Plagiarism and music

Plagiarism and music

There was a time when I actually found Hindi music catchy and appealing. There was also a time when I found rehashed classics, also known as remixes, interesting to say the least. In retrospect I’m left wondering what was going through my mind back then. Maybe it was just the fact that I couldn’t yet appreciate the classic rock n roll that the Beatles and Elvis were dishing out on my pop’s stereo. Maybe I was just stupid, but alas realisation is bound to dawn on you one fine day and I’ve come to realise how myopic and dead Hindi film music really is. Just a few stupid lyrics and a non existent score both contribute to an utterly boring and disgraceful front for the sacred name of music. If the song was a hit among the ignorant masses then there’s sure to be a rip off of the song, conveniently rechristened as a remix for the next generation. How dare these fools that go by the tag of “disk jockeys” mess with and degrade what were once revered classics of Indian music, jewels with immense lyrical and poetic value, even if the musical component was a little less prominent. Who do these Akbar Sami’s and Suketus cater to? The brain dead svelte and swish set of the city, with a truck load of cash to blow? Are these the levels that Indian music has stooped? Are we so devoid of creativity that we are left to cleverly rehash foreign tunes to suit the Indian ear canal and then claim to have drawn inspiration from them? Inspiration? That can mislead the uneducated masses who have been brought up on filmi music, but not the educated and specially those exposed to international music.

No wonder that those jerks who constitute the so called Indian music industry are put to shame, no are literally confined to the gutters where they rightly belong. Why does Indian music, with its rich and varied styles to draw from, fail miserable at the international level? “Directors” stake claim to the fact that they package Hindi music to suit the masses are liars. Blasphemous liars who know nothing about music, all they do is cater to the ordinary junta who are bought up on those embellished nursery rhymes called film music. They know nothing either, it’s just a vicious cycle of the ignorant blindly following those who have the guts to take the lead. Down with the cheapos, let the cream rise. I’m not claiming to be much of a aficionado or an authority when it comes to Hindi music, but I know good music when I hear it. Jal, Junoon, Strings and the like have been the pioneers of an alternate style of music; Sufi infused rock with infectious riffs and lyrics. That’s the way to go folks.

Ravi Iyer, Banks, and that bald guy who’s on Launchpad (Nitin Malik) were all there when musical styles were changing and its good to have some advocates of the counter culture around to bring it to the masses. I heard and liked the work of one band on Launchpad in particular, Decibel, specially their rework of the classic nagin refrain. Lovely work that. And oh yeah speaking of Launchpad, its great to see a platform finally materialise that promises to make successful musicians of out struggling, long haired axe men and skin beaters. Long live them.

And the Hindi bashing continues now. But the scene is not all that grim. There were some songs that I really appreciate that I’ve “seen” in some Hindi movies. Examples include the ones in that Amir Khan starrer, Dil Chahata hain. Now that was Indian music at its best. But look at the new crop of nonsense. Himesh that lunatic, with that stupid cap on his head, pouring out the musical equivalent of sour milk. Now what does he know about music? Does he play an instrument? Can he? I don’t think so. But why single him out, most of those so called playback singers cant wither. But all they can do is hog all the limelight after a song’s success. What about the underpaid musicians whose fingers and mouths are put to use to provide the strains behind that “great” singing? Who gives a thought to them? Who even knows their names? Not many.

And what of all those so called talent shows that claim to provide a platform for budding singers to be seen? What happens to the eventual winners? 15 minutes of fame and then obscurity? Isn’t that the rule more than the exception?

Who cares about them anyway? Fools.

But look at the emerging bands all across the country, writing their own music from the bottom up. I’d pay to buy their work anyday. Let them grow and compete with the world’s best. Let them shine. Pentagram, Vaayu, Bhayanak Maut, Decibel, Level 9, Parikrama et al. Go!

Why stagnate and mull over the past? Let it die with them losers. Let’s move forward and take Indian music to even greater heights.

Peace.

Another one about the train

What is it about those metal monsters that has made then an inseparable part of the city of Bombay (adamantly, not Mumbai)? Is it the seamless amalgamation of technology of the fifties and the 21^st century? Or is it the colourful souls who use them daily? Or is it the sight of the meandering tracks that seem to stretch forth in front of you for miles on end? Or is it the sight of the same iron lines, ground till they shine by the weight of an overcrowded train above it? Is it how the lines seem to bend and blend so easily into each other when viewed from the grilled windows of the train?

