For listeners trooping to Someplace Else to catch Orient Express in the early 2000s, the pull factor was jazz. Over the years, with a revolving line-up of musicians, the one-of-a-kind, big-band Latin jazz ensemble of the country lead by multi-instrumentalist Monojit Dutta lost its ‘jazz’ edge. Somewhere down the line, the band started reverting to a more commercial set-list and sound tailor-made for the party crowd.
As they say, you can take the man out of jazz, but not the other way round. Dutta’s back with a bang. On Tuesday, July 17, his 6-month-old Latin jazz outfit Los Amigos launched their debut album Coleccion Privada (Private Collection), playing a sizzling set of original compositions and a few standards over coffee and cookies at Melange, a newly-opened coffee lounge at New Alipore. And guess what? This one comes free.
On Tuesday, the groove ruled as the band ran through its repertoire of standards and a few original compositions. Dutta — ‘Kochuda’ to his students — on congas, Sanjay Gupta on drums, Mainak ‘Bumpy’ Nagchowdhury on bass and Paddy on keyboards smiled through the songs and at each other, revelling in this music of the moment. Mumbai-based guitar player Binoy Rai (formerly of the jazz-funk band Groove Suppa) wasn’t around with his signature lines, but the foursome more than made up for Rai’s absence. The spacious coffee lounge — a Coffee Pai venture — was brimful with jazz aficionados and Dutta’s students, lapping up the excellent improvisation from the band up close.
“I had been thinking of forming an outfit that would focus on improvisational music,” Dutta says. In January this year, with his long-time percussion student and Orient Express alumnus Sanjay Gupta getting back in town, that seed of a plan started taking shape. “I talked about a full-fledged Latin jazz band to Sanjay and he immediately agreed. Mainak and Paddy joined the fold soon and within a week’s time, we were rehearsing some great music. Binoy came in a little later and the line-up was complete,” Dutta recalls.
The band’s initial gigs were much-anticipated affairs; very well-received by an audience eager to witness some homegrown jazz.
A couple of months down the line, Los Amigos went in for a two-day recording session. Opting for an old-school, live tracking process, the band came up with what would be the seven-song Coleccion Privada; with three originals (written by Dutta) and three standards, including Mongo Santamaria’s Afro Blue and Blue Bossa by Kelly Dorham. The album’s minimalist cover art compliments its music, with the occasional surprise element (a dhol on Blue Bossa). The live feel provides a warmth to the album that’s intrinsic to this music.
While ‘units sold’ seem to be the sole concern of everyone — from artistes to label execs to music stores — Coleccion Privada will be distributed free from Coffee Pai outlets around the city. Why distribute it free? “It’s a movement against record companies and labels, so to speak. Just because you are not ‘saleable’ as defined by a label doesn’t mean that you have to change or stop making the music that you love to play,” says Dutta, “We’ve had enough of that. This is a new beginning.”
Published in t2, The Telegraph, sometime in 2007
Thursday, 12 February 2009
Nothing Like The Sun; Sting; 1986
…Nothing Like The Sun was the first taste many of us had of the Policeman’s solo outing. The first single from the album was Englishman In New York. To put it simply, it had us hooked. The slippery jazz-inflected reggae would reveal its true self much later, as would saxophonist Branford Marsalis. Nothing Like The Sun also served as a passing introduction to Afro-Cuban music, especially with They Dance Alone (Cueca Solo) — not to mention the uniquely personal school of songwriting that characterises Sting.
The album was dedicated to Sting’s mother, who had passed away months before it’s release. Always the troubled son, a brooding sense of loss pervades his sophomore record.
Achieving the melancholia was only half the task — with someone like Gil Evans on board, it wasn’t too hard to achieve as well. The other half was creating a sound that would straddle jazz and mainstream pop, without alienating the so-called serious listener. Given its strong political subtext, this is as serious as mainstream pop can get.
As a parallel to the pop-jazz analogy, the album also strides the political and the personal; being written following Sting’s Latin American sojourns. As much as there’s They Dance Alone and Fragile, there’s also Be Still My Beating Heart and Sister Moon.They Dance Alone is a direct commentary on Chilean dictator Augustus Pinochet’s rule, written on the tragic Mothers of The Disappeared. These were women who lost their sons, lovers, husbands and brothers to the Pinochet regime. The fugue here steps on the Latin influences, while Straight To My Heart completes that cycle.
One of the most intriguing tracks of the album is Be Still My Beating Heart. You can literally peel the layers one after another off this track, each one revealing the genius of arrangement.
Years later, a whole new generation would revel in the arrangements of A Thousand Years, Desert Rose and Ghost Story. Quite like his former bandmate, Andy Summers’ surreal guitar-work on Be Still My Beating Heart is evocative of his solo direction.
