I am a humanist first and music listener and writer on music next.
What is written here is my personal evaluation and opinion.
I don’t expect my readers to subscribe to any of my opinions.
What is written here is my personal evaluation and opinion.
I don’t expect my readers to subscribe to any of my opinions.
-SHAJI
Genius is created neither by great intelligence nor by high imagination. Unchanging love, love and only love is what the soul of a true genius - Mozart.
Ilayaraja spoke at a function organised by Film Music Artistes Union of Chennai to congratulate A.R. Rahman on his winning the Oscar Awards. He narrated a story about Roshan and Madan Mohan, the two great Hindi film music composers of yesteryears. Ilayaraja said, “Roshan and Madan Mohan never met each other in their life-time. When Roshan passed away, Madan Mohan lamented over his dead body, as he shed tears, ‘Now with whom shall I compete’. They had never met each other, but they were conversing with each other through their music.”
I am unable to fathom what Ilayaraja wanted to convey on the stage with this story. But I am sure of one thing. What he said is not true. Roshan and Madan Mohan were great friends. Composer Jaidev had said that it was Roshan who introduced Madan Mohan to him. Jaidev was an extraordinary composer of his time. You can read about the depth of friendship among these three great musicians in my article ‘Jaidev, the lonely music traveler’. Even as I was racking my brain as to why a genius like Ilayaraja should narrate something about which he had no first-hand information on such an important occasion, I was flabbergasted by another of his comments appeared on news papers. Ilayaraja pronounced that the film music album of the recently released Malayalam film Pazhasshiraja did not worked due to the deficiency of the lyrics of O.N.V. Kurup.
O.N.V. Kurup is a famous Malayalam poet. He has to his credit lyrics of many hugely popular Malayalam film songs. While he has written great lyrics to traditional scores, writing lyrics for preset tunes is not his strong point. Ilayaraja, who has worked with Kurup in many films earlier, should have been well aware of this. Conceding for a moment Ilayaraja’s line of argument, how do lyrics diminish the standard of music? Can we forget the fact that late Salil Chowdhury created many immortal songs of Malayalam film music with Kurup’s lyrics? Why Salilda alone? Did not many of Ilayaraja’s famous Malayalam film songs have Kurup’s lyrics?
Many of Ilayaraja’s fans will be angered and offended to read this criticism. As far as they are concerned, Ilayaraja is God. This God can never commit any mistake on any subject. Many such Ilayaraja fans have been sending me e-mails, the burden of which is that music of the film Pazhasshiraja is great and Ilayaraja’s some other recent Malayalam film songs are even greater. This sycophancy makes one thing very clear. These fans have never understood either the substance or the magic of music created by Ilayaraja, without doubt one of the great composers of film music in India.
Just as it is said that Michael Jackson is the King of Pop, I will say that Ilayaraja is the King of South Indian Folk Music. It is Folk Music that is truly pure music form maximizing the emotional carry of a music format. It is also the music of the poor and the oppressed. It represents the emotions and aspirations of rural life. While it is one genre it effortlessly brings out the sweetness and uniqueness of widely different rural settings. We get to listen to human expressions of talent and energy in its most natural flow, without any pretension or make-up.
There are folk music expressions unique to every season and every occasion of rural life like the birth, the death, coming of age of the girl, betrothal, wedding and so on. This is the music that graces temple festivals, religious festivals and agricultural processes like tilling, sowing, transplantation and harvesting. Folk musicians express their hopes, fears, expectations and celebrations in their raw voices. They create music instruments out of whatever comes to their hand like clay pot, hollowed out and dried bottle gourd, coconut shell, bamboo, wood and skins and leathers of animals that inhabit the villages and forests around them. Ilayaraja has gone on record about having made flutes out of bamboo and playing on them during his childhood spent in wandering around the villages.
Nobody teaches folk music in the villages. There are neither teachers who teach the folk art nor students who dedicate their lives to learn it. The poverty of villagers does not provide them such facilities. It is the poor who eke out the twice-a-day bare nourishments by working on the fields of the rich, or cultivate their small uneconomic plots of land or perform sundry other odd jobs, alternate as the folk artistes.
Rasaiah, renowned as Ilayaraja, was one such folk artiste. Born in a very poor family in a village in Theni district of Tamilnadu, Ilayaraja has even worked as an agriculture labourer on daily wages. He had studied only up to 8th standard. He had listened and then learnt folk music aimlessly internalizing the nuances of the art. His mother was a big depository of countless folk songs. Growing up on this staple of songs from childhood, it shaped his delicately nuanced understanding of music and later determined his hold and sway over the field of music. Ilayaraja was the first film music composer in India to bring various strands of folk music and its ever bubbling and boiling emotions to the drawing rooms of every film music lovers in South India.
