Renowned for his mellifluous compositions, music director Ouseppachan is celebrated for creating songs that linger and haunt the listener. Recipient of the national and multiple state awards for his extensive work on film soundtracks and background scores, Ouseppachan’s musical journey began as a violinist.
In a candid conversation with TNIE, Ouseppachan provides insights into his career, approach to music, and other aspects of his musical life.
Excerpts
Did you realise at a young age that music was your passion and that you should pursue it?
I’ve been drawn to music since I was in primary school. I don’t recall exactly when this love for music began, but I vividly remember singing in the assembly while in Class 2 and receiving applause. Growing up in a musically inclined family certainly played a role in shaping my interest. My father, a skilled musician, played instruments like piano, violin, and flute. He even sang with a remarkable vocal range, loud enough for my mother to hear him from 1.5km away, without a microphone! My family, especially my brothers, encouraged my musical pursuits throughout school. I was an active member of the church choir until Class 10.
Thereafter, I was sent to a seminary for a three-year preliminary course, where I discovered the violin. Initially, I’d play it secretly, experimenting with different notes and sounds. As I learnt to play professionally, I found joy in the instrument’s complexity. One of my proudest moments was playing Jana Gana Mana for my family, which earned me a warm applause. Interestingly, I started with that piece, which is usually played at the end of a concert!
While your father was a skilled singer and pianist, you’re known for your violin skills. How did you develop the love for the instrument?
It’s an interesting chemistry. We had a small Murphy radio at our home. Between songs, the radio station played violin renditions of Hindi songs. I would listen only to those. I had that inborn love for that instrument. Later, when I analysed it, I realised that I could attach myself to its feel. While making a song, feel is the most important aspect among all things that I try to present.
No other instrument in the world can give the feel as much as the violin. It’s the king of instruments because it can depict all emotions... anger, sorrow, happiness, romance, horror. I give importance to feel not only in music but even when I speak to a person or in my behaviour and attitude. That’s my speciality by birth.
The Voice of Thrissur featured many notable artists. Can you share your experience of joining the troupe?
After leaving the seminary, I joined Voice of Thrissur. In that era, musical shows (ganamelas) were incredibly popular. People would gather to listen to 20-30 songs performed live on stage. It was a golden opportunity for music enthusiasts. Thrissur had a thriving music scene, with many talented violinists, including Prof Paulson Chalissery, Mani Dominic, the late Johnson, and myself. Music wasn’t just a hobby, it was our passion. We weren’t professionals, we were still learning and performing without pay. Our dedication to music earned us the appreciation of Devarajan Master, who recognised our commitment to the art form.
How did you land your first movie?
That happened through an unexpected route. I was in Madras as a violinist, invited by Devarajan Master. Between recordings, I’d often sit under a neem tree outside the studio and practice violin. Director Bharathan noticed that and approached me. Being from Thrissur, we connected quickly, and he offered me a role in his film Aaravam (1978). I even contributed to the music, alongside Johnson, as Johnson & Ouseppachan.
My violin skills not only landed me the role of a violinist in the film but opened the doors to new collaborations as well. When Bharathan worked on Eenam (1983), he entrusted me with refining some songs. Later, I scored music for Kathodu Kathoram (1985), which became a hit. Devarajan Master congratulated me and encouraged me to work on a film of my own, leading to Chilampu and more. It was as if fate was guiding my journey, opportunities came to me without having to ask for them. And I was fortunate to work with renowned directors like K G George, who had never collaborated with anyone other than M B Sreenivasan.
Before achieving success as a music director, you were an actor too…
Yes, my first on-screen appearance involved golden hair and ripped jeans. Acting wasn’t my primary concern at the time, my focus was entirely on playing the violin. In one particular scene, I performed in front of a tiger. Although it was blind, it could still sense human presence. Looking back, the potential danger of that situation is quite unsettling. In the same film, I had to sit atop a moving circus vehicle for a shot. Director Bharathan simply asked me to play the violin as I wished. However, as the vehicle traversed hills and bumps, I was constantly gripped by the fear of falling off. More recently, I portrayed an ordinary man in the Malayalam film Machante Malakha. Personally, acting isn’t a passion of mine. But perhaps because of my varied life experiences, it comes somewhat naturally.
How was it like working on Kathodu Kathoram?
In those early days, I hadn’t yet developed the ability to effectively convey my musical ideas to directors through singing. My primary skill was playing the violin. Consequently, even if a melody was initially weak, it would often sound appealing simply because it was played on the violin. The film finally materialised around six months after I submitted the songs, a period long enough for me to believe the project had been abandoned. But they ultimately supported my involvement. Also, numerous shots (of Mammootty playing the violin) prominently featured my hands on the instrument.