Then of course, there’s Fragile — still a potent commentary on man and his politics and a great nylon-string piece by itself. Even the sprightly Englishman traces the tribulations of the gay fiction writer Quentin Crisp, forced to move to New York from the homophobic Britain of the Twenties and Thirties — a “ legal alien” in the country of his asylum.
The brilliant version of Little Wing, to which the Gil Evans Orchestra provides a different facet altogether, is arguably one of the best versions of the Hendrix classic.
Sister Moon — where Shakespeare’s sonnet #130 (“My mistress’s eyes are nothing like the sun”) is quoted — is where the album gets its name from. The other treasure that this track reveals is Branford Marsalis — whose inimitable saxophone would go on to play a defining melodic role in much of Sting’s later music.
The records dedicated to his parents — …Nothing Like The Sun to his mother, The Soul Cages to his father — are Sting’s darkest yet. While the latter is more layered and complex, quite like his lifelong troubled relationship with his father, …Nothing Like The Sun can succinctly be described in his own words about his mother: beautiful but sad.
Superunknown; Soundgarden, A&M; 1994
What does it take for an album to be declared a classic within a decade-and-a-half of its release? Let’s see: over 10 brilliant songs with hooks that are part of an alt-rocker generation’s psyche; a sound that marries heaviness with psychedelia in one of the most poignant manners possible — and a band that broke up at the height of its worldwide success.
Soundgarden’s Superunknown was out in a year that saw, among others, massive albums from the Stone Temple Pilots (Purple), The Prodigy (Music For The Jilted Generation), Alice In Chains (Jar Of Flies), Greenday (Dookie), Toad The Wet Sprocket (Dulcinea), the Dave Matthews Band (Under The Table & Dreaming) and Blues Traveler (Four). Nonetheless, the record — Soundgarden’s fourth studio cut — went on to become one of the best-selling albums of 1994; going platinum five times over in America and notching up two Grammy Awards in 1995. Black Hole Sun won for Best Hard Rock Performance, while Spoonman scooped up the surprise statuette for Best Metal Performance.
The accolades, though, are not enough pointers to a deeply emotional record. With lyrical themes that are an entry point to the dark realms of suicide, depression and substance abuse — perils of a band finding fame, according to some interpretations — Superunknown related stories of alienation and despair, talking of the world’s end and etching protagonists on the brink of the social circle. While despair at that state of things is relentless, on Superunknown, the band gladly finds a meeting point between its words and its layered, complex instrumentation — the latter far more mature and technically solid than its usual “grunge” peers — to finally celebrate the music it creates.
Superunknown doesn’t open: it leaps at you with Let Me Drown, buckles up with My Wave and releases the tension with the brooding junkie-journal Fell On Black Days.
In spite of its subjects and a sound that oscillates between hyper-paranoid odd-time and brooding, Superunknown possessed a surprisingly healthy strand of hope underlying its sledgehammer sound, the real subject of classics like Fell On Black Days and Black Hole Sun.
Chris Cornell may have gone on to form Audioslave and Matt Cameron may have bucked up with friends in Pearl Jam, the world still needs the band named after a Seattle sculpture. There aren’t too many out there.
Published in t2, The Telegraph, sometime in 2008
BLURB:
My hands involuntarily reach out for the guitar. There's a restlessness which I've come to recognise…. the words and the music flow together
With a new five-piece band — Jonathan Ramgopal on keys, Willie Walters on bass, Amlanjyoti Singh on drums, Anindya Sundar Paul on vocals and backing vocals, and Bertie on vocals, guitar and blues harp — this is a new beginning. "There are some serious similarities between this show and the Blues In The Basement concert we had organised at the Xavier's canteen way back in 1979. We had Dilip (the late Dilip Balakrishnan of the band High), Gyan (Gyan Singh, of Skinny Alley and Pink Noise), Bertie, Mel and Fuzz playing there," says long-time friend Patrick Ghose, the organisational backbone of the band. The bedrock is rock and it is still characteristically sparse, but with Jonathan, Amlan and Anindya bringing in young blood, it veers into new-age territory. There's a healthy leaning towards experimentation, too. This new sound will debut on November 18 at the GD Birla Sabhagar. t2 caught up with Bertie for a chat after an evening's rehearsal at home…
It has been a year since you made a sudden comeback to the live scene. How has this band come about...