Salil Chowdhury was the first composer in India to create immortal songs by blending western classical music strains with Indian folk music. He did this in the 1940s itself. But his rare music failed to find great success in the ruthless market place. But Ilayaraja’s compositions of Tamil film music blending folk music with western classical elements established him as the Emperor of Tamil film music enabling him to reign supreme from later half of seventies to early nineties.
Ilayaraja’s quest for western music, like his quest for folk music, started at a very young age. Having grown up hearing the Western music based Christian devotionals, the Church functions provided him the opportunity to comprehend the format of the Western music. Later, in Chennai he was trained by Music Teacher Dhanraj Master to understand the nuanced differences and intricacies of Western Classical music. Ilayaraja went on to become an excellent player of Guitar and Piano in the Western Classical mode. The manner in which he employed Piano, Guitar and Violin groups in his songs testifies to his deep understanding and excellent command of Classical Western music.
Ilayaraja’s innings of many years as Guitarist and Combo Organ player under many composers including Salil Chowdhury infused in him the confidence to become a composer himself. The creative freedom he enjoyed under composer G.K. Venkatesh while he worked as his assistant in so many Kannada films played a great part in his evolution as an important composer.
Apart from blending folk music and western music, Ilayaraja employed Carnatic music ragas in his compositions in great measure. In his compositions, even difficult ragas morphed into pleasant to hear tunes that moved even average listeners to ecstasy. Ilayaraja, who scored the music for four films in 1976, his debut year, kept increasing the number of films he composed for, every year, till in 1992 he scored music for a staggering 56 films. At that period, his songs were the only ones to play in every nook and corner of South India, especially so in Tamilnadu.
Ilayaraja ruled the world of film music for many years with prodigious scores in large number of Malayalam, Kannada and Telugu films besides quite a few Hindi films as well. He revitalized the background scores of film songs by intricate but easy on the ear orchestrations and novel use of the Base Guitar. His scores became a feast for a new and growing band of fans of instrumental music, a class of new listeners created by Ilayaraja’s musical scores.
What Ilayaraja created in his first decade as composer was a magical world of music. He boldly experimented with new inspirations with extraordinary creativity. He drove the masses to wild enjoyment of many of his fine songs created around folk music that makes you dance with a spring in your step and classy melodies that warms your heart. All were super hit songs that hit the deck both in terms of critical and commercial success.
In the fifteen years that followed, he went on creating songs at the rate of three songs a day on an average. Ilayaraja had the rare ability of writing down all his music score notations for his songs without either singing the song or playing it on an instrument. Within a few hours of his early morning arrival at the recording studio, he would write down all the notations of songs slated for recording that day. The recording of the song takes place as soon as the score notated by him is handed out to the instrument players in the orchestra and the singers and is over in a jiffy. Mixing and other finishing work is done the same day in the time left after recording. Thus his Prasad Studio in Chennai practically became a song factory.
Ilayaraja scored the background music for almost all the films that he worked in. The entire industry looked in awed surprise at his disciplined approach to his work and fast paced work ethic as he completed film after film with large number of songs in every one of them with the speed of lightening. He created and delivered magical songs in hundreds. I am not going to enumerate here those great songs and the films for which the songs were crafted. As these are facts known to all, it will be futile to mention them. Moreover, that is not the purpose of this article.
No artiste is beyond criticism. Creation of every art is for submission to admirers of art for appraisal, acceptance, appreciation and ovation. Criticism too is an integral part of this appraisal. Without criticism the artiste remains a raw talent, rough and uncut, unevolved and underperforming. It is said that Ilayaraja, after reaching the zenith of success in the eighties, became totally intolerant of criticism.
Some time ago, I wrote an article in an issue of Times of India titled ‘Ilayaraja, A Historic Happening’. But looking at Ilayaraja’s recent scores for Pazhasshiraja (Malayalam), Nannavanu (Kannada) and Paa (Hindi) I get an uncomfortable feeling that, perhaps, the touch of class which Ilayaraja’s music had and the Golden Age of his reign are both history. Many songs that Ilayaraja has been churning out for quite a few years now confirm that his height of creativity was reached long ago. But his fans described above are unable and unwilling to accept this for a fact.
