The interview which appears below was originally published in Nasreen Munni Kabir's book, A.R. Rahman: The Spirit of Music. ©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.
NMK: How do you deal with the pressures in your life?
ARR: I leave Chennai whenever possible and visit a Sufi dargah [shrine] near Mahabalipuram—the shrine is near the sea. I discovered it some twenty years ago. I feel great peace there. It’s like exchanging “salaams.” “Salaam” means peace. I find a connection to God and the Sufi saint whose shrine it is. Being there takes away all the pressures.
NMK: On the Net there are many versions of how you came to be called A.R. Rahman. What is the real story?
ARR: The truth is I never liked my name. I don’t know why, but I just didn’t like the sound of it. No disrespect to the great actor Dilip Kumar! But somehow my name didn’t match the image I had of myself.
Sometime before we started on our journey on the path of Sufism, we went to an astrologer to show him my younger sister’s horoscope because my mother wanted her to get married. This was around the same time when I was keen to change my name and have a new identity. The astrologer looked at me and said: “This guy is very interesting.” [both laugh]
He suggested the names: “Abdul Rahman” and “Abdul Rahim” and said that either name would be good for me. I instantly loved the name “Rahman.” It was a Hindu astrologer who gave me a Muslim name. [smiles]
Then my mother had this intuition that I should add “Allahrakha” [Protected by God], and I became A.R. Rahman. It’s an unusual name. In 1991, when I started working on my first film, Roja, I thought the film and album credits should have my new name. My mentor Mani Ratnam and K. Balachander, the producer of Roja, graciously agreed.
NMK: And now you’re stuck with the title “The Mozart of Madras.”
ARR: I really don’t know how that happened. It isn’t my favorite label. I think poor Mozart should be left alone. [both laugh]
NMK: Indian film music has relied on a handful of playback singers, each brilliant in their own way, who have sung most of the songs since the late 1940s. When you came on the scene, you broadened this selection by choosing many new voices. Why did you choose to do that?
ARR: I was working with many people—children and folk artists—when composing commercials, so I heard a huge variety of singing talent. The common practice in Indian cinema is that a playback singer sings all the songs for a given actor. Audiences had even started associating a singing voice with a particular star. For example, T.M. Soundararajan was considered the voice of Sivaji Ganesan and Mukesh became Raj Kapoor’s singing voice and so on. When I started composing for Indian cinema, I thought: “Why stick to one singer?”
The recording technology had changed by that time. We had multi-track recorders and I could spend time coaching and producing a new singer at my own pace. Once the singer is ready, we go for a take. If you produce a song well and use a voice that suits it, it brings freshness to the song and screen character. A greater range of voices can appeal. It isn’t necessary that we must always hear the same voice.
I remember people loved the voice of playback singer Minmini when her first film song “Chinna chinna aasai” appeared in Roja. She also sang the Hindi [“Dil hai chhota sa”], Malayalam and Telugu versions.
It’s also good to encourage new singers. It opens a new world for them. They don’t have to resign themselves to thinking that their luck will maybe change some ten or twelve years down the line.
NMK: What qualities do you look for in a singer?
ARR: A voice needs to have character and must sound effortless. A good voice is like an aroma, a perfume that makes you feel good. Some people can sing anything and make it sound good. Others try hard, but that isn’t enough. I’m also interested in the personality of the voice. Is the voice saying something? Is the voice creating an extraordinary mood in your heart?
A voice needs to convince—that’s important. But how can a voice convince? You can start by making sure the words aren’t sung half-heartedly or performed too loudly or softly, if the song does not require it. Sung half-heartedly, a song will sound mediocre. The right voice adds a totally different interpretation and mood to emotional lyrics.
Very few people in the world can make you cry through their singing. But if a voice has a spiritual quality, it can bring tears. I believe there’s a relationship between the inner self and the voice. A voice always reflects personality. Like the face reflects the inner self.
I think a good voice is a gift of God. And the singers of Indian cinema who have this gift evoke deep emotions that can soothe us and cannot be explained.