I had been writing songs but had no intention of public performance till Suhrid, one of my former students, convinced me. The first catalyst to play live again was the reunion concert with Mel and Fuzz (at the Princeton Club in 2007). It came after almost 20 years — the last concert I played was at Vidya Mandir, the country music show. I remember it well because we took a long jam towards the end and that didn't go down particularly well (laughs). After the so-called comeback came the collaboration with Pink Noise. I've been sitting on the idea of getting back into the concert hall scene. I knew my sound — I needed young musicians, because they think differently and bring in a positive energy. I needed people who think out of the box. So we have this happy mix of three young and three old people — including Cyrus (guitarist Cyrus Tata), who I hope will be joining us down the line.
How has the sound changed in a year with this band?
The great thing is that once everything was down pat, musically, this band has contributed to building its own individual sound. Since Cyrus couldn't come in for this show, much of the music is written around Jonathan's keyboard and he has arranged a lot of the parts. Anindya's voice matches mine; it acts like a wonderful screen and provides an added dimension to the music. Amlan, who is the youngest member in the band, is into heavier music, but he lays down grooves solidly. Often, he brings in his influences from the music he likes and that provides another dimension. Willie brings his own sound. Most importantly, he writes down parts for every song — and his notes act like a Bible for us all the time (laughs)! This is a sound that is re-energised — it is constantly evolving. It's a great learning experience to witness how a band evolves as a great organism.
How would you describe your sound?
At the core of it, it is rock music. But it's rock music here and now. Our sound has to be 2008. Our roots are where we are. That's why I gave such a long thought to which young musicians I wanted to play with. Another very important factor for this band is that each member is educated. Intelligence, sensitivity, awareness: you cannot deny these qualities in a musician. It is often overlooked, but education, in any form, is a necessary facet in a musician.
Has there been a lot of new writing with this band?
Not with the band, but I've written a lot of songs in the last one year. In fact, 70 per cent of the material which will be showcased at the November 18 concert has been written over the past year. Writing for me is like an out-of-body experience and it can happen any time; my hands involuntarily reach out for the guitar. There's a restlessness which I've come to recognise. Ninety-nine per cent of the time, the words and the music flow together. I become an instrument. And then the mind takes over as a phrase shapes up.
What would you call this and what are the influences?
I call it rock. As for influences, apart from my roots, those have been VH1, hip-hop, alternative music (smiles). Hip-hop is nothing new, it comes from talking blues. Alternative music has opened up a lot of possibilities and helped us open up. Even grunge; I had a lot to learn from that genre. I can safely say that I've finally outgrown Dylan (laughs).
A concert hall venue in the time for pub gigs. Why?
Much of the music is located in the words, so the music has to be mixed right — which is why it's a concert hall show. If the audience knows that you're sweating blood, there will be silence. I will stand there naked and sweating, my heart and my bones. We will give our audience due respect, and by giving respect, I believe we will get respect back.
Is there a set structure for the show?
Yes, it will be a two-part show. There will be a solo half of about 40 minutes, built around my acoustic guitar. This will be completely new material: even the band hasn't heard those songs (laughs). The second half will be a full-on electric set of over an hour.
Calcutta has started making original music yet again. Are we on the right path?
I believe everything happens in its own time; there's a right time. It's all in the stars (laughs), there's really no other way I can explain this. There's a lot of new music happening in our city. At this point, what we need is to also build an audience base, make itgrow with us. If necessary, you need to educate that audience as well, make them aware of your music.
Published in t2, The Telegraph, October 2008
My hands involuntarily reach out for the guitar. There's a restlessness which I've come to recognise…. the words and the music flow together
With a new five-piece band — Jonathan Ramgopal on keys, Willie Walters on bass, Amlanjyoti Singh on drums, Anindya Sundar Paul on vocals and backing vocals, and Bertie on vocals, guitar and blues harp — this is a new beginning. "There are some serious similarities between this show and the Blues In The Basement concert we had organised at the Xavier's canteen way back in 1979. We had Dilip (the late Dilip Balakrishnan of the band High), Gyan (Gyan Singh, of Skinny Alley and Pink Noise), Bertie, Mel and Fuzz playing there," says long-time friend Patrick Ghose, the organisational backbone of the band. The bedrock is rock and it is still characteristically sparse, but with Jonathan, Amlan and Anindya bringing in young blood, it veers into new-age territory. There's a healthy leaning towards experimentation, too. This new sound will debut on November 18 at the GD Birla Sabhagar. t2 caught up with Bertie for a chat after an evening's rehearsal at home…
It has been a year since you made a sudden comeback to the live scene. How has this band come about...
