classical music. The truth is I was nodding out of sheer wonderment
at the singer's ability to drag a few words and sentences in a
rhythmic note of sorts, with the knowledgeable audience assembled
there furiously engaged in appreciating the classical display of
ragas.
My short cut to fame as
a music lover comes from a curious and hidden place on Earth – the
bathroom. I am a confirmed bathroom singer, and in the glorious
solitude of the bathroom, with running water for support to lend
whatever background score is possible, I too from time to time try my
hand at singing the various film songs with hindustani or carnatic
touch, far away from the glares and comments of critics. It is no
irony that every human being's singing career flourishes in the
confines of a bathroom, for both music and time spent amidst running
water everyday are liberating experiences. No wonder, many of us
simply break into our favourite song as soon as we relieve ourselves
of the garments that thus far sanctified us by protecting our
morality.
I have had an
opportunity to attend a concert or two, and have always held in great
reverence the classical performers who play something like the
ghatam, or a nadaswaram,
or twist their vocal chords to
elicit from deep within them a rendition which holds you spellbound.
An untrained singer like me has never understood the nuances of a
raga – for me bhairavi is both the name of a girl as well as a
raga; my knowledge of classical music ends there – yet, when I hear
someone deliver it with panache, it provides a soothing effect which
comes naturally, without even being able to comprehend the reason
behind it.
Therein
lies the real power of music delivered with a strong cultural base to
it – which is what classical music is all about. The lyrics,
singing methodology and play of instruments have a context based upon
a story, being presented in a musical form. You need not
intellectually comprehend its meaning, and can still end up
appreciating it from a purely aesthetic perspective. If nothing, a
well delivered recital performs the most basic function of relaxing
your mental muscles, providing you with a few moments of relief from
the humdrum unrhythmic responsibilities of life.
Being efficient at music requires the performer to be passionate about the chosen area. Even a music illiterate like me cannot escape the magic of a Kunnukudi Vaidyanathan on the violin, or a Chitti Babu on the veena, or an MS Subbalaxmi reciting Bhaja Govindam, because of their sheer involvement with the whole process of creating melodious sounds, making life itself seem like an orchestra. This just goes to show the immense power of classical, quality music to communciate, and provide an experience to the listener which transcends his own comprehension of its contents.
Being efficient at music requires the performer to be passionate about the chosen area. Even a music illiterate like me cannot escape the magic of a Kunnukudi Vaidyanathan on the violin, or a Chitti Babu on the veena, or an MS Subbalaxmi reciting Bhaja Govindam, because of their sheer involvement with the whole process of creating melodious sounds, making life itself seem like an orchestra. This just goes to show the immense power of classical, quality music to communciate, and provide an experience to the listener which transcends his own comprehension of its contents.
Truly,
you don't need to know music to appreciate music. All you need is an
ability to surrender your heart strings to the cords or chords – as
the case may be – of an unlimited reservoir of creativity and
intelligence bestowed on the world by the cosmos.