Interesting!  Thanks for sharing.


--- In arrahmanfans@yahoogroups.com, Gopal Srinivasan <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
wrote:
>
>  ORIGINAL SOUNDTRACK
>     
> The Indian Express, December 7, 2008
>     
> 
> A new book reveals the life and worth of the anonymous musicians who
made Bollywood’s golden melodies ¦ amrita dutta MUCH BEFORE R.D.
BURMAN, COMPOSERS WERE ON THE LOOK OUT FOR GLOBAL SOUNDSâ€" AND THE
MUSICIANS WHO COULD HELP FIND THEM
> I n 1977? a man in a ridiculous top hat burst out of an Easter egg
as Kishore Kumar trilled, “Myname-is-An-thony-Gon-saal-ves”. The
movie was a hit and Amitabh Bachchan’s rap act entered the gallery
of Bollywood golden moments. But who was Anthony Gonsalves? The answer
lies in Majorda, a village in Goa, where Gonsalves lives with the
memories of the years (1943-1965) he spent in Mumbai’s film
industry, making and teaching music. A violinist who taught Pyarelal
Sharma, one half of the famous Laxmikant-Pyarelal duo of composers,
Gonsalves worked as an arranger for many film scores. He is also the
starting point of Gregory D. Booth’s new book Behind the
Curtain:Making Music in Mumbai’s Film Studios.
> 
> Gonsalves is at the heart of this book, says Booth, because he
represents both the anonymity of the musicians who played the
signature music of Bollywood films and their presence in our lives.
Gonsalves’s name has instant recall (its place in the song was
Pyarelal’s ironic tribute) but his contribution remains
unacknowledged. The melodies performers like him made spilled over
into our lives and became markers of our memories while they
remainedâ€"as so many told the authorâ€"behind the curtain. This book,
in some ways, is their curtain call.
> 
> Booth introduces you to Chic Chocolate (a.k.a Antonio Vaz), one of
Bombay’s leading jazz musicians in the 1940s who composer C.
Ramchandra spotted at a restaurant and hustled into the industry. The
result of this musical encounter was the first Latin percussion sounds
in Bollywood . Listen to Cawas Lord drumming up some fun on his bongo
in Shola jo bhadke from the film Albela (1951) to know what Chic and
his band brought to the music. And if you can hear the strains of the
oboe in any score from the late 1950s to the mid1980s, you are
listening to Lallu Ram Indorkar, the only oboist of the industry in
that period.
> 
> This is not the first time that Booth has turned his focus to
India’s “hidden or perhaps voiceless musicians.” His last book
was Brass Baja: Stories From theWorld of IndianWedding Bands,an
exhaustive work on“another music tradition that most Indians
haven’t really thought about”. Booth teaches at the University of
Auckland and has been playing the tabla for 30 years nowâ€"he was a
student of Zakir Hussain. He embarked on this book because he wanted
to know “more about the process of music making in Mumbai. “It
seemed best to ask the musicians,” he says.
> 
> Behind the Curtain is an oral history of the industry from the 1930s
till the late 1990s and includes interviews with numerous musicians,
composers, arrangers and engineers. Booth marks out three distinct
phases. From the 1930s to 1950, musicians were salaried employees of
film studios. From 1950 till the 1990s was the time of the Old
Bollywood, when independent producers financed films and musicians
worked as freelancers. They were paid by the hourâ€"by the producer
and not the composers who enrolled them.
> 
> This was the time of the large film orchestras, when as many as 100
musicians playing instruments as varied as the sitar and the maracas,
the drums and the accordion, recorded a song with the playback singers
“at a single take”. As music composers grew in clout, their
orchestras grew larger and so did the costs.
> 
> Booth takes us to an industry humming with different soundsâ€"and
identities. As the film industry consolidated itself in Bombay, the
city by the sea became the destination for many musiciansâ€"and the
host to an experiment in multiculturalism. The trickle from Calcutta
included not just composers like Salil Chaudhuri and Hemant Kumar but
saxophone player ManohariSingh and cellist Sanjoy Chakravarty. One of
the largest groups of musicians were Goan Christiansâ€"men like
Gonsalves and violinist Jerry Fernandes who entered the industry in
the late 1940s as it offered better financial returns than a career in
jazz and military bands. Taught since childhood to read and notate
music, they became indispensable to music directors like Naushad,
Ramchandra and Shankar-Jaikishen who were looking to recreate the
sound of orchestras that Hollywood films resounded with. The musicians
were a bridge between two musical traditionsâ€"the Indian melodic one
and the
>  Western sound that revolved around harmonies and orchestration.
> 
> Somewhere in the middle of Booth’s fascinating book, the notion
that one R.D. Burman opened the doors of Bollywood music rooms to
Western music gets badly bruised. If Burman found Louis Banks at the
Blue Fox restaurant in Kolkata in the 1970s, Ramchandra had done that
years ago with his overture to Chic Chocolate. Arrangers like Anthony
Gonsalves, Kersi Lord and Sebastian D’Souza worked to integrate
Indian classical and folk styles with orchestral scores; some also
composed the interludes and the countermelodies. D’Souza arranged
the score for Naushad Ali’s Basant Bahar, a classical soundtrack if
ever there was one.
> 
> “This was the first example of fusion music,” Pandit Shivkumar
Sharma, who has scored for films himself, tells Booth. Much before
R.D, music composers were on the look out for global sounds â€"from
Latin-American percussion rhythms to jazz. And the musicians who
trooped to their rehearsals and recording sessions for much of the 30
years of Old Bollywood’s lifespan brought many of those sounds to
the studio. As Booth notes , “Sto ries that credit music directors
with Hindi film music’s eclecticism are telling only part of the
story.They were, in one sense, borrowing the musicians who played the
various styles and content of eclecticism.”Teamwork was part of
every music director’s creative workshop and none more so than R.D.
Burman. But the brilliance and adaptability of the instrumentalists
were recognized only in their small professional circles.
> 
> The transition to the system of production which Booth calls New
Bollywood began in the mid-1990s, as liberalisation gave musicians
access to programming and multitracking technology and the new-age
corporate producer slashed budgets. The sound of a hundred musicians
playing together to reach a crescendo could be recreated in a tiny
studio with one synthesizer. By 1998, the careers of these musicians
were over.
> 
> One of the most poignant moments of this history is of Shankar
Indorkar, the son of the original oboist of Bollywood, meeting A.R.
Rahman in his studio in Madras. “He (Rahman) says, ‘Just you play
something. Play anything. So I played something…just some thing.
Maybe half an hour. From low to high on both instruments (oboe and the
English horn). Whatever I could think. And he just recorded
everything. He paid me and I went back. And after that he never called
me. Because he had all my sounds. So you could say he has me.”
Musicians never had a chance of lasting out such profound
change.“You can’t beat technology and capitalism,” says Booth.
You can only remember and look behind the curtain. The music, after
all, is still playing in our hearts. ?
> 
> Behind the Curtain (OUP ,Rs 695) will be in bookstores in January
>


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