Home   Forum   Wiki   Notes   Register   FAQ   Sitemap   About Us   Contact Us  

About How to Name it & Nothing but Wind

Topic started by Raja Fan (@ 212.72.11.66) on Mon Jan 6 09:01:34 EST 2003.
All times in EST +10:30 for IST.

I shall post some informative articles on this shortly. Enjoy reading and let me know your comments.

---

Responses:

• From: Raja Fan (@ 212.72.11.66) on: Mon Jan 6 09:32:37 EST 2003
  
  How to Name it?
  Composed by Ilaiyaraaja
  
  
  Echo 8000 007
  OST 1986
  Long Play 33 1/3 RPM, Stereo
  
  
  Solo Violin VS Narasimhan
  Violins & Violas Jerry Fernandez
  Arvind
  Sheik Imam Saheb
  George Samuel
  M Joseph
  Ousephachan
  Sebastian
  Cyril Fernandez
  R Joseph
  Gopinath Sett
  Selvaraj
  
  Cellos & Bass Desmond Xavier
  Somnath Sett
  Randolph David
  
  Key Boards Viji Manuel
  R Chandrasekar
  
  Drums R Purushothaman
  Sivamani
  
  Guitar S Sadhanandam
  Bass Guitar Sasidharan
  Trombone Blasco
  Flute Sudhakar
  Mridangam Madurai T Srinivasan
  Shehnai Suban Saheb
  Veena R Parthasarathy
  
  
  Ilaiyaraaja has been composing for Indian films since 1975. Todate, in a span of less than 10 years, he has scored music for 300 films. He won the pretigious National Award for Music in 1984.
  
  About the Composer
  
  Under the mantle of music, many criticisms have arisen as to the whys and whereofs of the mortal understanding of music. “How To Name It” erases the black and white reasoning of mankind to the question of music. There is an unanimous conviction in things perennial and immortal in which the composer devises a mathematical and musical compound of well integrated compositions of music. A pattern is interpreted of wavelengths in order, corresponding to quality and depth. The fluidity of movement is unarrested and a balanced synthesized view is flawlessly presented. This is a portrait of unending values, opening a new insight into the positive future of synthesis.
  
  For the first time in the annals of the history of music, fusion has been explored and exposed in depth by the composer. Though fusion has been attempted by many others, this is the first successful attempt, where he has altered and shaped the meaning of fusion into its actual interpretation and has given this interpretation not only self expression, but a correlation of the traditional and modern techniques in music.
  
  This inspirational fusion is a revival where the composer has displayed a profusion of forms in music, distinctly expressed in a transmission of thought into fusion.
  
  The composer has discovered ragams in western classical music, which the composers themselves have not been aware of. He has used these ragams with precision and style and has changed its colour by adding and eliminating notes, thus giving fusion a whole new perspective. “How To Name It” is a travelogue into the maze of music, guided and explored and discovered by Ilaiyaraaja.
  
  
  SIDE A
  
  HOW TO NAME IT consists of three movements based on the Simhendra Madhyamam Ragam which is harmonized diatonically without counterpoints. The Shanmuga Priya Ragam is treated with modulated diatonics, interwoven, subtly in the second half. Throughout, there is no legal separation of movements, a creative independence is seen and the Madhuvanti Ragam is fused into this composition with magic subtlety.
  
  It consists of three brief movements that melt into one another. A melody, sung low by the violin, is punctuated by answering bass instruments and keyboard. Reminiscences of Bach creep in, transformed and transmogrified in intriguing fashion. Toccata and Fugue in D Minor? Can it be? Ilayaraaja smiles. The first movement, he says, is based on the Simhendra Madhyamam Ragam; the second, on the Shanmuga Priya Ragam; the third on the Madhuvanti Ragam. Bach who?
  
  
  MAD MOD MOOD FUGUE An exotic strain runs through the theme of the Raga Maya Malava Gowla introducing fugue composed for three voices following the traditional fugue rules. The diatonic notes with underlying modulations are heard in the second part of the ragam. There is no vestige of chromatic throughout.
  
