The article which appears below, was originally published on The Outlook in February 2009. ©The rights to this material are reserved to the owner. If you have any concerns or comments, please send an email to info@rahmaniac.com.
India rejoices as A.R. Rahman lifts two Oscars at the Kodak Theatre in Los Angeles.
Flashback to 1992: India is taken by storm when Mani Ratnam’s unassuming film, Roja, gets everyone hooked to its fresh, irresistibly lilting soundtrack. The film debut of a shy jinglemaker, it bags Rahman the national award for best composer, and years later gets picked as one of Time magazine’s 10 best soundtracks of all time.
The two milestones to the left span a 17-year-long journey that has not just been about personal achievement but also about spearheading a musical revolution, breaking old moulds and setting new trends, giving a fresh face to that much-reviled entity called Hindi film music. All this managed almost with a remote control, in the peace of A.R. Rahman’s famous recording studio in Kodambakkam, Chennai.
Tamil film music had been flourishing thanks to the genius of Ilaiyaraaja, when Rahman stepped in and took it in another direction. In Bollywood, however, things were not as happy. “He came in at a time when Hindi film music had become a parody of itself,” says composer Vishal (of the Vishal-Shekhar duo). Rahman’s arrival brought to it a new vigour, vitality and finesse, broadening the narrow horizons in which Bollywood melodies operated. He showed new possibilities and creative ways of making a song, bringing in fresh sounds, voices and instrumentation. “He took music on an entirely different path,” says composer and singer Shankar Mahadevan.
Such has been Rahman’s influence that many contemporary music composers openly acknowledge that they owe their careers to him. “I had only heard R.D. Burman; for me the whole cheesy ’80s music was just noise; I didn’t want to get into film music at all. But after Rahman, it became okay to head for the film industry,” says Vishal. Music director Shantanu Moitra found the courage to leave advertising for films because Rahman showed that there was a place for “melodic and contemporary” sound in Hindi films.
Rahman began to be noticed abroad too. Mihai Chirilov, Romanian film critic and artistic director of the cutting-edge Transilvania International Film Festival, remembers watching Ashutosh Gowariker’s Lagaan in Locarno’s majestic Piazza Grande back in 2001. “What blew me was the sophistication of Rahman’s music, the sharpness of its beats and orchestral richness, that was miles removed from the Bollywood music I had been exposed to,” he says.
No wonder people took to it across the world, and Rahman went on to collaborate with the best of talent—from Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan (for Gurus of Peace) to Andrew Lloyd Webber in Bombay Dreams, his biggest shot in the global entertainment arena before Slumdog Millionaire. “Classical music has always received respect worldwide, but Rahman took our film and popular music on to the global map,” says music composer Salim (of Salim-Suleiman fame).
In his own unique way, the shy and deeply spiritual man who creates music from the silence surrounding him has reached across and interacted with the entire world. “His music knows no boundaries,” says filmmaker Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra. Having defied localism with his easy mobility between the south and the north, he has now effortlessly bridged the global East-West musical divide. “He understands the global pulse,” says classical musician Anil Srinivasan, “his songs work as well in Paris as in Mali or in NY.”
There have been other film composers who have looked westwards for inspiration, but the cross-cultural pitch did not define their work as acutely as it does Rahman’s. Having a strong grounding in diverse forms of music, his creations show a medley of musical influences—from jazz and rock to gangsta rap and Asian Underground. So it is that a hip-hop groove uplifts a folksy Genda Phool in Delhi-6, just as reggae rhythm spliced through a simple tune and turned it into the very catchy Chinna chinna asai in Roja.
From Arabic to jazz to Sufi to bhajans, just a single Rahman album (Delhi-6) can encompass his magically eclectic approach and ability to harmoniously mix different genres. “He uses Western instruments to echo Indian sounds whereas the others are doing just the opposite,” observes Chirilov. Take his favourite—Chhaiyyan Chhaiyyan from Dil Se. “It’s not just ear candy or instantly catchy. It is refreshingly modern in the way it updates the traditional Indian rhythms to more contemporary sounds, without making them sound like cheap disco or techno tracks,” says Chirilov.
Whatever the influences, the Indian core has always remained significant in Rahman’s music. As Time magazine film critic Richard Corliss said of Roja, “The astonishing debut work parades Rahman’s gift for alchemising outside influences until they are totally Tamil, totally Rahman.” Or as Anu Malik puts it, “He turned world music into Hindi music.”