Even in the few songs where the basic score is impressively set, some sort of indifference leads it to shaky aesthetics. Pazhasshiraja, for example, has a tribal song beginning with the line ‘Ambum Kombum’. This is one of the best tribal songs that I have heard in Indian film music. This is among the best of Ilayaraja’s recent songs, carefully crafted with typical tribal background voices and sounds and unique tribal instruments. The song is sung by Ilayaraja, a folk singer named Kuttappan and a lady singer Manjari. Manjari, who has sung a few of Ilayaraja numbers in recent times, is a below average singer. In a song where everything is near perfect Manjari’s rendering is a big minus. The voice of Manjari, innocent of any emotion, does not sit well with the tribal soul of the song. It is also unfortunate that the song went entirely unnoticed.
The songs of the film Paa are nothing to write home about. Shilpa Rao is an average singer whose lifeless rendering of the song ‘Mudi Mudi Kaha Kaha Me Mudi Mudi’ is a vain effort to draw attention with sounds that go ‘Mudi Mudi Udi Udi Ladi Ladi Kadi Kadi’. The song ‘Gum Gum Sum’ is resurrection in a new form of the old Malayalam song ‘Thumbi Vaa Thumbakkudathin’ from the film Olangal (1982). This was later released in Tamil as ‘Sangathil Paadaatha Kavithai’. This particular song is one of my all-time favourite Ilayaraja numbers. The effort in vain to adapt this song to the present-day style has damaged the true essence of it. To add insult to injury some websites has given the opinion that it is a copy of the song ‘Istanbul, Not Constantinople’ of the Canadian Pop Troupe, The Four Lads, released in 1953.
A recent issue of a Kannada weekly had accused Ilayaraja of using his unreleased old songs in the new Kannada films. But when you hear the songs of the recently released ‘Nannavanu’ you will realize that the criticism does not hold water. Compared to the songs of this film any old Ilayaraja song is a gem. There are some musical moments in the songs reminding us of the Golden Age of Ilayaraja of yore, but it is sad to realize that the score on the whole is well below par. Have to admit that no artiste can claim endless creativity!
I happened to learn that Ilayaraja has admitted that Mozart, Bach and Beethoven were all his Gurus. He had undertaken a pilgrimage to all the places in Europe they had lived in. But I am unable to see whether he had internalized their values which we learn from their biographies. There is no record extant of Mozart having claimed ‘No yesterday, no tomorrow, I am the King for ever’ (Netru Illai Nalai Illai, Eppavum Naan Raaja’).
Ilayaraja has dismissed Bob Marley and Bob Dylan with contempt as ‘waste’. I am not suggesting that they are beyond criticism. If Ilayaraja can be criticized, he can criticize others. But Ilayaraja’s criticism will take nothing at all away from the fact that both accomplished a change for the better of the societies they lived in and gave the world total musical experience and elation. Both enjoyed millions of fans all over the world and critical admirers. They both are artistes who have given albums selling in millions to this day.
Bob Dylan is elder to Ilayaraja by two years. He lives among us through his music and songs. Even the Indian state of Mizoram recently had a month-long celebration of Bob Dylan’s birthday. Bob Marley, two years younger to Ilayaraja, who died at the age of 38, is the marvel who gave the world Reggae music. He was born in extreme poverty and was at the bottom of social ladder as the most oppressed. He had a more dire and sorrow-filled childhood than Ilayaraja can imagine. He had worked as a helper in an automobile repair shop and sweeper in restaurants. But before he passed away, he had done enormous work to lighten the burden of his people. He never forgot or separated himself from his roots even when he became an International star. He was generous in helping the poor. When he died, 4000 Jamaican families were living on his kindness.
The tradition of criticism of the arts has two schools of thought. One school maintains that while criticizing art one can ignore the personal life of its creator. The other school believes in looking at the art through the life of its creator. Art without heart is futile – this is the basis of the latter school. I endeavour to follow the second school of thought and seek to tell the readers that good art emerges from good heart. It is Dostoevsky who said: ‘Great Art saves the world’.
Ilayaraja is supposed to be a highly religious and spiritual man. When people with power and wealth are willing to do the bidding of gods and religions, cannot they at least provide the poor and oppressed of the society with some basic relief to alleviate the daily drudgery? After all, what is spirituality? Isn’t Indian spirituality propagates ‘Service to the poor is service to God’?
Ilayaraja, who in the first 10 years created emotion-filled music, suddenly in an effort to become a spiritual person, became like a monk. His life became a routine where he arrived at the recording theatre in the morning and started recording countless songs and background score for lackluster films till night. That was how he came to set the score for 56 films in the year 1992. If one manufactures music on a large scale the quality of it is bound to come down, even if you are a Beethoven.
