راديو اليمن: جلب التراث الموسيقي الثري لجنوب شبه الجزيرة العربية إلى مصر

 راديو اليمن: جلب التراث الموسيقي الثري لجنوب شبه الجزيرة العربية إلى مصر

تعد الموسيقى والأزياء اليمنية التقليدية ، التي تعلوها العود اليمني المعروف باسم الطربي ، من بين أبرز ما تم تشكيله حديثًا في الفرقة

عطي متولي ، السبت 5 أكتوبر 2019

راديو اليمن

على مدى السنوات القليلة الماضية ، تصدرت اليمن عناوين الصحف بسبب الاضطرابات السياسية والأزمات الإنسانية. لجأ قسم كبير من السكان إلى البلدان المجاورة ، واستقر بعضهم عبر شبه الجزيرة العربية ، بينما اتجه البعض الآخر إلى أركان العالم الأربعة. وبالمثل ، أصبحت مصر موطنًا للعديد من الأفراد والعائلات اليمنية الفارين من الحرب والمجاعة.

في سيل الأخبار عن وضع اليمنيين في بلدهم ، غالبًا ما نتغاضى عن الثقافة الغنية التي يحتفظون بها ، قرونًا من التراث المغلف بالهندسة المعمارية والفنون والموسيقى. في حين أن العديد من الكنوز الثقافية لا يمكن نقلها ، فإن الموسيقى هي التي لديها القدرة على التحرك عبر الحدود السياسية والجغرافية ... في الواقع منذ أبريل الماضي ، تم نقلها إلى عتبة دارنا ، مع فرقة راديو اليمن.

في غضون بضعة أشهر قصيرة ، قدمت راديو اليمن عروضها للجمهور في العديد من الأماكن الفنية والأماكن الحميمة في جميع أنحاء القاهرة ، ساحرة بالموسيقى اليمنية الجمهور المتزايد بشكل متزايد ، سواء من الشتات اليمني أو من السكان المحليين الذين رحبوا بهذا المسعى المثير للاهتمام.

"راديو اليمن هو فرقة غير تقليدية للغاية تعزف موسيقى تقليدية للغاية مع لمسة. مهمتنا هي إعادة إنشاء هذه الأغاني القديمة من كل من شمال اليمن وجنوبه ومشاركتها مع جماهير جديدة في جميع أنحاء العالم ، ونقل الموسيقى اليمنية إلى مراحل أكبر وأكبر "، بحيث يقدم الموسيقيون أنفسهم على صفحة الفرقة على Facebook. 

لكن الأمر الأكثر إثارة للاهتمام هو أن راديو اليمن لا يلمس حواسنا السمعية بموسيقى فريدة فحسب ، بل يوفر أيضًا متعة بصرية ، حيث يرتدي الموسيقيون خلال الحفلات الموسيقية الأزياء اليمنية التقليدية.

جديد ، جديد ومليء بالعاطفة ، بعيدًا عن الوطن ، ومع ذلك احتضنه جمهوره المحلي بحرارة ، تمكن راديو اليمن من اتخاذ خطوات كبيرة في وقت قصير جدًا. لم يمض وقت طويل على لقاء الفنانة المصرية زينب أبو طالب بالموسيقي اليمني المقيم في القاهرة محمد الحجري في ما اعتقدوا أنه سيكون مجرد تبادل ودي للأفكار الإبداعية.

 تتذكر أبو طالب كيف أن اهتمامها بالموسيقى اليمنية وجهها إلى الحجري ، عازف عود يمني: "التقينا قبل عامين ونصف فقط". هي في الأصل خريجة كلية الطب في القاهرة وطالبة سابقة في بيت العود ، أبو طالب هي أيضًا مغنية بارزة مع عروض محلية وإقليمية للموسيقى العربية التقليدية ، الموشحات والمواويل ، وعدد من الجوائز باسمها ، بما في ذلك واحدة لأداء منفرد لأغنية زي العسل لصباح في مهرجان فنون الجامعات (2003) وأخرى في 2009 لأداء منفرد لأغنية "العشق" لأم كلثوم.

راديو اليمن

زينب أبو طالب ومحمد الحجري من راديو اليمن (الصورة: بإذن من راديو اليمن)

في اكتشافاتها الإبداعية ، تواصل تحدي نفسها بمجموعة متنوعة من النكهات الجديدة ، منتقلة من التراث المصري إلى التراث الهندي ، وحتى الكوري. عندما وصلت أبو طالب إلى موسيقى الخليج العربي ، أدركت أنه يجب عليها أولاً معالجة الثقافة الموسيقية اليمنية لأن الأخيرة أثرت بشدة على المنطقة بأكملها. مع نمو شغفها ، بدأت في الاقتراب من أفراد المجتمع اليمني ، وكوّن العديد من الأصدقاء في الطريق.

"وجهتني صديقة إلى الحجري" ، كما تكشف ، مضيفةً كيف أن لقاءاتهما الأولى تألقت بالإبداع ولغة فنية مشتركة ، وكم تعلمت من تلك الاجتماعات وكم استمتعوا باللعب معًا. في ذلك الوقت ، قام الثنائي ، غير مدركين لما كان يحدث ، بزرع البذرة الأولى لإذاعة اليمن.

Al-Hejry performing in Cairo

يشرح الحجري قائلاً: "لقد غادرت اليمن منذ أربع سنوات ونصف ووصلت إلى مصر منذ ثلاث سنوات ونصف" ، ولفت انتباهي إلى دقة الثنائي بقيمه نصف السنوية. ويضيف أنه في العام بين مغادرة اليمن والاستقرار في مصر ، جرب حظه في إندونيسيا وماليزيا ولبنان وعُمان ، لكنه شعر براحة أكبر لدى وصوله إلى مصر: "رغم أنني بعيد عن منزلي وعائلتي ، أشعر وكأنك في المنزل هنا. الناس في غاية السهولة والترحيب ".

بدأ الحجري مسيرته الموسيقية في اليمن كعازف عود وملحن. تشمل محفظته العديد من العروض عبر مجموعة متنوعة من المنظمات والسفارات والفنادق في صنعاء ، وظهوره خلال TEDx. تم استخدام إحدى مؤلفاته كموسيقى خلفية لفيلم من إنتاج الصليب الأحمر اليمني. وبما أنه ، كما يكشف الحجري ، لا توجد معاهد عليا لتعليم الموسيقى في اليمن ، فقد اكتسب مهاراته ومعرفته من زملائه الموسيقيين والموارد عبر الإنترنت.