I had been writing songs but had no intention of public performance till Suhrid, one of my former students, convinced me. The first catalyst to play live again was the reunion concert with Mel and Fuzz (at the Princeton Club in 2007). It came after almost 20 years — the last concert I played was at Vidya Mandir, the country music show. I remember it well because we took a long jam towards the end and that didn't go down particularly well (laughs). After the so-called comeback came the collaboration with Pink Noise. I've been sitting on the idea of getting back into the concert hall scene. I knew my sound — I needed young musicians, because they think differently and bring in a positive energy. I needed people who think out of the box. So we have this happy mix of three young and three old people — including Cyrus (guitarist Cyrus Tata), who I hope will be joining us down the line.
How has the sound changed in a year with this band?
The great thing is that once everything was down pat, musically, this band has contributed to building its own individual sound. Since Cyrus couldn't come in for this show, much of the music is written around Jonathan's keyboard and he has arranged a lot of the parts. Anindya's voice matches mine; it acts like a wonderful screen and provides an added dimension to the music. Amlan, who is the youngest member in the band, is into heavier music, but he lays down grooves solidly. Often, he brings in his influences from the music he likes and that provides another dimension. Willie brings his own sound. Most importantly, he writes down parts for every song — and his notes act like a Bible for us all the time (laughs)! This is a sound that is re-energised — it is constantly evolving. It's a great learning experience to witness how a band evolves as a great organism.
How would you describe your sound?
At the core of it, it is rock music. But it's rock music here and now. Our sound has to be 2008. Our roots are where we are. That's why I gave such a long thought to which young musicians I wanted to play with. Another very important factor for this band is that each member is educated. Intelligence, sensitivity, awareness: you cannot deny these qualities in a musician. It is often overlooked, but education, in any form, is a necessary facet in a musician.
Has there been a lot of new writing with this band?
Not with the band, but I've written a lot of songs in the last one year. In fact, 70 per cent of the material which will be showcased at the November 18 concert has been written over the past year. Writing for me is like an out-of-body experience and it can happen any time; my hands involuntarily reach out for the guitar. There's a restlessness which I've come to recognise. Ninety-nine per cent of the time, the words and the music flow together. I become an instrument. And then the mind takes over as a phrase shapes up.
What would you call this and what are the influences?
I call it rock. As for influences, apart from my roots, those have been VH1, hip-hop, alternative music (smiles). Hip-hop is nothing new, it comes from talking blues. Alternative music has opened up a lot of possibilities and helped us open up. Even grunge; I had a lot to learn from that genre. I can safely say that I've finally outgrown Dylan (laughs).
A concert hall venue in the time for pub gigs. Why?
Much of the music is located in the words, so the music has to be mixed right — which is why it's a concert hall show. If the audience knows that you're sweating blood, there will be silence. I will stand there naked and sweating, my heart and my bones. We will give our audience due respect, and by giving respect, I believe we will get respect back.
Is there a set structure for the show?
Yes, it will be a two-part show. There will be a solo half of about 40 minutes, built around my acoustic guitar. This will be completely new material: even the band hasn't heard those songs (laughs). The second half will be a full-on electric set of over an hour.
Calcutta has started making original music yet again. Are we on the right path?
I believe everything happens in its own time; there's a right time. It's all in the stars (laughs), there's really no other way I can explain this. There's a lot of new music happening in our city. At this point, what we need is to also build an audience base, make itgrow with us. If necessary, you need to educate that audience as well, make them aware of your music.
Published in t2, The Telegraph, October 2008
Bertie at Princeton Club
We told you we'd be there and we were. Not just as — as the skies poured forth on Saturday, July 28 evening, it seemed half the city and, well, almost all of St. Xaviers College gathered at the Princeton Club off Anwar Shah Road to witness magic woven by a man in a beret named Betram da Silva. Supported by able bandmates in Pink Noise, Bertie — as everyone better knows him — evoked the now-forgotten art of storytelling through his immense repertoire of songs.
Whistles and cheers followed the very first note of the opening track — JJ Cale and Eric Clapton’s When This War Is Over. Dressed in a white shirt, jeans and the aforementioned beret, Bertie was all smiles from the word go, singing his heart out. You wouldn’t have known that he had a temperature running.
As promised, the ‘tone-down’ nature of this gig was apparent, with Bertie’s acoustic lines melting into the collective mesh of Amyt Dutta’s bluesy guitar tones, Gyan Singh’s well-balanced bottom-end bass playing and Jivraj ‘Jiver’ Singh’s sensitive percussive support. The chugging, acoustic piece Willie’s Song, about Bertie’s brother, also saw its debut at the concert.
The pub was packed, right from the edge of the seat where the young ones lined up to squat on the floor, all the way to the bar. And everyone was lapping up the music — note for note, word for word, syllable for syllable.