Ilayaraja’s songs composed in the early part of his career as a composer are a standing testimony to the axiom in music that soulful music is neither a technical competence nor the mathematical algorithms of music. Nor, as he said once, can an aggregation of any sounds in a particular wave length become great music. Music is an emotion experienced with a feel by the mind. It is a great art to be approached with humility, love and an open mind. Hallucinations like ‘I am ever the King’ cannot create great music for long. There is a pointless line in a song composed by Ilayaraja for Kasthooriman, a Tamil film directed by Lohita Das, ‘Oh king, there is only music in your kingdom day after day’ (Raja Unthan Rajaangathil Naalum Naalum Isai thaan’). This is a spirit every true artist should abstain from.
To the best of my knowledge, Ilayaraja had never considered the creations of his contemporary composers as music. The late film director Lohita Das had recommended the names of two young singers to Ilayaraja for singing in the film Kasthooriman. Both went for an audition. They paid the obeisance of falling at the feet of Ilayaraja. One played the song sung by her for Vidyasagar and the other a song sung by her for Malayalam film music composer, Mohan Sithara. After hearing the songs, Ilayaraja was beside himself with anger. He considered both the songs as copies of his songs. Lohita Das tried to pacify him by telling him that no composer in South India can compose music without the sway of Ilayaraja’s music. This only angered Ilayaraja further and he said: “Are you encouraging this pollution of copying my music?” And he went on to reject the two singers as unfit to sing his songs!
The question here is: Are Ilayaraja’s repertoire of over 4500 songs entirely unique? Are all his songs totally original? In that case, how did his song ‘Kanavu Kaanum Vaazhkai Yaavum’ in Neengal Kettavai come about exactly as the much earlier song ‘Kasme Vaade Pyaar Wafaa’ composed by Kalyanji Anandji for the Hindi film Upkaar. Why does his song ‘Chittu Kuruvi’ for the film Chinnaveedu sound like Symphony 9 of Czech classical composer Antonin Dvorak? Is it his suggestion that the song ‘Canzione et Danza’ of contemporary Western Classical composer, Antonio Ruiz Pipo, was a copy of his song ‘Endha Poovilum Vaasam Undu’ of the film Murattu Kaalai? The theme music of the Malayalam film Yaathra is not the theme music of the Classic western film ‘Sound of Music’? Have Ilayaraja’s numbers in a few films not been influenced by Disco Pop groups like ABBA and Boney M?
Though similarities are clear in all the instances cited above, no music fan with an emotional feel for music will accuse Ilayaraja of plagiarism. Admiring somebody else’s creative art, being awed, attracted, moved and motivated by it is an artiste’s right. But Ilayaraja must show the same consideration to other composers as his music has undoubtedly influenced a lot of composers in South India. What needs to be discouraged is plagiarism without any effort at creativity. That is what one could call the theft of intellectual property.
There are a number of singers, who have been given regular opportunities by Ilayaraja, who have not shown themselves to be great singers through his songs. This suited Ilayaraja, since he expects his singers to merely vocalize his prepared music notations. There is no place at all for a creative contribution from his singers in his scheme of song creation. Singers are under strict instructions to keep to the notes handed to them. It made a strange spectacle to watch Ilayaraja operate in Indian film music like a composer-conductor of Western Classical music. He paid scant respect to the concept of films as a joint enterprise. But, there is no doubt that like cinema; its music too is an art that blossoms best when it has creative contributions from all players involved.
Recently I had an occasion to watch a staged event being telecast. Ilayaraja was standing in the background with harmonium watching his composer-son Yuvan Shankar Raja sing. Yuvan Shankar Raja’s singing was of a genre that made it difficult to decipher whether he spoke or sang. But the most uncomfortable part of it was watching the expression on Ilayaraja’s face. Never was I more embarrassed!
As writer Sujata had once remarked Ilayaraja’s talent is a most under-estimated one. But my own take on this is that Ilayaraja under-estimated himself. He never ever found his own true self. A few years back, he had admitted in an interview that he had wasted his entire talent in film music. It is so true! He had the genius to have emerged one of the top class composers of the present world. More than any one else in India from his generation, he had the talent for it. Since neither language nor the limitations of national border can be a bar for music, he could have achieved a greater fame world-wide. But Ilayaraja chose to lock himself up in his own sense of insecurity and could not find the wide platforms of musical collaboration. Ilayaraja with all his genius and enviable opportunities failed to become aware of the chances of his music to grace the broad wavelength spanning the entire world.
I would not like to conclude on a note of regret. My thought goes to Mozart who passed away at the age of 35. In his brief life, he created about six hundred pieces of music that have delighted generations of music lovers spanning centuries. He believed in creating changes for the better in this world through his life and music. Such changes start with understanding. It continues in giving to others, respecting others, forgiving others and making life a mission of love. Attempts to create a better world and living a life that brings some happiness to the less privileged are all very definitely the essence of creating great music.
