Showing posts with label Ranjit Barot. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ranjit Barot. Show all posts
The indie pop era was almost like a firefly, short lived but bright-Suneeta Rao
7:57 AM
Singer Suneeta Rao, who has cemented her position in indie pop music, feels songs today lack longevity
Titas Chowdhury (HINDUSTAN TIMES; October 20, 2021)
Singer Suneeta Rao kickstarted her career with Senorita, which released in 1989. While the track made her a force to reckon with in the indie pop space, it was Paree Hoon Main from her 1991 album Dhuaan, that made her popularity soar, and how! Thereafter, she went on to release albums such as Talaash (1996) and Ab Ke Baras (2000).
Rao, 54, believes the 1990s was “the golden period of indie pop in a way”. “What was different about that particular period was as artistes, we were the first ones to come up with music videos, per se. That coincided with the launch of MTV in India. It gave us exposure, as it offered us the same platform as international stars such as Madonna and Michael Jackson,” she explains.
She adds that novelty was another factor which made the period so memorable. “People got to know us for our music, we got our own gigs. Record labels began signing us,” she recalls.
However, the indie pop era was short-lived. “Like anything else in the industry, the novelty faded away after some time. We were under the condition that we’d get support for our next album only if we delivered a hit. The indie pop wave couldn’t sustain itself. It was almost like a firefly — short-lived but bright,” she says.
The Vaada Karo singer went on to do what she loved the most — performing gigs, doing theatre and writing. Despite being successful in her career, Rao admits that launching albums became an uphill task. “The most difficult one was Waqt (2008). That album had a video of a song called Sun Zara. For that, I had signed up with somebody who disappeared at the last minute,” she shares.
What makes her happy, though, is that despite film music taking precedence, people still fondly remember indie pop artistes of the 90s. “The visibility of indie pop artistes on screen made a difference. The substance that songs had was different back then. I was working organically. Every producer I worked with, including Lewis Banks, Leslie Lewis, Ranjit Barot and Anand Raaj Anand, gave different characters to my album. Today, songs lack longevity, because of sheer abundance and accessibility. I don’t listen to today’s music because it’s formula-driven,” adds Rao, who is looking forward to continuing doing theatre, promoting her last album and performing.
Namaste England composer Mannan Shaah is keeping the art of symphony orchestra alive
7:56 AM
Legendary band Chennai Strings Orchestra, which has performed with AR Rahman, record a song with Mannan Shaah
Anju Maskeri (MID-DAY; April 8, 2018)
Music director Mannan Shaah is somewhat of an anachronism in today's day and age. He doesn't like digitally composing his songs. He would rather fly down to Chennai from Mumbai, or even London for that matter, collaborate with 30 musicians over a song, irrespective of the time it takes, and return feeling creatively high. "I have always been fascinated by symphony orchestras and it was my dream to record one," says the 30-year-old, who began his career as a singer in 2011 with Vipul Shah's Kucch Luv Jaisaa. His desire to record with a symphony orchestra was fulfilled five years later when he turned composer for Commando 2. The song Tere Dil Mein, sung by Armaan Malik, was a product of a 16-piece symphony orchestra.
No one-man army
It's
been a year since, but the exhilaration is fresh. In fact, during the
telephonic interview - Shaah is in Dubai recording a song with Atif
Aslam - he tells us that next month, he will be roping in a 32-piece
symphony band from Chennai Strings, a legendary orchestra group that has
performed with the likes of Ilayaraja and AR Rahman. "Certain songs
require a depth and intensity which only a live symphony orchestra can
create," he says.Tere Dil Mein was one such. Set in an idyllic setting, it was a romantic number composed to tug at heartstrings. "I wanted it have a soulful vibe along with a sense of grandeur, for which I tried to seek out orchestra bands in the city," he says. The search came to a dead end when he realised that Mumbai barely has a culture of large ensembles. Recording with independent musicians who play cello, violin and viola and then training them before the actual recording, would be cumbersome, he thought. It was then that his music arranger Prasad Sashte, a senior sound engineer in Bollywood, suggested collaborating with the Chennai band for the song. "I still remember how they got it right in the first take. May be, it comes with years of experience. But I was stunned," he recalls. What Shaah was mesmerised by was the passion with which the musicians, most of whom are in their 50s and 60s, played. That the players are willing to share invaluable inputs to elevate the quality of a song makes the session a two-way street where eclectic exchange of ideas take place. "Performing with multiple musicians at the same time on the same podium is something else," he gushes.