I can’t quite seem to put my finger on it and neither can I explain how I never seem to tire of seeing the same stations on my journey to and from college. What is it about them that makes every train journey worth the pushing, shoving and body odour? What makes it seem magical? There may be those among the regular travellers who would beg to doffer, after all being hardened by years and years of unforgiving train travel does kill off a part of you in a way, but to them the magic of train travel is lost as it has attained a purely functional meaning for them. A little imagination is all that is needed to appreciate the invisible yet tangible sense of camaraderie and unity that engulfs you as the train engulfs you in its crushing yet soft embrace. A world of opposites is what you enter. The second class, populated by those who are too stingy to afford a more comfortable means of travel and the scum of the city, the people who make it tick, the ticket less traveller. The first class is the domain of all those who scorn on the city’s grease and can’t bear to lower themselves to interacting with those of a lower financial standing than themselves. They take comfort in ejecting those whose appearances are not befitting to the sterile green environs of class one. The ladies compartment is the place where vegetables are cut, tales spun and gossip flies through the air in such a thick stream that it can be cut with a knife. Friends meet, new ones are made and the headlines read across a shoulder.

All in the train. Sure the more developed countries may have a more efficient network that specialises in getting you from point A to B, but that’s it for them. Purely functional. The magic has been lost to modernism and efficiency. Nowhere in the world will you find what you find here.

The local train.

The Falling ...

Or is it the rain? Captured in this spectacular image taken by a fellow train user, Shreyans, from here

Being Capricious.....is it worth forgiving????

Impulse is the beauty of art & the blemish on polity. Moving people, reducing them to tears or driving them to blissful happiness with words,drama, paint & voice. To change opinions, shape lives, change ideals forever.... driven by the impulse of a fiery speech or otherwise...these are some of the aftermaths of IMPULSE. they have made the world & today we bear its brunt.

Perpetual Peace is possible, but not by the balance of political power. Politics were meant to be thoughtful,constant brutish manipulation. It is to be well-thought and planned but unfortunately in the era of "no-time" we are forced to rely on fiery speeches, 2-minute interviews to form opinions based on the visual appeal alias impulse& gut-feelings.
We get what we vote. The world votes impulsively& they govern us likewise. Mahem & pandemoium follows. The need for speed has replaced quality decisions. Mr. Bush & Mr. Tony Blair made impulsive decisions & sure- both are bearing the brunt of a being out of office at the cost of what we all know- millions of lives.

Millitants thrive on impulsive decisions made by the youth. The condition in Africa is as big as the "war on terror " focussed in the middle-east. Women gang-raped, constant perrennial fight against poverty & diseases has left the people deprived of basic human necessities forget rights. They do not want courts for justice to take the men who gang-raped them to the gallows- they just want PEACE. Peace, some smiles, some laughter even at the cost of everything else.

oooh....but impulse in art is BEAUTIFUL. The sudden flow of words for a writer, the flash of a tune for a musician, the vivid firm fierce strokes of a painter...when the clutter clears up & the impulse results in the gush of fresh views...it makes one's blood rush. only an artist would know this. 17-20 hrs of back-breaking work for years together feels a little like a batter of an eye-lid because of the passion and drive that the impulse creates. For most artists that one flash is enough to sustain the feeling to its completion. Isnt it wonderful?? The thirst to know more...to feel established & then again to be exposed to fresh no-man's land to be conquered and WON. The conquering is easy- it is the search to find the unattainable that impulse insights in an artist.

A journalist would write day-in & day-out, travel unrelentlessly, meet people with the same questionable, curious, objective gait but it feels different every time, with a different country, with a different human & with a different subject. One can never know it all & it is this that bursts the mind & opens the gates for more to flow in.

A great mind had once said- "Influence in the world is a capital, which must be carefully guarded if it is not to dissappear". It is a lovely statement to summaize with. IMPULSE is an aftermath of INFLUENCE. For the good or the bad- it triggers drastically & makes or breaks. Impulse is a precious gift that make us human and spontaneous. It also makes us animals or worse. Like all precious things it rarely takes a tour outside the cupboard, but when it does it has a profound impact on lives.

Do we forgive this and let it be? Kill it by teaching rationality & planning? If influencing the minds of the viewer, listener were a crime...then would art live at all??will it thrive?? well, millitants & dictators would thrive too. So, whom should we kill & whom should we forgive? if IMPULSE & INFLUENCE were to be re-defined & instilled in mankind- how would it be & should it be there at all??- that is the question. Rationality KILLS impulse & vice-versa...let circumstances & contexts drive the choice....well, that would be the ultimate impulsive RATIONALE. Is it a valid conclusion.....well.....for a later date.