  In a calm, soothing composition, Ilayaraja has captured the spirit of a Bach fugue, without being bogged down in formalistic patterns. The theme is based on the Raga Maya Malava Gowla, with once again hints of the Toccata and Fugue.
  
  
  YOU CANNOT BE FREE portrays the Kalyani Raga set for solo violin and western orchestra, creating a distinctive style all its own. Harmonised to present a fusion of diatonic notes, it represents the extensive quality of music all structured and moulded in the mind.
  
  Introduced by the flute, a subdued violin plays a wailing melody; its plaintive voice is hemmed in by other instruments, as the mridhangam – two-headed South Indian drum – natters intermittently: “I told you so! You can’t be free! You can’t! You can’t!”
  
  
  STUDY FOR VIOLIN The Shanmuga Priya Raga is uplifted to a challenging precipice of cultural upheaval. Unlike the usual carnatic flow in ragams, it is based in the key of C Minor adhering to a westernized harmonic blending.
  
  Kreutzer, Fiorillo and Carl Flesch studies were never like this and you’ll wish they were. Although introduced into India by the West a couple of centuries ago, the violin has become very much a traditional classical Indian instrument and in this treatment you see why. It’s based on the Shanmuga Priya Raga, says the composer; and if you have a pair of Western ears, he suggests you think in the key of C Minor.
  
  IT IS FIXED This piece which is based on the Panuvaraali Raga was originally written for classical guitar in the first half. Also the first attempt at fusion of this kind, this unique composition opens new vistas provoking a phantasmagoria of pattern and rhythm with keyboards, trombone and guitar.
  
  It provides a dramatic change of mood and pace. A steady, rhythmic Indian tune featuring classical guitar gives way to a trance-like, bluesy passage; drums pick up the beat and we are drawn irresistibly into a full-blown jam session as trombone, strings and percussion join in an exuberant celeberation. Brief, but oh so stimulating! Panthuvaraali Raga.
  
  
  SIDE B
  
  CHAMBER WELCOMES THIAGARAJA is fluid in structure and sophisticated in emotion. Dedicated to the composer Thiagaraja, whose love for music excelled everthing else, a sense of divinity is exposed and is unforgettable in both God and Music.
  
  This fusion excels in tonal contrasts and modulations. The composer exposes the binary form with rhythming cadences. This form originated in the medieval times and is still used in the 19th and 20th century music. The binary compound is used based on the same or similar thematic material cast in contrapuntal ingenuity to serve the structural foundation. The divinity of the theme is maintained and an atmosphere of invoking the deity is expressed based on the volubility of strings.
  
  Although this particular composition is dedicated to Thiagaraja, one of the greatest of Indian itinerant musican-composers, listeners will recognize repeated allusions to a Bach concerto before they ever get into Thiagaraja. Which, considering the chronology of the two cultures, is as it should be: Thiagaraja (1767-1847), who like Bach was a profoundly religious composed, was born 17 years after Bach died and was in fact a contemporary of Beethoven.
  
  
  I MET BACH IN MY HOUSE This counter-Indian melody to Bach’s Violin Sonata No.6 is a purely, highly intelligent musical plane, where a depiction of contrast in musical and rhythmic shapes is shown. Resonances and characters of the implied Ragas fused into the counter melody offer a delicacy of mind which makes this composition a mutually complementary piece. The arterial pulsates in the composer’s fusion exposing a subtlety, as the heart of a diamond.
  
  Begins with an invocation that at first is contemplative, introspective, and becomes increasingly importunate; it comes to a climax, and is interrupted by the first notes of Bach’s prelude to his Violin Partita III. The Prelude is soon played out in full in a brilliant dialogue with Indian instruments, a contrapuntal weaving that seems completely natural. Nor does it seem strange when voices break in spontaneously, in rapturous song, and we hear the Prelude articulated at speed in Indian solfeggio, so neatly, so fluently, that a great light dawns – the two musical cultures, Indian and Western – share common ground, far more than is commonly perceived.
  