The sessions normally follow a format where initially they record the song with the entire 16 or 32-piece orchestra together to generate a tonal quality. After that, individual takes are recorded from each player. Shaah says he normally has four players on the viola, another four on the violin, two on double base and the rest on cello. The individual bites are used for layering the song to lend it texture. In terms of logistics, the studios need to be large and the microphones sharp. "The positioning of the mic is paramount in capturing the voice quality and tones," he says.
A large investment
He admits that such a venture requires a good amount of investment in time, effort and money. "I have no problem with the time and effort. It's a learning experience. When it comes to money, it takes a musically-inclined filmmaker to realise what such an orchestra can bring to the table," he says.
Fortunately, Shaah says he has worked with like-minded filmmakers such as Vipul Shah who have happily parted with resources. "What happens in such collaborations is that many souls get attached to the song and that's what makes it timeless. Take for instance, Jatin-Lalit's songs from Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge or A R Rahman's Bombay. They continue to live." The challenge, however, lies in securing dates and timing to get so many musicians under roof. "That's really the biggest hurdle but we don't see it as one because it's so exciting and always worth the effort," he says.
The digital makeover
Back in the 60s and 70s, Shaah says such orchestra bands were the rage. It's the onset of technology that led to their slow death. "I think technology has just made us lazy. Honestly, we put in only 20 per cent effort that musicians and composers would put back in the day," he says. He recalls an incident when he was composing a club song in Commando 1, titled Lutt Javan with legendary drummer and arranger Ranjit Barot. The latter's studio, he says, was old and hadn't been upgraded since the '90s. "He hadn't changed anything. And when I asked him why he hasn't upgraded to new technology, he said 'if I do, I will stop playing these instruments myself'." The problem with digitally created songs, feels Shaah, is the tonal quality. It lacks nuance and sounds monotonous. Having said that, not all songs lend themselves to an orchestra. "It's mostly romantic songs or those with a Sufi vibe that work best," he says.
I have a self-governing system that doesn’t allow me to be sloppy-Ranjit Barot
7:51 AM
The musician who hangs with A R Rehman and John McLaughlin on a new venture at the Royal Opera House, which will add to the city’s music and epicurean culture
Anjana Vaswani (BOMBAY TIMES; October 15, 2017)
"The drums chose me,” says Ranjit Barot explaining his choice of instrument as he settles into a seat beside a chandelier-style table lamp at the venue of his exciting new venture. It’s modesty, perhaps, that has him borrow J K Rowling’s prose to underplay his efforts. But, in fact, while it’s no secret he’s led a charmed life — touring with A R Rahman, collaborating with Ustad Zakir Hussain, joining forces with jazz supremo John McLaughlin and performing at Davos are just some snatches from it — Barot’s success really has a more earthly foundation.
In one of his bestsellers, Malcolm Gladwell pointed out that except for very few outliers one’s achievements are, typically, the product of one’s influences and opportunities. Barot, the son of renowned Kathak dancer, the late Sitara Devi, had both. “Our living room at home was a fluid space,” he recalls, “It served as my mother’s dance workshop, my practice place, and in the evenings, it would be the venue for jam sessions. Distinguished classical musicians such as Ustad Vilayat Khan Sahab and Ustad Rais Khan Sahab would come by, the lights would be switched on and biryani would be cooked. My mother would jam with them. So, it was a living room in the true sense — the space pulsated with life.” Surrounded by such powerful musical influences as a child, by age 20, Barot was performing alongside Louis Banks, the musical legend.
