The pics are really cool...
   
  Thanks a lot arvind..thanks for everything..You Rock da...

Aravind AM <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
          Hi all,,
In today,s TOI there's a full page article with some superb photos of ARR. The 
article is also available in e-paper format... 
I've also attached a pdf of the article...
(to view the photos visit TOI e-paper site, or download the pdf here: 
http://www.mediafire.com/?bvnz44z1poj
It's also attached with the mail.



Change is about moving forward On April 20, A R Rahman will perform at The 
Times of India Chennai Changing Notes Concert. As he shot a promo video for the 
concert, the mellifluous maestro told us why he loves Chennai, and what changes 
he’d like to see Shalini Umachandran | TNN 



    AndrewLloyd Webber, among others, likes to call him the ‘Mozart of Madras’. 
But A R Rahman defies definition. The prodigy who studied western classical at 
Trinity College of Music went on to redefine Bollywood scores. Having brought 
world sound to Indian cinema, he also put his version of contemporary Indian 
music — which blends techno, rap, latino, disco, reggae and ragas into a 
sumptuous potpourri — on the world map. He made Broadway swing to Bollywood 
Dreams, and composed stirring anthems for the stage version of The Lord of the 
Rings. 

    Through it all, Rahman has constantly reinvented himself. But then, so has 
the city which will always be home to him. Simultaneously centre of culture and 
commerce, traditional and cosmopolitan, Chennai blends the old and new with the 
same effortlessness as Rahman. Maybe the controlled chaos of Chennai's constant 
flux has seeped into Rahman’s soul, and is reflected in his dazzling ouvre — 
always fresh, never predictable. 

    Like Chennai and its famous child, The Times of India too has always 
celebrated change. Like them, we too believe in staying in tune with changing 
times. That's why it made perfect sense for The Times of India to launch an 
edition in Chennai. And why Rahman is the perfect person to help us celebrate 
the city and our launch, with The Times of India Chennai Changing Notes concert 
on April 20. To be held at St George’s school grounds, the concert (co-sponsors 
SAE, TVS Flame, United India Insurance, Olympia) is already creating a buzz, 
with TOI readers lining up to get passes for what promises to be a 
standing-room only blockbuster. 

    Rahman has already composed music for a special Times of India promo, which 
he’ll perform at the concert. A tip-off: there’ll be many distinctively Chennai 
sounds in it, including waves breaking on the beach, an auto driver tooting a 
horn, a pujari with sunglasses revving up his bike, a boy beating out a tattoo 
on a kodam, a streetside vendor making egg parathas. 

    But that will be then. Right now, we’re waiting to interview Rahman as he 
shoots a video to promote the concert. Technicians drape a bright green 
monochrome cloth on a wall and set up lights, while a harried director calls 
out directions. A red and orange towel with a dolphin covers the camera, four 
electricians struggle to get the air-conditioning working, and assorted 
assistants drift around chatting on phones. Cans of film, umbrellas, a rack 
full of men’s clothing and, bizarrely, a shower head lie scattered around the 
room. Apart from the view of a surprisingly green Chennai from the 
floor-to-ceiling glass windows on one side, there’s nothing to distract from 
the fact that we’re all in an immense, stuffy, grey space on the top floor of 
the Acropolis building on Radhakrishnan Salai. 

    An hour later, the director decides to move the non-action upstairs — to 
the terrace of a 12-storey building at 3 in the afternoon. He gets his 
assistants to remove all the railings, set up a round trolley that looks like a 
giant’s toy railway track and re-assemble the camera — this time without the 
dolphin towel. 

    Back downstairs, the producer gets a phone call. “He’s crossing Gemini,” 
she shouts. The make-up man who’s been doing a good imitation of a meditating 
Buddha comes to life and shakes his assistant awake. They drag chairs across 
the floor to create a make-up table. The light boys do a quick check. The 
air-conditioner booms to life, as if it’s been waiting for India’s most famous 
contemporary musician too. 

    Rahman walks in wearing a blue kurta over jeans, looking surprisingly 
schoolboylike, and greets the director with a cheery, “I tried calling you, ya, 
to tell you I was late but you were out of range.” 

    He’s taken to see the clothing rack; he prefers the sherwani to the suit, 
the blue scarf to the red. The make-up man goes to work with his brushes, 
sponges, combs and clippers and once he’s done, clicks a photograph on his 
mobile phone and passes it across to Rahman for his opinion. “What do you 
think, better without gel, no?” Rahman asks the director. “You decide,” is the 
answer. A yellowand-white striped towel is whipped out and Rahman willingly 
submits to having his head toweled vigorously. Then it’s time for him to slip 
into the sherwani and head upstairs for the “round trolley shot”. 

    Rahman’s keyboard has been set up in the centre of the circle created by 
the trolley. While the cameraman makes some final adjustments and a couple of 
boys pleat his blue scarf, Rahman walks around the terrace — shaded by one of 
the umbrellas — and takes in the view of Chennai. Cloudless blue sky above, 
shimmering sea in the distance, buildings, trees and roads below. 

    “I’d like to see this city greener,” he muses. “I’d like to see more 
artists, more space for artists, actually. I'd like to see less cluttered 
traffic. I’d love to see an underground. I’d like to see preservation of the 
old, while we move ahead with the new. Change is good, change is about moving 
forward, I'm always receptive to change.” Shooting starts and we’re told to 
stay behind the camera. As the trolley picks up speed and circles Rahman at the 
keyboard, we find ourselves running to stay out of sight. The director sends us 
all downstairs to wait with a disgusted, “If you can’t run fast enough to stay 
behind the camera, you can’t watch.” Once the trolley shots are done, we’re 
allowed to troop back upstairs to watch Rahman being shot against the distant 
sea, with buildings in the background, silhouetted against the setting sun. 
He’s made to let his scarf fly out behind him, “like Batman,” he jokes with the 
crew. “You should have got my son to shoot this.” Then he
 looks out to sea, savouring his city. 

“Food, family, roots… these are just some of the things that make this city 
home. And then there are the important, intangible factors — certain things 
that cannot be explained,” he sighs. 

Bombay Dreams, The Lord of the Rings 

and other projects required him to spend twothirds of his year in London a few 
years ago, not his idea of fun. “I missed Chennai. London is a wonderful city, 
but it’s not Chennai, not home. We have much to preserve and much to look 
forward to —that’s something we need to remember while we change. “We also have 
to be the change,” says the man who missed listening to a symphony orchestra 
and so “decided to do something about it and start my own orchestra”. Time for 
the next shot. Rainmaking with Rahman. The shower head is fitted to a hose 
connected to a tap and passed up to a technician on a stool holding a sieve. 
Rahman puts his hand out gingerly,another technician at the tap turns it on. A 
few minutes of getting his hands wet and we’re done for the day. The yellow and 
white towel appears again and Rahman dries his hand. 

    As his make-up is removed, he says, “I’d love to see an underground, a 
symphony hall, big productions of musicals like The Lion King — who knows, it 
may happen sooner than you think… Oh! and I’d love to see snow in Chennai.”




Cheers
Aravind


  
http://arrahmaniac.blogspot.com

   

                           



 
 









        

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