Shahid Parvez – “Duets satisfy audience appetite for novelty. Most partnerships don’t work”

Shahid spoke to Deepak Raja on January 8, 2004

Upto the age of 15, I was trained on the sitar by my father, Aziz Khansaheb. My uncle, Hafiz Khan, better known as Khan Mastana, trained me on the sitar as well as the surbahar upto the age of 12. Based on that training, I have evolved my music. Though I do play the surbahar for personal pleasure, I perform only on the sitar. My music is, without doubt, the music of the Etawah gharana because that is my training.

It is not surprising that the music of this gharana is spreading faster than rival styles. The main reason is the scientific technique. This has to do with the posture, setting of the hands, and the handling of the acoustic and harmonic ambience of the melody. The realization has now dawned that this is the best way to handle the sitar. The content of the music can vary a bit. But, once a certain technique is accepted, the content tends to follow from it. The second reason is the richness of our gharana’s idiom. Our legacy has evolved over several generations, with a number of very competent performers contributing to its enrichment. Some worked on the right hand, while others developed the craft of the left hand. Some developed the Jod or taan-s, while others worked on the Jhala. This accumulated legacy gives every sitarist a huge fund of musical ideas to draw upon and develop according to his own temperament.

This is why, I think, our style is acquiring a following even amongst sitarists not trained by the gharana stalwarts. It is important that the technique be understood properly, and sitarists be taught to convert this technique into the content of music. Until recently, this gharana has not devoted sufficient energy to teaching. The first person to take this up seriously was Shri Arvind Parikh (the seniormost disciple of Ustad Vilayat Khan). Following his example, I have started training promising youngsters. Our efforts will result in an orderly transmission of the gharana’s music.

Engineering the instrument
Over the years, I have shaped the acoustic features of my instrument, and my technique to deliver the quality of music I play. I have been using an ebony Jawari bridge since I got this instrument made about ten years ago. In earlier years, when I was working with my grandfather, Waheed Khansaheb’s sitar, I used the ivory bridge, and later, a deer-horn bridge once ivory was banned. Under the impact of my strokes, deer-horn, the ivory substitute, became unstable in five or six days of playing. I experimented briefly with the polymer material that some sitarists have tried. The sound of this material was a trifle metallic for my liking. I have also tested the ultra-light hard wood from Japan that caught sitarists’ fancy for a while. That material withstood my strokes pretty well, but produced a very shallow sound. After experimenting with these materials, I have settled down to an ebony bridge, which gives me the best results with the sophisticated microphones we have today. I have to rework the Jawari every ten days or so. This is fine since I have learnt to fashion it myself. There are no longer any great craftsmen left on whom we may depend for periodic restoration. Nobody taught me this craft. I studied the way Bishandas ji (Bishan Das Sharma of Rikhi Ram, instrument makers of Delhi) and Hiren Babu (Hiren Roy, instrument maker of Calcutta) fashioned the Jawari bridge to suit my acoustic preferences, and figured it out. I am learning all the time.

When I wanted a new sitar, I started with the obvious solution in those times – Hiren Roy – but finally decided to design my own instrument. Hiren Roy’s reputation as a sitar-maker is well deserved. His workmanship was outstanding. The timbre of his instruments is mellow. But, no matter how you fashion the Jawari bridge on his instruments, the volume output of the main melodic string is subdued compared to the other strings. I have noticed this in all his instruments. Have you noticed that, no contemporary sitarist plays a Hiren Roy sitar any longer? I asked Hiren Roy if he would make an instrument to my specifications. He said my specifications were impractical. On the other hand, he would also not guarantee that an instrument made to his specifications would satisfy my acoustic requirements. So, I gave my specifications to a sitar-maker in Miraj (a small town in Western India, also a major center of instrument making), and got the instrument made. I then took it to Rikhi Ram in Delhi, got the joints reinforced, and the frets reset. The tumba of my instrument is smaller than a standard sitar. The natural pitch of the instrument is, therefore, higher than the normal. I am now happy with the instrument, and it responds perfectly to my ideas.