“That is encouraging, because I’d have understood this genre of music to be dead and gone in this city. Considering Calcutta was the place for folk and country rockers — basically, singer-songwriter music — that would have been really unfortunate. But I’m pleasantly surprised at the response,” says Bertie, over coffee in his drawing room a few days later. It’s easy to see that the present Dean of Arts at St. Xavier’s is glad getting back to music, writing songs, singing them. To quote Traffic, he’s no Stranger To Himself, 15-year-hiatus-and-all.
All along, however, his repertoire of originals blossomed to include songs like Tinpan Alley — a talking country tune that saw it’s reincarnation akin to rap/hip-hop at the Princeton concert with Pink Noise — and Tina Marie. But then came the long break.
“I shut myself out from 1988 because I realised that music needs full-time attention and that I wasn’t being able to give it all. Sometime in 2003 (smiles), I got interested in classical music, picked up a classical guitar. I also went ahead and bought myself a book on basic reading, for six-year-olds. It helped,” Bertie says with characteristic humour, “Though I realised that I was playing it by heart rather than actually sight-reading.” In a month’s time, short but fully structured classical pieces were born on that guitar. In 2006, the professor wrote a song — the first in about 18 years. “It was a horrible song, but at least it was one,” he laughs. Gradually, the music and the words flowed on a more regular basis — till it was “like the old times.” “I’m taking it one step at a time and I’ve taken two tiny steps till now. Let’s see where this is headed,” says Bertie.
Someplace Else will see Bertie’s debut with Pink Noise on August 18. However, given the propensity for penning pensive, personal songs where lyrics are of supreme importance, the natural progression for Bertie’s music, as he suggests, is the concert hall. “Gyan Manch and Kala Mandir are two venues which held concerts where an audience would sit and listen. You know, there’d be a first set, then an intermission where they can mess around (laughs) and come back for the second set. I want to revive that scene — posters, fliers, tickets to a concert — the creative gamut. I’m sure there are a lot of people music playing good, meaningful music in this city it’s quite possible. We have to start somewhere,” he states.
We’re all in with you, Sir.
Published in t2, The Telegraph; sometime in 2007
Whistles and cheers followed the very first note of the opening track — JJ Cale and Eric Clapton’s When This War Is Over. Dressed in a white shirt, jeans and the aforementioned beret, Bertie was all smiles from the word go, singing his heart out. You wouldn’t have known that he had a temperature running.
As promised, the ‘tone-down’ nature of this gig was apparent, with Bertie’s acoustic lines melting into the collective mesh of Amyt Dutta’s bluesy guitar tones, Gyan Singh’s well-balanced bottom-end bass playing and Jivraj ‘Jiver’ Singh’s sensitive percussive support. The chugging, acoustic piece Willie’s Song, about Bertie’s brother, also saw its debut at the concert.
The pub was packed, right from the edge of the seat where the young ones lined up to squat on the floor, all the way to the bar. And everyone was lapping up the music — note for note, word for word, syllable for syllable.
“That is encouraging, because I’d have understood this genre of music to be dead and gone in this city. Considering Calcutta was the place for folk and country rockers — basically, singer-songwriter music — that would have been really unfortunate. But I’m pleasantly surprised at the response,” says Bertie, over coffee in his drawing room a few days later. It’s easy to see that the present Dean of Arts at St. Xavier’s is glad getting back to music, writing songs, singing them. To quote Traffic, he’s no Stranger To Himself, 15-year-hiatus-and-all.
All along, however, his repertoire of originals blossomed to include songs like Tinpan Alley — a talking country tune that saw it’s reincarnation akin to rap/hip-hop at the Princeton concert with Pink Noise — and Tina Marie. But then came the long break.
“I shut myself out from 1988 because I realised that music needs full-time attention and that I wasn’t being able to give it all. Sometime in 2003 (smiles), I got interested in classical music, picked up a classical guitar. I also went ahead and bought myself a book on basic reading, for six-year-olds. It helped,” Bertie says with characteristic humour, “Though I realised that I was playing it by heart rather than actually sight-reading.” In a month’s time, short but fully structured classical pieces were born on that guitar. In 2006, the professor wrote a song — the first in about 18 years. “It was a horrible song, but at least it was one,” he laughs. Gradually, the music and the words flowed on a more regular basis — till it was “like the old times.” “I’m taking it one step at a time and I’ve taken two tiny steps till now. Let’s see where this is headed,” says Bertie.
Someplace Else will see Bertie’s debut with Pink Noise on August 18. However, given the propensity for penning pensive, personal songs where lyrics are of supreme importance, the natural progression for Bertie’s music, as he suggests, is the concert hall. “Gyan Manch and Kala Mandir are two venues which held concerts where an audience would sit and listen. You know, there’d be a first set, then an intermission where they can mess around (laughs) and come back for the second set. I want to revive that scene — posters, fliers, tickets to a concert — the creative gamut. I’m sure there are a lot of people music playing good, meaningful music in this city it’s quite possible. We have to start somewhere,” he states.
