All the audiophiles would be familiar with the music albums in the 80s and early 90s called NOW! That’s what I call Music'. I used to refer to them as NOW! That’s what I call a Collage. A single 'NOW!' cassette contained pop, rock, blues, jazz and rap, not exactly in that order. I found it disturbing because it changed the mood for every track, giving a strong, frustrating aftertaste. I always linked mixtapes to laziness, despite me having made them several times in my teens.
This preamble should disqualify me from reviewing an Indian movie soundtrack. The 'NOW!' collection at least was a compilation but film music, especially Indian films, are intentionally composed with variety in mind. They have to include multitude of emotions, pander to varied audience groups, and hence their music too tended to be as inclusive as possible. This isn’t a critical remark but merely stating a fact. Take five Indians at random, in any demography, and no two of them would agree on any subject be it music, films, their favourite actor, books (if they read) or politics. How does a composer meet such an audience if they can’t vary their sound? It’s actually a wonder that some of them even succeed in doing it. Especially at the national level. If they do, they must be conjurers not composers.
Rahman, being one of the most successful at this magic, has come out with yet another album, Rockstar. The title and the trailer is a bit deceptive in terms of expectations from the album. You expect a classic and a punk-rock styled Hindi songs, something on the lines of Rock On. Yet, Rahman is never the one to toe the cliché lines. And this time, surprisingly, Imtiaz Ali’s desi-sentimental presence too seemed to have helped.
Rockstar does not contain imitative punk-rock numbers like Rock On. On the other hand, Rahman chooses a more sombre, stylish progressive rock, where, in addition to the western rock format, he could add his techno improvisations. The album opens with Phir Se Ud Chala, a rendition that surprisingly starts with a Sikh invocation a la Rang De Basanti and then moves onto something that sounds more like re-mastered John Denver than Jon Bon Jovi. After the surprise country number, the album shifts to Jo Bhi Main, an arena rock number. It is a clean progressive rock number with a touch of blues and riffs from the Woodstock, showing that Rahman, although an expert in fusion, is the master of his material. In his book on writing, Stephen King says it’s okay to break to rules, only if you know them too well. Otherwise you’re just an illiterate trying out some stuff. Rahman knows why he is using a certain riff. The theme dictates an anguish centred on the lost love, at least that's how much information we have now. To capitalise this, Rahman places particular emphasis on blues rock, due also to his penchant for jazz.
Then, another surprise, the album shifts to Katiya Karun, a bhangra. Something you don’t expect in a movie about a rock musician. But then, this is to remind you that Imtiaz Ali too is involved in the production. Perhaps there’s a purpose in the film. Ali’s favourite them is his city-rural juxtaposition so one may never know.
Then there’s Kun Fayakun*, a qawwali, which is not very surprising. In every Tamil film in the late 80s, Ilaiyaraja had to include one song glorifying motherhood. This was considered sentimental lest the film will fail. It looks like the Bollywood has caught on this sentiment about Rahman singing a qawwali. We don't mind. As long as Rahman continues to compose and sing exquisite Sufi renditions like Kun Fayakun, we should have no complaints.
The next two numbers Sheher Mein and Hawwa Hawwa require us to watch the film to understand the context.
Next, with Aur Ho Rahman returns to rock marrying Bon Jovi with Silk Route. What an excellent marriage that was! Next, Tum Ko serves a true, unadulterated Rahman sound.
Naadan Parindey, although has guitar, may still require us to understand the context it relates to.
And then the last number, Saada Haq, is certainly going to burst the charts, what with Orianthi being involved, but it is intriguing why Rahman should resort to a quasi-metal-pop number. Although its sheer guitar power can’t be denied, it still jars in the ears. No pun intended.
Finally, the comparison with Rock On is but inevitable. Rock On employed punk and garage rock without perhaps knowing why it was needed. In the movie, the rockers were neither anti-establishment nor anguished. They sang rock because it was ‘cooler’ to be rockers and it was ‘uncool’ to be singing Hindi film songs, something like wearing Che Guevara t-shirts. Rock On didn’t comprehend the sub-culture of the format and therefore didn’t use them well, or worse didn’t use them at all. From the outset, Rockstar seems to know why a sub-genre is emphasised. There’s certainly anguish in the musician in the story and Rahman could not have chosen a better singer than Mohit Chauhan. Whoever has listened to Silk Route will know the pain in those romantic ballads. Something of our own Steven Taylor, only without those punk antics!
*Click here for the meaning of Kun Fayakun.
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