My pitch is half-way between the standard C# in our gharana and D. An intermediate pitch is appropriate because of the smaller tumba (chamber resonator) and the thicker tabli (the cover of the resonator), my instrument sounds dull at C#, and too stiff to play at D. A higher pitch does tend to reduce the acoustic sustain of the instrument. To compensate for this possibility, I fashion the Jawari (the timbre control bridge) in such a way that stroke power is not dissipated in volume, but gets converted into additional sustain.

The music
It is true that I work more extensively with rhythm than anyone in our gharana has so far done. In addition to Roopak and Jhaptala, which are now very popular, I have played in tala-s of eleven, thirteen, fifteen and eighteen beats. I have performed bandish-es in cycles with fractional beats such as 5 ½ , 7 ½ etc. Such cycles are improvised, and do not have the status of tala-s in the Hindustani tradition. I have performed duets with vocal music in ultra-slow Ektala and Jhoomra. If we say that our gharana specializes in the “Gayaki anga” (vocalized idiom), we must look beyond the traditional Teentala for our repertoire. Also, I believe that it is not what we do that matters as much as how we do it. As long as we make judicious use of novelties, continue to treat the raga with respect, and keep the music organized, these deviations add to the richness of our music.

There is a mistaken notion that I play almost entirely with one Tabla accompanist, Vijay Ghate, or that he is my first preference. We have practiced a lot together, and have a great understanding. Driven largely by convenience, we have also performed a lot together. In reality, however, I have performed with every Tabla maestro of our times, other than Ustad Allarakha. In 1976, when I was just 18, I have played with Karamatullah Khansaheb. In 1977, I have played with Dawood Khansaheb. In later years, I have performed several times with Afaque Hussain Khan, Shanta Prasadji, and Kishan Maharaj too. In the generation after these giants, I have played with almost every significant Tabla exponent. On my recent tour of the US, I played 27 concerts with young Akram Khan.

A musician may get along better with some percussionists than others. But, it is impractical for him to restrict his exposure to one or even a handful of Tabla accompanists. It would also be suicidal. Every percussionist stimulates you to thinking differently about the relationship between melody and rhythm. A musician who denies himself this advantage will stagnate.

Duets, on the other hand, are an entirely different matter. Like all other musicians of my generation, I have had my share of duets – with other instrumentalists as well as vocalists. They seem to satisfy the appetite of audiences for novelty. History tells us that truly great duet partnerships are rare. We will never again hear anything comparable to the Ravi Shankar-Ali Akbar Khan and the Vilayat Khan-Bismillah Khan partnerships. Some partnerships work. Most don’t. For duets to work, the musicians need to be of comparable caliber, and relate to each other with respect and affection. Without these ingredients, duets can easily degenerate into a mindless competition for applause. This is what happens in a majority of cases. In some unfortunate situations, they can even create unpleasantness between musicians. Though I am happy to work on promising duet ideas, my personal preference remains for the solo, where I can present my music in and orderly fashion.

©Deepak S. Raja 2004.
The finest recordings of Shahid Parvez have been produced by India Archive Music Ltd. New York. IndiaArcMu@aol.com

Book Review: by Neeru Dhall

Indian Horizons

The Journal of The Indian Council for
Cultural Relations, New Delhi
Vol. 51, Autumn issue

Hindustani Music – A tradition in Transition
Author: Deepak Raja
Publisher: DK Printworld Pvt. Ltd.
pp. 432. Rs. 490, US$ 24.95

Peter Drucker surely did not hint at Hindustani music when he said: “If peanuts is what you pay, monkeys is what you get”; but the fact is that the scales of economy have influenced Hindustani music over a period of time and as a result, Indian Classical Music that had its strong moorings in traditions, is in transition today.

Hindustani music has always been passed over to generations in its traditional Guru-Shishya Parampara (Teacher-disciple Tradition) in which a teacher gives his knowledge with full sincerity to his disciple. A disciple, in turn, is expected not only to master the knowledge but also to pass it on to another deserving candidate of the next generation. But no musician can be an identical Xerox copy of his teacher. Even the music of the same gharana (family) changes from generation to generation. Change is the permanent reality of this universe, and music is no different.