We’re all in with you, Sir.
Published in t2, The Telegraph; sometime in 2007
Firehouse gig
After rocking a crowd of 42,000 a few days back in Shillong, an audience of just about 500 people at Tollygunge Club could have been a dampener for any lesser band. For a band that has been touring venues across the world for the past 18 years, like FireHouse, dampeners don’t really exist anymore. Thorough professionals, the foursome – frontman CJ Snare, Allen McKenzie on bass, Michael Foster on drums and the long-locked Chris Green as stand-in guitarist – came, played and pretty much floored those thronging the club lawn for a taste of vintage, straightforward southern California rock, with all the ballads in place.
Young guns Crystal Grass, which brought forth interesting new-age sounds, opened the concert organised by Littlei in association with t2. The bunch of Calcutta youngsters played a tight, all-original set of five songs, including its standout track Plasticine. While the crowd was patient with the opening act, glimpses of FireHouse members checking gear on stage helped raise the excitement quotient. When the band did land on stage, Tollygunge Club offered more than a warm welcome.
“Hey Calcutta, are you ready to rock?” was CJ’s question, and the answer that he and his mates in FireHouse received was explosive. Without much ado, the band launched into a rocker of an opener, Helpless, from its 1990 debut album, FireHouse. An interesting choice of opener, this, since Helpless closes the band’s eponymous debut. In any case, the effect of those thundering drums and wailing guitars was immediate: a sedentary audience was bang on its feet and crowding around the stage, clapping along with the rock crunch. A series of big hits followed, including the fast, driving, sassy Lover’s Lane and the four-on-the-floor singalong special All She Wrote. With the crowd now thronging the feet of the band, CJ and his men brought it down a little, talking about the “many beautiful ladies” in the audience. A dedication to the fairer sex was obvious after such proclamations, and Sleeping With You was the band’s choice. One ballad segued into another, as the piano intro to When I Look Into Your Eyes had teen girls in the front row – definitely born post 1990 – doing their teen girl shrieking and screaming. But that’s what FireHouse’s music is all about, so the band took it a notch up, thanks to drummer Michael Foster, with the anthemic Reach For The Sky and the high-energy blaster, You Are My Religion.
While the makeshift dance floor now saw some serious action and Devil’s Horns were the order of the evening, FireHouse launched into the track that they are probably best known for in these shores: the power ballad Love Of A Lifetime. The audience, magically enough, seemed to know every word of the track, and then some: it sang a full verse and chorus of the next huge hit, I Live My Life For You.
While talk about the “quality” and “musical maturity” of FireHouse’s brand of rock was on every critic’s lip in the run-up to the show, at the end of the day, the seriousness with which these guys take their art was best witnessed live. From the word go, the energy level did not dip till the very encore – which was the groovy Don’t Treat Me Bad – it was apparent that straightahead, no-frills hard rock a-la the Eighties is alive and doing very well. The ones that spurn it just got served some sour grapes.
Published in t2, The Telegraph, December 23, 2008
Young guns Crystal Grass, which brought forth interesting new-age sounds, opened the concert organised by Littlei in association with t2. The bunch of Calcutta youngsters played a tight, all-original set of five songs, including its standout track Plasticine. While the crowd was patient with the opening act, glimpses of FireHouse members checking gear on stage helped raise the excitement quotient. When the band did land on stage, Tollygunge Club offered more than a warm welcome.
“Hey Calcutta, are you ready to rock?” was CJ’s question, and the answer that he and his mates in FireHouse received was explosive. Without much ado, the band launched into a rocker of an opener, Helpless, from its 1990 debut album, FireHouse. An interesting choice of opener, this, since Helpless closes the band’s eponymous debut. In any case, the effect of those thundering drums and wailing guitars was immediate: a sedentary audience was bang on its feet and crowding around the stage, clapping along with the rock crunch. A series of big hits followed, including the fast, driving, sassy Lover’s Lane and the four-on-the-floor singalong special All She Wrote. With the crowd now thronging the feet of the band, CJ and his men brought it down a little, talking about the “many beautiful ladies” in the audience. A dedication to the fairer sex was obvious after such proclamations, and Sleeping With You was the band’s choice. One ballad segued into another, as the piano intro to When I Look Into Your Eyes had teen girls in the front row – definitely born post 1990 – doing their teen girl shrieking and screaming. But that’s what FireHouse’s music is all about, so the band took it a notch up, thanks to drummer Michael Foster, with the anthemic Reach For The Sky and the high-energy blaster, You Are My Religion.