ومع ذلك ، لم يتماشى اهتمام هجري الموسيقي مع آراء عائلته حول ما يجب أن يفعله "الرجل المناسب" للعيش.

ويوضح الحجري أن اختياراته كلفته الاغتراب عن الأسرة وأصوله. وجد مجتمعه الخاص من العقول المبدعة. كما أنه كان وحيدًا عندما غادر اليمن وجاء في النهاية إلى مصر.

"كنت مصمما على دراسة الموسيقى في القاهرة لذلك التحقت بالمعهد العالي للموسيقى العربية. لقد ركزت على الدراسة ولم أؤدي حتى اجتاز طريقي عروض زينب "، يوضح مشيرًا إلى عروضهم الأولى في مقهى صغير ، حيث بدأت حفلاتهم الموسيقية نصف الأسبوعية تثير اهتمام العملاء. "هذا عندما فكرنا في إنشاء مشروع من شأنه تعزيز التراث الموسيقي اليمني ، إلى جمهور أكبر."

يضيف أبو طالب أنه سرعان ما انضم إليهم أصدقاء يعزفون الموسيقى: عازف الطبلة (الدربوكة) المقيم في القاهرة مارشال بوديكر من الولايات المتحدة الأمريكية وعازفة متعددة الآلات تؤدي على الطبلة في الفرقة ، ماريا ك.

"لم نقصد إنشاء فرقة متعددة الجنسيات ، لقد حدث ذلك للتو. ربما كان الأمر أسهل في ذلك الوقت: أربعة منا يعزفون الموسيقى اليمنية ، وندمجها مع الموسيقى والإيقاعات المصرية ، ونستمتع بأزياءنا اليمنية ... "ما يعتقده أبو طالب بأنه مزيج عفوي قد أكد في الواقع على تفرد راديو اليمن.

ومن المهم أيضًا الإشارة إلى أن الحجري يعزف على العود المصري والعود اليمني التقليدي المعروف باسم الطربي. على عكس العود المصري ، الذي يتخذ شكل الكمثرى ، فإن الطربي له قوام أرق من الخشب ومغطى جزئياً بالجلد.

 يعد صوت التربي عنصرًا مميزًا في موسيقى صنعاء (أحد التقاليد الموسيقية اليمنية الرئيسية) ، وهو فريد جدًا بالنسبة للعروض الفردية ، ويخلق ظلالًا جميلة مع آلات أخرى مثل الجيتار.

مع صفاته الفريدة من نوعها على طول الطريق ، يتم إدارة راديو اليمن من قبل كل من أبو طالب والحجري اللذين يتشاركان المسؤوليات الفنية والتنظيمية للفرقة. كما يشرح الحجري ، فهو وراء اختيار العديد من عناصر الذخيرة التي تضيف إليها بوطالب صوتها الفني المهم ، وتتصدرها بوعي أفضل بالأماكن التي يمكن أن تؤدي فيها إذاعة اليمن.

يطلعني الحجري باختصار على ذخيرة الفرقة ، بدءًا من الإشارة إلى أربعة ألوان رئيسية للموسيقى اليمنية ، والتي تؤديها إذاعة اليمن: "أولها غناء وموسيقى سنان (المرتبطة بالعاصمة اليمنية) ، وهي أقدم تقليد غنائي في اليمن. البلد وشبه الموشح. والموسيقى الحضرمية الأخرى: بها الكثير من الأنماط الإيقاعية المتأثرة بتلك الموجودة في إفريقيا والهند ، وهي قريبة من موسيقى الخليج العربي. موسيقى لحجي مبهجة للغاية في إيقاعاتها وألحانها بينما الموسيقى العدنية ربما تكون الأقرب إلى قلوب المصريين لأنها استوعبت الكثير من التراث الموسيقي المصري وكذلك الهندي: ثقافة منفتحة للغاية ".

Faisel Alawy

من بين أهم ما يميز ذخيرة راديو اليمن مقطوعات تمثل كل لون من ألوان الموسيقى اليمنية.

 تغني الفرقة يا ذا تبون الحسيني لفيصل علوي (موسيقى لحجي) ،

 والحب والبون (حب وقهوة) لعلي العنسي 

 وباشل حبك معي لأبو بكر سالم (حضرمي) ،

 ومحل ما يا إجباك لمحمد سعد عبد الله (عدني).

 بالإضافة إلى الذخيرة اليمنية ، تضيف الفرقة أيضًا بعض التراث المصري وستكشف قريبًا عن التكوين الأصلي في حفل موسيقي في ساقية الصاوي في 20 أكتوبر.

 

محمد سعد عبد الله (عدني).

"نأمل أن ننمو بينما نحاول جذب جمهور أكبر والمزيد من الوسائط إلى حفلاتنا الموسيقية. نحن نروج للتراث الموسيقي لليمن ، ونظهر أن هذا البلد الجميل لا يتعلق فقط بالحرب والأزمات الإنسانية. لدينا رسالة قيم تمتد لقرون لكي ننشرها ؛ قال الحجري وهو يسجل الاهتمام المتزايد بالفرقة ، "إنه شغفنا ولكنه أيضًا مسؤولية كبيرة".

وبدعم من الحجري ومشروع إذاعة اليمن ، يبدو أن بوطالب قد وجدت دعوتها. بتواضع لاستقبال الجمهور ، تأمل أن تفعل المزيد. "آمل حقًا أن يصل راديو اليمن إلى ما وراء مصر. علينا تعزيز الثقافة اليمنية لثروتها وجمالها. إنها ثقافة قريبة جدًا من قلوب العديد من الدول ، وتتردد صداها جيدًا بالتأكيد في مصر ، "كما تقول ، مضيفة أن" العديد من الأشخاص والهيئات ساعدت إذاعة اليمن على النمو ، بما في ذلك ملوك السعيده للملابس التقليدية التي تقدم أزياء للفرقة. وأحمد محمد سكران ، المدير العام لاستوديو فايب لتطوير الفنون حيث نجري معظم التدريبات. "

مع كل الشغف والعمل الجاد ، من الممكن جدًا لإذاعة اليمن أن تحقق أحلامها قريبًا.

بعض الأغاني تخليدا لذكرى مقاومة الاستبداد

 

1. 

 المشي على جليد “شيشاهاي”

2. 

 شارع سلامة

رجل يرقد في شارع سلامة

سقط طقم الأسنان على جانب الطريق مبتسما

عندما تأتي إليه

يختلف عما تعتقده

لن يقبلك كما كان من قبل

ستشعر أن شيئًا ما قادم إليك

إنها ليست خسارة ، إنها فقط حزينة

صديقي العزيز ، عندما تمشي في شارع بينغ آن

قال لي أخي:

إذا شعرت بالحزن ، فانتقل إلى

شارع سلامة

 إذا شعرت بالضياع

لا تذهب إلى

شارع سلامة

3. 

