AR Rahman - Rang De Basanti

My “official” review for AR Rahman’s Rang De Basanti. Hush, it’s top secret….

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Nowadays, it looks like every soundtrack release by AR Rahman is preceded by speculation that can be classified into two types: “Is this going to be the Next Great Soundtrack of our generation, the return to form for Rahman?” and the other, more concise reaction – “Yawn!” You cannot really blame both the camps  - on one hand, Rahman, in the early nineties, had raised the bar for Indian soundtracks to such an extent that people find him struggling to maintain that standard. On the other, his recent output is really not something that fits into popular taste, the kind of effect left behind on your auditory senses by an Aashiq Banaaya Aapne or a Salaam Namaste cannot be attributed to any Rahman number of recent times.

The music of Rang De Basanti, which was released late last week, is AR Rahman’s latest offering; the fourth Aamir Khan-ARR collaboration. Ten tracks on the CD, a neat package chockfull of liner notes containing the complete Prasoon Joshi/Blaaze lyrics - feels like full paisa-vasool in a day and age when six songs are clubbed (pun intended) together and sold at atrociously high prices.

The album begins with a one-and-a-half minute hymn ‘Ik Onkar’, sung in Punjabi by Harshdeep Kaur. This lady won the MTV Video Ga-Ga contest in 2001, at the age of 14. I must say that though I haven’t heard her before, her voice on the track - completely bereft of instruments - sounds extremely cool. Part of the magic is the harmonies Rahman creates out of multiple vocal tracks. The title song comes next, and the moment the sound of the tumbi begins, you know you’re in for a rollicking bhangra number. Daler Mehendi does not disappoint; neither does Chitra, whose delicate vocals come as a beautiful counterpoint to Daler’s robust singing. The problem with the track lies in the synthetic approach to the musical arrangement – bhangra is supposed to be in-your-face, while this track focuses more on the vocals than anything else, the percussion and the catchy chorus being relegated to the background, making it an antiseptic version of what might have been.

Next in line is ‘Paathshaala’, which is the ‘rebel’ song of the soundtrack – with loads of crunchy beats, an acoustic guitar strum, a heavy rock guitar riff – and very “now” lyrics. Sample this - “Talli hoke girne se, samjhi humne gravity; ishq ka practical kiya, tab aayi clarity” The tune’s catchy, but nothing to write home about.

‘Tu Bin Bataaye’ is the first slow song in the album, with minimal percussion and Rahman’s trademark orchestral strings backing Madhushree and Naresh Iyer’s singing. While Madhushree can been accused of being a Sadhana Sargam clone, she does a fairly competent job of the song. The highlights of the song are the interlude - a saxophone solo that harks back to classic Rahman soundtracks like Duet, and Naresh Iyer’s vocals. A song that grows on you, much like the only other slow song on the album – ‘Khoon Chalaa’, sung by Mohit Chauhan, the lead singer of Silk Route. Introspective, laidback vocals and instruments – if you replaced the solo violin with a recorder, this would sound exactly like a Silk Route number.

I found Khalbali the most interesting, and the catchiest song in the album. It’s a faux middle-eastern song sung in a faux middle-eastern accent by Rahman and Aslam Mustafa, with Arabic lyrics written and sung by Rai singer Cheb Nacim. Though Rahman’s accent sounds grating at times, maybe it’s meant to be that way – not much by way of lyrics here, but quite a lot of fun – especially the style in which the singers get into the Arabic groove.

Two of the best songs of the album are the Lata Mangeshkar-AR Rahman duet ‘Luka Chhupi’ and the last song ‘Roobaroo’, sung again by Rahman and Naresh Iyer. Both these songs have Rashid Ali’s exquisite guitar-work contributing to their immediate hook. ‘Luka Chhupi’ is a mother-son ditty that actually suits both the voices, and makes use of the tabla beautifully. It ends with an aalap worthy of mention, Rahman’s vocalizing coming out much better than his previous attempt at such a song (the final moments of Yuva’s ‘Fanaa’). ‘Roobaroo’ begins like an alternative rock hit of the nineties (you almost feel like this is a sunny Travis track, or one of Coldplay’s happier songs when it starts); though it does not tread any new ground as far as the music is concerned, this is one well-made number – George Clinton’s work on layering the background vocals, Naresh’s lead singing, the catchy chorus, the flowing lyrics all combining to end the album on a rocking note, reminiscent of the soundtrack of Dil Chahta Hai.