Can you share your personal relationship with Bharathan?
Bharathettan had a special affection for me. After we collaborated on Kathodu Kathoram, he seemed to want me by his side every day. He’d invite me to his place, where I’d play the violin while he painted or worked on sculptures. His farmhouse in Kelambakkam, Chennai, was a haven where we shared wonderful moments. He taught me the importance of tuning lyrics with music, emphasising that melody should complement words, not the other way round. That lesson has stayed with me. Bharathan’s faith in me as a music director was a turning point.
Who do you consider your teacher/mentor?
My musical journey was shaped by various experiences, including masterclasses with renowned musicians from around the world. Bharathan was the one who taught me how to tune lyrics. I also consider Devarajan Master my Guru although he never formally taught me music. The time I spent with him, his guidance, his profound knowledge of music, and the songs we created together... all of those became my true lessons. I never learnt music in the traditional Gurukula style, though I did have a brief period of carnatic music training under Vijayakumar and Chidambaranath. And the person I truly consider my mentor is O N V Kurup. He wrote the beautiful lyrics for my first composition, for Kathodu Kathoram. That was nothing short of a blessing, and an honour.
It’s said you had an excellent rapport with P Jayachandran...
Yes, I admire his songs greatly. Interestingly, in my younger days, I wasn’t a huge fan of his singing. In fact, he was the one who introduced Johnson and me to Devarajan Master. You could say he played a significant role in launching our careers. Since I started as a violinist, my initial focus was primarily on the melodic aspect of songs. It was only after I began composing that I started paying closer attention to the lyrical content as well. When I first started composing, I would sing a rough track. Those in the studio, including the producers, would often praise it and suggest I sing the final version.
However, Jayachandran, with his singing, would completely transform the same song. His vocal delivery was unique, no one can sing quite like him. He truly connected with the lyrics... he couldn’t sing without grasping the words deeply. That’s when I realised Jayettan had an extraordinary ability to infuse emotion into words. Every syllable he sang seemed to come from his very core, not just his lips. He brought life and feeling to the lyrics. You can sing others’ songs by imitating them but you cannot sing Jayachandran’s songs like he does.
The song Devadhoodhar Paadi from Kathodu Kathoram experienced a resurgence in popularity years later, even appearing in a new film. Did it ever feel like the song possessed a timeless quality?
Interestingly, I don’t believe Devadhoodhar Paadi was as popular on its initial release as it is today. Perhaps, my distance from it contributed to this perception... I was in Chennai, immersed in creating new music and didn’t even get to see the film when it was released. Not just that song. Many of my older compositions are finding renewed appreciation through various cover versions and similar initiatives, and I genuinely enjoy all of them. Devadhoodhar Paadi has now become a significant hit, undoubtedly boosted by Chackochan’s (Kunchacko Boban) memorable dance performance in the film (Nna Thaan Case Kodu, released in 2022). Ultimately, I believe the most important thing is to pour our best efforts into our work. It will eventually find its moment, without a doubt. I’ve experienced this truth profoundly in my own life, and it brings me immense joy.
Can you share your experience working on Ore Kadal, which won the National Award for best music?
Director Shyamaprasad called me on the eve of composing the music and requested five songs in the Shubhapantuvarali raga. This raga is known for its haunting quality and is notoriously challenging to work with. However, I had previously practised and experimented with this raga on my violin, which proved beneficial. I composed five distinct songs in the same raga, each capturing the feeling of loss. Shyam was impressed, saying “beautiful” after listening to the compositions.
You’re also known for your background scores...
Background scoring was where I started my career. In films like Kathodu Kathoram, I handled almost all the music work. In the past, producers had to cover expenses, including recording and studio costs, which sometimes led them to prefer music directors who could work quickly. Many music directors stuck to a single style, reusing the same notations. I wanted to break away from that trend and create something original with my own signature. Today, re-recording can take up to six months or even a year. With the flexibility to work at my own pace, I prioritise quality above all else. The more time I have, the more I can improvise and refine my work. Personally, I enjoy re-recordings more than just songs. It gives me a thrill. Composing a song is easy, but re-recording is challenging.
What do you prefer, composing a tune first and then writing the lyrics or vice versa?
I prefer, and feel more comfortable, composing tunes after the lyrics are written because it’s the lyrics that truly define the emotion and essence of a song. A song is essentially a form of communication. It’s not just about singing a melody or producing a tune. I’d say, if the lyrics are ready, then 75% of the work on a song is done. Devarajan Master used to say, “I hardly have to touch the lyrics Kuttan (Vayalar Ramavarma) gives me. His lines already carry such deep emotion. All I need to do is bring in music that matches that emotion.” Lyrics are the most important part of a song. Music simply supports and enhances them.
