Music is a medium; it makes the air around less overwhelming. Music is rhythm; the rhythm that flows through the way things
are done; the typing, the speed, the pauses, the blinks and
the restless taps searching for words. Music
is white noise. It brings down the volume on the strident disquiet of solitude.
And sometimes, every once in a while,on one of those rare occasions, a
piece of music catches you unaware and transcends
into something surreal. It demands that you listen to it, perceive it with all
your senses, and you do, with rapt attention.
There is this song by the name “chandiranai” from the movie
ratchagan. The song was pretty much in a nondescript corner in my player and
used to pop up now and then only to be flipped over for the current favourites. But
on this particular train journey, I was taken by surprise, spellbound at the beauty it could
conjure.I was so hooked that I had to stop after three of four repetitions lest I dilute the effect it had on
me. The breeze, the moonlight, and the rhythm the train set; somehow it was
magical.
I had not come across the song’s picturization then. Hence, the mind painted its own picture. The motif being a duet set in a misty twilight / night bathed in moonlight with a gentle breeze; a bit of graceful dancing here and there along with silhouettes and shapes flitting through the conciousness now and then complementing the song's mood. I didn’t know what
the movie was about, neither did I know where the song came in or what the emotions
were, leading up to the song. (Turned out , when I did watch the movie later,
the all pervading emotion throughout the movie was one of boredom and
hopelessness.) I had drawn my own version of the song and to me it was lovely.
What I didn't expect was the rude shock I had when I did eventually get around to watching it on TV;
there was not a single shot of the moon. I was scandalized. I wondered what the director had smoked up to come up with this. After watching some of his
other movies, later, I have come to realize now, that he has a natural flair for stupidity. But back then, I was a bit naive.When a song goes “chandiranai
thottadhu yaar Armstrong a?” (Did Armstrong touch the moon?) and the rhythm is so lazy; so beautiful, why would he shoot anything else other than the moon? Why would he show us this nonsense? what is the theme of this anyway?
Composing music for cinema is a two way process.
The director sets the mood while the composer comes up with the tone. And they discuss. When I think
about our commercial potboilers, I often wonder what the narrative to the
composer would be like. Especially in cases where duets are used almost as place holders. “I’m
going to New Zealand, I’m planning to take arching shots of the landscape, compose
something for me”. Fair enough. Makes enough sense for the composer get a grip on the expected output. But when or how does a song go discordant?
Another song that comes to my mind here is “aathangarai
marame” from kizhaku seemayile. I couldn’t forgive myself for watching it on TV for a
long time. Personally I thought that the composer had over shot the narrative. I still wonder if the song really required such richness.If it did, then the visual imagery had failed to deliver on the promise.I do concede here that the song as a separate entity was beautiful.Similarly, In the
more recent times, no other song has disappointed me more than “adiye” from
Kadal. What a damp squib.
Circumspect is the word. Or you can probably insulate yourself. How? when a song
that you have just heard, gives you the Goosebumps, floods you with vibrant
imagery, assume that the video in all probability is hopeless. then proceed to watch it; get pleasantly
surprised if it does live up to the song. If it did not, you always knew :D