The much-hyped Aamir Khan number ‘Lalkaar’ is more of a poetry recital than a song, and feels like a copy of Arvind Swami’s brooding ‘Unnodu Naan’ in Rahman’s earlier Iruvar. Too bad Rahman could not get him to sing a proper song – this actually comes out flatter than Aamir’s Holi interlude in Mangal Pandey.

The low-point of the album is the painful remix version of ‘Paathshaala’ featuring words and vocals by Blaaze. While the original sounds funky because of the lyrics, this one sounds completely unhip, especially with lines like – “To the Mahal of the Taj, to the Minar of Qutab, to the Kumari of Kanya, to the Panjim of Goa, to the Kanchipuram, Zinda-bad, zinda-good.” Yikes. Rahman and Blaaze need a rethink with their rap numbers, seriously.

What stands out on the first listen – the thankful lack of an “item” number, a staple in most soundtracks today. Probably because of the youth-oriented storyline of the film, there should be no scantily-clad women dancing around in this film. Which is kind of a relief, because we have had enough of that lot. Like I said before, even though the Rahman of today seems to focus more on ‘intelligent’ music, his attempts at mass-appeal seems to be stalled because of his approach of distilling the earthy elements of the instrumentation. Which makes it very hard to let your hair down to his music. You would be better off listening to the nuances of Rahman’s music alone with the volume turned up way high – leave the party-going numbers to the likes of Himesh Reshammiya and Anu Malik.

Fatboy Slim - Palookaville

Once upon a time, I did this review for Worldspace Asia. Seems to be missing from their site right now. I didn’t like it all that much…

Review: Fatboy Slim - Palookaville

Q Magazine once said that this guy is one of the top fifty people you have to see live before you die. He is a man who has made a dance music star out of Jim Morrison - if you haven’t yet listened to the superb Bird of Prey, which features the Doors-frontsman’s sampled vocals, you should. If you’ve ever heard of the phrase “The Rockafeller Skank”, and you find yourself repeating, “Right about now, the funk soul brother, check it out now” whenever you are walking down the road, you know you’ve been affected. It’s a virus, I tell you. The kind of infection that burrows right into your skull and stays there for quite sometime, a virus named Fatboy Slim.

But dance music is hardly the realm Norman Cook (the real-life moniker of the Brighton-based DJ) confines himself to in his latest release Palookaville.  Shades of experimentalism had crept into his previous album Halfway Between the Gutter and The Stars which had yielded only a couple of dance-worthy anthems. Palookaville goes one step further.

Don’t Let The Man, the first track reminds me of Moby’s use of gospel vocals in his Play. This is one of the few tracks that uses a straight-out sample. The band in question being Five Man Electrical Band, whose chorus from their song Signs becomes the hook.

Slash Dot Slash and Jin Go Lo Ba are two tracks that sound like old-school Fatboy Slim. The latter is a dance-hall reworking of a popular Santana tune, and the former is made up of cut-and-paste vocals that sounds like an antiquated tribute to the dot-coms and the Web.

El Bebe Mesoquista is a rollicking pile of funk that starts with an acoustic guitar riff and a whiny voice that flows into an electrically charged beat-fest. Pull It Back Together, featuring the vocals of Blur’s Damon Albarn (whose album Think Tank was co-produced by Fatboy Slim) and The Journey are both out-of-the-way, contemplative tracks, the kind that annoy dance-music purists and make them reach for the fast-forward button.

North-West Three is supposedly a dedication to Zoe Ball, Fatboy Slim’s wife, an optimistic ditty that’s a cross between alternative rock and pop, the kind of jingle best suited for car advertisements.

The album closes with a surprisingly good cover version of the Steve Miller Band’s Joker, with vocals by Bootsy Collins. Probably this song represents the soul of this album - the blurring of genres that Fatboy Slim attempts throughout this work. It all makes sense, the use of real instruments as opposed to electronic blips, the toned down optimism as opposed to the frenetic pace of his earlier albums, the extensive guest-artists that appear in more than two-thirds of the song-list. This is not Fatboy Slim, the superstar DJ. This is Fatboy Slim, the man who wants to break free of the flimsy trappings of superstardom and be known as a serious musician.

Listen to Palookaville not as a dance album, but as you would listen to a fresh artiste and maybe it would make more sense, and give you more value for money.

And yes, at this rate, watching Fatboy Slim live might not be so strenuous, after all.