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Rahman unplugged

The Rahman effect in film music is not something that can be easily comprehended or explained in normal terms. Never has a music director-composer created this kind of hype, spurred so much speculation, fuelled so many contrasting (that’s an understatement) emotions and opinions and single-handedly altered the very complexion of film music.

Everything about him is so outre that the one word that can encapsulate Rahman and to which both friend and foe will at once agree on is ‘unique’. Rahman’s entry into Hindi films itself was well, different. His first Tamil film was dubbed as Roja in Hindi in 1993, and no one remotely expected either the film or the music to be the rage they went on to become. So different was Rahman from the breed that our over-worked, under-trained music directors during that period had already re-worked his songs (in films like Meherbaan), as at that stage, they could not have even dreamt of Roja being dubbed, let alone becoming a sell-out album and a super-hit film!
Rahman’s next chartbusting scores in Tamil, The Gentleman, broke fresh records, and made indirect news in Bollywood. Mahesh Bhatt decided to remake the film and signed Nadeem-Shravan, who quit the film because they were told to re-do two or three of the original tunes. In stepped the compromise-friendly Anu Malik, who re-worked two of Rahman’s numbers from the Tamil original as Roop Suhana Lagta Hai and Chik Pik Rika.

But it was in 1995 that the Rahman hype really began, as Rahman confirmed his ‘different’ and ‘hit’ credentials with the chartbusting scores of two more dubbed films, Bombay and Humse Hain Muqabala the latter’s Muqabala spawning a record six copies including O Jaaneman Chehera Tera (Raghuveer), the hit Sanu-Alka duet from Sabse Bada Khiladi and even a non-film album ‘composed’ by Pradeep Lad. And just as Hindi film music directors were writing him off as a dubbed film music maker, Rahman flummoxed the opposition and snatched a major award from under the noses of Rajesh Roshan (Karan Arjun) and Jatin Lalit (Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge) for his toe-thumping score in Rangeela.

He came, he saw and he left his indelible stamp on the Hindi film music scene. And he is now creating music for an English play with Andrew Lloyd Webber in London. For some, he is a demi-God. There are those who feel that he is not worth raving about. But no one can ignore A.R. Rahman. Why? Rajiv Vijayakar tries to analyse the Rahman effect.

Few scores in Hindi film history had the sheer ‘physicality’ of Rangeela’s songs like Yai re, Tanha tanha, Hai rama and Pyar yeh jaane kaisa hai, all of which set the adrenaline pumping and the hormones tangoing. With these three films, Rahman emerged as the pop icon of the ’90s- for which other genre (including Indipop) could match film music in popularity?
Like the emergence of every major force in music - (Shanker-Jaikishan in 1949-50, Laxmikant-Pyarelal in 1963, R.D. Burman in 1971-72, Bappi Lahiri in 82-83, and Nadeem-Shravan in 90-91) - Rahman left the competition gaspingly disoriented. The reactions were equally varied - senior composer Pyarelal declared that with his ignorance of Hindi, Rahman would not sustain; Anand-Milind, Rajesh Roshan and Anu Malik grew insecure enough to go in for more sources of inspiration, Jatin-Lalit could not fathom why an all-hit, original and melodious score like Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge lost the award to Rangeela and Nadeem-Shravan, the men most affected by the Rahman-Malik onslaught, simply declared that Rahman’s music was like the chorus of municipal workers on their job in the streets.

Keen observers predicted early cracks in the Rahman edifice and they were proved both right and wrong. Rukmani was traced to a foreign source, severe repititiousness and a lack of range was pointed out in subsequent scores like the dubbed Chor Chor (Thiruda Thiruda), Tu Hi Mera Dil, Priyanka and Love Birds and Rahman was accused of excessively relying on musical, vocal and even lyrical gimmicks.

Rahman gave a new definition to clever redesigning of metres and tunes. But an 8-year-old girl with a penchant for vintage film music traced the lineage of Muqabala to Shanker Jaikishan’s evergreen Pyar hua ikraar hua, and his Hindustani chartbuster Tada was discovered to have its moorings in Har nazar ke sau afsane, the vintage delight sung by Lata Mangeshkar for Usha Khanna. And Khanna herself was known to get ‘inspired’ by West Asian Music!

Admittedly, his original scores-usually-were a shade better than his dubbed work, but many of the songs had the same rehashed quality (like Shabba shabba from Daud being a pale version of Kya kare kya na kare from Rangeela). But with Rahman stubbornly refusing to acquaint himself with Hindi his lyrical standards went for a complete toss.

