His name caught the eye of Keralites about two decades ago, when music in Kerala witnessed a fusion of sorts, where emotions and seasons were explored as against krithis of doyens.
Sreevalsan J Menon’s deep voice that treated popular and not-so-popular works of legends was appreciated not just for its musical quality but also for its grasp of nuances, the richness of the legacy of his guru Neyyatinkara Vasudevan, and an evident urge to explore music in its totality.
He quickly struck a chord among music lovers. A few lyrical melodies that came in films, programmes where he was seen collaborating with musicians cutting across genres, and efforts to popularise folk arts through a project of Kerala Agricultural University, where he works as the director of its extension services, made him lauded as a ‘thinking musician’.
Excerpts from a freewheeling interaction:
Shall we start with your initiation into the world of music?
I was born in a village called ‘Ganapathy Agrahaaram’ in Thrissur. There was a music teacher, Rajalakshmi Krishnan, right next to my house. Music would always flow from their house. One day, she called some of us children in the area and asked them to sing. She must have thought that I had some talent, and told my parents to let me learn music. So, I went to her to train. That is how I started.
Who were your early musical influences?
For some years, I studied with gurus such as a violinist named T V Ramani and Kongurpalli Parameshwaran Namboothiri, who was Chembai’s disciple. Then, I came to Thiruvananthapuram to study at the Kerala Agricultural University (KAU). It was then I attended a music competition in Akashavani. Carnatic maestro Neyyattinkara Vasudevan used to accompany all the contestants on the tanpura. I met him there, and soon started training under him. The learning period lasted for 18 years.
Does your scientific career help you in music?
Very much. I started to understand the problems of people at the grassroots only after I entered the study of agriculture. I now connect with farmers, and work to help them with tech. This approach helps me understand music better, because music is about empathy.
Do art and science connect somewhere?
In Indian art, yes. Science implies systematisation. ‘Sangeetha Shastra’ has a large body of knowledge and is categorised systematically. Such categorisation gave rise to new ragas. So, there clearly was growth due to the scientific categorisation. That is why the music genre is called ‘shastriya sangeetham’. Basically, it is a body of knowledge that is systematic. The more you study it, the more you realise it.
Nowadays, there is a lot of talk about the connection between music, therapy, and medicine. What are your thoughts?
Recently, I heard someone say that listening to the song ‘Ambalapuzhe Unnikannanodu nee’ helps that person’s mind calm down. But I cannot say this is universally applicable. One cannot declare that listening to Anandha Bhairavi raga will lower blood pressure. Music can only be supplemented with other therapies.
But there are tales of Tansen singing ‘Malhar’ and bringing rain. You, too, have sung Amritavarshini. What do you think about that?
The rain referred to is the showers of bliss within you. You get the feeling of rain without experiencing it. There is a tale about lighting up a place by singing Deepak raga. I would see it as the ‘light’ that the music creates within one. This is where science creeps into me… I become a scientist.
How did you conceptualise your album ‘Monsoon Anuraga’?
We were thinking about celebrating the monsoon. We also took the works of Mira Bai, Kalidasan, and Sangam poetry, which spoke of rain. Some were secular poems, some were on love, some were about nature, and some about rain. The idea was to present music connecting it to everything around. Finally, as I am a musician, I wanted to present it before the people through music.
In this age of fusion, do you think the purity of classical music would hold good?
That is an interesting question. In today’s fusion, all kinds of orchestras are included like guitar, bass, flute, etc. It does complement some works. But the artist must use music responsibly, and purity is about that. That said, I do not do much fusion nowadays, and am mostly focused on kacheri. For me, now, it is more like meditation than showing it to the world. I am going deeper into my own self.
Have you experienced a trance state?
Yes, absolutely. I am neither happy nor sad in that state. I was fortunate enough to experience trance on many occasions. But I cannot reproduce it.
Is there, as some say, a ‘divine touch’ to music?
A psychiatrist in London said recently that surgeons at times faced some epiphanic moments during surgeries. They really did not know if they were operating – they were not conscious. So, there is this phase in every field. People who consider doctors as gods can consider Tyagaraja Swami a god as well.
Have you felt an emotional or spiritual connection to any raga?
Some like Kalyani, Sankarabharanam, Thodi, etc., have the kind of expanse from which you feel like taking, again and again. That gives me more motivation (sings a note). In compositions like Thaaye Yashoda, I feel that I can keep adding something to it — there is much to explore.
Since the music tastes of the youth have changed a lot, do you think Carnatic music still has as many listeners as in the past?
Yes, of course. If you are looking at the number of people in the audience, Kerala leads in that aspect, compared with other states. Kerala is the most musically literate state in the country.
It is said that only two names from Kerala get the prime slots in Chennai – K J Yesudas and you. Why is it that musicians from Kerala are not sought-after?
See, we are reiterating that Chennai is the seat of music — that is unnecessary. Let me show you a different perspective — it is in Kerala that all the good musicians get paid well. During temple festivals in Kerala, musicians from different states come and sing. We patronise music that much. Chennai, meanwhile, is a learning hub. We do not do much research in music.
What are your views on youth festivals?
If you ask whether the participants continue their art, the answer is no. But the state does have a system in place, and that is commendable. Especially because we have many artforms, and they keep getting highlighted at these festivals. Whatever said, I get a positive vibe out of these youth festivals.
Does loudness mar soulful, melodious compositions?
If 1,000 people can listen to a ‘Sagara shayana’ with bass guitar and drums, I say we should respect their tastes. I may not listen to it but I cannot say that it is wrong.
