True to the buzz leading up to Sanjay Subrahmanyan’s Tamizhum Naanum concert, virtual listeners thronged to savour the third edition of his popular format — a full concert in Tamil. He has advocated bringing the language to the forefront of Carnatic concerts and it was a message well delivered. The highlight of the concert was one of two tukkada segments, partitioned by a Ragam Tanam Pallavi. In the evolved scheme of digital life, there was also a ‘strategic time-out’ for the sponsors to make an appearance!
The concert brought to light some rarely heard but sterling pieces by T.M. Thiagarajan, Papanasam Sivan and Arunachala Kavi. TMT’s Kalyana Vasantham varnam on Lord Ganesha offers apt phrases for the raga. ‘Kalaimagale’ by M.M. Dandapani Desikar in Saraswathi had a few sangathis and leaned towards a devotional form. That can actually be said of many Tamil kritis, which has been offered as a defence in the last century for not including them as part of a concert’s main segment. Their musical rigour against the monumental Trinity compositions was (and is) in question. A few singers like Sanjay are challenging that premise.
Koteeswara Iyer’s Gayakapriya kriti, ‘Naadanilai’ is a masterly composition in a raga with several tricky boundaries. Sanjay’s rendition echoed that creativity well. He sang a pleasing Bahudari alapana and followed it up with Arunachala Kavi’s ‘Ramasamiyin dhoothan naanada’, singing it with gusto rather than tranquility. .
A Hindustani RTP
Sanjay’s choice of Patdeep, a Hindustani raga, for the RTP was interesting. The audava-sampoorna raga follows the Gowri Manohari scale with rishabham and daivatham missing in arohanam and is a popular choice for film songs. While Sanjay’s tanam evoked pleasing moments, Varadarajan’s alapana sketched the beauty of the raga succinctly. The kanta ekam pallavi, spanning all speeds, set on Subramania Bharati’s far-sighted words on women’s empowerment, was sung in quintessential Sanjay style, with verve and assuredness. The singer meshed well with his long-term accompanists, and they delivered some delightful punches. Varadarajan and Neyveli Venkatesh are masters in clever but subdued support. Sanjay’s voice was lively and malleable, traversing the peaks and troughs fluently.
The second segment featured a kriti ‘Narayana’ in Komalangi (Raghava Ramanuja Dasan), a short viruttam that brought back shades of K.B. Sundarambal’s Saveri in an epochal film song, a Kapi kriti of Ramalinga Adigal (‘Orumaiyudan’), and yet another rare gem from Papanasam Sivan in Khamas (‘Thiruvalar Mylaiyin’). The repertoire was extensive.
Sanjay offered a smart formula for making a short concert count. How does one distribute the time in a 90-minute outing and yet provide the semblance of a full fare? Featuring more songs is one tool. The other is keeping manodharma on an even keel and controlling the overruns with discipline. This formula has a flipside too. It feels like a well-planned album rather than a free-flowing kutcheri. His stature allows Sanjay the latitude for this trade-off. Many believe that in the Carnatic context, the language is a further ornamentation to the music rather than the other way around. If the aim of Sanjay’s crusade is to assign a pivotal spot for Tamil compositions in concerts, more kritis with enviable musical gloss need to be unearthed.