 السيدة وو

بعد تخرج ملكة جمال وو

العمل كبنك لأكثر من عشر سنوات

مؤخرا كان أعزب

اذهب إلى Nathan Road بنفسك في يوم الإضراب

عند الغسق

الطرق كلها شباب يرتدون قمصانًا سوداء.

أطلقت تسيم شا تسوي ومناطق أخرى بالفعل الغاز المسيل للدموع

مشاهدة مباشرة على طول الطريق

استمع إلى الناس المخيفين في الشوارع يتحدثون عن النشر

من الصعب تحمل كل من يتحدث عن الذهاب إلى مركز شرطة آخر

الآنسة وو تجلس تحت إشارات المرور وتأكل سيجارة

في اللحظة التي جلست فيها

لديها تنهد لا يوصف

أخيرًا ، هرعت شركة Riot للخروج

عندما ركضت الآنسة وو بعنف

ركض أسرع من أي شخص آخر

قرر أنه سيغادر في المستقبل

4.

 مونولوج من الحالم

5.

الطيور البحرية

6. 

سمال داغ

سمال داغ موطني الفقير بحيرة سلكار

ماذا ستكون أيامي كجندي

جئت إلى ذهني مرارا وتكرارا

تربيتي الفقيرة حيث تم قطع الحبل السري وغسله

نحن على الاقدام وليس على الخيول

نحن أثقل من المشاة

المشي لمدة 15 يومًا

وصلنا إلى مدينة أومبي

أنا عمري مثل الهريس المزدوج * ، سنتي ؛ ماشية**

ذهبت بعيدا مع جر القدر

سامال داغ ، وطني المسكين قد ترك ورائه

من المرعى الضائع نحن قطيع *

نحن على الاقدام وليس على الخيول

نحن أثقل من المشاة

المشي لمدة 15 يومًا

وصلنا إلى مدينة أومبي

كان لدي والدين

كانوا كبار السن

من كتب هذه الاغنية

كان رثاء 16 (عمر)

7. 

عد الناس كلعب

جاء الولد المسكين إلى الشارع يو

ملقى على الأرض وعد الناس للعب

الولد الفقير ليس لديه ما يفعله طوال اليوم

ملقى على الأرض وعد الناس للعب

واحد إثنان ثلاثة أربعة

واحد اثنان ثلاثة اربعة خمسة ستة سبعة ثمانية

تسعون أحد عشر واثني عشر

الساعة 13

عد وعد ، لقد ذهبت

عدت الشخص ، قاطعت

سأغني أغنية بعد ذهابي

جئت إلى هذه النغمة عندما قاطعت

إنها هذه اللحن

لا يزال هذا اللحن

إنها هذه اللحن

لا يزال هذا اللحن

أغني وأغني ، غنيت حتى يحل الظلام

أغني وأغني ، غنيت حتى الفجر

غني وغني ، غنيت لمنزلك

غني وغني وغني لك في باب منزلي

لا يزال هذا اللحن

الغناء فوق السماء يو

إنها هذه اللحن

غنى يو الشارع

لا يزال هذا اللحن

الغناء فوق السماء يو

إنها هذه اللحن

غنى يو الشارع

هاي هاي هاي هاي

جاء الولد الفقير إلى الشارع

ملقى على الأرض وعد الناس للعب

اجلس هنا وغني والعب

8. 

مجهول

9. 

كيف لا يصنع الفولاذ

"个体户"

听了个音乐表演。
SeaSmoke乐队领队Warren Senders融合了自己多年的印度斯坦音乐教育以及年幼喜欢的布鲁斯爵士。其他团员包括两名女性和两名男性。vijaya sundaram是吉他手之一 很美 头发已白 似乎印度女性头发白得更快 但并不显老。 对于领队
的长篇笑话非常欣赏。

Senders期望用音乐重新想象历史。如果当初逃离宗教迫害的是印度人 美国音乐会是怎么样。

整体上比较学究 感觉想超越ethnomusicology。也让人想起披头士晚期的实验。时不时听得出爱尔兰人的音乐传统。

掌握一种乐器 是否就掌握了文化的一部分呢。音乐是不是虚拟网络世界唯一不能完全征服的呢。

用网络(social media)发家的阿拉伯语说唱人 有点像当下的年轻学者 都从小在吸取音乐或书本的养分。出道后非常慷慨 往往提前把内容分享给了大家 但接下来面临如何把产品变成钱的疑问。不仅是个体户 同时需要面对很多不可控的因素。能控制的只有自己的激情和敬业精神。

看现场的人并不一定会花钱看。去现场究竟要体会什么呢 我高中时期待在livehouse发生邂逅 或者加入什么团体。 现在, 躲观众或表演者都躲不及。不变的是期待连接。而网上的那些小激动小暧昧 目前足矣。

Ramadan 2019: Day 10-11

Day 10 Wednesday

Walid and I reflected before on the first instances when people called us "uncle" and "aunty." I was called aunty when attending college. Walid's nephew, Asar, called him "ammu Walid," which made Walid conscious about his age.

I went to the hairdresser in the afternoon. She was quite dressed up, in all black clothing and sharp cream-colored gel-nails, which helped me feel that I was also going for a "makeover." She was also quite focused on making this trip an "experience," asking a lot of well-meaning questions, and showing the end product through a dramatic build-up. She offered a lot about herself as well: unmarried (despite wearing a ring), easygoing, likes to travel to Europe and the Caribbean, of Italian descent...

I felt uncomfortable when she kept praising my straight hair in front of two other ladies of African descent and mused about the origins of this interracial hair salon. She also noticed my frequent yawning and asked if I partied last night. I felt slightly obliged to educate her on the idea of Ramadan. Instead, I gave up and offered a sheepish smile.

I waited for a bus transfer for forty minutes without cellphone service while Walid waited for me at Malden Center. The rushing cars, suburban decay, and the manicured, external facade left me feeling apocalyptic. The habitus of the well-tended gardens and individual houses can render immigrant existence as largely ahistorical and destined for such depressing, parochial pastures.