Ilayaraja spoke at a function organised by Film Music Artistes Union of Chennai to congratulate A.R. Rahman on his winning the Oscar Awards. He narrated a story about Roshan and Madan Mohan, the two great Hindi film music composers of yesteryears. Ilayaraja said, “Roshan and Madan Mohan never met each other in their life-time. When Roshan passed away, Madan Mohan lamented over his dead body, as he shed tears, ‘Now with whom shall I compete’. They had never met each other, but they were conversing with each other through their music.”
I am unable to fathom what Ilayaraja wanted to convey on the stage with this story. But I am sure of one thing. What he said is not true. Roshan and Madan Mohan were great friends. Composer Jaidev had said that it was Roshan who introduced Madan Mohan to him. Jaidev was an extraordinary composer of his time. You can read about the depth of friendship among these three great musicians in my article ‘Jaidev, the lonely music traveler’. Even as I was racking my brain as to why a genius like Ilayaraja should narrate something about which he had no first-hand information on such an important occasion, I was flabbergasted by another of his comments appeared on news papers. Ilayaraja pronounced that the film music album of the recently released Malayalam film Pazhasshiraja did not worked due to the deficiency of the lyrics of O.N.V. Kurup.
O.N.V. Kurup is a famous Malayalam poet. He has to his credit lyrics of many hugely popular Malayalam film songs. While he has written great lyrics to traditional scores, writing lyrics for preset tunes is not his strong point. Ilayaraja, who has worked with Kurup in many films earlier, should have been well aware of this. Conceding for a moment Ilayaraja’s line of argument, how do lyrics diminish the standard of music? Can we forget the fact that late Salil Chowdhury created many immortal songs of Malayalam film music with Kurup’s lyrics? Why Salilda alone? Did not many of Ilayaraja’s famous Malayalam film songs have Kurup’s lyrics?
Many of Ilayaraja’s fans will be angered and offended to read this criticism. As far as they are concerned, Ilayaraja is God. This God can never commit any mistake on any subject. Many such Ilayaraja fans have been sending me e-mails, the burden of which is that music of the film Pazhasshiraja is great and Ilayaraja’s some other recent Malayalam film songs are even greater. This sycophancy makes one thing very clear. These fans have never understood either the substance or the magic of music created by Ilayaraja, without doubt one of the great composers of film music in India.
Just as it is said that Michael Jackson is the King of Pop, I will say that Ilayaraja is the King of South Indian Folk Music. It is Folk Music that is truly pure music form maximizing the emotional carry of a music format. It is also the music of the poor and the oppressed. It represents the emotions and aspirations of rural life. While it is one genre it effortlessly brings out the sweetness and uniqueness of widely different rural settings. We get to listen to human expressions of talent and energy in its most natural flow, without any pretension or make-up.
There are folk music expressions unique to every season and every occasion of rural life like the birth, the death, coming of age of the girl, betrothal, wedding and so on. This is the music that graces temple festivals, religious festivals and agricultural processes like tilling, sowing, transplantation and harvesting. Folk musicians express their hopes, fears, expectations and celebrations in their raw voices. They create music instruments out of whatever comes to their hand like clay pot, hollowed out and dried bottle gourd, coconut shell, bamboo, wood and skins and leathers of animals that inhabit the villages and forests around them. Ilayaraja has gone on record about having made flutes out of bamboo and playing on them during his childhood spent in wandering around the villages.
Nobody teaches folk music in the villages. There are neither teachers who teach the folk art nor students who dedicate their lives to learn it. The poverty of villagers does not provide them such facilities. It is the poor who eke out the twice-a-day bare nourishments by working on the fields of the rich, or cultivate their small uneconomic plots of land or perform sundry other odd jobs, alternate as the folk artistes.
Rasaiah, renowned as Ilayaraja, was one such folk artiste. Born in a very poor family in a village in Theni district of Tamilnadu, Ilayaraja has even worked as an agriculture labourer on daily wages. He had studied only up to 8th standard. He had listened and then learnt folk music aimlessly internalizing the nuances of the art. His mother was a big depository of countless folk songs. Growing up on this staple of songs from childhood, it shaped his delicately nuanced understanding of music and later determined his hold and sway over the field of music. Ilayaraja was the first film music composer in India to bring various strands of folk music and its ever bubbling and boiling emotions to the drawing rooms of every film music lovers in South India.
