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Finding the Raga: An Improvisation on Indian Music
Finding the Raga is more than a book that tries to make sense of Indian classical music and of how Indian music challenges Western notions of what music might be. It is a work of self-inquiry, as might be expected from Amit Chaudhuri, a musician who is also a novelist; a novelist who is also a critic and essayist; a trained and recorded performer in the Indian classical vocal tradition who was also, once, a guitarist and songwriter in the American folk-music style and is now a composer and recorded performer of experimental music. Each one of these undertakings and selves signifies turns at different points in his life, and each turn and change of direction brings a fresh perspective on music, writing, and what it means to take on and do these things. No category—Indian, Western—is a given in this book. Partly a record of one of the most important turns in the author’s life, toward North Indian music, and of its long aftermath, Finding the Raga is also part autobiography set in 1970s Bombay, part essay, and part detailed analysis of how we might grasp the conceptual underpinnings as well as the experience of music. It explores the different ways in which music relates to the world—whether it’s through representation or evocation, as in Western music, or through the raga being sung at different times of day and in different seasons, as in Indian music—and also tries to understand what the act of listening involves for individuals and cultures.
- GenresMusicNonfictionIndiaArt
253 pages, Paperback
Published March 1, 2021
About the author
Amit Chaudhuri
65 books162 followersAmit Chaudhuri was born in Calcutta in 1962, and grew up in Bombay. He read English at University College, London, where he took his BA with First Class Honours, and completed his doctorate on critical theory and the poetry of D.H. Lawrence at Balliol College, Oxford, where he was a Dervorguilla Scholar. He was Creative Arts Fellow at Wolfson College, Oxford, from 1992-95, and Leverhulme Special Research Fellow at the Faculty of English, Cambridge University, until April 1999, where he taught the Commonwealth and International Literatures paper of the English Tripos. He was on the faculty of the School of the Arts, Columbia University, for the Fall semester, 2002. He was appointed Samuel Fischer Guest Professor of Literature at Free University, Berlin, for the winter term 2005.
He is now Professor in Contemporary Literature at the University of East Anglia. He was made Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature in 2009.
He is now Professor in Contemporary Literature at the University of East Anglia. He was made Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature in 2009.
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Displaying 1 - 24 of 24 reviews
July 8, 2024
I was born and brought up in India in a household where no one was formally trained in music and yet everyone was obsessed with it - gliding the radio knob through the ocean of static until one chanced upon an island of familiar melodies, replaying CDs of music videos till they were physically obliterated, pirating albums from Pakistani websites once the Internet tsunami took over, arguing over our preferred contestants in the evening ritual of singing reality shows.
Almost all of our universe was comprised of Hindi film music, which boasts of extraordinary range in the emotions it conveys, but whose length and form is rather conservative, conducive for singing along on a theme relevant to daily life, with the voice being the clear protagonist amid the instrumental background whose role is appreciated at most as an able companion. There are lines for projecting an impassioned romance, for reaffirming oneself with inner strength in the face of insurmountable hurdles, for poking fun at a forgetful friend, for pondering over the inevitability of death. Music works in harmony with poetry to explore the unknown in a known way.
However, there was always the imposing, incomprehensible shadow of Hindustani classical music lurking in the penumbra of the familiar and comforting. All of our favourite singers and composers alluded to it as their foundation and pole star, though we never listened to them performing it or explaining exactly how it informed their popular art. Now and then a guest would be invited to a show, supposedly a legend of the classical arena, and they would observe the commercial pantomime act unfolding around them with a mildly bemused, detached countenance, and we convinced ourselves they must belong to a higher aesthetic realm, simply because they were indifferent to what enthralled us so much. But we never made an attempt to discover what this mysterious plane really was, that was supposedly the root upon which all that was so dear to us stood, and yet was so deeply buried so as to be completely invisible. We maintained a respectful and intimidated distance.
