Oct 20, 2015 Ramblings and Musings
Right now, while the washing machine is sloshing clothes around, and the dryer is roaring away, I’m listening to a recorded lesson given to my husband and me by my (late) teacher of Indian classical vocal music, Pandit S.G. Devasthali. He was a teacher of Hindi at Loyola School in Pune, India in his professional life, and a vocal teacher of unsurpassed genius and generosity in his after-school private time.
Listening to him and to us singing with him, I am overcome by a nameless emotion. I left singing seventeen years ago to become a school-teacher. Now, I’m slowly trying to reclaim my roots in music. Oh, on the surface, I look like I know it, because I sing as a matter of course, but not in a deep way. Knowing is not the same as doing. In the practice of a discipline lies its power, its beauty and its truth. Leave the practice, and you have its shadow.
My teacher’s voice is the voice of utter beauty and power, urging, pulling us along in its wake, but singing in that deep way now … it’s not as easy for me as it was before. For various reasons, I walked away from the practice of it. Now, I want it back.
I want it all back.
Music is in my blood and bones and feet and hands, even in the clicking of my teeth when I’m trying to not outwardly reveal that I’m tapping a beat to a song. My mother sang to me in her womb, and I began singing in tune at age two and a half. South Indian (Carnatic) classical music is part of my heritage, sitar and Hindustani vocal music is also part of my heritage. I am Indian in my music — Pan-Indian. And the West claimed me early on, as well. The Beatles gave me dreams about playing guitar in a band and singing in harmony. 60s and 70s rock, jazz from the 20s, 30s, 40s and 50s, R&B, Motown, music from Turkey, Persia, African countries, Asian countries … they’re all in there roiling inside me. I wrote songs, played guitar, sitar, composed music, led bands, performed my own and others’ music.
Now, I want to go back to playing my guitar in a more serious way than I have done these past seventeen years.
I want to dust off my sitar, restring and tune it – and play it.
I want to dust off my voice (okay, so I sing every day, but not in full voice, and not with the power and energy I used to have — that comes with practice).
I want to sing again.
How can I do that AND write short stories, poems, a novel? How can I do that AND continue to do all the other things — home-school my daughter, take my dog out for walks, grow our own food in the garden, tend to the garden, do laundry, clean bathrooms, sweep the floor?
I’m not as young as I was.
But I’ll take it a day at a time.
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Tags: #Pandit S.G.Devasthali, #Singing, music is life, North Indian Classical Music, The practice and discipline of music, Western music
Oct 15, 2015 Culture, Ramblings and Musings
As a young teenager, I used to wake up to all the songs on this album, and this one always moved me deeply, both for the beautiful pentatonic scale (1, flat 2, 4, 5, flat 7, 1 – or, Do, flat Re, Fa, Sol, Flat Ti, Octave Do –for those who want to know) of Revathi Ragam and MS Subbulakshmi’s heart-moving singing.
Tears sting my eyes now, as I listen to this, and it’s impossible to tell why — I mean I hardly know anything about this song, nor do I understand the words (it’s in Telugu, not my language). What this song does for me is to recreate an entire way of life, along with the song itself. It’s ringed about with devotion and quiet contemplation. It’s redolent with the scent of sandalwood or champa, or amber incense sticks which my parents would light in front of the gods in the mornings on festival days.
It reminds me of when I was a two-braided student, ugly, earnest and geeky, worrying about the shape of my toes and fingers, and practically everything else about myself. It was hot, hot as an inferno down South where we lived, and the air shimmered with salty heat. Sweat and humidity were part of simply being alive there. And we were SO alive, so full of vivid and vibrant energy! My father was alive back then, my parents were happy, my brother was an adorably charming, beautiful little toddler, and my sister was at IIT, singing like an angel, and studying and making new friends. And life was simpler, and I longed to grow up and face the world and make my own decisions, and … here I am now.