  
  …. AND WE HAD A TALK This is a complementary view on I Met Bach in my House. Again an intimate and personal exposure to Bach is shown, with Bach’s Bourree in E Minor with an Indian counter melodic rhythm. Exposed in this piece is a disguised gentleness touching the soul with peace.
  
  Follows directly from the meeting with Bach. This time, a Bach Bourree is presented in a contrapuntal Indian setting.
  
  
  DO ANYTHING introduces an unusual South Indian melody orchestrated in a western manner. Chamber is involved combining and merging the piece into a totality. An aftermath of tranquility converges after an explosive radiance of magnificence.
  
  Presents an almost Bartokian treatment of a South Indian melody as a flute sings above dance rhythms.
  
  DON’T COMPARE Fire in the blood, love in the air – there’s excitement not only in Ilayaraaja’s inspired melodies but also in the brilliant way in which he has orchestrated them. The drumming is spectacular, and so is the fiddling – but it is really unfair to single out these two instruments for special mention when the entire ensemble performs at such a high level.
  
  Changes of mood mark the different sections; dramatic use is made of rests and silence; and although elements of Jazz improvisation, Western classical influences and modern dance rhythms are blended together expertly, the inspiration is unquestionably Indian. Don’t Compare is an entrancing composition. And the title is apt – it’s beyond compare!
  
  
• From: Raja Fan (@ 212.72.11.66) on: Mon Jan 6 09:39:42 EST 2003
  
  BRIAN LAUL profiles the renowned music director from the south
  
  http://www.studio-systems.com/Playback&Fastforward/PlayBack/1988/July/80July.htm
  
  
• From: Raja Fan (@ 212.72.11.66) on: Mon Jan 6 10:14:52 EST 2003
  
  The spontaneous music-maker
  By Sheryar Ookerjee
  
  
  Published in the daily The Indian Post, Bombay, issue dated June 7, 1989. Prof. Sheryar Ookerjee is one of the well-known musicologists and music-critics of India.
  
  A long, sad tune on the violin (accompanied by a tanpura) rising high in the upper register. Suddenly the first six notes of the Preludium of Bach’s 3rd Partita is repeated a second time, as if the composer is trying them out; and with a third repeat we have plunged into the famous piece, but not quite, for soon an Indian raag twines around Bach’s vigorous melody as a counter-theme, against an orchestral continuo.
  
  Whiffs of the 6th Brandenburg and the A Major violin concertos pass in and out while a male voice underscores the melodic lines. The music grows in complexity; a violin, in low tones, traces the Partita theme; the voice intones snatches of ‘sa-re-ga-ma”, sings a soft, wordless declamation by violin and orchestra, very much in the manner of Bach.
  
  What is this interesting, clever, strangely moving ‘fusion’ music? How clearly it demonstrates Bach’s affinity to Indian music! It is Ilaiyaraaja’s I Met Bach in my House.
  
  Having achieved fame as composer of music for over 500 South Indian films, Ilaiyaraaja had earlier brought out two record albums, How to Name It? and Nothing But Wind. The release of the third is imminent. Like L Subramaniam, Ilaiyaraaja uses staff notation, without which the rich complexity of his music would be impossible. It is unfortunate that the record sleeve does not tell us which instruments are being used in the different pieces and the explanatory notes in flowery English are not very helpful.
  
  Many articles have appeared recently on Ilaiyaraaja, but they are largely biographical. I shall try to give some idea of the nature of his compositions. Bach’s influence is deep and all pervasive. He is also much taken up with the three-movement and A-B-A (ternary) forms of Western music.
  