I reunited with Walid and complained about the foreignness of the aging suburban community and my out-of-place-ness. Walid was quite understanding although he was tired of waiting at the station. We recharged at the Indian take-out restaurant while I ate spicy palak paneer with a mango lassi. The restaurant played a punjabi playlist, including Punjabi Mast, which swept some of the blues away. Other days the TV played teledramas or Hindu and Sikh bhajans. I wondered if internet connectivity was more essential to diasporic people than non-diasporic people in the U.S. I realized that the cook/cashier man lost a lot of his hair over the short time I had met him. Walid thought it could be from stress.

A picture of maqlooba from Fauzia's Kitchen fun

We bought groceries and Walid helped carry it all the way back. He was excited over the $2 / pound mackerel that would be perfect for his baking plans. He broke his fast with the remaining lassi, while uttering the words prior to iftar. He made a vegetarian version of maqlooba and we both enjoyed it.


I felt ill in the evening and Walid read surat al-jumaa for me. I found the message about Jewish people eye-opening and somewhat disturbing as well. One version of the explanation is that the passage meant that if certain people think they are favored by God, they can "prove it" by desiring death since that is a sign that they are sure that they will enter heaven (jannah). But this life is attractive in its own ways, and among all the people I have met, only a few who I have seen in Asia have truly achieved that level of consciousness.


Day 11 Thursday 

The sun finally appeared after days of rain and clouds. I chatted with Amina in the morning, which helped me wake up my brain. I learned more about updates in her life while offering some of my wisdom on how love affects one's spirit, without using those words as such. Later, she messaged me and said that she finally realized that over-rationalizing prevents other sweet aspects of life.

I read Dr. Kecia Ali's interview of scholar amina wadud, and was comforted by the fact that Buddhism helped dr. wadud realize that God's form is not limited to an old white man in the clouds. She also said the following quote about her lived engagement with theology: “I don’t believe in a dead God; I believe in Al-Hayy, the Living God, and I don’t practice a dead religion.” The following passage is also quite illuminating:

I think in becoming a Muslim I intuitively knew, as did Africans who were brought here and enslaved who had Islamic backgrounds, that you are connected to the entire planet. You are not separated from Divine truth just because you’re separated from your origins. The reality of the sacred is manifest everywhere, in every religion, and even in nonreligions. I see that manifestation, so I’m no longer so estranged by the mandate to define a territory as exclusively mine, as a Muslim, as a woman, as an African American.

I felt rather hyper and full of energy. My roommates discussed their graduation plans and incoming relatives. One roommate's deadbeat boyfriend possibly cannot attend her graduation. I felt sorry for her.

I listened to a podcast about a study on migrant laborers in Beirut. In between, I called Ahmad and wondered if any successful Syrian ever wrote about his or her account of life as a businessperson in Lebanon. I finished the podcast, wrote down some thoughts, and ventured to school. I drank a cup of coffee and saw a few fellow students, some of whom were still grading tests before their graduation.

I read the "Repression in the Fieldwork" chapter in anthropologist Pascal Menoret's Joyriding in Riyadh and learned a lot of useful information. I liked his description of his as well as his bedouin informants' tufshan (emptiness and repressed life).  The level of social suspicion described by Menoret reminded me of the telfaz11 short that depicted a thief who tried to enter a shilla and pretended to be related to one of the absent friends of an all-male gathering.

I found anthropology quite personal: if you don't like the researcher, it is hard to relate to the moods described in the ethnography. In contrast, the data in history is impersonal. During that time, my friend CP texted me about the death of I. M. Pei. I told him that I also visited places of his works, and felt the loss of this great Chinese American architect. CP found it impressive that I had traveled to such places.

The Arabic translation's book cover

I returned my professor's book and printed some reading. I printed and began reading Baudrillard's Forget Foucault on the way back to Malden. I would not have been susceptible to such a title prior to this summer break, possibly because I have realized the limitations of working with the archive, truth, and genealogy. The first section discusses how capitalism has destroyed our understanding of sexuality, with finer words. He discusses how liberation can also be part of repression, which is interesting to think in terms of the social conditions of Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and China.

I also found relief in the sensibilities both Walid and I share, to some extent, in regards to how to discuss taboos. While taboos are generalizable, different cultures have different reasons and manners to observe those taboos. Luckily for us, we can come to the same habitus and understanding in regards to sexual taboos. When I was young, I liked generalizable information on such subjects, since they can help navigate the terrain. Now, after marriage, the practice is about what Walid and I share as truth and does not matter what works for others. Science tries to be generalizable, but ethics are specific and interpersonal. I have yet to read works on a queer modernity's vision of ethics, that would be as informative to me as Bedouin ethics of manhood, described by Menoret.

I once lamented to Walid that there are fewer and fewer people who can think with me. Many people can think against me (as is often seen in trite academic debates). But that is perhaps I have matured and found comfort in my own thinking patterns.

I met up with Walid at Oak Grove. He just finished his first day at a pizza place. There were Iraqi kurdish coworkers, one of whom worked at the same place for seven years. The Egyptian owner found Walid's skills to be quite good. Walid did not find the food suitable for himself there and waited to eat his own maqlooba. We listened to the music of the carnatic violin. I was surprised that he could appreciate the music, which my mother cannot. He joked that he cannot change this type of suffering, so he might as well enjoy it. Then he played Black Thema's song fi bilad ay hagga, which was quite depressing.

I quoted to him a version of this quote: “A poet might die at twenty-one, a revolutionary or a rock star at twenty four. But after that you assume everything’s going to be all right. you’ve made it past Dead Man’s Curve and you’re out of the tunnel, cruising straight for your destination down a six lane highway whether you want it or not.” - Murakami

We walked around the neighborhood around 11pm pretending to smoke. We saw the moon and Walid remembered how a sahaba said that the Prophet Muhammad was more beautiful than the moon.

On the way back, we discovered a skunk. Walid remembered my grandpa's cautionary tale of the skunk. We translated its name in Google and found out that skunks are unique to North America. Animals truly humble our ways of knowing and bring attention to our limited existence.

Walid wrote a very beautiful poem for me in our collective journal. We drank a can of soda, ate a lot of pepper jack cheese and slept. 

Ramadan 2019: Day 3

Just to clarify for readers: My partner Walid is fasting, 25th year-in-a-row, but I am not. I might do it on the day we attend the Cambridge community iftar together.

But I still benefit from the spirit: Today, I settled on two resolutions for this month. I do not want to gossip with my former girlfriend or try to "improve" her understanding of my worldview anymore, nor do I want to take on the responsibility of educating my partner of every theory or idea I find interesting. These are old habits that will die hard, but I am feeling a strong imaan this month and I have asked Walid to pray for my success.