Various socio-economic and cultural changes have been changing the music over the centuries. Although some lament this, it is no surprise that today the great gharanas have merged into “cocktail gharanas” and we see the emergence of the Rotterdam gharana, the San Rafael-Seniya gharana. Their commitment to excellence may boost Hindustani music; but it may also result in globalization, and perhaps “de-culturation” of Hindustani music.

What should be done under such circumstances? Should not the efforts be made by cultivated listeners of Hindustani music – the connoisseurs or Rasikas -- to perhaps demand higher standards of music, act as watchdogs and help in retaining the inherent traditional values of Hindustani music? This is what Deepak Raja talks about in his book, “Hindustani Music – A tradition in Transition” by giving a very rational, logical, and analytical overview of Hindustani Music in the post-independence era. His description of this change has, both, depth and a matter-of-fact approach.

Hindustani music is an expression of India’s pluralistic, dynamic, multi-racial, multi-lingual vibrant society. The unity within diversity and continuity within changes, are two of its basic phenomena. While talking about various ragas, genres, lineages, musicians, and Hindustani music, Raja very beautifully describes as to where Hindustani music is heading.

Until the 20th century, Hindustani music was chamber music hosted by aristocracy. The classical music was performed in Jumme Ka Takiya (Friday evening gatherings) or on special occasions. Audiences were small, but very knowledgable. Those were cognoscenti who maintained a tough yardstick to maintain the music standards. The “innocenti” soon outnumbered these cognoscenti in the post-independence era, as that was the time of great upheaval in political, social, economic, and technical situations. Suddenly, the music was out of private chambers and was being dished out to the masses that were made of innocenti and did not understand it much.

Music became a commodity. It became price-sensitive and market-oriented. The yardstick of music changed. The large number of innocenti preferred popular music and classical music took a back seat, leaving the Rasikas in a minority. This was mainly due to the explosive growth of the electronic media. On the price index, the cost of music is becoming cheaper as a result and market continues to explode. Today’s market consists of 80% innocenti and 20% cognoscenti. Hindustani music is set on a path of irreversible globalization.

Raja explains this trend in Hindustani Music through six parts of his book:

Part I starts with social, cultural, economic and technological changes in Hindustani music by taking the reader through a journey of music starting from traditions to contemporary changes in gharana models. Part II deals with musical forms and structures.

Part III and IV can be defined as the heart of the book, in which Raja talks about the melodic framework on which Indian music is based. He starts with Ragas (melodic structure) interwoven with Rasas (emotional states), the significance of timings of each raga, the rights and wrongs in it and thus describes the complete flavour of Indian music. He explains the four major genres of Hindustani vocal music – Dhrupad, Khayal, Thumri and Tappa in their historical, aesthetic, and melodic forms.

Part V deals with the background and expressions unique to each of the major solo melodic instruments of Hindustani music, such as, Rudra Veena, Sitar, Shehnai, Sarod etc. and the entry of Slide Guitar of Hawaii into Indian music, soon after World War II. The book finishes with the list of glossary.

Only Raja, a musician, and MBA, a media person, and a writer, himself a multi-faceted person, could give such a multi-dimensional treatment to music in the most logical form. The quantitative leap of music is the need of the time; but it does not mean that we must not produce connoisseur quality music.

The old model of music that survived under royal patronage is extinct today. Keeping in mind the latest trends, Raja suggests a new model of music based on price and value, which allows a collective of musicians, rather than audiences to validate a musician’s status. He advocates the formation of a musicians’ guild to grade the music and musicians. His idea is to revitalize the connoisseurs of a bygone era, bring them to the forefront as music watchdogs, enhance their insights into the inner workings of modern and contemporary music by explaining them the alternative benchmarks and changing yardsticks.