It was in college that I chanced upon a friend who introduced me to this intimate yet alien art and my life changed completely. A few years later, buoyed by my success, and indeed learning to appreciate Hindustani classical music for the uninitiated is no easy task, I plumbed into Western classical music, and again my life did a wild somersault. Curiously though, while I occasionally evangelise my European friends to Brahms or Tchaikovsky despite their impatience and weariness at sitting through a two hour concerto, I do not even try to make a similar attempt for Hindustani classical. Its effect is mystical-transcendental in a way that defies descriptions, it’s not clear what reference point from the landscape of ordinary emotions one could use as an anchor. It is less immediately joyous or tragic or triumphant than a long drawn out, anticipatory pensive and reflective, beautiful in a perpetually elusive sense.
Amit Chaudhuri, being a trained Hindustani classical singer and an accomplished writer, does a great work of superimposing memoir and philosophy and musicology in this work, blending his own journey with insights into the tradition, illuminating its technical aspects as well as what it aspires to spiritually. Of course, one’ll still need to spend hundreds and thousands of hours with the music itself to hear what he is going on about, but his elucidation brings out the subtle dimensions that only a performer perceives, and the lay listener will have their own taste enriched with this valuable commentary.
Almost all of our universe was comprised of Hindi film music, which boasts of extraordinary range in the emotions it conveys, but whose length and form is rather conservative, conducive for singing along on a theme relevant to daily life, with the voice being the clear protagonist amid the instrumental background whose role is appreciated at most as an able companion. There are lines for projecting an impassioned romance, for reaffirming oneself with inner strength in the face of insurmountable hurdles, for poking fun at a forgetful friend, for pondering over the inevitability of death. Music works in harmony with poetry to explore the unknown in a known way.
However, there was always the imposing, incomprehensible shadow of Hindustani classical music lurking in the penumbra of the familiar and comforting. All of our favourite singers and composers alluded to it as their foundation and pole star, though we never listened to them performing it or explaining exactly how it informed their popular art. Now and then a guest would be invited to a show, supposedly a legend of the classical arena, and they would observe the commercial pantomime act unfolding around them with a mildly bemused, detached countenance, and we convinced ourselves they must belong to a higher aesthetic realm, simply because they were indifferent to what enthralled us so much. But we never made an attempt to discover what this mysterious plane really was, that was supposedly the root upon which all that was so dear to us stood, and yet was so deeply buried so as to be completely invisible. We maintained a respectful and intimidated distance.
It was in college that I chanced upon a friend who introduced me to this intimate yet alien art and my life changed completely. A few years later, buoyed by my success, and indeed learning to appreciate Hindustani classical music for the uninitiated is no easy task, I plumbed into Western classical music, and again my life did a wild somersault. Curiously though, while I occasionally evangelise my European friends to Brahms or Tchaikovsky despite their impatience and weariness at sitting through a two hour concerto, I do not even try to make a similar attempt for Hindustani classical. Its effect is mystical-transcendental in a way that defies descriptions, it’s not clear what reference point from the landscape of ordinary emotions one could use as an anchor. It is less immediately joyous or tragic or triumphant than a long drawn out, anticipatory pensive and reflective, beautiful in a perpetually elusive sense.
Amit Chaudhuri, being a trained Hindustani classical singer and an accomplished writer, does a great work of superimposing memoir and philosophy and musicology in this work, blending his own journey with insights into the tradition, illuminating its technical aspects as well as what it aspires to spiritually. Of course, one’ll still need to spend hundreds and thousands of hours with the music itself to hear what he is going on about, but his elucidation brings out the subtle dimensions that only a performer perceives, and the lay listener will have their own taste enriched with this valuable commentary.
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April 10, 2021Reviewed in World Literature Today
IF FICTION IS “CREATED,” then nonfiction is surely “found.” Criticism is a hunt for flaws and virtues, history spotted in the wind-mirror, memoir nothing but the draff at the bottom of memory’s barrel. Quality is not intrinsic to characters, events, or ideas but a question of how they come together, like notes in a melody. Viewed in this light, Finding the Raga, the latest book by writer-cum-singer Amit Chaudhuri, is an awkward and somewhat dissonant composition in which musical exegesis rubs shoulders with commentary on modernist art and episodes from Mughal history; “chapters” range in size from a paragraph to a dozen pages, while part 1 (out of four) occupies three-quarters of the book. And yet it is precisely by tearing through structural conventions that Chaudhuri is able to alight on a new summit of cultural discourse. For this is not just a book about found things. Rather, as its title implies, it is a commentary on the process of finding the inaudible harmony, or raga, between music, art, and life.