From Walid's new neighborhood

After many conflicts with friends, intellectuals, as well as my partner, who is my friend as well as an intellectual, I realized that my opinions only matter to the extent that my life matters. In other words, I have found another reason not to fight over my opinions. As a scholar of the humanities, I have often thought that my opinions can benefit humanity. It is a big claim, but I am sure I am not alone. This is also why scholars in humanities take their opinions so seriously. But I have luckily had an increasing awareness of the limitations of humans--as we know them. I used to abhor geology and its narration of the earth. But now I am more receptive to the idea that human-centric histories are limited and we need new narratives that remind us that we may not outlast planet earth.
I reflected on the question: what is education. The novel Severance by Ma Ling put forward the idea that even though we young folks revere Google as THE resource for any life hack, the repository is just "collective memory." Thus, viewing education broadly, educators are passing down collective memory. (yet a small caveat on forms of memory: I once asked TGT, what do you think about long-distance learning through digital platforms. He quipped, it's a scam. Don't buy into it.)
When I seek to educate someone, especially in the context where people around me can readily access Google, I am more presumptuous than those before me. I do not have to guide anyone beyond the first remonstrance; anything more would be quite self-imposing. These thoughts were mainly due to the fact that I felt a lot of pressure to be my own family historian, which is a lot of responsibility in addition to Walid's move to Boston, Ramadan, as well as PhD-end-of-the-year coursework. Walid and I had a conflict yesterday, which also can be explained bookishly as a clash between a "decolonizer" and a "colonized" worldview...

"Indian" subcontinent tabla , picture from the Silk Road Project

I thought (out loud) today that human knowledge is very limited and the "education" of life-hacks, such as child-rearing, will not outlast humans. Walid pointed out that such broadly-defined education also includes animal-rearing among animals. My friend Amina also noted that all folk music can be read as a language in which humans periodically copy from animal sounds. Other lingering questions: So what is the perspective of a tabla (which I found out today, is the same word in Hindi as it is in Arabic) or another instrument of the downfall of, say, the Abbasid Empire? How is ethnomusicology de-centering human activity, while an archive of visual sources often centers human activity? That is how I see that reconstructing Shi'a history is not just about a Shi'a point of view, but also considering how drastically narratives and sources change when one focuses on something outside of the hegemony.

Arabic t'abla, picture from hotarabicmusic.blogspot.com

Beyond my thinking today, we woke up at 12pm, read some poetry, did the laundry, listened to Dua Abu Hamza, gained taqwa on the way to Walid's new place, took some snaps under the beautiful sun, went to ISBCC to check out work opportunities and classified ads for "Islamic" car-washing (I'm joking), drank some KungFu chai, and ate at Chutney's. On the way back to my place, we discussed possibilities of Walid earning income through stock exchanges. He quickly gave me an update on the mainstream sharia rulings over stock trade, which I found through Google, was oddly accurate for someone who has not studied much in between his work days... When we arrived, we played chess. It was the first time when I almost checkmated someone!

From the view of Walid's balcony

Walid's iftar

Chess is a great way to also re-imagine one's relationship with the world. An empire's history can also be told in a chess game. Also, did you know, in Arabic, there is the symbolic reference to "elephants" in chess, which is also present in the Chinese version of chess, yet not in English chess-language? As Walid likes to express to me these days, China and Egypt have more in common that you expect! The more you know... At times I fear that my eating might influence Walid's will, but fortunately he is used to people eating all around him. 

Arabic Music Performance in Boston

Boston College organized a free Arabic music concert on rainy Sunday night, April 15th, at Gasson Hall. Prof. Ann Lucas said the introductory remarks first in English and then in Arabic. She welcomed us with “أهلا و سهلا” and also wished that the program will continue in the future (في مستقبل) Many of the audiences also were Lebanese. I stood throughout the show because all the chairs were taken. It was my first time at such a formal Arabic music performance. Before my exposure to music of the same region was mostly dabke and zajal music.

The main show of the evening featured  Lebanese oud performer Charbel Rouhana. Before he went on stage, the ensemble and chorus performed Levantine folk songs featuring themes of love and scenes of nature in the first half. Children of the Center for Arabic Culture the opened the show with My Darlings Around me (حبايبنا حولي), conducted by Syrian lawyer and conductor Alma Riceh. This choir is the only children’s Arabic choir in Massachusetts. The remaining choruses were directed by Nizar Fares, a Beiruiti who holds a PhD in musicology. During certain intervals, the Qanun player also had his solo parts and the audience responded with loud applause.

from Wikipedia

Dr. Fares, who also plays the Oud and is a musician in his own right, praised Charbel Rouhana to have accomplished what he thought as excellence that required an average person at least four times the amount of effort. Rouhana took stage and played several more numbers of Levantine songs as well as Oud-centric musical arrangements for us. The later learned that the oud is an instrument 3500 years old and has heavily influenced the Spanish guitar. 

Gasson Hall April 15th; Picture found from website

I also attended an Oud performance in Beirut, where I sat very formally at first; but I soon realized that Oud could also be entertained for a dance party. The crowd in the bar rose to their feet and also made requests upon the performer. I later found out that Rouhana also performs Oud in jazz style.

In this case, at Boston College, it was modeled off of a European influenced understanding of a performance. I had read about Umm Kulthum’s rise in fame as well as her collaboration with old forms of performances. While she retained the formal Arabic language in her pronunciations, she also contended with the new arrival of film and dressed in European dresses. 

Umm Kulthum and her ensemble

The Lebanese dialect lyrics of this musical performance was transliterated and translated for us to follow. I could understand “moon” and “lover.” During the call and response sections, I also participated in the choruses. I noticed that the gender of the addressee is important in Arabic; God would be presented as a gender-specific figure in literature and poetry. In contrast, Indian Sufi music addresses God in gender-neutral terms.

After the last amusing song Qahwa (coffee), a nun from Lebanon presented an award to Boston College’s music department, commended this performance and also praised the ability for music to communicate through all cultures. She also looked forward to future performance exchanges in Boston. Rouhana also signed his book on Maqam for people who were interested in purchasing it. I would like to learn more about Arabic music theory in the future.