Salil Chowdhury was the first composer in India to create immortal songs by blending western classical music strains with Indian folk music. He did this in the 1940s itself. But his rare music failed to find great success in the ruthless market place. But Ilayaraja’s compositions of Tamil film music blending folk music with western classical elements established him as the Emperor of Tamil film music enabling him to reign supreme from later half of seventies to early nineties.
Ilayaraja’s quest for western music, like his quest for folk music, started at a very young age. Having grown up hearing the Western music based Christian devotionals, the Church functions provided him the opportunity to comprehend the format of the Western music. Later, in Chennai he was trained by Music Teacher Dhanraj Master to understand the nuanced differences and intricacies of Western Classical music. Ilayaraja went on to become an excellent player of Guitar and Piano in the Western Classical mode. The manner in which he employed Piano, Guitar and Violin groups in his songs testifies to his deep understanding and excellent command of Classical Western music.
Ilayaraja’s innings of many years as Guitarist and Combo Organ player under many composers including Salil Chowdhury infused in him the confidence to become a composer himself. The creative freedom he enjoyed under composer G.K. Venkatesh while he worked as his assistant in so many Kannada films played a great part in his evolution as an important composer.
Apart from blending folk music and western music, Ilayaraja employed Carnatic music ragas in his compositions in great measure. In his compositions, even difficult ragas morphed into pleasant to hear tunes that moved even average listeners to ecstasy. Ilayaraja, who scored the music for four films in 1976, his debut year, kept increasing the number of films he composed for, every year, till in 1992 he scored music for a staggering 56 films. At that period, his songs were the only ones to play in every nook and corner of South India, especially so in Tamilnadu.
Ilayaraja ruled the world of film music for many years with prodigious scores in large number of Malayalam, Kannada and Telugu films besides quite a few Hindi films as well. He revitalized the background scores of film songs by intricate but easy on the ear orchestrations and novel use of the Base Guitar. His scores became a feast for a new and growing band of fans of instrumental music, a class of new listeners created by Ilayaraja’s musical scores.
What Ilayaraja created in his first decade as composer was a magical world of music. He boldly experimented with new inspirations with extraordinary creativity. He drove the masses to wild enjoyment of many of his fine songs created around folk music that makes you dance with a spring in your step and classy melodies that warms your heart. All were super hit songs that hit the deck both in terms of critical and commercial success.
In the fifteen years that followed, he went on creating songs at the rate of three songs a day on an average. Ilayaraja had the rare ability of writing down all his music score notations for his songs without either singing the song or playing it on an instrument. Within a few hours of his early morning arrival at the recording studio, he would write down all the notations of songs slated for recording that day. The recording of the song takes place as soon as the score notated by him is handed out to the instrument players in the orchestra and the singers and is over in a jiffy. Mixing and other finishing work is done the same day in the time left after recording. Thus his Prasad Studio in Chennai practically became a song factory.
Ilayaraja scored the background music for almost all the films that he worked in. The entire industry looked in awed surprise at his disciplined approach to his work and fast paced work ethic as he completed film after film with large number of songs in every one of them with the speed of lightening. He created and delivered magical songs in hundreds. I am not going to enumerate here those great songs and the films for which the songs were crafted. As these are facts known to all, it will be futile to mention them. Moreover, that is not the purpose of this article.
No artiste is beyond criticism. Creation of every art is for submission to admirers of art for appraisal, acceptance, appreciation and ovation. Criticism too is an integral part of this appraisal. Without criticism the artiste remains a raw talent, rough and uncut, unevolved and underperforming. It is said that Ilayaraja, after reaching the zenith of success in the eighties, became totally intolerant of criticism.
Some time ago, I wrote an article in an issue of Times of India titled ‘Ilayaraja, A Historic Happening’. But looking at Ilayaraja’s recent scores for Pazhasshiraja (Malayalam), Nannavanu (Kannada) and Paa (Hindi) I get an uncomfortable feeling that, perhaps, the touch of class which Ilayaraja’s music had and the Golden Age of his reign are both history. Many songs that Ilayaraja has been churning out for quite a few years now confirm that his height of creativity was reached long ago. But his fans described above are unable and unwilling to accept this for a fact.
Even in the few songs where the basic score is impressively set, some sort of indifference leads it to shaky aesthetics. Pazhasshiraja, for example, has a tribal song beginning with the line ‘Ambum Kombum’. This is one of the best tribal songs that I have heard in Indian film music. This is among the best of Ilayaraja’s recent songs, carefully crafted with typical tribal background voices and sounds and unique tribal instruments. The song is sung by Ilayaraja, a folk singer named Kuttappan and a lady singer Manjari. Manjari, who has sung a few of Ilayaraja numbers in recent times, is a below average singer. In a song where everything is near perfect Manjari’s rendering is a big minus. The voice of Manjari, innocent of any emotion, does not sit well with the tribal soul of the song. It is also unfortunate that the song went entirely unnoticed.