What then made Rahman taste mega-success? A major factor was that he was ‘saleable’. Even his disasters first reached the top of the pops solely on his name before hurtling towards ignominy. Rahman’s image was that of a pop star who was shy, unassuming and the still-water-runs-deep kind of genius. His rebellious look at rhythm, orchestration and sound raised the hackles of the Orthodox school, sent the hep crowd into a frenzy, and made the competition both in the South and Bollywood do a rethink on whether to lose the race or follow his path. For the music companies and channels of course, he was a blessing.

Aligning with Sukhwindara Singh, Rahman dared step into North Indian territory as he focussed for a while on Hindi films made by filmmakers like Subhash Ghai, Boney Kapoor, Govind Nihalani and even Deepa Mehta.

Rahman has long realized that to sustain in Hindi cinema he has to merge the musical grammar within him with Hindustani music as much as he does with Western styles. The first major step Rahman took in this direction was Dil Se (1998) with which he began his gradual evolution into a Hindi film composer.

Everyone knows the origins of Chal Chhaiyyaan Chaiyyaan by now, but Rahman scored decisively with two lovely numbers Jiya Jale Jaan Jale and Udit’s even more splendid Ae ajnabee. Followed Taal, the splendid 1947 - Earth, Pukar, (Ek tu hi bharosa, Sunta hai mera khuda, the classic Qismat se tum humko mile ho) and surprise surpise - even the dubbed Dil Hi Dil Mein in which Rahman salvaged the mediocre score with two terrific numbers without even a whiff of his roots - Ae Nazneen Suno Na and Chand utra hai zameen pe, sung by Udit and Kavita.

Admittedly, Rahman is now after bigger game, though in the South his music has been rarely known to fail. He is doing an English play with Andrew Loyd Webber and is eyeing the international scene in a big way even as he has curtailed his work for Hindi films (he currently has Aamir Khan’s Lagaan, Rajkumar Santoshi’s Lajja and some old assignments that are progressing slowly like One Two Ka Four and Love You Hameshaa).

But there is another entirely plausible side to it: Rahman is fully aware that he can neither be prolific nor as efficient in delivering music outside his natural bent. To stick to selected Hindi films would be the perfect solution, his international ambitions notwithstanding.

As veteran Naushad said, “He (Rahman) is extremely talented, but he is completely Western in his outlook.” While Nida Fazli lauds his trend-setting ingenuity and distinct style, the Western music-trained Vanraj Bhatia shares Naushad’s opinion broadly by stating that Rahman is too conscious of technical aspects and loses out on the soul and lasting melody - despite having the talent.

So where precisely does Rahman stand today? Is he the much-needed saviour of music, a brilliant leader, an artful fake or the destroyer of music? Blasphemous as it may sound, he is all of these together. Rahman showed us the tremendous importance and immaculate balancing of sound, to compete with the best from the West, and popularized Indian music abroad, getting Indian musicians noticed and admired by their counterparts in the West. He paved the way for greater interaction with Western musicians and enjoys tremendous popularity among NRIs chiefly because his music is a heady amalgam of the music from their roots and that they have grown up with.

Back home, he has inspired every composer in the rat-race to emulate him to some degree or other, and proved that you don’t need the support of a film or a top playback singer, or a particular orchestral formula to deliver a sixer at the charts.
At the same time, the man has forever corroded the identity of Hindi film music which our master-composers helped delineate painstakingly from classical or folk forms right from the late ’30s.

Rahman’s globalization of music will never be forgiven by passionate addicts of Hindi film music from the ’30s to the early ’90s. Despite his limited Hindi oeuvre (about a dozen original films and 12-15 dubbed ones) he has shown very limited range. And despite the hype, has been exposed long ago by passionate (and unbiased) listeners as being far from the phenomenal genius he is touted out to be.

In short, he is a composer who is greatly talented, not too versatile, hard working and willing to learn and experiment (when he chooses) - a human figure who has been raised to the status of a demi-God by those who actually do not even understand his music. If he learns his lessons well (as he seems to have done till now), he will remain a potent force, especially since he works to and never works beyond his capacity.

But if he begins to believe in the chimera his sycophants and fans have built around him, it is we music lovers who will miss out on superb creations like Banno Rani (1947), Roshan Hui Raat (Sapnay), Pyaare Panchhi Baahon Mein (Hindustani) and Ishq Bina (Taal).