P Unnikrishnan’s legacy extends far beyond his status as a celebrity singer. His entry into film music in 1994 coincided with a period of change in the industry.
Songs such as ‘Ennavale Adi Ennavale’ (‘Kadhalan’), which won him the National Film Award, and ‘Narumugaye’ (‘Iruvar’) rekindled soft romantic emotions in a generation coming of age in post-liberalisation India.
His musical journey, however, began much earlier, with Carnatic music. Unnikrishnan has straddled the worlds of Indian classical and film music with equal elan.
His daughter, Uthara, learnt the ropes by watching him and made her own mark at the age of 10, winning the National Award for ‘Azhagu’ from the 2014 Tamil film ‘Saivam’.
She now occasionally joins her father for concerts. Their shared reverence for music is matched by the sheer joy they find in singing together.
In Thiruvananthapuram for a concert at the Soorya Festival, the father-daughter duo open up about their musical journeys. Excerpts:
You (Unnikrishnan) have been a regular at Soorya. How would you describe your association with its founder, Soorya Krishnamoorthy, who recently passed away?
He always supported my music. He used to insist that I perform at Soorya, which I do every alternate year. This year, he wanted my daughter to join me.
His passing is a great loss to the art world. But the festival continuing despite his death just weeks before its commencement is heartening. That is the best tribute to the art lover he was.
Even during this year’s performance, we could feel his presence, encouraging and reassuring us. I missed his physical presence, his personal welcome before the concert and the way he would invite me home for a chat before I left.
You have lived mostly in Chennai, but your Kerala connection is celebrated. How deeply do you relate to the state?
My great-grandfather was an ayurvedic physician and philanthropist who moved from Ongole in Andhra Pradesh to Chennai and established the Kesari Kuteeram Ayurvedic centre, which we still run.
My Malayali lineage begins with my great-grandmother, Madhavi Amma, who was from Thrissur. My musical roots also go back to her. Her nieces, Komattil Janaki and Shantakumari, were disciples of G N Balasubramanian.
My mother, who was from Palakkad, was also a singer and dancer. When I was young, she would perform at Onam and Vishu celebrations. She taught me songs. I remember how she would often play recordings of Dasettan (K J Yesudas).
You began your Malayalam film journey with Sreekumaran Thampi and later worked with composers such as Johnson ‘Master’, Ouseppachan, Sharreth and Deepak Dev. How do you view that experience?
Technically, my first song in a film was not ‘Ennavale’ — it was ‘Marugelara O Raghava’ keerthanam for ‘Bandhukkal Sathrukkal’ (1993). Later, I met Johnson maash at the National Film Awards ceremony, where he asked me to sing ‘Yamini’ for the film ‘Mangalam Veettil Manaseswari Gupta’.
Since then, I have collaborated with several Malayalam composers. My devotional collaborations with Sharreth have received particular attention, especially the recent ‘Navadurga Stuthi’, which also features Uthara.
Sharreth is a great friend, but he is also one of the most challenging composers to work with. It is fun, though.
You belong to a generation when the arts were rarely considered a viable career. What made you take music so seriously?
It happened organically. I cannot point to any particular reason or explanation. In those days, there were not many avenues to showcase our talents. We had the sabhas, where we had to compete with legends for opportunities to perform.
I had no particular ambition when I began learning music. My mother sent me for classes, so I went. I was, to be frank, more interested in film music.
My serious Carnatic training began when I came under the tutelage of ‘Sangeeta Kalanidhi’ Dr S Ramanathan. After that, I stopped singing film music and devoted myself entirely to Carnatic music. Thanks to my gurus, I was able to make a mark.
In college, we formed the Youth Association for Carnatic Music (YACM), which brought together youngsters who later became leading musicians, including Vijay Siva, Sanjay Subrahmanyan, Sudha Raghunathan, T M Krishna, Santhanagopalan and Bombay Jayashri.
In those days, the sabhas largely featured senior ‘vidwans’. We wanted to create a platform for young musicians. It was a beautiful time. We practised together and looked for opportunities to perform. We also invited senior musicians to concerts and lecture-demonstrations.