The songs of the film Paa are nothing to write home about. Shilpa Rao is an average singer whose lifeless rendering of the song ‘Mudi Mudi Kaha Kaha Me Mudi Mudi’ is a vain effort to draw attention with sounds that go ‘Mudi Mudi Udi Udi Ladi Ladi Kadi Kadi’. The song ‘Gum Gum Sum’ is resurrection in a new form of the old Malayalam song ‘Thumbi Vaa Thumbakkudathin’ from the film Olangal (1982). This was later released in Tamil as ‘Sangathil Paadaatha Kavithai’. This particular song is one of my all-time favourite Ilayaraja numbers. The effort in vain to adapt this song to the present-day style has damaged the true essence of it. To add insult to injury some websites has given the opinion that it is a copy of the song ‘Istanbul, Not Constantinople’ of the Canadian Pop Troupe, The Four Lads, released in 1953.
A recent issue of a Kannada weekly had accused Ilayaraja of using his unreleased old songs in the new Kannada films. But when you hear the songs of the recently released ‘Nannavanu’ you will realize that the criticism does not hold water. Compared to the songs of this film any old Ilayaraja song is a gem. There are some musical moments in the songs reminding us of the Golden Age of Ilayaraja of yore, but it is sad to realize that the score on the whole is well below par. Have to admit that no artiste can claim endless creativity!
I happened to learn that Ilayaraja has admitted that Mozart, Bach and Beethoven were all his Gurus. He had undertaken a pilgrimage to all the places in Europe they had lived in. But I am unable to see whether he had internalized their values which we learn from their biographies. There is no record extant of Mozart having claimed ‘No yesterday, no tomorrow, I am the King for ever’ (Netru Illai Nalai Illai, Eppavum Naan Raaja’).
Ilayaraja has dismissed Bob Marley and Bob Dylan with contempt as ‘waste’. I am not suggesting that they are beyond criticism. If Ilayaraja can be criticized, he can criticize others. But Ilayaraja’s criticism will take nothing at all away from the fact that both accomplished a change for the better of the societies they lived in and gave the world total musical experience and elation. Both enjoyed millions of fans all over the world and critical admirers. They both are artistes who have given albums selling in millions to this day.
Bob Dylan is elder to Ilayaraja by two years. He lives among us through his music and songs. Even the Indian state of Mizoram recently had a month-long celebration of Bob Dylan’s birthday. Bob Marley, two years younger to Ilayaraja, who died at the age of 38, is the marvel who gave the world Reggae music. He was born in extreme poverty and was at the bottom of social ladder as the most oppressed. He had a more dire and sorrow-filled childhood than Ilayaraja can imagine. He had worked as a helper in an automobile repair shop and sweeper in restaurants. But before he passed away, he had done enormous work to lighten the burden of his people. He never forgot or separated himself from his roots even when he became an International star. He was generous in helping the poor. When he died, 4000 Jamaican families were living on his kindness.
The tradition of criticism of the arts has two schools of thought. One school maintains that while criticizing art one can ignore the personal life of its creator. The other school believes in looking at the art through the life of its creator. Art without heart is futile – this is the basis of the latter school. I endeavour to follow the second school of thought and seek to tell the readers that good art emerges from good heart. It is Dostoevsky who said: ‘Great Art saves the world’.
Ilayaraja is supposed to be a highly religious and spiritual man. When people with power and wealth are willing to do the bidding of gods and religions, cannot they at least provide the poor and oppressed of the society with some basic relief to alleviate the daily drudgery? After all, what is spirituality? Isn’t Indian spirituality propagates ‘Service to the poor is service to God’?
Ilayaraja, who in the first 10 years created emotion-filled music, suddenly in an effort to become a spiritual person, became like a monk. His life became a routine where he arrived at the recording theatre in the morning and started recording countless songs and background score for lackluster films till night. That was how he came to set the score for 56 films in the year 1992. If one manufactures music on a large scale the quality of it is bound to come down, even if you are a Beethoven.