Race and Gender in Music

What is the boundary of a tradition or genre? Music grants creative license, and market forces are increasingly determining the success of musicians rather than politics expressed in the music. This creates problems such as cultural appropriation, and the clear solution is not yet to be found. Jazz started as a music genre that expressed black suffering and the African American experience. Nowadays it is often associated with upper-class taste and elevator music. Yet one also finds it hard to call for a purge in all elements that are inauthentic.
The politics of culture remains an important issue for the Indian diaspora in the Caribbeans, as Tejaswani Niranjana shows in her book Mobilizing India: Women, Music, and Migration between India and Trinidad. The diaspora faces the anxiety of trying to prove they are also adherents of “Indian culture,” which dangers on feeding into Orientalist interpretations of hierarchies of authenticity. Some migrants from India have treated caste as a personal ascription and adopted the styles of conduct to appear as a twice-born. Due to the disproportionate ratio of male to female migrants, caste endogamy to the extent of “back home” was almost impossible. This trend has led to people like controversial writer V.S. Naipaul to think of the diaspora in the Caribbean as “mimic men” and have not “produced anything.” Some of them have thus tried to show their continuance of (Hindu) tradition at home and racial similarity and create exclusionist cultural projects. The left in Trinidad thus faces problems of race, where colonialists and racial purists on both sides tried to maintain an antagonist position toward each other’s interests, despite working class similarities.

Derek Walcott responded in a momentous Nobel Prize speech that the Caribbean has always been looked in a way that it is "illegitimate, rootless, mongrelized." It stems from an expansionist idea that the Caribbeans across the ocean “is new, this is the frontier, the boundary of endeavor, and henceforth everything can only be mimicry.”[Women, Music, and Migration between India and Trinidad. 37.] Yet there is undue appreciation to the innovative uses of the mix in chutney-soca, with Trinidadian English as well as Bhojpuri Hindi being featured in explicit songs. In ways chutney-soca songs are more authentic, organic, and egalitarian than some other "traditional" Indian songs. As Walcott eloquently asked, why are these practices "not 'celebrations of a real presence'? Why should India be 'lost' when none of these villagers ever really knew it, and why not 'continuing'?"

Soca music events allows for many working class women to participate in festive cultural expression, even while incurring wrath from conservative commentators. There are many suggestive lyrics, such as those sung by the famous Drupatee, which have suffered the ignominy of vulgar or obscene. Others stated that "no Indian woman has any right to sing calypso."[Ibid. 112-3.] Racial purity, like caste purity, relies heavily on the circumscription of actions of a community’s women. Hindu opinions in Trinidad has are parallels with Confucian projects in China, such as the House of Female Virtue (女德馆) in which claims to tradition and cultural authenticity threaten female self-respect, freedom, and mobility. The question of gender is under-explored in the quest for authenticity. Trinidad provides a great ground for research since it carries many intersectional questions. Tejaswani Niranjana’s book is a great analysis for the politics of class, race and culture.

Fore more: see documentary on Calypso-Soca music, Jahaji Music

Two Music Live Shows in March

Both of the musical personalities written below experiment with concepts. Both are considered as extraordinary pioneers in their own musical milieu. I had the privilege to watch them in the same month and I thought it would be a really cool post to write about them together. 

3/15 Xi Ban (戏班) at Kulturpalast, Hannover, Germany

I was delighted to learn that the band Xiban, which means "Theater Troupe," toured in seven cities in Germany starting in March. As students with semester tickets, we had two options to travel without cost: Braunschweig or Hannover. The train left earlier on Saturdays in Braunschweig than Hannover on Sundays, so we opted for the Hannover show. I joked to my companion Maaz that in China, "Kulturpalast" or wenhua gong (文化宫) was an actual place in cities where privileged young children would go for their weekend art activities. The venue was intimate and some audiences were standing by the bar, while others opting for a closer look sat around the stage. We sat against the wall and were duly impressed. Maaz compared the band's traditional styles to qawwali folk songs that he loves.

Xiban  is a really mind-blowing band in the way that they experiment with elements from the South Asian sitar, jazz,  and a lot of folk instruments and oral traditions from China. Their fusion does not aim to entertain and display the exotic with superficial crossovers, but to alarm and shock with the transgressive potentials of sound. I only learned about them in February, and I I did not know much about traditional Chinese instruments, such as the different "luo" and drums used in Xiban's double albums.  It was a musical education to see the different instruments in action, something more than what I expected of a live show. The lead singer Zooma has stated in Chinese interviews that he would like to see more people using Chinese instruments and hopes to revive that part of the culture by introducing it to a new context. 

A type of luo; though Xiban uses hands rather than the sticks to drum on it

As a northerner by speech style, I was really amazed to learn that the lead singer Zooma 竹玛 was from Shanghai, because he mastered the northern style of singing very well. My favorite song is sung in a northern style--Counting People for Fun. His multi-linguistic ability also helped him perform songs in southern languages as well. I was most impressed by Li Xing's sitar-playing with his guitar in the last song, 藏相守. I even asked where he had learned it, and he said in China, from an American born Chinese guitarist called Gu Zhongshan (Lawrence Ku). 

Music and film critic Mengjin Sun, a very active figure in the Shanghai jazz circle, also put on his own improvisation that night, although that was less musical and less agreeable for the ear... The band toured for their album 《太平有象》 & 《五石散》. You can listen to some tracks here.

3/21 Vijay Iyer Trio at Bergamo Jazz Festival, Italy

This was the first live show I went to alone in Europe, first jazz performance I ever attended, and first time ever traveling to Italy. I was understandably nervous about whether or not I would be able to procure the ticket. Luckily I got one and there were many seats close to the front rows when I entered.

I heard about pianist and composer Vijay Iyer first through Heems (Himanshu Suri), a rapper vocal about his South Asian identity. I had no clear understanding of jazz at the time and I was intrigued by the possibilities of collaboration between rap and jazz. Even though I had not seen the Open City performance, I have been more on the lookout for opportunities of jazz musical education. Vijay Iyer, with his insightful opinions on race and art, such as this phenomenal speech at Yale, served as an opportunity for a person with a liberal arts background like me to this daunting subject. 

I’ve found myself right in the middle of conversations about race for most of the past 20 years. Now I’ve managed to maintain a stable and consistent presence in the jazz world; by any measure I’ve been one of jazz’s success stories, and at this point I have no bitterness; I just observe how things unfold. For example, I’ve seen my work described repeatedly (mostly by white men, who tend to do most of the talking in jazz) as “mathematical,” “technical,” “inauthentic,” “too conceptual,” “jazz for nerds,” “dissonant,” “academic,” and just last month, a “failure.” Over the years a racialized component emerges in such language—basically a kind of model minority discourse that presumes that Asians have no soul and have no business trying to be artists, especially in proximity to Blackness, which is, in the white imagination, a realm of pure intuition, apparently devoid of intellect. No such critique, I should add, is typically leveled at white jazz musicians, of which there are many.

