Showing posts with label Alokananda Dasgupta. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alokananda Dasgupta. Show all posts
So much focus on the glamour, and so much silence around our work-Alokananda Dasgupta
8:17 AM
Jubliee musician Alokananda Dasgupta is ready to indulge in conversation around her work as she says enough interest in the composition of the background score exists among music aficionados
Sonia Lulla (MID-DAY; May 22, 2023)
Alokananda Dasgupta can romance characters in ways that perhaps even those who create them cannot. The daughter of the late Buddhadeb Dasgupta refers to herself as a morbid person, yet, she infuses life into every conversation when discussing her work on score composition. Her latest endeavour brought her back under the familiar wings of Vikramaditya Motewane after the duo’s celebrated association for Sacred Games. In this interview, she discusses what drew her to Jubilee.
Edited excerpts from the conversation.
You’ve probably developed a comfortable equation with Vikramaditya, considering your past projects. Does he discuss the brief with you or does he leave you to it?
For this project, he said that while he was creating a period project, I needn’t worry about that. He wanted that to be reflected via the songs. For the background score, he said that while I should avoid using instruments that didn’t belong to the era, I did not need to think about the period that the series was set in while creating the music design and melody. He wanted me to only focus on the narrative and characters. He knows me well, and knows that vague things work for me. He used words like ambition and pride, and those words helped me build the characters.
What was the initial idea that you had when this was offered to you?
In Sacred Games, there were elements that deal with death and life. I am a morbid person, so, dark things work for me. I didn’t know how I could bring out my darkness in Jubilee until I came across these words. In [music] school, we’d speak about the life of tragic heroes. Think about the characters in this project; such characters have always existed, and are timeless. The [character] has everything he desires; he makes one mistake that’s fuelled by pride, and that leads to his downfall. This is [seen in] Macbeth, it’s [seen in] my friends, and also in characters in my family.
I chased these two words, drew a draft of each character, and thought of how their [trajectories] are different, even though they are both [consumed] by pride and ambition. I realised that this is equally morbid. Morbidity need not only be death. There is a scene when one character leaves his house and everyone stares at him because he is a [star]. I’ve used an element which is like bipolar music. It’s a grand celebration, and an ode to joy. But then, I used certain melodies, and changed keys and motifs to make it darker. That paradox is what I tried to create with instrumentation.
As a composer who studies the characters you are set to work on, how did these characters influence you?
Initially, the team shot a small chunk. I was shown some rushes, and then they went on their major shoot. When I had initially read the script, it was all in theory. I am someone who is inspired by moving images. Reading and discussion don’t provoke within me what visuals can. I knew it was a period drama, and shed light on the politics between characters. But, when I saw the first clipping of Binod [character] in the dressing room where Jamshed was applying make-up before his act, I was moved. This was the first time when Binod [was shown in poor light]. The image of him sitting, the colour palette used, it was all inspiring. Music composition is not all romantic, and not every frame will inspire you. But this one was inspirational. It was ominous, it had elements of [Satyajit] Ray, and was like a horror still without it being a regular horror. That made me understand the multiple layers in this story. I knew I had found something dark to sink my teeth into. I connected it to [Roman] Polanski’s Macbeth, when he sees Banquo’s ghost. When I was composing it, my father was on his death-bed. Everything was so dark. All of these things combined with that one image.
Given how deeply invested you are in your projects, do you believe this job takes a mental toll?
I know I am a film composer, and not an independent one. It drains me, and is exhausting. But, I have understood that I need to [accept my work], because I will never stop being self-critical. I am not trying to wallow in self-pity, but the work I do is not glamorous enough to bring me to the forefront. People still think music means songs alone. My popularity count is marginal. I’m not seeking that, but I’ve made peace with the fact that this will be a solitary process. But, this is how I know to express myself. If you take this away from me, I will have repressed feelings.
Is there anything about your work that you believe needs to come to the forefront?
I have my complaints. I understand that everything in the industry is about survival. But, there are so many people who stay up at night and look up the background score of a Nordic series. I would love to talk about the process for people to know that not all of it is only about the songs. I don’t do 10 shows, or own a studio with 15 programmers, but [there are people who are still interested in my work]. People want to know how a score is composed. There is so much focus on the glamour, and so much silence when it comes to the work of a score composer.