  One of his most evocative pieces, Do Anything, conjures up a pastoral atmosphere, with a chirpy dialogue between flute and shehnai. We then seem to be witnessing a wedding in an Indian village or a Goan dance, after which we are back at the pastoral scene. Throughout there is a strong flavour of the English music of our century. There is full and varied orchestration.
  
  In spite of asserting that his music is “absolutely free”, unshackled by rules and conventions, Ilaiyaraaja frequently uses, and is adept at using, conventional Western harmony and standard Western techniques. Mad, Mod, Mood Fugue has transparent, three-voice counterpoint (though, as a fugue, it is rather disappointing, as it doesn’t build up at all as a fugue should). Dialogue and imitation are used extensively.
  
  Chamber Welcomes Thyagaraja (‘Chamber’ is Ilaiyaraaja’s name for his chamber orchestra) is very like a Baroque concerto, with lots of ripienos and a vigorous dialogue between violin and percussion on the one hand and the orchestra on the others. The ostinato - a feature common to both Western and Indian music-is often used.
  
  Ilaiyaraaja has a competent grasp of the orchestra. In the earlier album, the orchestra plays mainly an accompanying role in the 17th-18th century manner. In How to Name It? it accompanies the violin (and sitar?) with chords and long sighs. At the end of You cannot be Free, it gives minimal harmonic support to the violin-percussion jugalbandi. It blossoms out a little more in Do Anything. In the second album it comes of age and plays a vital role.
  
  Ilaiyaraaja’s conspicuous quality is his ability to so integrate the Indian and Western idioms that the seams can hardly be noticed and the result is usually pleasant, charming and satisfying. One of his disturbing characteristics is that he shoots off into jazz or pop which is often out of keeping with the general tenor of the music. It is Fixed, Composer’s Breath and Nothing but Wind are examples.
  
  In addition to I Met Bach in my House (which is one of his best, the sequel to which, And We had a Talk, is disappointing, for I am sure a talk with Johann Sebastian would have been far more exhilarating), I was particularly impressed by four pieces, all in the second album Nothing but Wind.
  
  Singing Self “celebrates the spirit of spontaneous music making that exists in all of us”. It is almost completely Western, where the richness of sound suggests a bigger string orchestra.
  
  An expansive, opulent orchestral introduction leads to a violin solo accompanied by the orchestra using even timpani. The pensive, undulating melody on the Indian flute (Hariprasad Chaurasia) is a mixture of typically Indian and English music. Little cadenzas for the flute, lots of imitation between flute and orchestra. Bach peeps out from under the continuous passagework. The music turns hilarious and then menacing, with angry shrieks from the flute, passionate outbursts on the percussion and abrupt orchestral punctuations.
  
  The hymn-like second movement of Mozart, I love You (based on an elegant Kalyani) is hauntingly beautiful and the high-pitched song of the flute is distinctly Indian, but the feel of the music is, again, very like a Bach slow movement. This is the kind of ‘fusion’ Ilaiyaraaja can produce.
  
  In the third movement the flute has shed its Indianness and carries the melody with robust orchestral support, resulting in a very vigorous, Mozartian concerto finale. The flute capers on petty trills and turns and the violin shows off without restraint.
  
  Raag Malkauns supplies the base for Composer’s Breath. Chaurasia’s bass flute suggests a vast Indian landscape. The orchestra sometimes groans and gasps (echoes of Finlandia?) and sometimes shows agitation. The flute weaves a charming obbligato. A piano (or is it a sarod being plucked?) introduces a sinister note.
  
  After a great rush of winds and five mighty pizzicatos, the percussion enters with a strong beat. With relentless pizzicatos and pounding by the percussion, the music becomes more complex but also very jazzy and rather tedious. Excitement reaches its peak with the orchestra playing fortissimo, the flute screaming and the winds blowing, in his musical progress, Ilaiyaraaja seems to be outgrowing the need for melody.
  