Quite a rich musical ecosystem…
For those who sought music, it was everywhere. YACM was a great movement. Most sabhas supported us and opened slots for junior musicians. Several organisations, including TVS and the Murugappa Group, sponsored our events.
We organised our annual event at the Music Academy. Such an environment was difficult to find elsewhere. Chennai nurtured young talent, and that momentum continues to sustain its Carnatic music scene.
There was a perfect balance between veterans and emerging musicians. We attended their concerts and learnt from them. During my early years as a performer, my guru, S Ramanathan, took me along when he performed at the Navaratri Mandapam in Thiruvananthapuram. That exposure helped me establish a foothold in Keralam too. I was subsequently invited to perform at the Swathi Sangeethotsavam at Kuthiramalika.
On a lighter note, did young musicians of your generation share a passion for sports too? You and Sanjay Subrahmanyan, for instance, are known to share a deep love for cricket…
I played cricket at the senior level, including first-division league matches. I was indeed serious about it. I guess music and cricket were the two major passions of teenagers and youngsters in Chennai in those days.
I played for the junior state team, but pursuing cricket professionally was tricky. Fortunately, I had music.
No interaction with you would be complete without a question about ‘Ennavale Adi Ennavale’. Your rendition remains magical for music lovers even after three decades. How do you look back on that song?
I would attribute it to the grace of a higher power. Not just
that song, but music itself. I never planned anything, so there is an element of serendipity in all of it. The same serendipity took me to the right gurus.
I have never approached anyone seeking opportunities, whether for film songs or kacheris. At the time, I was focused entirely on Carnatic music and had never even dreamt of singing for films. Filmmaker Rajiv Menon sent an album of mine to A R Rahman. Subsequently, Rahman asked me if I could attempt ‘Ennavale Adi Ennavale’. The song went on to fetch me the National Film Award. As I mentioned, something similar happened with Johnson maash’s ‘Yamini’.
Uthara sits beside her father, listening to him speak to TNIE. We turn to her to discuss his celebrated repertoire and her own emergence as a musician. She joins the conversation, her speech carrying the unmistakable warmth of Palakkadan Malayalam accent, much like her father’s.
Which among your father’s film songs would be your favourite?
‘Narumugaye’, always. I sang it with my father during a reality show that he co-judged. Perhaps getting to sing it with him made me love the song even more. He is my guide and guru, and I have a lot of fun singing with him.
Both of you won National Film Awards for your first film songs, 20 years apart. That is a lovely coincidence…
Yes. Nobody forced me into music; it was always there at home. My grandmother used to sing ‘Chettimandaram Thulasi’ to me when I was young. My brother, who now works in the UK, was also interested in music. We would always be singing, even as we walked from room to room or bullied one another. During our travels, we would play all the songs we liked. I was drawn to all kinds of music. That was how I got the opportunity to sing ‘Azhagu’ in the film Saivam. Winning the award was a surprise.
You are a psychology graduate. How seriously do you intend to pursue music?
I started learning Carnatic music at the age of six and am now learning Hindustani. I love experimenting with different genres and am also interested in studying their effects on psychology. So, yes, music is what I want to pursue.
Unnikrishnan: Carnatic music is a demanding genre. Its gamakas are different from those of other traditions, and its style places considerable demands on the voice. Hindustani classical music has a lighter texture, while Western music follows a completely different approach. Uthara can handle all these traditions, which is precisely why her voice needs to be treated with care. I make sure of that when we sing together, and I offer the same advice when she performs kacheris, devotional music or fusion.
I urge her to take care of her voice, give it adequate rest and take the necessary precautions.
Exploring multiple genres requires care, as it can affect vocal quality, particularly when the singer also performs Carnatic music. That is one reason voice trainers are increasingly important. They help singers adapt their technique to different styles.
What is next for you, Unnikrishnan?
I want to join hands with Uthara and create something that complements her taste for blending musical genres. Her voice has a flexibility that mine may not.
We sing together often, but our pitches are different. That can make it difficult to execute certain pieces. When we manage it, though, the result is beautifully complementary.
And, what about you, Uthara?
Classical music space is still vibrant. Music continues to surround me. For young musicians, who are exploring old-school and fusion genres, any space that has good music is a sabha. I too just want to continue in a world of good music.