Books

Medley Messiah

Mathai, not knowing her music, can’t unravel the ‘mystery’ behind Rahman’s music.

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Medley Messiah
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In my sole interaction with A.R. Rahman in his Panchathan studio in 2005, I realised this was a man who would never, ever, discuss how he stitches together his music. After reading Kamini Mathai’s anecdotal biography, I am not wiser. Mathai’s research is extensive: she charts the life of R.K. Sekhar, Rahman’s father, who arranged music for the south’s top music directors; chronicles the impact of Sekhar’s early death on Rahman, who at age nine, armed with a synthesizer, was forced to be the breadwinner and a dropout; she talks to everyone—a watchman at a studio, singers, guitarists, recording engineers, hangers-on at Rahman’s studio. And she quotes the elusive Rahman from cryptic media interviews. The book, in effect, is a string of quotes.

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Mathai, not knowing her music, can’t unravel the ‘mystery’ behind Rahman’s music. She wouldn’t know that the song Ottagathai Kattiko (based on Dharmapuri ragam) in Gentleman (1993) is a better-arranged version of Telugu composers Raj-Koti’s Malgudi Shubha number Eddam Ante Teddam Antav (1991). She does, however, say Rahman arranged music for the duo. Rahman, like hip-hop artists, uses digital samplers. Sampling is the using of a snippet of recorded music in a composition of one’s own. Music becomes manipulable. Songs become compilations. Rahman has a great appetite for manipulation of audio fragments. For him, embellishments matter more than the tune—creating a bricolage of unique sounds. Mathai does not know how to unspool this Rahman.

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