 Counting the trees, missing the forest
The Internet has given voice to a swarm of new critics of Carnatic music. With ready access to a myriad of forums, people voice their opinions about the shortcomings in the Carnatic music concerts that they have recently attended. They express opinions on everything from inadequate elaboration of a raga to incorrect swara prastharas. While these self-appointed critics score well on their technical knowledge of Carnatic music, they seem to lose out on the listening experience.
We enhance our knowledge of music through learning, listening and reasoning. Knowledge eventually helps us differentiate a good performance from a poor performance. We begin to appreciate the nuances – well-rendered gamakas and swara kalpanas that illustrate the beauty of a raga to mathematical computations that demonstrate the complexity of a tala. During this process of learning, we also become skilled in identifying the deficiencies in performance.
But, we cannot claim knowledge merely because we are good at preparing a laundry list of mistakes made by a musician during a performance. We acquire knowledge only when we recognise that regardless of who the performer is or how good the performance is, the true purpose of Carnatic music is pursuit of bhakthi and devotion. We become truly learned only when the swaras uplift us mentally and spiritually and when we relate to the swaras as “mooladharaja nadah” or as sounds that originate from within our souls. But these days, as we become better critics, we also seem to be moving farther away from the spiritual satisfaction that evolves from listening to our music. That is, we are getting better at counting the trees while missing the forest entirely.
One of the reasons we are better at criticism than appreciation is because Carnatic music is complex and it easily lends itself to critical analysis and to subjective perceptions and interpretations. It is easier to pick holes in a performance than in contemplating on the meaning and messages contained in a kriti. With less effort, we can comment on everything from the appropriateness of the use of sudha rishabam in a certain raga to violation of kala pramanam during a thani to a musician’s poor fashion choices. As in a review I recently read in an online Carnatic music forum, we can even take the liberty of offering unsolicited advice to the youngsters of this world on why they should never take music lessons from a particular artiste. In a three-hour concert, as critics, we are not obligated to point to even a couple of things that the artiste did well. And, most importantly, we are not required to sign our true names and we can conveniently hide behind monikers such as: Carnatic Einstein, Sangeetha Goonda, or Music Mafia.
I am not opposed to criticism or critics and I am certainly not defending professional musicians. When a professional musician does a half-hearted job, critics have a right to point out why the audiences were not satisfied. But we must engage in such criticisms by balancing the good with the bad. Our criticism must be constructive and valuable - ideally an artiste should use it to improve future performances. A diatribe on an artiste or his fashion sense adds little value other than boosting our own egos as critics. Perhaps, this is the reason that someone once wrote that Carnatic music must be listened to and not read or analysed – I could not agree more.
The principal reason we listen to Carnatic music is because it is a path that leads to inner peace. But, we can walk through this path only when we identify ourselves with the swaras and the emotions that they convey. As Saint Tyagaraja says in the Sankarabharanam kriti Swara Raga Sudharasa, “Mooladaraja NAada Merungute Mudamagu Mokshamura.”. By listening to the seven swaras and by identifying ourselves with the swaras, we obtain consonance with our inner spirits. When we travel in the chariot of swaras or “Sapthaswara Chaari” (See: Sri Tyagaraja’s Sribapriya Sangeethopasana in Atana), we become content and everything else, including an artiste’s appearance and performance shortcomings, fades into oblivion.
Perhaps, we should reflect on the message of Saint Tyagaraja to both our performers and critics. To the performers, he says that music should be rendered with humility, vinaya and, most importantly, devotion. In the Sankarabharanam kriti, ‘Bhakthi Bhiksha Meeyavayya’, Tyagaraja Swami provides the analogy that the most well rendered song - if sung without devotion - is like brocades and diamonds on a dead man; it will neither please the performer nor the audience.
As for us, the critics, Swami emphasises that the benefit of Sangeetha Sastra Gnana is not just the ability to recognise mistakes but improving our own inner qualities. True knowledge of music must make us humble and modest. We must place bhakti above analysis and discussion. In the Kalyani kriti ‘Bhajana Seyave’, Tyagaraja Swami asks us to refrain from endless debate and discussion and instead to immerse ourselves in Nama Sankeerthana. We acquire scholarliness only when we receive benefits such as “Prema, Bhakthi, Sujana, Vathsalyamu, Nema Nishta Yesodhanamu”: love, devotion, blessings of elders, grace of God, pure thought, and valuable recognition as a good human being (Sangeetha Sastra Gnanamu -
Mukhari).
If we forget this supreme message from our great composer-saint, we are doomed to fail not only as musical scholars but also as ordinary listeners. As Tyagaraja Swami illustrates, we will be like a donkey carrying a load of books. The donkey does not understand the value of those books and does not derive any benefit from its load. When we attend the next concert, let us travel in the chariot of swaras and towards harmony and inner peace.
Dr Ram S. Sriram
Atlanta
sriramgsu@gmail.com
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