He’s conscious of his privileges, and the responsibility these impose, Barot tells us. “Culturally and ideologically I inherited so much nourishment from my mother, I had to make sure I lived up to all of that — this got into my DNA very early, so even though I am lazy, I have a self-governing system that doesn’t allow me to be sloppy, and I very much want to pay this forward,” he says. His role at music composer Ashutosh Phatak’s brainchild, the True School of Music, affords one opportunity to do so. “I teach a course on artistic development there, and mentor some of the brightest kids — there’s some special talent there, and the plan is to produce their work and give them a platform to showcase their skill.”
Phatak is in fact seated within earshot. At a table nearby, he, businessman Nakul Toshniwal and a small team iron out the details of their soon-to-be-launched venture, a live music venue at the recently restored, and jaw-droppingly beautiful Royal Opera House. With a sound-proof auditorium designed to deliver superlative acoustics, a charming al fresco area edged with wrought iron screens and ornamented with pretty plants, and three floors dedicated to hospitality (yes, there will be booze), the project will allow Barot to build on his ambition even further.
It’s a necessary addition to the city’s music scene, Barot explains. “If music is full of character, it forces the audience to listen, and you would think that’s the goal, but I have heard producers say, ‘Make me music that people can talk over,’ dichotomous as that sounds. I feel we have notional ideas of what music should be, but there’s no benchmark for Indian music and I would like to establish that through this project,” he says. “I feel very strongly that in the context of your career and your life, you must be an agent of change. It’s a lonely path because when you’re outspoken, you won’t endear many people — but you may empower many others,” says Barot. The philosophy is so close to his heart, it’s also been encapsulated in a song titled Chingari, written by Manoj Yadav for Musafir, an album Barot plans to release early next year.
Could it also be the reason why Barot seems to have distanced himself from the Indian film industry, despite the tremendous success of some of the albums he contributed to, like Fiza (2000) and Main Hoon Na (2008)? “A lot of that world depends on your people skills and how you can deal with the industry,” he says. “I think the industry was braver once, but it started getting tighter and tighter and I think music directors have less say now in what they should be doing. Besides, I think there are enough good composers out there servicing the industry, and I have my hands and plate full.”
Barot returns to the topic of The Quarter, the exciting new project he’s co-founded with Phatak, Toshniwal and restaurateur Nico Goghavala. It’s a venture that will undoubtedly be a dreamcome-true for SoBo’s music aficionados, many who still lament the closure of Blue Frog. “It’s great to be a performer, but to have a legacy, that’s fantastic. I’ve never been part of anything like this; never been in a partnership, because I’m so pigheaded and must live my life on my own terms. I need to be with like-minded people.” His reflection isn’t laced with regret. “I’m hanging out with A R Rahman and John McLaughlin, so I must be doing something right.”
Only when I go on the stage do I realise that I have composed all these songs-A R Rahman
7:54 AM
Dhaval Roy (DNA; September 3, 2017)
Completing 25 years as a music composer will be a momentous milestone for anyone but, “You need to leave your luggage and move on,” is what AR Rahman says about his journey so far. His debut as a music composer, Roja, released in August 1992, but the Chhaiya Chhaiya and Jai Ho hitmaker is unmindful of the great compositions he has given the music world. “Only when I go on the stage do I realise that I have composed all these songs,” A R says. Not resting on his past laurels is his way of preventing complacency, in turn impeding his progress. “I constantly think about the new chords or orchestration that I can use. I never think about the fact that I have been around for 25 years now. You learn something and then you want to find a new path. That’s the only way you feel elevated,” he adds.
The musical journey
Marking A R’s silver jubilee is his upcoming, One Heart: The A R Rahman Concert Film that encapsulates his musical journey and creative process through a series of interviews, personal clips (information about his family and fans, experimentation, behind-the-stage scenes, etc) and footages from the concerts in 14 locations across North America. “I’m extremely finicky about being filmed,” A R says about being on the big screen. “When I was doing the tour in 2015, I felt we needed to film it because it was about music and the energy, and the sentiment was great,” he says. As the film hits theatres on September 7, the revenues generated would go to the One Heart Music Foundation that works towards supporting lesser-privileged musicians in the industry.