While the makeshift dance floor now saw some serious action and Devil’s Horns were the order of the evening, FireHouse launched into the track that they are probably best known for in these shores: the power ballad Love Of A Lifetime. The audience, magically enough, seemed to know every word of the track, and then some: it sang a full verse and chorus of the next huge hit, I Live My Life For You.
While talk about the “quality” and “musical maturity” of FireHouse’s brand of rock was on every critic’s lip in the run-up to the show, at the end of the day, the seriousness with which these guys take their art was best witnessed live. From the word go, the energy level did not dip till the very encore – which was the groovy Don’t Treat Me Bad – it was apparent that straightahead, no-frills hard rock a-la the Eighties is alive and doing very well. The ones that spurn it just got served some sour grapes.
Published in t2, The Telegraph, December 23, 2008
Ustad Amjad Ali Khan
BLURB: Samagam is my humble effort at a message. After seeing the destruction of the world, especially the Mumbai massacre, I felt it was time we had to express something
While fusion has been the buzzword for Indian classical artistes for some time now, sarod maestro Ustad Amjad Ali Khan had steered clear of any confluence of genres. Till now. On January 8, Khan, one of the best-known exponents of the instrument, debuted his concerto for the sarod in a concert titled Samagam — “confluence” — in Mumbai, in a collaboration with the Scottish Chamber Orchestra, Edinburgh. The Calcutta concert is on Wednesday, February 11.
The maestro speaks to t2 about the future of Indian classical and more importantly, on the spiritual, uniting gift that is music…
Tell us a little about the upcoming concert, Samagam
Samagam will see a different incarnation of Amjad Ali Khan. Unlike many of my fellow musicians who have walked the fusion path —and much of that fusion has been rhythm oriented — it took me time to collaborate with European musicians.
You know, in my younger days, in my free time, I used to listen to European classical music — Beethoven, Bach, Chopin, Tchaikovsky, Hendl. The credit for introducing me to Western classical music goes to (acclaimed music director) Rai Chand Boral. He was a great admirer of my father Ustad Hafiz Ali Khan’s music. My father used to stay at his residence whenever he would visit Calcutta. In the end-Sixties, when he was very old, he attended one of my concerts. He told me, “Beta, when I listen to your sarod, I feel absolute symphony around it.” He expressed his desire to compose a symphony around my music. Today, by the grace of god, his wish has materialised.
About 20 years back, the Hong Kong Philharmonic had invited me to compose a piece and play with them. After almost two decades, the Scottish Chamber Orchestra, based in Edinburgh, approached me to write an hour-long symphony. I made several trips to Edinburgh, met some brilliant musicians and composed and rehearsed. Fittingly enough, we gave this project the Sanskrit name of Samagam, “confluence”.
I think the most appealing thing in Western classical is that there are some 150 musicians collectively making a beautiful piece of music. Musicians in America and Europe have asked me why India doesn’t produce an orchestra of high order given its exceptionally rich classical artistes. I told them that if 150 classical musicians got together in India, there would be nothing but chaos (laughs).
Samagam is my humble effort at a message. After seeing the destruction of the world, especially the Mumbai massacre, I felt it was time we had to express something.
This is the first sarod concerto in the history of the instrument?
Yes, it is. I have composed it around some of my existing compositions. The good thing is, by doing that, now all those pieces have been documented.
I was also very happy to meet David Murphy, the conductor for Samagam. After 26/11, many foreigners were afraid to come to India. On December 6, the date of the Babri Masjid demolition, I played at an open-air concert at Nehru Park in Delhi. I called up David and told him about the experience; I told him that India is a peaceful country, that it’s safe.
It is my appeal to all the disruptive people of the world that enough is enough. The time has come to think of their own children, about the future of this world, which cannot be such a violent future.
We have to try to collectively spread love and peace, the message of unity. When the commandos came to save the people of Mumbai, it didn’t matter which state, religion or community they came from to do their job. Unfortunately, we have a number of godmen in our country. They should all convey the true message of a common god.
Language creates barriers. Through language, you abuse, you lie, you win or lose elections. But through sound, you cannot abuse, or lie. When I’m on stage, choosing a raga is really not up to me: there is a conductor in my life; only in my case, he is invisible (smiles).
What are your views on fusion?
Well, fusion is of various kinds. Many youngsters are making fusion albums, including my sons. There is a room for such collaborative music; some of it is appealing and some of it is not. My approach to this project is something totally different to whatever has been done before.
How special is playing in Calcutta?