Deepak Raja thus strives for higher standards of Hindustani music by advocating a balanced approach. Consumerism and commoditization of music can pose a threat to its quality; but as they say, “the grammar of today’s music is based on yesterday’s literature”. One only hopes that this beautiful piece of literature will help maintain tomorrow’s grammar on music with high standards, even in the changing scenario of market needs.

The book can be ordered online on the publisher's website, or by email.

Dhondutai Kulkarni – “Kesarbai was like the Niagara Falls”

Dhondutai spoke to Deepak Raja on May 4, 2003

My father was a schoolteacher in Kolhapur and trained in the Gwalior style of vocal music. His greatest regret was never becoming a credible performer. The Alladiya Khan family was the most respected clan of teachers in those days. So, he decided to give me – his only surviving child -- their training, whatever the cost.

During my childhood, the morning service at the Mahalakshmi temple in Kolhapur commenced with a musical offering to the Goddess by Alladiya Khan’s nephew, Natthan Khan. We met him regularly at the temple. One day, my father made bold to request him to teach me. Initially, Natthan Khan had little interest in teaching a beginner of five. But, finally, by a rather convoluted route, I became his disciple. I learnt fast, and by the age of eight, I was singing on the radio. The Natthan Khan tutelage ended in three years, when he left for Bombay.

After that, Bhurji Khan, Alladiya’s son, took over duties at the temple. When my father made the proposal to him, he quoted a fee we could not afford. So the matter rested there until one day, when I was 13, Bhurji Khan turned up suddenly at our house to announce that he would teach me for whatever my father could afford to pay him. So, it started – a daily routine for several hours after I returned from school. Bhurji Khan also taught me the sunrise exercises for maintaining the voice in perfect condition, and made sure that I did them regularly.

I dropped out of school two years short of graduation in favor of full-time music. Bhurji Khan then started visiting us twice a day. In the mean while, my younger sister also started studying with him. I had received 10 years of intensive training with Bhurji Khan when he died (1950).

For seven years thereafter, I had no guide. By this time, I was already performing professionally – solo as well as duets with my sister. In 1957, Lakshmibai Jadhav, a distinguished disciple of Hyder Khan, retired from the service of the Baroda State, and returned home to Kolhapur. I received a Government scholarship to study with her. She taught me in the mornings, and Bhurji Khan’s son, Azizuddin Khan, took evening sessions. This lasted for three years, until we left Kolhapur. Another two years passed before I found my fifth, and last, Guru.

In 1962, Kesarbai Kerkar issued an open invitation through a newspaper interview to any vocalist willing to submit to her training. So, I wrote to her, certain that nothing would happen. I was surprised to receive a welcoming reply. After putting me through an acid test, she assured me that though old now, she would do her best for me. And, she did -- without ever accepting any remuneration or consideration of any kind.

My father sold his house in Kolhapur to finance the move, and hired an apartment in Bombay for us to live in. Kesarbai was a stickler for punctuality and regularity. Each training session lasted three to four hours, in which we would cover two or three ragas. In addition, I had to continue workouts with the music I already knew, and with sunrise exercises. It was an exhausting routine.

Two years after I began training with her, she took me on a month-long retreat where she started my voice cultivation using the Alladiya technique. The training enhanced lungpower, improved stamina, perfected the AA vowel articulation, and sustained the timbre of the voice through two full octaves. Thereafter, back in Bombay, the routine continued. In addition, of course, I accompanied her at concerts. She announced her retirement in 1965, and I continued learning with her until 1971 – she was over 80 then.

In popular belief, my music is closest to Kesarbai’s. This may be true. But, not many people know how Bhurji Khan and Lakshmibai sang. So, the truth is more complicated. I cannot assess the impact of Natthan Khan’s initiation. It is Bhurji Khan who shaped the fundamentals of my music – from the age of 13 to 23. He started with alankara-s (symmetric practice exercises) and shaped me into an “A” grade radio artist. Lakshmibai, Baba, and Kesarbai had just to build on the Bhurji Khan foundation.