In many ways, then, Rahman’s career reflects the journey of modern India. He has been the right man at the right place and the right time. Rahman’s career took off just when India opened its doors to the world—he could be said to be a true child of liberalisation and globalisation, confident about its identity yet open to diverse influences. He is both global citizen and patriotic Indian. In Roja, he might have worked with reggae rhythms but he also came up with a very stirring patriotic track—Bharat hum ko jaan se pyara hai. His work with bhajans, Sufi music and gurbani also reflects the influence of the syncretic Indian tradition.
With two Oscars, a Golden Globe, a Padmashree, four national and 21 Filmfare awards behind him, 43-year-old Rahman has become synonymous with musical excellence—and with exciting experimentation and innovation too. “He has made it easier for us to try out new stuff,” says Salim. This has been Rahman’s other significant contribution—opening the door to new voices, new sounds and even a new way of writing and phrasing lyrics.
Amazingly for a man who does not understand Hindi or Urdu, lyrics took a fresh turn under his baton. “He was not committed to the mukhda/antara format of a Hindi song—he chose to make antara the mukhda,” says Malik. This offered new challenges to lyricists. “He liberated us and allowed us to experiment by breaking the fixed structure of the song,” says lyricist Gulzar. The free-flowing and meandering tune in Rehna Tu in Delhi-6 made Prasoon Joshi discover a new way of writing lyrics.
Existing moulds were broken in other ways as well. Mani Ratnam broke the Ilaiyaraaja monopoly when he gave Rahman a break in Roja, and Rahman, in turn, broke the monopoly of star singers by introducing a range of fresh voices. Once upon a time, a Kishore Kumar would be the one and only voice for a Rajesh Khanna or an Amitabh Bachchan. However, with Rahman, an Aamir can sing in several voices—be it Shankar’s or Javed Ali’s. Rahman gave primacy to the song, not the voice singing it or the actor enacting it. “He made many dreams come true, made many careers take off,” says Chennai-based playback singer Chinmayi Sripada. “It became like the IPL of music, anyone could shine and make it big,” comments music composer Shaleen Sharma.
“Whenever Rahman listens to somebody, the voice registers in his mind, and when he has a song fit for that voice he calls you,” says Harshdeep, who sang the shabad gurbani for him in Rang de Basanti. Having heard Mohit Chauhan at a Channel V concert in 1998, Rahman turned to him for Khoon Chala in Rang de Basanti. As a composer, he is unusually open to give-and-take from his singers. The laughter in Masakalli, for example, was Chauhan’s own suggestion, which Rahman decided to retain. “He has a vision and has the art of drawing out the best from the artiste,” says singer Naresh Iyer.
One way he does it is through generosity to those he works with. Sivamani, who has played for Rahman since Roja, recalls how every artiste who works for him is acknowledged on the CD covers. “Naveen who plays the flute, Javed Ali who does the guitar, became individual performers under him,” says Srinivasan.
His studio is said to house a range of instruments from across the world and he has introduced several of them in film music. In Masakalli, for instance, he has revived the accordion. Cello, harp, sarangi, electric violin and a variety of percussion instruments—all have found a place in Rahman’s music.
A great sound engineer and mixer, Rahman has also leveraged technology to bring in new clarity and detailing to music. He is known to record an entire song with just one singer, and later back it with music. “He works with the textures of voice. If the voice is thin, he fills up with instruments like a low cello,” says music composer Shantanu Moitra. “He has a magician-like quality in the way he transforms a song by adding layers to it; its complexity comes across with deceptive simplicity,” says filmmaker Srinivas Bhashyam. No wonder a Rahman song grows on you with each listening.
Rahman also displays a rare understanding of the context in which his music is set, absorbing the characters, the situations, the emotions in a film before composing. In the lathicharge sequence in Rang de Basanti, for instance, he chose to go with a hauntingly simple Khoon Chala instead of a dramatic percussive track, and managed to create an ironic, melancholic atmosphere for the sequence. For Bombay, he had used a simple violin track for the moving riot sequence.
It’s always difficult to pin down in words the appeal of a Rahman song. It speaks to different people in different ways. The best of music eventually is not about perfection but passion. It is not just about the intricacy of sur, taal or laya but capturing a feeling, touching the listener’s core. If good music is all about a song becoming a listener’s best friend, then Rahman has made us richer by many.