For the fraternity
A R hit upon the idea of starting the foundation seven odd years ago, but it was too big for him to kick off. When he bounced off the idea to the producer, Karan Grover, the latter suggested they film the concert as a movie for the foundation. A R, who serves as its ambassador, wants to now approach other young composers to see how they can contribute to the foundation. “There’s a generation of musicians that has dedicated its life to music, but is suffering now. There is no support system in place for them. I want music to be well protected for people who have given their lives and soul to it so that they don’t die in poverty,” he states.
A R has a similar back story. He lost his musician father, R K Shekhar, at the age of nine. The deceased score-composer and arranger’s music equipment rentals provided the family’s income as his mother, Kareema (earlier Kasthuri), refused to sell the instruments off. “In a way, my whole life has revolved around musicians who have been in the state of glory once. Some musicians in the previous generation had a temperament — today we have money, but tomorrow, let’s see. With this foundation, one is respecting what they have given to music, but today they don’t have the money for medical expenses, their children’s higher education or even letting children pursue music,” says he.
Trusting his troupe
Musicians playing at his concerts for the film have all been cherry picked, he says, and the roster includes impressive names such as the violinist from Hans Zimmer’s group, Annette Philip — musician and artistic director of Berklee India Exchange at the Berklee College of Music, Croatian danseuse Devi Rani Najev, music director Ranjit Barot, singer Jonita Gandhi, and so on. “We have tried to do everything live — what you hear is what you get,” says A R, for whom creativity means selecting a tune and trusting the musicians with what they want to do. “You can’t tell an artiste what they should be doing. It’s their duty,” he says.
Competing with new talent
While A R has always worked with musicians he has previously collaborated with, it’s the new generation of musicians that keeps him on his toes. “They are so talented that they push you to deliver the best. When they do something great, you want to do better. So, there’s a sense of competition. But, there’s also pride that you are playing with some of the best musicians out there,” says he. “It’s a strange feeling that there are people who have grown up listening to your music and now their kids are playing,” he laughs adding, “I’m more interested in the kids now.”
No gatekeepers of music
A R is also glad that there are no gatekeepers of art. Great music can come from the simplest of places such as the social media. He says, “You must be neutral. You need to see how much life, honesty and originality there is in their music instead of judging by their fame, money or followers.”
On the top of his game
A R is one of those musicians who is seldom criticized for what he does. However, that’s not how he sees it. “I know there are some people who are willing to hear whatever I make. But I keep checking my work. These days people have the choice of listening to the best artistes on the internet. So, I keep checking if my band is at par with those musicians. Do we have the character and personality? It’s more work but it’s satisfying when you tick all the boxes,” says the Academy and Grammy awards winner. He says being himself when it comes to making music has ensured that his music appeals to Indian as well as Western audiences.
His favourite musicians
The musicians that have impressed him the most are Ranjit Barot and Sivamani. “They have been working since three generations but are still creating an impression. I’d have really loved to work with Mandolin Srinivas (U Srinivas) who passed away in 2014. That has taught me that I should work with someone I want to immediately,” he signs off.
Khalid Mohamed & Durga Jasraj remember Sitara Devi
7:38 AM
By Durga Jasraj [singer and producer] MUMBAI MIRROR (November 26, 2014)
Kathak queen Sitara Devi breathed her last after a prolonged illness on Tuesday. She was 94. I had almost come to believe
that she would be there for us forever. Even at 94 years of age, she
still had ghungroos tied to her feet and was ever ready to dance to
the song of joy called Life.I was merely 6 or 7 years old when I first watched her perform. She was accompanied by Ustad Allah Rakha's son on the tabla. She was so impressed with the young tabla player, that she gave him her garland and predicted that he will one day become a great artiste. The boy was none other than tabla maestro Zakir Hussain.
The last time I met her was at Zakir Hussain's house. I thought she would have forgotten me and avoided the formality of reintroducing myself.
However, as luck would have it, while returning home, we were in the same car. She suddenly said: “Why don't you come and meet me Durga? You do so much to promote music, but there is so much to do for dance as well...“ I felt really stupid and sheepishly apologised. It is then that I realised how sharp she was even at that age.
----------------------------------------
By Khalid Mohamed (MUMBAI MIRROR; November 26, 2014)
Scrunched up on a bed, she was sans her mandatory cosmetic coated face. No moon-sized bindi on her forehead either. She was caught off guard and detested that.