It reminds me of Tamil cultural events happening in my neighborhood, of the singing teacher next door, out of whose open windows would come the sounds of students earnestly learning Carnatic music, and being mostly in tune. I’d sometimes go to the terrace, to play at being a schoolteacher, and talk at the top of my pre-teen voice to unseen students, while I waved a branch from the drumstick tree that drooped over the other side of the terrace.
It reminds me of my mother’s exquisite singing voice, as she sang along, while making Madras coffee (the best filter cafe au lait in the world), and our breakfast. My mother’s voice contained in it (and still does, even if she doesn’t sing much any more) worlds of longing, of devotion, of pain, of contentment, of love and sacrifice.
On a more gustatory level, this song reminds me of upma, and dosai and idlis, and tengai chutney, sambhar, and rasam, and kootu, and porutcha kozhambu, of chakkarai pongal and venn pongal, and gotsu, murukku and ten kozhal, and patchadi, and … and temple bells, and marigolds, and of starry-white clusters of blooming jasmine and other swoon-inducing flowers in our garden.
It reminds me of Sunday mornings, when I’d lie in bed and read Tennyson, or D.H. Lawrence, or Jung … for FUN! Or, when I’d read the Oxford English Dictionary — for FUN! Or wrote poetry — for FUN! Or, played the guitar — for … well, you know. (Yes, I had no life, I’m sure!)
And it reminds me of how music always, always speaks to me.
An entire culture and way of life, and I don’t have it here, in these benighted States! And the sad thing is, I don’t even try and seek it.
Because, I say to myself, I’ve created my own culture — with our own music (Indian and Western), our home-grown fresh food, our own cadences, our own lovely day-to-day routines. Because, I say to myself, I dislike following rituals, dislike tradition which forces me to do more work than is necessary (and yet, we celebrate Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas in a vegetarian fashion). Because, Indian culture is hard to follow in a foreign land without getting together with a bunch of traditional people, and that has its own baggage.
And yet … I want my daughter to have it all, too.
All mothers want their daughters to have the sum total of their life’s experiences without the pain, or the sweat, or the tears, or the doubts, or the poverty, or the fear of what tomorrow might bring, or the heartbreaks and losses.
Ah well! Someday (soon, I hope), I shall resolve this matter.
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Tags: A way of life, culture, festivals, Indian culture, M.S. Subbulakshmi, music is life, North Indian Classical Music, Revathi Ragam, tradition
Sep 29, 2015 Daily Life
The Woods, Waterless
©September 29th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
Today, when I walked in the dull-green woods with The Hoddles*, brown leaves rustled underfoot, dry and disgruntled, crackling like the promise of flame without hope of moisture.
The air was still, and the sudden call of a bird or two only made the stillness more oppressive. There was no sign of life. The soil was loose, and only the entwining roots of trees held things together. I felt the panting desire of the whole place for water. Insatiate need and blind yearning were all around me — in the air, in that sudden bird-call, in the soil, in the leaves and dry underbrush. And yet, in all this dryness, the woods were beautiful — because these woods, my woods, are always mysterious and green, be it a lush green, or a desiccated, thirsty green.
As Holly and I climbed the rocky, root-twined slopes up the side of the hill (our usual route), a sudden rustle stopped me. I looked, and to my pleasure, saw a sinuous, beautiful jewel-green-and-black striped slim snake (a garter snake, I think) rustle amongst the leaves, pause, taste the air, and move on, like a trickle of water in the dust. Then, quick as a flash, it vanished. Holly, to my surprise, didn’t evince any interest, and indeed, looked the other way. Perhaps, she smelled a deer. In any case, I’m glad she didn’t notice it.
I don’t think of myself as a reptile-lover, but I loved this snake. Shy and sweet, dry and probably soft, this snake moved like a liquid jewel. She made me think of this beautiful planet, our earth, our host, our mother.
And I was sad.
For the earth needs us. Climate Change is real. If we listen to those ruled by greed and denial, we will drown in the rising seas around us, or in the dry deserts that will overtake our planet.
