Jingle-Jangle Morning
Free of cultural colours, Rahman's music rings to global ears


SADANAND MENON ON A.R. RAHMAN

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Comparisons are odious. But in south India—and in Chennai at least—you can’t 
duck the over
15-year-long debate on the comparative ‘genius’ of A.R. Rahman and his musical 
senior by
twenty-three years, Ilaiyaraaja. Rahman’s double Oscar haul might have been a 
seamless moment
of Indian triumph at Kodak Theatre, but in his native Chennai, it reopened the 
old debate. If
Rahman is ‘Mozart’ to his followers, Ilaiyaraaja is ‘Bach’ to his.
The connection between the two goes back a long way. In the early 1970s, as 
Ilaiyaraaja was
trying to find a toehold in Kollywood, working with hit music directors like 
M.S. Viswanathan,
Salil Choudhury, G.K. Venkatesh and such, he was simultaneously trying to 
compose his own
music. The instruments he hired for this were from another south Indian 
composer, R.K. Shekhar,
who happened to be Rahman’s father.

Shekhar passed away shortly thereafter, but the family continued to hire out 
instruments. By
the early 1980s, Ilaiyaraaja had become the stuff of legend, having already 
rewritten the rules
of music composition in south Indian films with his dramatic debut in Annakkili 
(1976). As a
good turn to the family that had helped him on the road to fame, he absorbed 
the barely
15-year-old Rahman as a keyboard player in his orchestra. For almost 10 years, 
Rahman continued
to perform for Ilaiyaraaja, before Mani Ratnam handed him the baton for Roja 
(1992). And the
rest, as they say, is history.

The hotly debated issue in the south is whether Rahman would have realised any 
of his potential
but for the wide door that had already been pushed open for him—musically— by 
the pioneering
work of Ilaiyaraaja. Interestingly, both are proficient in western classical 
harmonies and
string arrangements. Both have graduated from the Trinity College of Music, 
London, though
Ilaiyaraaja bagged a gold medal there. For classical Indian music, both were 
students of
Dhanraj ‘Master’ in Chennai. Both have awesome proficiency on the piano, 
keyboard and
synthesizer. On top of it, both are versatile vocalists, with a distinctly 
nasal tinge.

Ilaiyaraaja’s over 30-year-long career has seen him compose over 4,000 songs in 
six languages,
with a dynamic yoking of south Indian folk tunes to western orchestration, 
which brought him
three national awards. Earlier Oscar entries from India like Anjali (1990) and 
Hey Ram (2000)
boasted of his music score. Amazingly, he has sung over 400 songs himself. 
Rahman has been in
the field for roughly half the time of Ilaiyaraaja. He has won four national 
awards and now
holds on to a Golden Globe, a piece of metal from BAFTA and the two Oscar 
statuettes.

While the similarities between the two are significant, it is their differences 
that should
interest us. Ilaiyaraaja’s music creates itself around and inhabits culturally 
identifiable
frames, whether classical, semi-classical or folk. His compositions are 
raga-based and even in
western classical-inspired numbers, he acknowledges the sanctity of its 
original structures.
Where he makes a departure is in the polyphonic interludes. A typical example 
would be his
amazing foot-tapper, ‘Rakkamma, Kaiyye Thattu...’ (Thalapathi, 1991), in which 
he moves with
panache from a swiftly orchestrated popular folk tune to a serene, quiet solo 
classical with a
deft, magical interlude of hummed bars.

Rahman, on the other hand, is a cleverer sound organiser and it is his artistry 
with the
synthesizer that is the hallmark of his music. In fact, Rahman is perhaps the 
finest tuner of
short jingles that we have, and his early career was built up composing 
advertisement jingles
for coffee, sports shoes and such. This also included, for example, the catchy 
signature tune
for Asianet, the first private regional language TV channel in India.

Listening to these, one can construct a fair map of Rahman’s musical method. 
Most of his
compositions are, in fact, a stringing together of discrete jingles joined 
together by
counterpoints and contrapuntal bridges. A serious examination of his music will 
reveal the
carryover of the seductive values of his lineage in advertising. It is devoid 
of cultural
markers, unlike in Ilaiyaraaja’s work. This, now, becomes his strength as it 
finds ready
resonance in the globalised entertainment industry, which is constantly on the 
hunt for ‘sounds
without shadows’.

It has to be said that serious musical work belongs to Ilaiyaraaja. Rahman’s 
forte is packaged
marketing of catchy jingles. Of course, one hums along.

http://www.outlookindia.com/full.asp?fodname=20090309&fname=Cover+Story&sid=6

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