I had sauntered, unannounced, into the first floor Napean Sea Road apartment of her musician son Ranjit Barot, who was using a section of the apartment as a recording studio. Sitara Devi was accustomed to the stream of singers and musicians. A journalist suddenly gaping at her annoyed her.“That's mom,“ Barot said quickly hustling me towards the studio. And she laughed, “His mother and a big star in my time. Do you know of me?“ “Yes, of course. Who doesn't?“ I lied shamelessly.
Emaciated with age but her eyes flashing like torches, she ordered her son, “why are you whisking him away? Let me talk.“
Obviously, she liked borrowing an ear. Sitting up, ready for oration, she gestured, “Sit! I know who you are. My son thinks I'm deaf. I'd heard him saying, a journalist was coming over for an interview. Once they wanted to interview me... and I would mesmerise them. Now they come to interview Ranjit and I'm sure they are bored to death.“
Frankly, time had zipped past for one of the first divas, so to speak. She had oozed stardom and seduction in an era, which was a mystery. Or should I say barely chronicled. For the post-independence generation she was a hell-raiser, bold and brazen, as evidenced in the surviving photographs of the whoopee Holi celebrations at the R K Studios. She was a regular having the time of her life, literally let ting her down. For a kid bred on the Mumbai movies and the magazines, trade papers of the 1960s particularly Filmfare and Screen, I'd wonder, “who's she?“ She had appeared in a palmful of films take, Mehboob Khan's Mother India in which she was Lord Krishna to a coy Radha.
That was her last screen appearance, it seems. No, she wasn't a household name. Kukoo and Helen were. And her nephew, Gopikrishna, could dance up a thunderstorm, landing the lead role of V Shantaram's Jhanak Jhanak Payal Baaje. She could never grab that kind of grandstanding, which could have us lamenting her loss today at the age of 94. By 'lamenting' I mean according to Sitara Devi, the adieu, perhaps deserved by her.
Yes, there is no doubt that she was the proverbial woman of substance, fiercely independent and the sort who could drive the men in her life, insane, and bankrupt, or both.
The most vivid, and perhaps, the only pen-portrait of Sitara Devi was authored by Saadat Hasan Manto. It is not a flattering one; Manto makes her out to be a predator, a cougar. The very fact that Manto chose to write about her, indicated that she was not an ordinary citizen of showbiz. What Sitara Devi wanted, Sitara Devi got. Apologies? Forget it.
Her inflexible personality would inspire a spate of biographies in Hollywood, as they did of Jean Harlow and Marilyn Monroe. Besides Manto, no other dared to cross the path.
That day, at the studio-apartment, she wanted to talk about her passion for kathak, about her lust for life perhaps. She saw my eyes go blank, perhaps, as she elaborated on kathak. “You're not interested,“ she said correctly. “Go, go talk to Ranjit about music.“
I bolted from the bed. Ranjit Barot wasn't embarrassed. Clearly, he adored her, but wasn't going to let her hold forth, on kathak, for hours. “Get him a cup of tea,“ Sitara yelled out to the kitchen. “And lage haath mere liye bhi chaai le aana.“ That's the last I saw or heard of her.
Judiciously, Ranjit Barot has never discussed his star mother, rewinding to her glory days. Wikipedia talks about her brief marriage to the movie moghul, K Asif, about her transition from a child artiste to a woman who led her life on her own unwritten terms. Rabindranath Tagore had praised the child dancer. Manto had disparaged the woman, painting her scarlet. And when I pass by that apartment on Napean Sea Road, I feel guilty. Sitara Devi's story from her point of view will remain untold.
Bollywood is flashy, the South is more real-Kunal Ganjawala
8:37 AM
Singer Kunal Ganjawalla talks about Tu Hi Toh Hai from Holiday and carving a long career despite having a `non playback' voice
Kasmin Fernandes (BOMBAY TIMES; May 30, 2014)
It has been over 12 years
since you made your entry into Bollywood music with Ab Ke Baras. Tell us
about your journey since then. Did you have to struggle because of your
unusual voice?