So … plant things. Plant trees and bushes. Drive less. Walk more. Consume less. Make things from existing things. Let animals live and thrive. Help your friends. Share. Give more. I know it’s too late, and we’ve gone beyond the tipping point, but still … I hope.
And I want to work towards another future — the one in which we might yet have a chance.
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Image from http://www.fcps.edu/islandcreekes/ecology/eastern_garter_snake.htm
*(Holly, my dog — to those who are befuddled by my reference to The Hoddles)
Tags: #Hope, Beauty, Climate Change, consumption, Garter snakes, Holly the dog, music is life, planting trees, The Earth, The Woods near my house
Sep 25, 2015 Writing 101
“Without music, life would be a mistake.”
— Friedrich Nietzsche
- Tell us about a time when a piece of music moved you.
- Do you have an all-time favorite song? Why is it significant?
- Compile a playlist of 10 tracks that represent you.
While I’m not sure whether Nietzsche wrote those actual words, and had to check (since I’m not a reader of Nietzsche), I did find out this from good old Wikipedia:
Nietzsche wrote a fragment titled “On Music and Words”.[106] In it he asserted the Schopenhauerian judgment that music is a primary expression of the essence of everything.
In any case, I agree with this statement.
How can I write about my breath, my cells, my skin? How can I write about why my eyes are the way they are, or my feet, or my thoughts? How can I write about why music moves me to the very roots of my being, and without it, I would be a desiccated planet?
My mother says she sang while I was in her womb, and told me that I could sing difficult Carnatic (South Indian classical) songs in tune along with her, at the age of two and a half (alas, I don’t sing Carnatic any more, for I went on to Hindustani classical music, as well as western rock, folk and jazz songs all along the way).
Inspired by my mother’s story I did the same for my daughter while I was pregnant (sang to her while she was in utero, that is). And it turned out that my daughter, too, could sing in tune by the time she was about two and a half years old. Now ten years old, she’s intensely musical, sings all the time, and plays guitar (as do my husband and I).
Music is the blood in which I swam, and breathed. All through my life, I’ve listened and played and sung, and tapped my hands and feet. I got myself a guitar when I was about ten or eleven, and taught myself to play in Chennai at a time when I knew NOBODY else around me who had a guitar, leave alone played it — of course, I was influenced by The Beatles (who wasn’t?). Filled to the brim with it, I was still always thirsty for music, or, perhaps greedy for it, a glutton, really.
While many songs and pieces have made me weep from a strange unnameable emotion (music produces its own emotion, one that will remain nameless, irreducible), certain Indian ragas, like Darbari Kannada or Vibhas have made me weep when I’ve heard them sung. Certain songs have also moved me deeply, but they’ve faded into the mist of memory. All I can remember from my most recent emotional reaction to a song is when I wept over “Julia” by John Lennon, which is about his mother, Julia Lennon. “My Favorite Plum” and “Small Blue Thing” by Suzanne Vega also did that for me — though I didn’t weep. I just felt very moved.
I won’t go into a long description of all the kinds of experiences I’ve had musically, but I will say I have performed the following on stage, and at various stages in my life (zeugma!):
Voice and guitar: My own songs, folk songs, rock songs, jazz standards. Here’s a song from my (not very prolific) YouTube link: Bird Over The Water
Hindustani (North Indian) classical music: Sitar and classical vocal music
Vocal Ensemble music: With “Goddess Gospel” (an all-women vocal group that lasted many years, no longer active); Mandala (for a brief while in their vocal ensemble; they are also no longer active)
At the Ig-Nobel 2015 (see link to understand what this prize is about) awards this year as a member of the operatic chorus in the hilarious mock-opera “Best Life” based on Aida by Verdi and The High Executioner by Gilbert and Sullivan.
