Melodies of longing and belonging
"If there is rhythm, there is life,” declares Azerbaijani percussionist Natig Shirinov, before his act. Although he performed on the second day of Jodhpur RIFF, his proclamation encapsulates the essence of the entire annual festival that celebrates folk music from all over the world. Shirinov plays the nagada, but not as we know it. Instead of the familiar hemispherical drum that is beaten with two large sticks, he holds a rather small, tenor drum-like instrument on his lap.
Magic happens when he begins to nimble on it with his fingers. The precincts of the zenana court at the Mehrangarh Fort echo the swiftly rising beats, before bringing the air to a standstill with a culminating loud blow to the instrument. The dexterity of his craft, which he has honed over three decades, is evident in the way he controls the tautness of the surface by tightening and loosening the ropes that bind the drum. For those who haven’t heard a nagada before, it is quite spectacular to see how a single instrument can enrapture with a multitude of beats.
Shirinov at RIFF makes a solid case for the universality of music. Speaking in Azerbaijani, as his daughter translates in English, he says, “My nagada speaks all languages, and today it will speak Indian.” And it does. His music lets your imagination run wild. It is almost impossible to not envisage a light and sound show of a historic battle, or have M F Husain’s beloved horses come to life, as the percussionist belts out a melody dramatizing the equestrian gallop.
If Shirinov shows how a single drum can create a range of melodies, Mauritian singer Emlyn Marimutu displays expertise in bringing together at least 20 different sounds to create compositions that resonate with all listeners. Like Shirinov, her songs barely have any lyrics, and the ones that do, they are all in Mauritian Creole.
In her beret and deadlocked braids, Emlyn is the image of a quintessential rockstar, but in essence she redefines the idea. She is stylish but not overwhelming, she is powerful but not jarring, and most importantly, she is easy on the ears. In her compositions, she does not create sounds, she borrows them—from her surroundings, whether it is the audience who she asks to clap and sing along, the native Mauritian culture—ghatam and tabla from the Indian settlers; the kabosy, which is the guitar’s ancestor from Madagascar; Mauritius’s own ravine among others—or mother nature.
Unlike most musicians, the subject isn’t the engine to Emlyn’s compositions. “Usually the melody comes first initiated by the different rhythms from the island. Then, I listen to the sound and think about what it inspires me to talk about. Since our music is a lot of chanting, it often doesn’t need any words,” says the singer, who has emerged as a path-breaking artiste in the contemporary Mauritian music scene.
Words aren’t important for veteran Zimbabwean musician Louis Mhlanga, whose local hummings soothe the soul at the break of dawn, either. It is an almost divine sight. For the first 40 minutes of the performance, Mlanga and his companion playing the bass guitar, are silhouettes emanating tales about the African way of life. The sun rises to create a halo in the pink-hued morning sky, and the sounds of the city waking up—the gong at the clock tower or Hindi bhajans from nearby temples—become his live orchestra.
Mlhanga reveals that he usually plays with a band of 25 musicians, so it is a revelation to witness the men create sounds of traditional African instruments such as rhumba, marimba, timbila and kora with just two guitars. Mlanga’s influences include Congolese guitarist Franco Luambo Makiadi, rock musician Jimmy Hendricks, and jazz artistes like George Benson, Marvin Gaye and Aretha Franklin.
When he says, “In Africa, we sing about the weather. We have a song when there are rains. It’s time for mangoes, we have a song; it’s time for sweet potatoes, we have a song,” one realises how it’s not very different in India. Everybody speaks music.