My first concert was when I was 12 years old, at the Sadanand Music Festival in 1968 in Calcutta. Through the Forties, Fifties and Sixties, every para would have classical music festivals; there were at least 30 festivals organised all over your city. I have played the most in Bengal. I was born in Gwalior, but Bengal nurtured me (smiles).
These days, the Dover Lane Music Conference is the biggest draw. While it gets down artistes of the first rank, my grouse is with Nazrul Mancha as the venue: it is quite uncomfortable, with bad ambience. We need a world-class concert auditorium in Calcutta now.
Published in t2, The Telegraph, February9, 2009
While fusion has been the buzzword for Indian classical artistes for some time now, sarod maestro Ustad Amjad Ali Khan had steered clear of any confluence of genres. Till now. On January 8, Khan, one of the best-known exponents of the instrument, debuted his concerto for the sarod in a concert titled Samagam — “confluence” — in Mumbai, in a collaboration with the Scottish Chamber Orchestra, Edinburgh. The Calcutta concert is on Wednesday, February 11.
The maestro speaks to t2 about the future of Indian classical and more importantly, on the spiritual, uniting gift that is music…
Tell us a little about the upcoming concert, Samagam
Samagam will see a different incarnation of Amjad Ali Khan. Unlike many of my fellow musicians who have walked the fusion path —and much of that fusion has been rhythm oriented — it took me time to collaborate with European musicians.
You know, in my younger days, in my free time, I used to listen to European classical music — Beethoven, Bach, Chopin, Tchaikovsky, Hendl. The credit for introducing me to Western classical music goes to (acclaimed music director) Rai Chand Boral. He was a great admirer of my father Ustad Hafiz Ali Khan’s music. My father used to stay at his residence whenever he would visit Calcutta. In the end-Sixties, when he was very old, he attended one of my concerts. He told me, “Beta, when I listen to your sarod, I feel absolute symphony around it.” He expressed his desire to compose a symphony around my music. Today, by the grace of god, his wish has materialised.
About 20 years back, the Hong Kong Philharmonic had invited me to compose a piece and play with them. After almost two decades, the Scottish Chamber Orchestra, based in Edinburgh, approached me to write an hour-long symphony. I made several trips to Edinburgh, met some brilliant musicians and composed and rehearsed. Fittingly enough, we gave this project the Sanskrit name of Samagam, “confluence”.
I think the most appealing thing in Western classical is that there are some 150 musicians collectively making a beautiful piece of music. Musicians in America and Europe have asked me why India doesn’t produce an orchestra of high order given its exceptionally rich classical artistes. I told them that if 150 classical musicians got together in India, there would be nothing but chaos (laughs).
Samagam is my humble effort at a message. After seeing the destruction of the world, especially the Mumbai massacre, I felt it was time we had to express something.
This is the first sarod concerto in the history of the instrument?
Yes, it is. I have composed it around some of my existing compositions. The good thing is, by doing that, now all those pieces have been documented.
I was also very happy to meet David Murphy, the conductor for Samagam. After 26/11, many foreigners were afraid to come to India. On December 6, the date of the Babri Masjid demolition, I played at an open-air concert at Nehru Park in Delhi. I called up David and told him about the experience; I told him that India is a peaceful country, that it’s safe.
It is my appeal to all the disruptive people of the world that enough is enough. The time has come to think of their own children, about the future of this world, which cannot be such a violent future.
We have to try to collectively spread love and peace, the message of unity. When the commandos came to save the people of Mumbai, it didn’t matter which state, religion or community they came from to do their job. Unfortunately, we have a number of godmen in our country. They should all convey the true message of a common god.
Language creates barriers. Through language, you abuse, you lie, you win or lose elections. But through sound, you cannot abuse, or lie. When I’m on stage, choosing a raga is really not up to me: there is a conductor in my life; only in my case, he is invisible (smiles).
What are your views on fusion?
Well, fusion is of various kinds. Many youngsters are making fusion albums, including my sons. There is a room for such collaborative music; some of it is appealing and some of it is not. My approach to this project is something totally different to whatever has been done before.
How special is playing in Calcutta?
My first concert was when I was 12 years old, at the Sadanand Music Festival in 1968 in Calcutta. Through the Forties, Fifties and Sixties, every para would have classical music festivals; there were at least 30 festivals organised all over your city. I have played the most in Bengal. I was born in Gwalior, but Bengal nurtured me (smiles).
These days, the Dover Lane Music Conference is the biggest draw. While it gets down artistes of the first rank, my grouse is with Nazrul Mancha as the venue: it is quite uncomfortable, with bad ambience. We need a world-class concert auditorium in Calcutta now.
Published in t2, The Telegraph, February9, 2009
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