Guest article by Piyush M Pandya (originally in Gujarati) and Ashok M Vaishnav (English translation) as a tribute to Sebastian D’Souza on his 117 birth anniversary (29 January 1906 – 9 March 1998)
(If you remove the prelude, interlude and orchestral arrangements from ‘Aawara hun, ya gardish mein hun aasman ka tara hun’, or ‘Mera joota hai Japani’ or scores of our everlasting songs, a bare body would be left without adornments, embellishments and beauty. The songs would be hardly recognisabale.
The ‘arrangement’ of musical instruments adds beauty to the bare body of the song created by the music director. Yet the arrangers remained behind the curtain. They were rarely credited in the credit titles in fine print, and they virtually remained unknown to the music loving people, except some who were deeply involved in it.
There have been repeated requests by the readers to write on some famous Arrangers. I had to politely skirt the issue; I realised that one needed much more information than what was there in Greg Booth’s celebrated book, “Behind the Curtain: Making Music in Mumbai’s Film Studios”.
In this situation Piyush Pandya’s series in Gujarati on Web Gurjari came as a godsend. Mr Pandya retired after teaching Microbiology in a local college for 39 years, and is now settled in Ahmedabad. He was deeply interested in the songs of 1940s through 1970s, and was drawn towards fine points of orchestration. He often wondered who played which instrument at a particular spot in a song. The Internet era has helped him in scouring for information, and assisted by knowledgeable friends like Har Mandir Singh ‘Hamraaz’, Harish Raghuvanshi, Biren Kothari and Chandrashekhar Vaidya, Piyushji has been able to write a series on the famous Arrangers of the Golden Era.
Ashok M Vashnav offered to translate these articles in English for publication on SOY, one a month. Ashokji is well known to SOY regulars. He retired as an engineer and now is a freelance management trainer based out of Ahmedabad.
Piyushji and Ashokji have decided to launch the series in the New Year with one of the greatest Arrangers, Sebastian D’Souza on his 117th birth anniversary (29 January 1906 – 9 March 1998). Being the first article in the series, it has a long introduction how our film music evolved from our ancient roots in other performance traditions; this would not be repeated in the remaining articles. With this I also welcome Piyushji on his debut in the new Year on SOY. Thanks a lot Piyushji and Ashokji for this wonderful New Year gift. – AK)
Introduction: Evolution of Film Music
A school of knowledgeable people believes that the music came into being when an infinitely dense singularity exploded with a Big Bang to bring our universe into existence. That explosion is our primal sound. The spread of that sound on a wave of radiation brought rhythm into existence. Thus, the two basic elements of music – the note (melody) and the beat (rhythm) – also can be believed to have come into existence simultaneously with the universe. The blowing of winds, explosions of volcanoes, the thunders of clouds and the strong winds of tornadoes that kept happening throughout the chain of events on the earth brought in them vast range of sounds. The waves of oceans, flowing waters of streams, winds blowing through the woods, the chime of rain drops falling on the leaves blended variety to the diversity of sound.READ THE FULL ARTICLE
In one of my earlier posts on lyricists, I had stated that with the advent of talkies from 1931 in India, the triumvirate of music director, singer and lyricist constituted a major element of film production. It has continued to be so till date, but with a progressive decline in quality over years, particularly in the twenty first century.
You might recall some songs picturised on Harindranath Chattopadhyay, who always looked over 80, or on the patriarch of three generations Prithviraj Kapoor, and several such songs on an ever-old Om Prakash or David. Coming to the next generation, most songs were picturised on adult romantic lovers. As for children, they had an important place in our films as in our lives, and you can reel off dozens of songs picturised on them in our films. It is another matter that barring a few songs like Naani teri morni ko mor le gaye, baaki jo bacha tha kaale chor le gaye, or Lakdi ki kaathi, kaathi pe ghoda, most of the children songs made them mouth mature philosophies. A popular soap on Sony TV, currently on air, is centred around a 6-year child who, like a 60 year old strategist, untangles the mess, removes her mother’s confusion and helps her in defeating the gang of vamps and villains in the family. Bollywood took Wordsworth’s poetic expression, “The Child is Father of the Man”, literally, and gave it a new meaning altogether.
The year 1943 was like 1944 in many respects. Kismet became a cult hit for its novel theme; it also happened to have outstanding music by Anil Biswas. Anil Biswas also gave some excellent music in Hamari Baat. Naushad didn’t have a Rattan (1944) exactly, but he gave music to three films – Namaste, Kanoon and Sanjog – and all the three celebrated silver jubilees. Towering above all these, KL Saigal, Khursheed-starrer Tansen became a musical masterpiece, composed by Khemchand Prakash. Ram Rajya, composed by Shankar Rao Vyas had some songs which have acquired iconic status. New Theatres maintained their quality with Kashinath (Pankaj Mullick) and Wapas (RC Boral). There were several others making a mark, such as Kamal Dasgupta, Shyam Sundar, Pt. Govind Ram, Vasant Desai and Rafiq Ghaznavi. For lovers of music of the vintage era, these are familiar names and they have acquired a place in the Roll of Honour.
Rohit Shetty proudly says, “For watching my movies you have to leave your brains behind at home”. Farah Khan says something similar when she talks about making “my kind of movies.” But are these movies really brainless? They require a very high degree of intelligence to make and for the audience to appreciate. In Om Shanti Om, the superstar Om (Shahrukh Khan) remembers from his past life the secret of Arjun Rampal, and wants to avenge the killing of Shantipriya (Depika Padukone), his love-interest in his previous life. Since there is no proof, he wants Arjun Rampal, a big producer in Hollywood now, to resume the shooting of OSO, so that he could be made to confess by recreating the crime with the help of Shantipriya lookalike (Deepika Padukone again). He is extremely reluctant and offers a Hollywood project to the superstar. In this game of chicken, Shahrukh Khan casually drops in, Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn! Other references in the film are over the top and unmissable, but this one from Gone With The Wind is very intelligently inserted.
After I had written on romancing the major types of balmas, such as
I understand most people on SOY know that Saraswati Devi was technically not the first female music director of Hindi film music. As per the current knowledge, two women preceded her – Ishrat Sultana (the singer Bibbo) was the first who composed music for the film Adal-e-Jahangir (1934) and the second was Jaddanbai who gave music for Talaash-e-Haque (1935) in which she also introduced her daughter, the famous Nargis, as a child artiste under the name Baby Rani. Saraswati Devi was really the third with her debut film Jawani Ki Hawa (1935) under the banner of the famed studio, the Bombay Talkies.