A long time ago someone close asked me why I have always loved to listen to a song more in an auditorium during a movie re-run, than on the radio. While not quite accurate, listening to Radio Ceylon in the dead of night had its own charm (the silence of the night helped hold the song deep inside you forever!), but playing hookie from school to enjoy the glory that was the classic Shankar-Jaikishan soundtrack in the Maratha Mandir or Naaz or Liberty with a thousand other voices of a packed audience was an experience which, I thought, was gone with my high school years...
....until this last Saturday, at the Shanmukhananda Hall in Bombay at a revival of the legendary Manna Dey's songs under the auspices of Keep Alive and its very eloquent founder, Manohar Iyer.
People, I have been away for the better part of forty years and what I have missed in the interim was driven home to me forcefully, time and time again, during the just-under-four-hour programme that a very able troupe belted out to the delight of an appreciative crowd. For long I have lived in muted despair bemoaning the current state of our film music, missing the singers, composers and poets (if not most of the movies) of our time but this quintet of wonderful voices convinced me that all is not yet lost and that nostalgia will remain alive and well for a few years more.
That era of the 30s thru the 60s (yes, I am convinced there was a lot of good even in the declining 60s) will always remain with us as the era of definitive music and eloquent poetry and great, great singing. True, there was change and evolving every step of the way but the Muse was never lost sight of and each new genius added to our experience of the art.
While Manna Dey's forte was raga-based compositions, he excelled in folk renderings as also the occasional risque trivial compositions, as later film situations demanded.
All this came to the fore thanks to Rana and Gaurav and Sagar and Radhika and Shruti as they led us down memory lane and brought to life the years that we will always remember. Think of the poets whose songs Manna Dey rendered and the music directors who Manna Dey sang for, and we had a very colourful and composite musical tribute to a legend that is probably in the final years of his life.
Fittingly, the evening opened with the Kavi Pradeep-SD Burman tandem and Manna Dey's takeoff number from 1950s Mashal,'Upar Gagan Vishaal'. Whatever skepticism my ignorant mind had harboured until then about these kids taking on the songs of the ages, was dispelled by the time the solo stepped aside after the 'mukhda' and the full-throated chorus stepped in and took over. Let me mention here that the film version of this classic does not sound half as good to my heart as does the re-recorded 78r.p.m. track which was, thankfully, adhered to by Sagar.
After that it was a roller-coaster ride of emotion and memories surging and goose-pimples and musical portraits of departed music directors and poets and fellow singers of Manna Da's era. And as we coasted down the three-odd hours and more, we remembered poets and wordcrafters ranging from Kavi Pradeep and Bharat Vyas, to Sahir Ludhianvi to Kaifi Azmi to Shailendra-Hasrat to Majrooh and Gulzar and music directors from Sachin Dev Burman, all the way down to his scion, Rahul Dev Burman and beyond. In this context, one does not understand why Naushad-saab never found use for Manna Dey's vocals, barring two of his tracks in Shabab and Mother India: the two could have done a lot together!
In between, thanks to Manohar Iyer's effusive commentary we learned how Manna Dey was often short-changed (barring Lata, which singer was not?!)over the years and finally relegated to sing for a horror comic like Mehmood, so much like Mukesh-ji. And we learned why the very gentle Mukesh himself lost so much of his value and market as a singer in the mid-50s thanks to a bungled film compromise.
There is no audience like an audience at a concert of vintage Indian film music. I have noticed and shared the deep love and veneration we have for our film music, at movie halls right from my school days in Bombay. Not for us the deep sigh and then silence as the conductor waves his baton at concerts, elsewhere (not that there is anything wrong with that)but we never hesitate to punctuate a song at the right moment, with a disciplined, subdued applause that passes as soon as the singer moves on. I loved this feeling once again on Saturday. True, most of us gathered there were a fraternity and each of us knew what we were looking for in the songs that we heard. But the joy shared, thus, was multiple and varied. I will never forget, though, the moment of rapt silence as Rana brought Anil Biswas-ji's resounding 'Buddham Saranam Gacchhami' to an end, before the applause broke. Gaurav excelled at and moved us with his renderings of the Prem Dhawan-Salil Chaudhury creation 'Ai Mere Pyare Watan' from Kabuliwala and the Makhdoom Mohiuddin-Salil Chaudhury classic 'Janewale Sipahise Pucchho' from Bimal Roy's Usne Kaha Tha.
What I did miss was listening live to that folk song of all folk song compositions 'Dharti Kahe Pukarke' from Do Bigha Zamin. These voices would have done more than justice to Salil-da's great chorus.
I could go on and on about this fine programme, but let me point out an incorrect factoid that has been rankling me for many years ever since I first came across it. It is a common misconception that the film Begunah (fine rendering of the Manna Dey-Lata duet on stage, by the way) was based on the Hollywood
film Knock On Wood, starring Danny Kaye. This actor's name itself would be a dead giveaway, for the film was a comedy of the mid-50s and had no crime in it. What we need to remember as the base for 'Begunah' was Highway 301, a noir crime caper made in 1950, which was released at the Eros theatre in Bombay and which subsequently spawned 'Begunah', which was later withdrawn due to copyright reasons. An interesting aside to this mess was the assault on the Bombay branch of a prominent British bank, patterned exactly as the bank holdup was in the Hollywood film. This is just by the way and in no way has taken away from the glory that was last weekend's programme. These kids actually made me perceive melody in eminently forgettable songs like Chitragupta-ji's Jodi Hamari Jamega Kaise from Aulad and in the Laxmi-Pyare duet from Pyar Kiye Ja. Kudos! The female vocals were delirious!