I really appreciated the album Revolutions as well as some parts of Accelerando. Vijay Iyer has been influenced by Thelonious Monk and Henry Threadgill, but also maintains his own style through incorporating improvisation as well as Carnatic inspirations. During the show Vijay introduced the trio members several times, bassist Stephan Crump and drummer Marcus Gilmore. I unfortunately could not grasp the beginning and ends of each jazz track, so I was lost in the music (in the bad sense). I experienced the frustration of not "getting it." Compared to the controlled environment of my own computer, the live performance was even more challenging to my musical sensibilities. But when I saw Stephan Crump sweating at the end and audiences clapping with much enthusiasm, I knew the performance was something special. Vijay disclosed that there will also be a show in Italy again in June, and he looked forward to seeing the crowd again. I was determined to read more about jazz, and I found his illuminating conversation in 2005 with jazz sax player and South Asian American Rudresh Mahanthappa--Sangha: Collaborative Improvisations on Community (PDF available for download here) . This was my favorite segment from the conversation:

Vijay: I guess I still have twinges of bad feelings about it, because I find that barriers are maintained in the way that music functions, in all these different cultures and subcultures. I find that what’s true in the mainstream superstructure gets transferred even to these little fringe subcultures, like the South Asian underground scene. And in particular, the role that jazz has today, or anything affiliated with or having any relationship to jazz: it’s sort of a pariah. It’s true what Wadada said; it’s the sort of thing that nobody wants to like. And that continues to be true even in the club culture scene. And what’s funny is that if you go to these Desi club nights where there’ll be DJ’s and people playing tabla and dholek and stuff, the way they promote the events and the way they talk about it afterwards, they’re using all this idyllic language about improvisation and freestyling. You know the kind: these people are “on some next shit” because they’re making it up off the top of their heads. And it just strikes me how that same language is never used by those people to describe what we do. 

Rudresh: Yeah. I think when people think of jazz, the younger generation thinks it involves too much homework. Somehow this idea of just going and listening and not trying to understandit is kind of inconceivable. Somehow when jazz comes up, people feel like they always have to have a background, they have to understand it. I was online and I found some blogs about your quartet shows at the Jazz Standard in June. And some singer had posted to her blog, and it was this whole rant about how she’s been trying to get down with modern jazz but she just can’t deal with it. And the whole thing was so laden with—it wasn’t about the music, really. It was about her feeling like she’s supposed to understand this but she can’t understand it. And obviously there was this psychological thing happening there, where she was maybe on the verge of feeling ignorant or stupid or something like that. So that’s actually seen as a reason for not liking it. I mean, do you feel like when you go to the museum and look at some crazy modern art, do you feel stupid? I generally don’t, but I kind of decided a long time ago that I was just going to deal with it on my own terms....So jazz just challenges people—just the word “jazz” challenges people in all sorts of bizarre ways. It’s really a shame that people can’t just come to it with a blank slate and then decide if they like it or hate it, or just be able to groove off the energy or the emotion of it…

In this sense, both jazz and experimental music such as Xiban challenge the audiences. 

This was my favorite performance of Vijay and Rudresh together, from 2008:

Bonus: Vijay Iyer talking about the importance of participating music events (even when one does not know what is exactly going on)

I was checking out a lot of these South Indian classical concerts in the Bay Area, mainly in Palo Alto, which had such a strong South Asian population because of the Silicon Valley. They were able to bring over artists from India to perform, so there was a regular concert series and I was going to that twice a month. And that was where I learned a lot about just the basics of listening to Karnatak music. Not that I’m an expert or know anything at all, really, about the details of it, but I know how to participate in that kind of event. That is something you don’t get from listening to records — some of those extramusical factors that you can’t really get from books or pedagogy, really. You learn a lot from being immersed in this community that’s participating in these events. 

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What's next? Post-rock band Wang Wen (惘闻) will be playing in Dortmund. Looking forward to seeing them again. The last time I saw them play was in Chengdu, June 2012. 

Carnatic Music and Religion

Karthik, who is from a family of classical Indian musicians, asked me today, "How did you get this interest in knowing about India and carnatic music?" Karthik said that he was so happy that someone not from India actually appreciates carnatic music. "Many people do not know about it. It requires such a dedication and lots of practice to be at least somewhat good at it." 

There was an article I read that really sparked my interest--Many discontents of the Season, which is about how the Margazhi Festival's organization has a lot of downsides and how newcomers have a tough time and face a lot of budgetary pressure. But the festival still serves as a good showcase for new artists and I am impressed by the number of serious patrons for art. This is an interesting excerpt from one of the participants:

“I find that in the North, artistes are a lot more united. They won’t take this kind of crap. If someone makes an unreasonable demand, and a performer takes the high road, all his or her colleagues will, so the organisers have to step back and be nice. Here, things are far more cut-throat. If you stick to your principles, there are a whole lot of people who will swoop in. And that’s given the sabhas all the power. I see it in the way Hindustani musicians are treated, during special concerts for Margazhi. They’re given lakhs as performer fees; they’re put up in five-star hotels. But how are Carnatic musicians from out of town treated? What does that tell you?”

Also, the star of the festival was--

Carnatic singer TM Krishna

The 36-year-old singer draws a mob at practically every kutcheri (a place where people gather to listen to classical music concerts of vidwans.). A vocalist who’s been famous for longer than he hasn’t been, his flair and creativity on stage have earned him a devoted following—and a reputation as an eccentric. He often questions the competence of music critics, the sanctity of the structure of a kutcheri, the politics of the season.

Over the last few years, he’s taken initiatives to set things right. Once he refused evening slots to make way for new talent. Another time, he said he was taking December off to attend other musicians’ kutcheris; and in 2012-13, he said he would only give free concerts. So rasikas dashed to his four-hour concert at an auditorium with 700 seats.

TM Krishna is not only renowned singer, but also a thinker and writer. He has a theory about practicing, his as well as a book on Carnatic music.

I have this theory that we should push our mental capacity to the extreme during practice. A lot of nonsense may be there inside your head. When you practise Natakurinji for six hours for instance, other raga-s could be there inside you. Every musician has to develop a sieve in the thought process that will help to bring out the juice of what your mind is thinking and deliver it. Not necessarily in a concert, but when you sing naturally. You first need to throw everything out. You need to expel all extraneous matter. When you sing for four hours – you will reach a point when you are brain dead. But you just have to get to that point, where you are so saturated that you will go mad! After that, the mind starts clearing up what you sing. Among 50 ideas that come up in your mind, one idea may survive. Many people told me I was overdoing it, singing too much. Being the kind of person I was, I rebelled and continued to do exactly what I wanted to do. This was very good in one way. I learnt it all my way. If someone asked me to sing Todi, I just poured out everything I knew of Todi, all the sangati-s.