I’ve performed on stage in Chennai, Pune, Mumbai and Delhi, India (this was quite a while back — no videos), the UK (back in 2004 and 2005), and the US (mostly in Cambridge and Boston, MA). I’ve performed in the subways in Cambridge and Boston, and on the streets of Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Some Music for You Today – September 24th, 2015
Mauritanian singer Dimi Mint Abba:
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Zimbabwean master musicians of the Shona tradition –Dumisani Maraire and Ephat Mujuru
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Beautiful singer from Mali, Oumou Sangare:
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Music from Bali, Indonesia:
Legong (Tobatelou) – Sanour Village
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Music from the Sunda Straits, Indonesia (Sunda Javanese Gamelan music):
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(The one and only Miles Davis on trumpet playing his exquisite version of Bye Bye Blackbird):
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Here’s the incomparable Chet Baker playing the same tune on his trumpet (I believe, but I’m not sure, that this was recorded in 1964, and the lineup of musicians goes as follows: Chet Baker on the horn,Jacques Pelzer- sax, Franco Manzecchi- drums, Luigi Trussardi- bass and Rene Urtreger- piano):
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Yulduz Usmanova is a well-known Uzbeki singer. I thought you’d enjoy listening to her beautiful singing.
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Sabah Habas Mustapha (of The 3 Mustaphas 3) sings this Indonesian-music-inspired piece:
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Eddie Jefferson sings “Sister Sadie.” I love Mr. Jefferson’s warm, fuzzy vocals. There’s humor and great musicality in all his singing. He generally makes me smile. (Although, I must say this song isn’t funny).
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When jazz icon Billie Holiday sings, she always makes me want to cry:
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The above piece is a composition by Warren Senders, who put Baul songs to music. The lead singer in this live concert recording from 1993 song is me (yes, I used to be a part of a group of women singers known as “Goddess Gospel” — founded and led by Louise Cloutier, formerly of Cambridge, now in Chicago). Hope you enjoy Three Baul Songs!
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One of my favorite pieces of guitar playing: Bach Cello Suite #1 in G, played by Andres Segovia.
Bach: Cello Suite #1 In G, BWV 1007 – Prelude
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D.V. Paluskar (Hindustani Classical vocalist), whose voice is mesmerizing:
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The exquisite and ecstatic singing of Mallikarjun Mansur:
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And here’s Arati Ankalikar-Tikekar, and her soulful, lovely singing:
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Prabha Atre (Very soulful Hindustani vocalist):
Kalavati: Tana mana dhana tope varun
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Pete Seeger — America’s folk music Muse:
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“Julia” by The Beatles (John Lennon)
This, too, makes me want to cry.
“While My Guitar Gently Weeps by The Beatles (George Harrison)
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Song from the movie “Alaipayuthey” — music by that genius of current Indian film music A.R. Rahman:
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One of my absolute favorite songs from the same movie:
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“Goodbye Pork Pie Hat” is one of my favorite pieces by Charles Mingus. I used to sing a version of it (lovely lyrics!).
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The brilliant poet-folksinger-rockster Bob Dylan:
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And finally, my very favorite Suzanne Vega:
That’s all for now, folks! Hope you enjoyed the music! I went WAY beyond ten tracks, but I enjoyed going back to some of my favorite music — and have been shaped by all of these, and more through the course of my life.
There’s plenty more where this came from, so if you like this, I’ll start a new weekly post of my favorite music from around the world!
Thanks for reading and listening!
Love,
~Dreamer of Dreams
Tags: #Suzanne Vega, #The Beatles, A.R.Rahman, Andres Segovia, Arati Ankalikar-Tikekar, Billie Holiday, Bob Dylan, Charles Mingus, Chet Baker, D.V. Paluskar, Eddie Jefferson, Indonesian music, jazz, Mallikarjun Mansur, Miles Davis, music from around the world, music from the African continent, music is life, North Indian Classical Music, Pete Seeger, Prabha Atre, Sabah Habas Mustapha, Without music life would be a mistake- Friedrich Nietzsche quote, Yulduz Usmanova