Ilayaraja’s songs composed in the early part of his career as a composer are a standing testimony to the axiom in music that soulful music is neither a technical competence nor the mathematical algorithms of music. Nor, as he said once, can an aggregation of any sounds in a particular wave length become great music. Music is an emotion experienced with a feel by the mind. It is a great art to be approached with humility, love and an open mind. Hallucinations like ‘I am ever the King’ cannot create great music for long. There is a pointless line in a song composed by Ilayaraja for Kasthooriman, a Tamil film directed by Lohita Das, ‘Oh king, there is only music in your kingdom day after day’ (Raja Unthan Rajaangathil Naalum Naalum Isai thaan’). This is a spirit every true artist should abstain from.
To the best of my knowledge, Ilayaraja had never considered the creations of his contemporary composers as music. The late film director Lohita Das had recommended the names of two young singers to Ilayaraja for singing in the film Kasthooriman. Both went for an audition. They paid the obeisance of falling at the feet of Ilayaraja. One played the song sung by her for Vidyasagar and the other a song sung by her for Malayalam film music composer, Mohan Sithara. After hearing the songs, Ilayaraja was beside himself with anger. He considered both the songs as copies of his songs. Lohita Das tried to pacify him by telling him that no composer in South India can compose music without the sway of Ilayaraja’s music. This only angered Ilayaraja further and he said: “Are you encouraging this pollution of copying my music?” And he went on to reject the two singers as unfit to sing his songs!
The question here is: Are Ilayaraja’s repertoire of over 4500 songs entirely unique? Are all his songs totally original? In that case, how did his song ‘Kanavu Kaanum Vaazhkai Yaavum’ in Neengal Kettavai come about exactly as the much earlier song ‘Kasme Vaade Pyaar Wafaa’ composed by Kalyanji Anandji for the Hindi film Upkaar. Why does his song ‘Chittu Kuruvi’ for the film Chinnaveedu sound like Symphony 9 of Czech classical composer Antonin Dvorak? Is it his suggestion that the song ‘Canzione et Danza’ of contemporary Western Classical composer, Antonio Ruiz Pipo, was a copy of his song ‘Endha Poovilum Vaasam Undu’ of the film Murattu Kaalai? The theme music of the Malayalam film Yaathra is not the theme music of the Classic western film ‘Sound of Music’? Have Ilayaraja’s numbers in a few films not been influenced by Disco Pop groups like ABBA and Boney M?
Though similarities are clear in all the instances cited above, no music fan with an emotional feel for music will accuse Ilayaraja of plagiarism. Admiring somebody else’s creative art, being awed, attracted, moved and motivated by it is an artiste’s right. But Ilayaraja must show the same consideration to other composers as his music has undoubtedly influenced a lot of composers in South India. What needs to be discouraged is plagiarism without any effort at creativity. That is what one could call the theft of intellectual property.
There are a number of singers, who have been given regular opportunities by Ilayaraja, who have not shown themselves to be great singers through his songs. This suited Ilayaraja, since he expects his singers to merely vocalize his prepared music notations. There is no place at all for a creative contribution from his singers in his scheme of song creation. Singers are under strict instructions to keep to the notes handed to them. It made a strange spectacle to watch Ilayaraja operate in Indian film music like a composer-conductor of Western Classical music. He paid scant respect to the concept of films as a joint enterprise. But, there is no doubt that like cinema; its music too is an art that blossoms best when it has creative contributions from all players involved.
Recently I had an occasion to watch a staged event being telecast. Ilayaraja was standing in the background with harmonium watching his composer-son Yuvan Shankar Raja sing. Yuvan Shankar Raja’s singing was of a genre that made it difficult to decipher whether he spoke or sang. But the most uncomfortable part of it was watching the expression on Ilayaraja’s face. Never was I more embarrassed!
As writer Sujata had once remarked Ilayaraja’s talent is a most under-estimated one. But my own take on this is that Ilayaraja under-estimated himself. He never ever found his own true self. A few years back, he had admitted in an interview that he had wasted his entire talent in film music. It is so true! He had the genius to have emerged one of the top class composers of the present world. More than any one else in India from his generation, he had the talent for it. Since neither language nor the limitations of national border can be a bar for music, he could have achieved a greater fame world-wide. But Ilayaraja chose to lock himself up in his own sense of insecurity and could not find the wide platforms of musical collaboration. Ilayaraja with all his genius and enviable opportunities failed to become aware of the chances of his music to grace the broad wavelength spanning the entire world.
I would not like to conclude on a note of regret. My thought goes to Mozart who passed away at the age of 35. In his brief life, he created about six hundred pieces of music that have delighted generations of music lovers spanning centuries. He believed in creating changes for the better in this world through his life and music. Such changes start with understanding. It continues in giving to others, respecting others, forgiving others and making life a mission of love. Attempts to create a better world and living a life that brings some happiness to the less privileged are all very definitely the essence of creating great music.