All my Gurus sang and taught the same music; but each had an original way of interpreting it. To begin with, they came from different streams of the gharana. Natthan Khan and Lakshmibai belonged to the Hyder Khan stream, while Bhurji Khan and Kesarbai came from the Alladiya stream. More significant for me was the contrast between the voices and temperaments of Kesarbai and Lakshmibai. Kesarbai was like the Niagara Falls, while Lakshmibai was tranquility personified. I had to sort out and integrate a wide range of musical attitudes because, in the ultimate analysis, my music had to be mine.

© Deepak S. Raja 2003
Read a detailed profile of the artist in: "Khayal Vocalism: Continuity within Change".
The finest recordings of Dhondutai Kulkarni have been produced by India Archive Music Ltd. IndiaArcMu@aol.com.

Shujaat Khan – “I almost joined a tea estate as a Manager; but destiny had other plans”

Shujaat Khan spoke to Deepak Raja on July 21, 1996

1960, I was born. I have no idea what was happening until 1966, when I performed for the first time, accompanying Abba (intimate form of address for the father). Then, the wagon began to roll..getting noticed... child prodigy...everything is hunky dory.

The turmoil began when my parents were heading for a separation. I was, then, old enough to know what was going on, but not old enough to handle it. This must have left some lasting impression on me, and my music. Abba was, then, not very good at putting father and Guru together. Growing up with him (in the absence of the mother) was difficult.

Between 18 and 22 I went wild...film industry, fusion music, sports, foreign travel, women ... but luckily no alcohol or drugs. There was (during that period) always music in my life; but not much disciplined practice. I was seen as a gifted musician, but a waster. I was having a great time, and beyond that, I didn't care.

At 24, I decided to settle down, and got married. After marriage, we continued to live with Abba until, one day, I decided to quit. Walking out on him could well have damaged my career; but I didn't care. I could make a living in many other ways. In 1985, I almost accepted a job as a Manager in an Assam tea estate. But, destiny had other plans.

It was October (1985), the beginning of the music season. I decided to rough it out for a while, and test out the concert market. There was probably something in the stars. And, also, something that had happened invisibly to my music during the wild years. I found that my music had changed tremendously. And, people's attitudes had improved a lot.

As my musical career took shape, my faith in our system of music was reconfirmed. As an education, there is really no substitute for living with the Guru. Because, you just can't put your finger on taleem (training/ apprenticeship). When, how, and under what circumstances you will acquire that flash of insight into the secrets of the Guru's music is impossible to predict, and therefore impossible to schedule. The magical quality of that experience had to express itself in my music. And, I should think, it does.

It isn't a musician's job to interpret his own music. But, I can try.

In my search for my own finished product, the first thing I worked on was how I returned to the bandish (the composition) after finishing a tan. Most musicians will take a tan, and round it off with a tihai (a symmetrical melodic structure consisting of a phrase repeated thrice) which is mostly pre-composed and ends at the sam (the first beat of the rhythmic cycle). I decided I needed to do something different.

I started working on the amad (the last part of the composition, preceding the return to the mukhda or the theme/ refrain of the composition) especially, the type which merges almost imperceptibly with the composition. An amad rich with multiple variants was the forte of the great vocalists of yesteryears. I tried to recapture some of that old magic of amads.

Then, I worked on the rhythmic component of my music. My choice fell, by temperament, on the jod (the simple two-beat rhythmic movement that follows the free-flowing alap). I enjoy playing this form, and have tried to make it more interesting without doing any damage, either to sitar music, or to the Vilayat Khani style, or to Indian classical music.

Over the last five years, I am delving deeper into vocalism. This comes naturally to me. By the time I arrived, Abba had already entered the gayaki (the style simulating vocalism on instruments) phase. The tantkar ang (the style appropriate to plucked instruments) remains with me as a part of my training. But, what I play is influenced more by the Vilayat Khan gayaki style and the great vocalists I have heard.

© Deepak S. Raja
The finest recordings of Shujaat Khan have been produced by India Archive Music Ltd., New York.