Package perfect

It's a new milieu - a fast-paced one at that. Concerts must be "jazzed up'' to suit changing tastes. And that's what Sudha Ragunathan and Alarmel Valli have done - captivated audiences with style, charisma and tireless energy. GOWRI RAMNARAYAN analyses their success formula.

CHENNAI MUSIC season 2000-'01 was was as much of a mixed bag as ever, with doyens and fledgelings, stars and novas, locals and visitors, jostling one another on and off the stage. Attendance trends were predictable. If ten listeners straggled in for the old style expert, the hall was stuffed to bursting point for the popular star.

What exactly constitutes stardom for the Chennai rasika? There can be interesting answers to this query.

First of all, the Chennai rasika likes novelty. Musician Prasanna remarked, "I'd have every seat filled if I played the guitar with my little toe." But not if he produced something too outre or avant garde. A Daksha Seth may have debut value here with her "Snapshots", and Finnish-Indian music ensembles may have a once- in-a-blue-moon appeal. But if the maestros Birju Maharaj (Kathak) and Kelucharan Mahapatra (Odissi) were to team up every year (as they nearly did this time), they will have few takers. The thrill of novelty for its own sake has a short life.

Long-term popularity demands that any "jazzing up" be done within the frontiers of tradition. You can be as snazzy and spiffy as you please, but you cannot afford to abandon custom. Unnikrishnan, Nithyasree and Bombay Jayashree may have increased their market value by carolling for A.R.Rahman, and film star Shobana's name may be a crowd puller. But the arts festival rasika doesn't expect filmy croonings or hip wiggling from them. (It is another thing that many of our singers are confirmed crooners, and that hip wiggling has its own branded classical formats).

This doesn't mean that our audiences want classical stuff straight and pure. Then Suguna Purushotthaman or Seetha Rajan would draw a packed hall.

Incidentally, the season saw a big turn out for P.Unnikrishnan's rendering of songs from the Dhanammal school which he had learnt at a 1991 workshop from T.Brinda and T.Viswanathan. So did Nithyasree Mahadevan when she sang the lesser known songs of the Tanjavur quartet. But you wondered if this would have been the case if a singer belonging wholly to those old camps had performed instead. That the young stars did their jobs with a commitment and finesse which moved you is another matter altogether.

Both Nithyasree and Unnikrishnan provided music of a wholly different kind for that occasion than what they are accustomed to do. The pace was definitely slower. The former rendered a "Kantimatim" (Kalyani) in a chowka kala which required tremendous control and discipline to maintain the continuity of the gamakas, particularly the jaru, and to retain its sheen of an old pathantara, kept polished and unchanged for over a hundred years. His padams in Todi ("Maane mayile") and Bhairavi ("Maade avar seita vanjanai") highlighted raga bhava in unhurried, weighty expositions. But will the regular concert-goer have the patience for such ripe fare?

Nithyasree showed admirable restraint and very sensitive modulation which do not characterise her presentations elsewhere. She had an audience to appreciate subtleties that day, in her reverent Sahana ("Kaliyugamuna") and tender Varali (Paramapavani"). She easily rose to the challenge of mellow craft skills that the Dhanyasi ("Gopalalola") and Sahana made on her. She sang a golden Bhairavi to suit the song that followed. This was rasanubhava for the artist, and therefore for the old world rasika as well.

But can she do this on her concert circuit? It seems not. Certainly not without sacrificing the size of the audiences who throng to hear her, spilling over the stage, applauding high pitched virtuosity at full tilt, and through a deafening mike.

Two mature, accomplished artistes who have perfected the art of framing traditional material durably for the popular gaze are Alarmel Valli and Sudha Ragunathan. It is interesting to recall that they had teamed up brilliantly some years ago. I can still hear "Velavare" sung by Sudha as Valli imaged the pining nayika before us. Particularly the superb roll of a single cascading sangati, spraying incredible brikas, perfectly synchronised with Valli's elaborate coiling of her hair into a high coiffure!

Both have personal charisma. Besides, they share similarities of approach. Both rely on high speed and firework displays that require an amazing command of the idiom, an effortless seeming elan, a dynamic stylishness.

Take Valli's performance at the Narada Gana sabha. The main varnam ("Samikku samanamevaradi", Sankarabharanam) was a flaming explosion of footwork. The abhinaya was appropriate to the theme and mood, and never swerved from dignity. But the whole exercise sprayed an elecrifying energy which had not even a single moment of peace and quiet. The artiste's adavus were cast in the Pandanallur mould, she had precise araimandi and impeccable nritta. Yet the impact of the structure and formations were diminished by the blitzkrieg. And unceasing jauntiness itself can become wearying for the viewer who wants more than entertainment from the spectacle.

But you can understand why the artiste has developed a style based on dash and speed. Bharatanatyam is no longer an art for intimate viewing in temple courtyard, royal court and noble mansions. Its democratisation requires that the art experience be communicated across vast auditoria, where the viewers beyond row four cannot see the subtle twitch of lip and side glance. Subdued, leisurely, nuanced abhinaya makes no sense in this set up. Nritta has to be kept taut by accelarating the pace, and in abhinaya the whole body has to convey the feelings (and how Valli has worked on angika abhinaya!) Naturally, music has to match it, as it did that day in brika-lined, high pitched singing, mostly in the high octave. Mridangam and cymbals opted for a corresponding loud volume. Everything was meant to captivate and grip.

Valli balanced this speed with delicacy in the verses of Sangam literature. Her abhinaya for their powerful imagery was done with feeling, involvement and taste. She mingled the lyrical with the dramatic to create a new experience, invariably within the folds of tradition. Sudha Ragunathan continues to develop her own individual expression while firmly rooted on her acclaimed guru's (M. L. Vasantakumari) bani. Her programming fascinates you by the blend of the old and the new, not only in compositions, sung in medium or fast tempo, but in attempting rare and difficult ragas as well. Her swara singing can more than satisfy the current craze for marathons. She takes risks as did her guru, often successfully. The style grabs your whole attention with its unceasing glitter of superfast oscillations. (You note brikas in kalpanaswaras even the swaras!). Sudha can daze you with her prowess in rhythm (she can sing a pallavi in any tala you can name) as also with sentimental tailpieces. She ensures that her concerts offer satisfaction to varied tastes. Though all this can be breathtaking, on the debit side there is the lack of visranti (tranquillity) and the tendency to imprecision in the never ending spins. Her energy, like Valli's is tireless.

"It will be housefull today," exulted the sabha secretary just before a performance by Bharatanatyam exponent Alarmel Valli. "This year Sudha Ragunathan's concert at the Music Academy touched an all time high in ticket sales," was news from the insider.

The secret of their enduring appeal seems to be their ability to survive in a new milieu by knowing how to reach out to changing tastes. There is dazzle, but also the tradition to back it.

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