Women’s Day Special: Alokananda Dasgupta, Jasleen Royal, Kausar Munir confess that only way to success is through their work
8:04 AM
Alokananda Dasgupta, Jasleen Royal and Kausar Munir
Three female artistes on what drives them to success in the male-dominated music composing, and writing
MID-DAY; March 8, 2021)
Alokananda Dasgupta
Intricate and impassioned as they are, conversations on music composition with Alokananda Dasgupta are delightful for every interviewer. A far cry from the superficial accounts of the art, Bengali filmmaker Buddhadeb Dasgupta’s daughter always elucidates her answers with those engrossing anecdotes of the concerned project that enhanced her final creative piece. It is this obsession with the craft that, she admits, is an essential to enjoy a long career, especially in a field that, much like many others, is attuned to the needs of men.
“It may sound like a cliche, but, keep at it,” says Dasgupta, adding, “You must have a [deep] desire to keep at it, despite disillusionment, and intimidations, and know why you wish to express yourself. The truth is that scoring can get monotonous, because one is watching and re-watching [the film] over and over again. So, only if something is up my alley am I usually kicked about composing for it. I will make something that I want to hear as a viewer, and hence take my role as an audience and consumer of that project, very seriously.”
Following her acclaimed work in Sacred Games with shows like Leila, Breathe: Into the Shadows, and the fast-paced AK vs AK, Dasgupta doesn’t shy away from admitting that gender discrimination, while not exclusive to the film industry, is something she encounters owing to the authority afforded to her as music director. “Sometimes, I am egged on to analyse why certain incidents happen, and I understand that people hesitate to accept instructions from a female [musician], who doesn’t look old either. I’ve chosen to wear horse-blinders for several issues. Things may upset people, but what can I do? It is my job, I have to talk to them and tell them what has to be done.”
Admitting that gender bias isn’t the concern that initially perturbed her about a probable career as music composer, Dasgupta says she had other battles to wage, including her rather introverted nature. “I am not a people person, and prefer spending time with [my pets]. But, I learnt on the job, and could see the loop holes and inequalities. It wasn’t shocking [to see discrimination since such instances] subtly make way into every woman’s life. For me, it started with insecurities due to simple things like being unable to participate in conversation with my male contemporaries [on topics like technology, which they can freely indulged in].” Patriarchy, she says, is so deep-seated in society that “even a filmmaker making a [pro-women] documentary is likely to come home and do something that [can be classified] as patriarchal behaviour.”
Jasleen Royal
For 29-year-old Jasleen Royal, singe-songwriter-composer, an increase in representation of women’s perspectives will offer a breath of fresh air in the music industry, and some respite from the barrage of “songs on infidelity” that have been topping the charts. “I would love to see female writers hold more key positions in the industry than they do. The industry welcomes both genders, and only considers the work that one can create. But, given that women started working late, it will take time for them to catch up,” says the singer-songwriter, adding that focussing on the creative piece, instead of the artiste who is creating it, has enabled her to develop a good ear for music.
“Women have different perspectives on matters, but let’s acknowledge that several women-oriented films have been beautifully penned by [male writers like] Gulzar sa’ab too. So, it’s essential to be influenced by good art alone.”
Royal, with films like Baar Baar Dekho and Gully Boy on her resume, says despite all odds, it is her ability to create work that she loves, that has repeatedly borne fruit. “I believe that only if I love what I put out are there more chances of others loving it too.”
Kausar Munir
Mirroring Dasgupta’s opinion, lyricist Kausar Munir says a fair share of the path to acclaim in the music industry is spent in oblivion. “You are shooting in the dark because there will be no appreciation [for a long time]. You need to spend time, and effort [in enhancing] your skills, and have faith, which is what makes the process difficult. There are several sociological factors [that deter] women from exploring the field. You need women in production arts, but as far as writing is concerned, their representation is abysmal. It could be because the writing process is disordered and fluid. There is no clear path to success, so you have to be obsessed with your work. It is a rigorous path with little guarantee of return. Women want something more promising,” says Munir, adding that though she stumbled upon the career by happenstance, she was able to pave her path by exploring various avenues of writing, instead of sticking to lyrics-writing, alone.
Munir counts herself among the fortunate for two reasons — to begin with, she claims to have not faced gender discrimination, as we know it. Also, on the rare occasion that she did, she could afford to walk out of the project, without worrying about her bread and butter. However, aware that her appointment on any project is owing to a skill-set that only she possesses, Munir celebrates factors that set her apart. Responding to questions on drivers of success, she says, “I know that there is something I can deliver, which is why I am appointed for the job. If I try to be an Amitabh [Bhattacharya] or Irshad [Kamil], I am being unfair to myself. I have recognised what makes me unique, and why I am appointed for projects. So recognizing your ability, and nurturing it will take you where you want to be.”