But does not misplaced loudness reduce quality?
Take a concert by Thaikkudam Bridge or Sithara [Krishnakumar], where 2,000 people are attending. You cannot give them very sober, soft music, and expect them to get into a meditative mood. That is impossible. People come to such places to have a good time, so you will have to give them the adrenaline rush.
There are bands, like Agam that fuse western and Carnatic music. Does this help draw younger listeners to Carnatic music?
Absolutely! I really feel it is helpful. When I was in school, I remember that many people did not like Yesudas’s concert, but today, if compositions like ‘Vatapi Ganapatim’ or ‘Alai paayuthe’ have become popular, it is because of him (sings Vatapi).
Is there an elitism when it comes to classical music?
That argument does not apply to Kerala. I am sure that for the past 75 years at least, we have shattered all those norms or stereotypes. My guru, Yesudas, [Kalamandalam] Hyderali, and many other artists… all have broken the mould. But in other states, like Tamil Nadu, parties like the DMK were vehemently against classical music, and because of that, I think a section of society was kept away from the Carnatic scene. Here, both the political right and the left accept Carnatic music.
But are you helping to remove elitism? Especially since you carry your caste name…
How am I supposed to fulfil that responsibility? One way is by giving music education. The second way is what I am doing now — studying and documenting folk arts and culture. Kerala is home to about 3,000 folk artforms, but over 2,000 of them have become extinct. I am part of a KAU project to visually document these artforms through the lens of agriculture.
When Nanchamma received the National Award, some questioned if tribal music should be considered along with mainstream music. What’s your take?
I strongly disagree with that view. I cannot sing like Nanchamma. She received the award because her artistry was respected. Similarly, Vidyadharan Master, who is a music director, received an award for best singer, and he certainly deserves it.
There was a controversy over ‘Sangita Kalanidhi M S Subbulakshmi Award’ being given to T M Krishna last year. The name of the award raised eyebrows (as Krishna was a staunch critic of Subbulakshmi). What are your thoughts on the matter?
Krishna undoubtedly deserved the award. The issue is not about his deserving of it but about the narrative surrounding it. It is important to look beyond just the name of the award. Else, it will be a very narrow view. But, Krishna has spoken about a lot of things controversially. It is not that I am subscribing to all of what he says, but I think there was a need for broad-mindedness in such matters.
There’s now a trend of folk artists being featured more frequently in cinema. Do you think this will create more opportunities for folk music?
Yes. For example, Hanumankind’s new song (‘Run It Up’)uses visuals from Theyyam. While the music itself may be unconventional for some, it brings a universal appeal to Theyyam. People may find it hard to digest, but I think it is a great step forward.
Hindustani music is gaining popularity in Kerala, with many students learning it. What’s driving this trend?
Firstly, we cannot ignore the importance of Kozhikode. Ghazal, Arab, Persian, and Sufi music have always been a part of the region’s culture. Because of this, Karnataka music has not been as dominant in Kozhikode. But Ghazal and Babukka’s songs are sung every day in many houses. They like Ghazal songs more. It is because of that culture.
You mentioned earlier that Chennai is a learning hub for music. How much of a learning hub was your Guru for you?
My guru was someone who changed my life completely. Travels with him, concerts with him — it was like the Gurukula tradition, somehow. I would accompany him to places, and fortunately, my college also facilitated all this. You also get to meet many artists, for example, a tour may introduce us to Mandolin U Srinivasan, flautist K S Venugopalan, mridangm maestros Palakkad Reghu, Umayalpuram Sivaraman, MS Gopalakrishnan, and all these people may be staying in the same lodge. You see them frequently and they talk about their journey in music. Even the artists accompanying my guru — Velukutty Nair, Chalakkudy Narayana Swamy, M G Radhakrishnan, Perumbavoor Ravindranath — all these people would regularly come to his concerts and would often point out mistakes in my renditions. This was like having multiple gurus.
You also aspire to make films, and you have acted in a movie (Kumaranasan). Could you tell us more about that?
I am in the process of directing a film. It is not Carnatic-based, but yes, it is about music. That is all I can reveal right now.
At what stage is it currently at?
We have already shot for around 15 days now. I don’t want to say anything more; let it stay like that.
Can you tell us about your relationship with artist Namboothiri?
I shared a bond of about 30 years with him. I met M T Vasudevan Nair through Namboothiri. I feel that a practitioner of art can take inputs from any kind of art. These things are highly inspiring to me.
Has your career in agriculture ever given you a sense of security?
Of course! At all times. Even now, it is because of that that I am able to talk like this today.
The question that arises here is that for people choosing Carnatic music as their only career, how far is it sustainable?
I can talk like this because I have another career, but I do not say that is the only way. However, there are people who pursue music or dance as a profession, like Rajashree Warrier, Methil Devika, Kapila, and so many more.
Is that why people are hesitant or scared to take it up as a profession?
Yes, this is also why, when students graduate from a music college, they go to reality shows or sing for dance recitals — they get paid better. For a student graduating from a music college, the only option is teaching. Even Central government institutions are not promoting or encouraging art as they once used to do.
You are known as ‘T M Krishna of Kerala’. What are your political feelings like?
I don’t think that is a right comparison. Also, talking about political beliefs, don’t forget that I am a government servant (laughs, and sings Bhagyada Lakshmi baramma).
Team TNIE
Anil S, Aparna Nair, Parvana K B, Varsha Somaraj, Uthama S
Vincent Pulickal (photos)
Pranav V P (video)