Has the quality of lyrics declined?
The context has changed significantly. Modern lyrics often deviate from traditional poetic structures, reflecting the evolving nature of romance and relationships. Today’s lyricists are experimenting with new approaches, moving away from established norms. The demand for songs has shifted from nostalgic, memorable ballads to ones that resonate with contemporary experiences. In modern films, songs are often tightly integrated with scenes. Classics like Sanyasini or Akale Akale might not resonate the same way today, but that’s because life and circumstances have evolved. Today’s songs have their own relevance and are well-suited to the current times.
Earlier, background scores were often loud. Have you noticed any change?
I think background scores are louder these days. I recently watched a movie where the score was painfully loud, overpowering the dialogue. This could be intentional, perhaps to mask flaws in scenes or dialogues. In contrast, English films tend to have more subdued sound levels. I’ve observed that sound levels vary across languages... Malayalam and Tamil films typically peak at around 7 and Telugu at 8, while English films stay below 5. This difference impacts the audience’s experience. Interestingly, producers in Telugu films are sometimes so thrilled with the loud music that they end up paying double the agreed amount.
Have there been songs that you expected to be big hits but went unnoticed?
Many! We’d often record a song feeling certain it would be a huge success, win awards, and resonate with people. But sometimes, despite our high hopes, songs would fly under the radar. A great example is the movie Ayushkalam (1992), directed by Kamal. Though it didn’t do well at the box office initially, it later gained popularity on television. One song in particular, Mounam Swaramay En Ponveenayil, was well-received by everyone. However, it went unnoticed when the film was released. Ironically, nearly 15 years later, that same song became a crowd favorite at my concerts. It was a valuable lesson for me... music takes time. You have to keep working hard, and eventually, your efforts will be rewarded.
Your composition for a film was nominated for an Oscar...
Yes, my compositions for the film Dam 999 were nominated for the Oscars in both the music and the background score categories. Warner Bros representatives saw the film and felt the original score and music were strong enough to be submitted for Oscars. They even asked us to promote the songs. In Hollywood, film music often gains popularity even if it’s not prominently featured in the movie itself, as a separate entity connected to it. We went to the Oscars. Unfortunately, the award for the category was cancelled. The reason was that Dam 999 was the only film with five songs. The criteria stipulated that films should have a minimum of five songs to be nominated for that category.
In a way, I consider it fortunate. What if I had won an Oscar? It would have been a tremendous honour, of course, but I believe it might have marked the end of my creative drive. What propels us forward is having something positive to strive for... good health, exciting projects, and the energy to pursue our work. I believe hardship or lack of something can actually provide us with the greatest strength and motivation. When financial comfort arrives, our inherent drive to live and create can diminish, and we may lose the energy to keep moving forward.
You’ve been part of many reality shows, which have helped identify and nurture talent...
Everyone has talent and it shines through when given the opportunity. While reality shows have uncovered many gifted singers, not all participants go on to succeed. Some mimic legendary singers, but only exceptional ones stand out. Talented singers will always find opportunities. I discovered Swarna, a talented singer, through a reality show and gave her a challenging song in the movie Krishnashtami. Her performance was impressive.
Legendary singers like Yesudas, Jayachandran, Chitra and M G Sreekumar have captivated audiences for decades. However, new singers seem to struggle to make a similar impact. What do you think is the reason?
Yesudas is undoubtedly one of the greatest singers of all time, and it’s unlikely we’ll see another talent like him in this era. Back then, the music industry was centred in Chennai with fewer music directors and opportunities were limited to a select few. Today, the industry has shifted to Kerala and opportunities have increased exponentially. Now, it’s like a free market where many singers get a chance to showcase their talent. For instance, in my latest film, I had seven different singers for seven songs. While this opens doors for many, it also means the competition is fiercer, and standing out is more challenging.
Your music has a calming effect, as seen in songs like Nilapaithale...
Directors often approach me for such compositions and I’ve had ample opportunities to work on calming pieces. Basically, I am a calm person. That reflects in my music as well. I don’t like chaos beyond a point. I strive for discipline in my work, even in chaotic songs. I’m known for adding a lot of sruthi, for which some people tease me. I find beauty in the way harmonies come together, like in singing the national anthem Jana Gana Mana. When sung together by students or a crowd, the overlapping notes create a wave-like effect that’s truly captivating. When good singers sing, the effect will be different. This is why school renditions of the song can be particularly beautiful.
TNIE team: Rajesh Ravi, Manoj Viswanathan, Gopika V, Shyam P V, T P Sooraj (photos), Pranav V P (video)