ALIVE BUT OBSCURED

BY BISWADEEP GHOSH

Once upon a time, a long time ago, songs were heard. When the musical epics of geniuses like Naushad and Salil Chowdhury emancipated themselves from the visuals of films that could be only seen in the theatres, all that remained was the melody, the voice. If a listener were to approach a song outside the hall, therefore, he could have done so with his eyes plain shut. He got immersed in every tuneful phrase of the track, and it turned into a memory that refused to etiolate with time.

Today, such classics are hard to come by. The dominant notes of the day are those of Aashiq banaya and Jhalak Dikhlaja, and the voice (critics say, the nose) that preoccupies his countless fans is that of Himesh Reshammiya. Reshammiya's cuts that are reigning over the pop charts are like soft drinks and burgers, that is social realities brought about by a cultural change. Fast foods may be subversive, but they have a committed fan following which no amount of criticism can mitigate. Same with Aashiq Banaya, which has many more young devotees than critics in modern times. Courtesy such tracks, Bollywood's music has become more vulnerable to attack than ever before. Quality is dead, the critics can affirm. Is that true, one is entitled to ask.

Not really. Only, quality is getting eclipsed by factors such as flashy music videos of bad film songs. And of course, there are too many songs in too many films, the result being that good tracks are getting lost in a huge crowd where the number of heads is impossible to count. Songs from many small-budget multiplex films are so badly marketed that few except some lucky viewers get to hear them. In a visual-driven age, when films flop, many quality tracks disappear most abruptly. People seek them for a while but, living in times when choices are far too many, they move on to hear tracks that have a big presence simply because the film happens to have greater box-ofice appeal.

Some fine songs are heard by a lucky few like, say, a track named Guncha from the Chandan Arora flick Main, Meri Patni Aur Woh. Mohit Chauhan of the Indipop band Silk Route both composed and sang the track, relying on basic guitaring chords and hardly any arrangement. Music lovers who might have bumped into the track in the film need not have been able to access the song later, a big problem songs like Guncha face. The end result is disappearance, a sad outcome such uncomplicated but lovely melodies do not deserve.

Even big composers like A R Rahman and Ismail Darbar can suffer if a film bombs at the box-office. Kisna might have been a 2005 release, but how many remember the wonderfully buoyant title track? Yun Hi Chala from Swades can be one of the intricate compositions one has come across of late, with Rahman using the three diverse voices of Udit Narayan, Kailash Kher and Hariharan exquisitely. But the songs failed to create major ripples because the films did not work. At the end of the day, very few film songs manage an existence outside the film like Allah Key Bandey did. Kailash Kher will vouch for that.

A fine melody like Bheege Hont from Murder may not get the due it merits because most are more serious about either the song's lyrics or the film's visuals. Paheli's Dheere Jalna may have a haunting tune, but the song is condemned to confront the destiny of being heard by a select few. Even Piyu Bole, a gem from Parineeta that can be compared to the best from the past, can expect a long life only in the minds of listeners who have been mesmerised by the song's beauty and been strong enough to resist the temptation of lesser compositions.

Music composers, be it AR Rahman or MM Kreem, have to negotiate with too many obstacles unlike their counterparts from yesteryear. They must carry on despite knowing that none of their soundtracks will enjoy the life span of a Madhumati or a Guide. But let us not mistake that for mediocrity simply because a popular superstar isn't a cuckoo one might like to hear in the morning.

(The copyright of this article rests with The Maharashtra Herald)