Ab ke Baras was not really the film that gave me a break though it did create a stir within the industry and I thank Anu Malik for that opportunity. I got my first big break in four songs for Uuf Kya Jaadoo Mohabbat Hai, thanks to Rajat Barjatya, composer Sandesh Shandilya and lyricist Mehboob sahab. Saathiya released before it and my song Oh Humdum Suniyo Re became a chart-topper thanks AR Rahman's composition and the legendary Gulzar sahab's lyrics. I didn't sound like any of the legendary voices we had in Hindi films till then. I had a voice and style of my own and that seemed to work against me when I got into the industry. I didn't have a traditional playback voice, some said, when I auditioned and it was difficult for me to understand why I needed to sound like someone else to be successful.
Ab ke Baras was not really the film that gave me a break though it did create a stir within the industry and I thank Anu Malik for that opportunity. I got my first big break in four songs for Uuf Kya Jaadoo Mohabbat Hai, thanks to Rajat Barjatya, composer Sandesh Shandilya and lyricist Mehboob sahab. Saathiya released before it and my song Oh Humdum Suniyo Re became a chart-topper thanks AR Rahman's composition and the legendary Gulzar sahab's lyrics. I didn't sound like any of the legendary voices we had in Hindi films till then. I had a voice and style of my own and that seemed to work against me when I got into the industry. I didn't have a traditional playback voice, some said, when I auditioned and it was difficult for me to understand why I needed to sound like someone else to be successful.
Who were your strongest supporters?
My strongest supporters were my parents who encouraged me to sing at a time when satellite television hadn't come to India. Playback singer Poornima (Sushma Shrestha) is another. She heard me at a college festival and then introduced me to Anand Milind, Leslie Lewis, Louis Banks and Anu Malik. Malik and Mukesh Bhatt gave me Bheegey Hont Tere (Murder). Music director Rajat Dholakia is another person who has supported me throughout my career. Pritam has made two versions of Tu Hi Toh Hai (Holiday — A Soldier Is Never Off Duty), one with you and the promo version with Benny Dayal.
Interestingly, both of you sound a lot like each other. Was that deliberate?
I am surprised you say that because both of us are very different stylistically. I sang the television promo version and the theatrical version of Tu Hi Toh Hai. Knowing Pritam, he may have wanted to see how Benny would interpret the same song and would've liked what he heard and therefore kept both the versions on the soundtrack so that the listener may hear two completely different versions of the same melody.
You've sung many soundtrack highlights. Do composers specifically offer you these songs or do you look out for them?
I always sing from my heart. I know no other way. Personally, I love singing ballads and songs in the soul, funk and rock pop genres. My music director friends often tell me they compose especially for me as opposed to making me sing a generic song.
What's it like to be married to another singer?
Life is beautiful anyway. It gets even better when you are married to a like-minded person and your partner is from the same profession. I feel blessed that my wife (Gayatri Iyer) is a singer.
You consider Ranjit Barot your mentor. How did that happen?
Ranjit is largely responsible for who I am today. Poornima didi - who is also his cousin - introduced us. Ranjit had heard my voice on TV and radio. Once he endorsed my singing, the whole industry started to work with me. He has been a life-changer for me and I will always be indebted to him for that.
We now meet a couple of times a year over lunch and dinner and lots of good music, of course, besides work whenever the opportunity arises. With him around, I believe I can sing anything required of me.
That is the kind of confidence he instils in the people he puts his faith in. As Rahman says that every composer should get a Mani Ratman like he did, I'd say, every budding singer should get a Ranjit Barot!
You've sung for a variety of films down South. How different is the music industry there vis-à-vis Bollywood?
Bollywood is flashy, the South is more real, down to earth and disciplined.
A number of singers are turning music directors today. Would you consider composing filmi soundtracks?
It's a natural progression for a singer to become a lyricist and composer. Look at the West where almost everybody sings their own compositions unlike our industry where all the three are separate.
Your song Channa Ve is still played at weddings. What do you think of the Indipop scene right now?
It's a great time for the Indipop and non-film music scene with the variety of talent we have today. Unfortunately, there aren't any independent record labels pumping money into private albums. I hope the revenue model sees the light of day soon. Fingers crossed!
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