A raga is a scale, the musical framework of Indian classical music. “You can’t compose a raga because ragas have no composers in the conventional sense,” writes Chaudhuri. “They are ‘found’ material turned into fluid and imperishable forms by the culture.” But Chaudhuri’s presence as the maestro of this quiet work, and his unique position on the threshold between music and literature, between East and West, are what make Finding the Raga so illuminating. Nearly every thought and anecdote is forged by Chauduri’s experiences and tempered by his humble, understated style, from discovering the overlap between social consciousness and musical taste as a student at University College London, to learning from his tutor to incorporate external factors—a drop in temperature, the pitch of the air-conditioner’s humming—into musical performance.
Chaudhuri himself proves a patient teacher, as he familiarizes readers with the lexicon of Hindustani classical music and walks us through the various khayals and ragas note by note. The reading is certainly enhanced by having a pitched instrument at hand, for ultimately the book remains a literary, as opposed to musical, work. Perhaps Finding the Raga’s greatest shortcoming is its inability to reconcile form and content in this way, but it is a shortcoming that Chaudhuri acknowledges. “People have asked me, ‘In what way does being a musician affect your writing?’ . . . After three decades, I see . . . one link: I’m told I have a tendency not to come to the point.”
Readers hoping to find that point will be put off by Finding the Raga’s profound but detumescent musings. But those looking to attune themselves to the timbre of Indian classical music, or to discover fresh insights into this ancient tradition, will not be disappointed.
IF FICTION IS “CREATED,” then nonfiction is surely “found.” Criticism is a hunt for flaws and virtues, history spotted in the wind-mirror, memoir nothing but the draff at the bottom of memory’s barrel. Quality is not intrinsic to characters, events, or ideas but a question of how they come together, like notes in a melody. Viewed in this light, Finding the Raga, the latest book by writer-cum-singer Amit Chaudhuri, is an awkward and somewhat dissonant composition in which musical exegesis rubs shoulders with commentary on modernist art and episodes from Mughal history; “chapters” range in size from a paragraph to a dozen pages, while part 1 (out of four) occupies three-quarters of the book. And yet it is precisely by tearing through structural conventions that Chaudhuri is able to alight on a new summit of cultural discourse. For this is not just a book about found things. Rather, as its title implies, it is a commentary on the process of finding the inaudible harmony, or raga, between music, art, and life.
A raga is a scale, the musical framework of Indian classical music. “You can’t compose a raga because ragas have no composers in the conventional sense,” writes Chaudhuri. “They are ‘found’ material turned into fluid and imperishable forms by the culture.” But Chaudhuri’s presence as the maestro of this quiet work, and his unique position on the threshold between music and literature, between East and West, are what make Finding the Raga so illuminating. Nearly every thought and anecdote is forged by Chauduri’s experiences and tempered by his humble, understated style, from discovering the overlap between social consciousness and musical taste as a student at University College London, to learning from his tutor to incorporate external factors—a drop in temperature, the pitch of the air-conditioner’s humming—into musical performance.
Chaudhuri himself proves a patient teacher, as he familiarizes readers with the lexicon of Hindustani classical music and walks us through the various khayals and ragas note by note. The reading is certainly enhanced by having a pitched instrument at hand, for ultimately the book remains a literary, as opposed to musical, work. Perhaps Finding the Raga’s greatest shortcoming is its inability to reconcile form and content in this way, but it is a shortcoming that Chaudhuri acknowledges. “People have asked me, ‘In what way does being a musician affect your writing?’ . . . After three decades, I see . . . one link: I’m told I have a tendency not to come to the point.”
Readers hoping to find that point will be put off by Finding the Raga’s profound but detumescent musings. But those looking to attune themselves to the timbre of Indian classical music, or to discover fresh insights into this ancient tradition, will not be disappointed.
June 5, 2021
The book was, in a way, a sensory recalling of memories of the author. These memories were so entranced with sounds that one could almost hear the music. Be it the evocation of Amir Khan's Ramdasi Malhar or the visualization of Rafi's Kabhi khud pe kabhi halat pe rona aya, there was something touchable about the experience.
