Five songs for the week — 1
T. Brinda, M.S. Subbulakshmi, T.R. Mahalingam T.M. Krishna, K.V. Narayanaswamy
One: T. Brinda — Mamava Pattabhirama (Raga Manirangu, Muthuswami Dikshitar)
I have heard multiple renditions of Mamava Pattabhirama over the years, but this one by Brinda from a 1973 concert caught me by the shoulders and didn’t let me go. Largely because of the unusual opening — starting and lingering on the high notes on ‘Mamava’. The tempo is also a little more relaxed than the usual rendering. I have always thought of this song as one of Dikshitar’s majestic art works, to be engaged with at a slight awe-filled distance. But Brinda’s rendition of a single word — Mamava — transformed it immediately in my eyes to something far more interactive and personal.
Two: MS Subbulakshmi — Pranatartiharam (Raga Senchurutti, Mysore Vasudevacharya)
My music teacher is attempting to teach me this song. Which is how I discovered its existence and this rendition by MS Subbulakshmi. I have always associated Senchurutti with the tukada section of a concert. Of the three pieces in this raga that I am familiar with, two are Thiruppugazh verses set to the raga (Nilayada Samudiramana and Nada Bindu Kaladi) and the wonderful tillana by Veena Seshanna. This is the first composition that I have come across in the raga, that is substantial in its conception, complete with chitta swaras. The raga is a relatively unusual one — Khanda Triputa tala (9 beats — 5+2+2).
Three: T.R. Mahalingam — Sujana Jeevana (Raga Khamas, Thyagaraja)
I associate the romance of the raga Khamas with Krishna. Intuitively, I get the feeling that if Krishna were to play his flute in the Carnatic style, the raga that would waft by would be Khamas. This thought hit home when I listened to this piece from a 1970 concert by Flute Mali. This is what the flute of Krishna might sound like. A delightful, short alapana and playful kalpanaswaras. One of the features of Mali’s style is the bindaas, ‘I couldn’t give a damn’ air that he exudes. He’ll stop playing an alapana when he is done with it, not the template demands, and he’s prone to bring the whole song to an abrupt end without wrapping things up neatly, as his mind has already moved on. Just the kind of attitude that Krishna would exhibit, I imagine.
Four: T.M. Krishna — Navasiddhi Petralum (Raga Kharaharapriya, Neelakanthan Sivan)
I revisited this rendition from TMK’s album of tamil compositions (Isaiamutham Durga) that came out sometime in the 1990s. I am taken by this song on two counts. First, I could not immediately associate it with the raga Kharaharapriya and am still slightly confused by its tuning. It seems to be different from typical Kharapriyas but I cannot pinpoint how exactly. The second reason is that is that it was one of my favourite songs in the album, by virtue of its calming, but not deadening, balm like effect. It was one of the first Carnatic songs I heard that truly comforted me. Imagine my surprise, then when I finally looked up and understood the lyrics. This was far from a benign balm — it was a litany of uselessness and damnation. I’ve added it to my bank of songs whose tuning I consider counterintuitive given the lyrics. (In the same vein, I have previously discussed the tuning of two of Dikshitar’s Navagraha Kritis, a tiruppugazh verse, and a verse by Guru Nanak).
Five: K.V. Narayanaswamy — Sadinchane (Raga Arabhi, Thyagaraja)
This rendition is a new favourite of an old favourite song. I discovered it recently, and the crispness of the rendition brings out the best of both the composition and artiste.