  Nothing But Wind makes use of natural sounds-the ‘cheep, cheep’ and ‘cook cook’ of birds and the (real or imitated?) sounds of dogs barking and a train rumbling by. There are oft-repeated rhythmic figures, bell-chimes, metallic noises and explosions, much of it probably produced by means of electronic devices (referred to as ‘keyboards).
  
  In all this Ilaiyaraaja seems to be following in the wake of much contemporary Western avant-garde music. The music seems to portray spine-chilling agony, a soul in distress. Just when we expect something intense and tragic, there is an unaccountable descent into ‘pop’.
  
  This and a good deal of monotony spoils some of the composer’s best efforts. Monotony is particularly evident in Composer’s Breath and Song of Soul. It is absent in much of the earlier album and in Mozart.
  
  Ilaiyaraaja’s music is enjoyable and work taking very seriously. It grows on one with repeated hearings.
  
  His opinions on music, though, unless meant to be taken lightly, have dubious validity. “Music is basically made up of seven notes”, he says, “and once you play all the seven notes, what you do is repeat them in different forms, combinations, patterns and rhythms. This is nothing but cheating. The one who cheats more, is able to fool a larger audience, is the great composer”.
  
  Again he says, “True music should not be for a purpose. The sound of a river flowing, or the wind blowing is music. Nobody can imitate them”. But should anybody? Since he himself composes to please audiences, he admits that his compositions are not music! “I don’t see any difference between the howling of dogs and the songs of great vidwans; they both produce sounds”. Thereby surely hangs a tale (not a dog’s tail)!
  
  An indefatigable worker, Ilaiyaraaja works from 7 AM to 10 PM in his studio. Tunes seem to come to him as spontaneously as they came to Schubert. As soon as he gets to know the script of a film, he plays and records it and works out the orchestration completely. “The speed at which he works is amazing”, writes a director; “he is probably the only composer in the India, may be in the whole world, who sees the print of a film in the morning, just once, and is ready to record the background score in the afternoon”.
  
  Ilaiyaraaja has no illusions about his own worth. “I am a saleable commodity”, he asserts. “My commercial viability, coupled with my reputation, gives me enough freedom to assert my rights as a composer…. But I have the responsibility of selecting proper films for experimentation. I cannot just throw away my labour in a gutter”.
  
  The reader must have noticed that some of the titles of the pieces are rather quaint and not always in the King’s English or even in the King-Emperor’s English. But, then, Ilaiyaraaja probably cares as little for the conventions of language as for those of music.
  
  
• From: Raja Fan (@ 212.72.11.66) on: Mon Jan 6 10:15:38 EST 2003
  
  Baron of the Baroque
  By Pritish Nandy
  
  
  Written in his last page column Editor’s Choice in The Illustrated Weekly of India issue dated February 12, 1989 reviewing the CDs Nothing but Wind and How to Name It?.
  
  There are few things that bridge the great Brahmin, non-Brahmin divide in Tamil Nadu. And one of them is admiration for the music of Ilaiyaraaja.
  
  One of the most original composers we have produced in recent times, Ilaiyaraaja achieves with great success what others have attempted over the years and fumbled-and that is a truly creative fusion of Indian and Western music, without it sounding like the offspring of a panther and a jackass howling in exquisite agony.
  
  He is prolific too. In slightly over a decade, he has written music for over 425 films, which-even by the standards of showbiz - must be of some kind of international record! Plus, of course, he has many albums, which have nothing to do with film music.
  
  Two recent CDs of his have just reached me from New York-courtesy my friend TN Karthik, senior programmer at L&T, a great Ilaiyaraaja fan-and if you sit back and listen to them without the typical prejudice we reserve for any Indian who dares to compose Western music played by a full-scale chamber orchestra, you will be simply charmed by the eloquence of some of his compositions. The structural edifice with minimal flamboyance will quietly draw you in, to listen to sounds, melodies you will not easily forget. Particularly in the CD Nothing but Wind where Hariprasad Chaurasia holds you spellbound by his wizardry on the flute.
  
  

---

List all pages of this thread

Post comments