If only I could work that hard for learning a language...

I have also been reading Janaki Bakhle's Two Men and Music before Hindi classes started and it's also very inspiring. I look forward to reading TM Krishna's new book on Carnatic music; the excerpt in The Hindu was also very reflective and honest.

Within the modern world, the Hindu religious content raises an important question. Can an atheist or a non-Hindu be a Karnatik musician?
The environment that pervades Karnatik music makes it very difficult for an atheist to function within its world. There may be a few, but they will find it very difficult to come out in the open and articulate an atheistic narrative for Karnatik music. They will silently pamper the religious responses to their music and encourage devotional and philosophical expressions. I am not finding fault, but highlighting the difficulty for them to be who they are within this world. The musical fraternity at large does not feel it necessary to give Karnatik music, especially its compositional forms, a purely aesthetic thought.
What about practitioners of other religions? Among the nagasvara community there were not a few Muslim families that mastered this art form. Most of them flourished in what is now Andhra Pradesh and a few still live alongside the most conservative Hindu communities of Srirangam in Tamil Nadu. My admiration for these people is immense, as they have been able to negotiate two very opposing ideas, but there is a nuance. They have had to, perhaps willingly, accept the Hindu pantheon within their world. You will find their homes adorned with pictures of Hindu deities and their immense respect for Hindu gods and goddesses even when their religious practices are Islamic. This is a credit to their ability to straddle two worlds. But they cannot display apathy for Hinduism and be accepted as musicians by the Karnatik world. 

TM Krishna raises very important questions. I find this issue common in many cultural activities in India. Among my fellow Hindi language students during the summer, two have studied music from Oberlin, and both have interests in Indian music. I also really like Qawwali music (such as Qari Wahid Chisti) and ghazal ballads. In fact, Agha Shahid Ali, who introduced ghazals in an English form, is my favorite poet. I have also watched Bengali Baul performers (Purna Das Baul) in Beijing, at 后山艺术空间. Bauls pride themselves for being Hindu-Muslim syncretic and without caste. They have rituals and beliefs in addition to musical performances. Carnatic musicians, for example, play at religious functions as well.

Karthik's reply:

As you correctly pointed out, a person who knows and practices carnatic music will find it very difficult to be an atheist. It is virtually impossible. I can assure that not a single carnatic musician will be a complete atheist. They may be agnostic but atheism isn't there. I will tell you something, I didn't know atheism was a thing until I was 19 yes old. That's the effect on the society. The word is not uttered and a person is not taught anything about it. Also, most of the carnatic compositions are based on god. Exaltation of the deities is an important tool in keeping up the tradition and teaching carnatic music.

The holy trinity in carnatic music, Muthuswamy Dikshitar, Thyagarajar, and Shyama Sastrigal all composed music based on deities. Mr. Koteeswara Iyer was the first person to compose tunes in all 72 mela karta raagas. Even he composed music by praising the gods.

See, there are very complex societies in India. Also, most of the carnatic musicians are Brahmins (including me). It is a subculture within the tamil culture itself. We are, from a very young age, drilled about the concept of god. So most of us don't know what atheism is. To us, god and music aren't different. Yes.

I said that this is also the one aspect I find troubling in Buddhism, which proposes no god. I like music so much, and the existence of such wonderful music makes it hard to believe that there is no god. I think Christians feel similar in regards to some classical music.
He pointed that "there are quite a bit of christians who actually sing carnatic music, praising both the hindu gods as well as jesus christ. Weird but true. This happens in Kerala a lot. It is just that carnatic music is taught not only with notes but also with devotional lyrics. Because many devotional songs are taken as examples for classic raagas.
He goes on, "The carnatic music is actually seen by many muslims as a hindu thing. So Muslims don't do it often. However, there are many successful musicians who are Muslims and have a carnatic background. Most of them however, prefer western classical music."

Here is I made a mixtape of the five tracks I like best under the theme of "Joy"

1. Ganesh & Kumaresh - Yaare Ranganaa

2. Venkataswamy Naidu - Ragam Thanam Pallavi

3. Ganesh & Kumaresh - Yaro Iver Yaro

4. Anil Srinivasan, Supratik Das & Sikkil Gurucharan "Raag Megh" Live @ The Peninsula Studios

5. Ganesh & Kumaresh - Seethapathe

6. https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=10204715600635230
Composed by the amazing musician from Kerala called Sharreth.



I asked Karthik about track 1, in which Ganesh and Kumaresh said that Yaare Ranganaa was written by someone 500 years ago. What was used in place of violin in Carnatic before violin?

Yaare Ranganaa composed by Purandaradasar is a vocal composition. It wasn't made for instrumental. In fact, instrumental carnatic music didn't exist until 1980s. The man who created a revolution in instrumental carnatic music was Kunnakudi Vaidyanathan. Muthuswamy Dikshitar introduced violin to carnatic music. Before that, the accompaniment depended upon Veena or Sitar. I added, TM Krishna also said in his column that Carnatic music can be understood as very young as well.In a usual carnatic music setup, you have the singer, now you have the violinist who accompanies the singer, then you have mridangam as percussion. This is the basic setup. The extra instruments are Ghatam (which looks like a clay pot), Kanjira, Morsing etc. So violins performing independently was non existent a couple of decades ago. Kunnakudi Vaidyanathan changed the entire scene. He brought out something called the "Solo Violin" revolution. Many violinists then started playing independently. Only then the respect for that instrument vastly increased. This music director called Illayaraaja again introduced violin solo pieces in movies. V.S. Narasimhan took centre stage then. Most of the carnatic musicians try to complicate and twist the music as much as possible in order to provide complexity. So, over a period, complexity started to get associated with beauty and skill. 

"Many people, in the name of complexity, started to make it sound boring. That's why many people don't find it appealing. M.S. Viswanathan and Illayaraaja made this observation and created music in such a manner that the essence and beauty of carnatic music reached far beyond the educated audiences."

Karthik also has an interesting opinion regarding Bollywood music: Many people think A.R. Rahman is the best musician in India. He is a brilliant technician. However, he is no match to Illayaraaja and MSV. The factor which made Rahman famous is media and technology. He rose to prominence when India opened up to the world. That was the time when the state controlled media became privatized. With that came more money, a different genre of music, and a young composer with it. This had a brilliant effect and now Rahman is pretty damn famous. Actually speaking, Illayaraaja never broke into Bollywood. He did most of his films in Kollywood, Telugu, Malayalam, and Bengali film industries.