Article title says "so & so on A R Rahman" but what follows after that can be 
summed up as "All the praises belong to all mighty IR & AR is just a cleverer 
sound organizer 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.

These guys are never gonna accept AR's greatness no matter what he achieves!

" The search is more important than the destination "  - a r rahman -

--- On Sat, 28/2/09, Pradeepan R <[email protected]> wrote:
From: Pradeepan R <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: [arr] Jingle-Jangle Morning
To: [email protected]
Date: Saturday, 28 February, 2009, 11:24 PM











    
            "It has to be said that serious musical work belongs to 
Ilaiyaraaja."

Atrocious, to say the Least !!!


On Sat, Feb 28, 2009 at 7:25 AM, Gopal Srinivasan <catchg...@yahoo. com> wrote:


















    
            

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. 

        
        
        
         
        
        








        


        
        


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