Admitting that the “system isn’t conducive for women”, Munir says several practices would be termed unprofessional by aspiring singers. “If I am called for a project at 12 midnight, I can go. But many women cannot. They may find it unprofessional, which it is. But this system is tuned against women. I am not even going into the [sexual] harassment aspect, which is prevalent. To women, I would say, don’t be afraid to fail, and tread new paths.”
Why are only songs considered to be music, and not background scores?-Alokananda Dasgupta
8:18 AM
She may have disappointed her father, who wished to see his classical pianist daughter receive a standing ovation at the Albert Hall, but she currently has half a million people, including A R Rahman, cheering her score for the new mob drama Sacred Games. Meet Alokananda Dasgupta, one of a handful of female music directors in Bollywood, who tells Mohua Das about going it alone in a man’s world, conjuring music from noise, and the need to bring background scores to the foreground
Mohua Das (THE TIMES OF INDIA; July 21, 2018)
The apocalyptic chorus in the opening credits of Sacred Games is turning out to be as intriguing as the Laurel-Yanny audio illusion! From kahwa and waah waah to Wadala and Wai Wai, speculation is rife. Please solve this puzzle.
It’s aah waa anne yawa tyu aai — absolute gibberish. I wanted to create a chant with a religious aspect, but at the same time I did not want it to be associated with any religion or country. I wanted it to sound pagan but not witchcrafty. So, I mouthed some nonsensical words on the soundtrack and it fit. A very anti-climactic mystery, actually!
Rahman graciously welcomed you into the “scoring club” on Twitter. But why do you think background scores are still overlooked?
I’ve wondered too. Despite Ilaiyaraja, Satyajit Ray and A R Rahman having set the bar high, it’s only songs that are considered to be music. Even at award shows, it belongs in the technical category. What part of the creativity do they not see? In the West, soundtracks are available in isolation. It’s like the bassline in a rock song. You don’t need to hear it but without it, the song would fall apart. But I think that’s changing now. I’ve never received so much praise for a soundtrack.
You tend to use unconventional sounds — trap rap, water drops, clanging metal, creaks, drones, thuds — alongside classical strings, winds and keys. What guides your musical instincts?
The classical bit comes from my background in piano. Secondly, I’ve been suffering from a noise problem. It started some years ago and it ate me up to an extent that I was hearing noise all the time, be it construction, traffic and motor sounds or the elevator announcement: ‘Please close the door.’ I got my ears tested, checked for Vitamin B deficiency, went to a shrink until I couldn’t deal with it anymore and decided that instead of dreading it, I would look forward to it. I started recording noises and recreating them as musical rhythms. Some of the steel and rubble sounds in Trapped are actual noises from the construction below my floor. It was a personal trip to see if dissonance can attract people and it worked.
How do you define your creative idiom?
I can never let go of my roots in Western classical, Indian folk and attention to melody. Above that bedrock are the ups and downs I’m facing in life, new music and films, people I meet, and the indigenous instruments I discover. To me the sound of the cello is as fascinating as the instrument used for beating cotton mattresses. I think my forte lies in my strong sense of cinema. I really understand narrative and like to defamiliarise the familiar. Anything that you’ve listened to in the past, I want to morph differently.
That sense probably stems from growing up with a famous filmmaker father (Buddhadeb Dasgupta). How did you take to music?
There were many other influences at play. My mother’s grandfather was Rajanikanta Sen (Bengali renaissance poet and composer) and my sister and I were naturally into dance. I was going to take up Odishi as a career but Baba introduced us to piano. We did it as a chore because we weren’t good performers. Then Fauzia Mariker, a music teacher in Kolkata inspired me to study music, for which I went to York University in Toronto. Over time, I realised my happy zone was in the compositional part. I landed in Mumbai to work, assisted Amit Trivedi and then two Marathi films Shala and Fandry came my way. Having grown up on foreign films, a different language or culture didn’t pose a problem. Instead, it opened doors.
We’re seeing women directors, cinematographers, editors; why not more music directors?
I don’t understand why it has been so male dominated for generations although there shouldn’t be anything holding women back. There might be aspects considered easier for men, like handling long and late hours though in a city like Mumbai it isn’t really a problem. There’s also this intimidation of technology. But that’s not imperative to producing good music. I started by writing notations on paper and gradually moved to computing and programming. It can easily be learnt on the job. The craft has nothing to do with gender.
But does it get more difficult when you belong to a minority in an industry within the industry?
Oh yes, there’s definitely an inequality that you know exists but once you get into it, you can change things for yourself. I’ve never faced gender discrimination in terms of wages or work respect. I was always like Matangini Hazra (freedom fighter), expressing myself if I felt something was unfair.
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