Many thanks, Mr. Iyer: to you and your gallant singers one and all and the rest of the troupe. The song embedded here is for all of you.
....until this last Saturday, at the Shanmukhananda Hall in Bombay at a revival of the legendary Manna Dey's songs under the auspices of Keep Alive and its very eloquent founder, Manohar Iyer.
People, I have been away for the better part of forty years and what I have missed in the interim was driven home to me forcefully, time and time again, during the just-under-four-hour programme that a very able troupe belted out to the delight of an appreciative crowd. For long I have lived in muted despair bemoaning the current state of our film music, missing the singers, composers and poets (if not most of the movies) of our time but this quintet of wonderful voices convinced me that all is not yet lost and that nostalgia will remain alive and well for a few years more.
That era of the 30s thru the 60s (yes, I am convinced there was a lot of good even in the declining 60s) will always remain with us as the era of definitive music and eloquent poetry and great, great singing. True, there was change and evolving every step of the way but the Muse was never lost sight of and each new genius added to our experience of the art.
While Manna Dey's forte was raga-based compositions, he excelled in folk renderings as also the occasional risque trivial compositions, as later film situations demanded.
All this came to the fore thanks to Rana and Gaurav and Sagar and Radhika and Shruti as they led us down memory lane and brought to life the years that we will always remember. Think of the poets whose songs Manna Dey rendered and the music directors who Manna Dey sang for, and we had a very colourful and composite musical tribute to a legend that is probably in the final years of his life.
Fittingly, the evening opened with the Kavi Pradeep-SD Burman tandem and Manna Dey's takeoff number from 1950s Mashal,'Upar Gagan Vishaal'. Whatever skepticism my ignorant mind had harboured until then about these kids taking on the songs of the ages, was dispelled by the time the solo stepped aside after the 'mukhda' and the full-throated chorus stepped in and took over. Let me mention here that the film version of this classic does not sound half as good to my heart as does the re-recorded 78r.p.m. track which was, thankfully, adhered to by Sagar.
After that it was a roller-coaster ride of emotion and memories surging and goose-pimples and musical portraits of departed music directors and poets and fellow singers of Manna Da's era. And as we coasted down the three-odd hours and more, we remembered poets and wordcrafters ranging from Kavi Pradeep and Bharat Vyas, to Sahir Ludhianvi to Kaifi Azmi to Shailendra-Hasrat to Majrooh and Gulzar and music directors from Sachin Dev Burman, all the way down to his scion, Rahul Dev Burman and beyond. In this context, one does not understand why Naushad-saab never found use for Manna Dey's vocals, barring two of his tracks in Shabab and Mother India: the two could have done a lot together!
In between, thanks to Manohar Iyer's effusive commentary we learned how Manna Dey was often short-changed (barring Lata, which singer was not?!)over the years and finally relegated to sing for a horror comic like Mehmood, so much like Mukesh-ji. And we learned why the very gentle Mukesh himself lost so much of his value and market as a singer in the mid-50s thanks to a bungled film compromise.
There is no audience like an audience at a concert of vintage Indian film music. I have noticed and shared the deep love and veneration we have for our film music, at movie halls right from my school days in Bombay. Not for us the deep sigh and then silence as the conductor waves his baton at concerts, elsewhere (not that there is anything wrong with that)but we never hesitate to punctuate a song at the right moment, with a disciplined, subdued applause that passes as soon as the singer moves on. I loved this feeling once again on Saturday. True, most of us gathered there were a fraternity and each of us knew what we were looking for in the songs that we heard. But the joy shared, thus, was multiple and varied. I will never forget, though, the moment of rapt silence as Rana brought Anil Biswas-ji's resounding 'Buddham Saranam Gacchhami' to an end, before the applause broke. Gaurav excelled at and moved us with his renderings of the Prem Dhawan-Salil Chaudhury creation 'Ai Mere Pyare Watan' from Kabuliwala and the Makhdoom Mohiuddin-Salil Chaudhury classic 'Janewale Sipahise Pucchho' from Bimal Roy's Usne Kaha Tha.
What I did miss was listening live to that folk song of all folk song compositions 'Dharti Kahe Pukarke' from Do Bigha Zamin. These voices would have done more than justice to Salil-da's great chorus.
I could go on and on about this fine programme, but let me point out an incorrect factoid that has been rankling me for many years ever since I first came across it. It is a common misconception that the film Begunah (fine rendering of the Manna Dey-Lata duet on stage, by the way) was based on the Hollywood
film Knock On Wood, starring Danny Kaye. This actor's name itself would be a dead giveaway, for the film was a comedy of the mid-50s and had no crime in it. What we need to remember as the base for 'Begunah' was Highway 301, a noir crime caper made in 1950, which was released at the Eros theatre in Bombay and which subsequently spawned 'Begunah', which was later withdrawn due to copyright reasons. An interesting aside to this mess was the assault on the Bombay branch of a prominent British bank, patterned exactly as the bank holdup was in the Hollywood film. This is just by the way and in no way has taken away from the glory that was last weekend's programme. These kids actually made me perceive melody in eminently forgettable songs like Chitragupta-ji's Jodi Hamari Jamega Kaise from Aulad and in the Laxmi-Pyare duet from Pyar Kiye Ja. Kudos! The female vocals were delirious!
Many thanks, Mr. Iyer: to you and your gallant singers one and all and the rest of the troupe. The song embedded here is for all of you.
