First, let me make it very clear that I respect Baradwaj Rangan as a very good critic and writer...he has terrific control over his prose and he is one of the most sensible reviewers without any "hidden agenda".
Only thing that rankles me about this review (apart from the obvious fact that BR doesn't appreciate the album) is the statement that ARR CAN be different even in his sleep but here he tries too much. In his semi-review of JTJYN, he had mentioned that it could have been composed by SEL or VS or Salim-Sulaiman...meaning it was no "different" from what the rest of the pack was composing and ARR was not the same that he used to be.. Isn't he contradicting himself? Arvind --- In arrahmanfans@yahoogroups.com, Gopal Srinivasan <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > MUSIC MUSINGS > OCT 26, 2008 - EVEN IF I DIDNâT KNOW THAT AR RAHMAN was behind the album for Subhash Ghaiâs upcoming Yuvvraaj, > a glance at the track listing would have prompted me to pick it up > instantly, if only for these seven words in unholy communion: Salman > Khan with the Fifth of Beethoven. How can anyone not want to see what > this is about, this musical analogue of Govinda starring in a film by > Satyajit Ray? The piece (titled Main hoon Yuvvraaj) kicks off > with the famously dramatic four-note fortissimo phrase, played twice, > and then Salmanâs voice â" affected and accented as ever â" chimes in, > first to introduce himself as the eponymous character, and later to > request the composerâs forgiveness. âMaaf karna Beethoven saab,â he simpers, âthey think Iâm a bad guy. Yeah right, I am a bad guy.â There. If you were wondering how Ghai was planning to > bounce back into big-budget filmmaking after the earth-shattering bomb > that was Kisna, itâs by placing a Hindi actor with a faux > American twang in the middle of the work of a German composer > interpreted by a Tamil music director. Howâs that for Bollywood going > global? > Main hoon Yuvvraaj is just the starter, it would appear â" a > sampler morsel of the delectable East-meets-Western Classical feast to > follow. But as of this writing, my stomach is still rumbling â" even > after a couple of passes through the entire album. The initial > impressions are that the songs feel too fussed over â" too much icing, > not enough cake. Rahman is a composer who can sound âdifferentâ in his > sleep, but here it appears that heâs trying to be different, > that the attempt to be different is no longer unconscious and organic > but a product of the wielded will â" and the effort shows. In Tu meri dost hai, soaring lines of melody swoop down startlingly in the first antara, as if suddenly experiencing the effects of gravity, or else, as in the second antara, they seem to have their course rerouted by a sly tonic shift. The results are interesting to note but hardly ingratiating. Tu muskura is the albumâs loveliest tune, but it rests on an alarmingly monotonous > rhythm section powered by a tinkly-tambourine synth. And for all its > tragic aspirations, Zindagi has the weight of spun sugar, > harking back to Rahmanâs early years with vaguely pleasant pop ballads > that vanished like vapour even while you were listening to them. > The anthemic Dil ka rishta, the playful Mastam mastam (which sounds like a composite of Rahmanâs own I am sorry and Alle alle from One Two Ka Four), the dance-ready Shano shano â" these did nothing for me at all, and what saved the album single-handedly was Manmohini morey. This is one of those classical tunes dressed up in western clothes â" like Alaipaayuthe kanna, from Alaipaayuthe, > where Rahman retained the traditional tune of the Oothukkadu Venkata > Subbier composition, but tweaked the background ever-so-slightly to > render it contemporary. Even the synth stylings that cocoon the > composition are entirely one with this piece, not merely backdrop but > backbone. Thereâs not much in terms of lyrics here â" and the words that > open the song, Lat uljhi suljhaa jaa re baalam, have been > rendered earlier on stage and in film by the likes of Noor Jahan and > Pandit Jasraj â" but what few lines there are, Gulzar imbues with the > kind of erotic imagery he reserves for Rahman. (Their earlier > collaboration, Jiya jale, spoke similarly of the aftermath of > lovemaking. And speaking of Gulzar, this has got to be one of his least > characteristic efforts â" âpairon mein paatal haiâ in one of the songs was the closest I got to a fingerprint.) > I know what youâre going to say â" that this is Rahman, that you need > time and patience and trust and devotion, and then the songs will > slowly-but-surely grow on you. While all of this is certainly possible > â" translation: I havenât given up on Yuvvraaj yet â" I wonder > why it is that Rahman is the only composer to whose music this logic is > so consistently applied, at least in the reviews of his new albums. > Music is the most abstract of arts, and the way I see it, thereâs no > telling at what point a composition will choose to reveal its beauties > to you â" and this is true of every musician, not just Rahman. Besides, > where do you draw the line? Imagine the flip side, wherein you listen > to the songs so many times that you donât grow to like them so much as > get used to them, like how you get used to living with a > person whoâs all wrong for you simply because, over time, you become > immune to those wrongs. Of course, you could say â" as I do â" that you > donât give every musician this kind of benefit of the doubt. > You reserve this consideration only for those like Rahman, whoâve > proved themselves in the past (which may be terribly unfair to newer > composers whose songs donât grab you at first listen, but thatâs just > the way it is). > That Iâll buy â" because Rahman deserves this singling out, this > special treatment. But what I donât agree with is that he is the first > and the last composer in whose work you need to invest a significant > time commitment â" because sometimes songs give you that aha! moment after years. One of Ilayarajaâs most successful soundtracks, Karagattakaran, was released in the late eighties, and the song that I almost always glossed over was the one sung by the maestro himself, Paattaale buthi sonnaar. > Itâs as smoothly constructed a composition as any of his, but given > that he was singing it (like he did so many songs of the era), Iâd > forward quickly to Maanguyile poonguyile or (my personal favourite) Indha maan. > But a few months ago, I was walking to the post office listening to > this album and this song came on, and I literally stopped in my tracks. > Perhaps itâs the fact that Ilayaraja is no longer in favour and this > lends a special poignancy to the lyrics that talk of appeasing numerous > fans through his songs (as long as they want him to), or perhaps itâ s > that he no longer sings the title song of every goddamn movie and > therefore that fatigue factor is no longer there and weâre free to > listen to just the moving music â" but my eyes misted up that instant, > and as if an eclipse had cleared, I saw for the first time the luminous > beauty of the song. And â" talk about time â" it only took me twenty > years. > > http://www.desipundit.com/baradwajrangan/2008/10/25/between-reviews- music-musings/ >