The intertextuality in the book was not unfamiliar to me. The seamless ease with which the author spoke of Virgil, Dante's guide, to Tagore and Kalidas, makes me feel right at home.
I found myself smiling and nodding my head quite often. The idea of "double hearing", I fear, I suffer from it myself. I now have a name for it!
Over all, the ideas and contemplations were interesting.
The intertextuality in the book was not unfamiliar to me. The seamless ease with which the author spoke of Virgil, Dante's guide, to Tagore and Kalidas, makes me feel right at home.
I found myself smiling and nodding my head quite often. The idea of "double hearing", I fear, I suffer from it myself. I now have a name for it!
Over all, the ideas and contemplations were interesting.
November 15, 2022
Being a fan of Indian ragas, weirdly this book didn't work for me. On one hand it was too centered around the author's personal life. On the other hand it came across as too technical, dry and difficult about the music itself. I was hoping for more of a broad cultural approach...
July 16, 2024
Literary history, autobiography and music studies combine in this fascinating, melodious book. Traces the history of the raga and ultimately its omnipresence through time and space in stunning prose and patience.
March 26, 2023
I can't say I have understood all the theory behind the Ragas but the book was extremely readable and re-read worthy. The theoretical explanations, personal anecdotes and the connections he makes between music and cultures from across East and West all make for a rich, many textured, multi-layered read.
December 6, 2022
3.5 rounded down to 3
An interesting foray into Indian classical music (mostly Hindustani) and it's philosophy through the life story of the author.
An interesting foray into Indian classical music (mostly Hindustani) and it's philosophy through the life story of the author.
December 17, 2021
Amit Chaudhuri's Finding the Raga is imbued with philosophical undertones that make his exploration of classical Indian music go beyond musical and cultural sensitivity. A raga, a succession of ascending and descending notes in different modes used as the basis for improvisation, is defined by what it is and what it is not. What is a raga in the context of classical Indian music? Does it mean the same outside of the country? Can it be played? What about the linguistic attributions of the raga (time of day, season, etc.)?
Almost written like a raga, the book is the needle that intertwines Chaudhuri's own life in Mumbai and musical aspirations as well as the history and theory of the raga. It goes back and forth between his life and the music. We can almost imagine Chaudhuri singing the book as a raga accompanied by the tabla in a long introduction, or alaap.
The last chapter is beautiful. In his later years, Chaudhuri comes to find that music is sound and sound is music. Instead of comparing Western music against classical Indian music, the author comes to realize that there is more commonality than divergence in what he calls "double hearing."
Almost written like a raga, the book is the needle that intertwines Chaudhuri's own life in Mumbai and musical aspirations as well as the history and theory of the raga. It goes back and forth between his life and the music. We can almost imagine Chaudhuri singing the book as a raga accompanied by the tabla in a long introduction, or alaap.
The last chapter is beautiful. In his later years, Chaudhuri comes to find that music is sound and sound is music. Instead of comparing Western music against classical Indian music, the author comes to realize that there is more commonality than divergence in what he calls "double hearing."
January 21, 2023
Brainy introduction to North Indian classical music. Chaudhuri is well-positioned to be a guide for Western readers - he's a Western-educated and rock music-loving intellectual that also grew up in a home of Indian classical lovers, and is a dedicated classical musician himself. Much of this book is his personal history with music and post-colonial life. Those parts are direct and engaging.
Indian classical music, though, is almost impossible to get a handle on. My learning curve was especially steep because I know nothing about music theory, and it's a theory-heavy explanation here. It seems practically impossible to define a "raga" - it's a kind of improvisatory framework, a series of notes on a scale, but somehow a raga can last 15 seconds or 45 minutes, depending on the performance. There are lots of intriguing and unsettling details (you can see why the hippies dug it) - for example, that the droning tanpura is played without any reference to the pace or meter of the other instruments, or that there are no fixed notes at all, no ideal 'C', but instead a reference tone is chosen arbitrarily, or in response to ambient sound, such as the hum of an air conditioner in the room. Chaudhuri can get a little precious for my tastes when he begins to compare Indian music to Eliot, Mallarmé, or Flaubert, though there's no doubting his erudition.
I've listened to plenty of Indian music, both low and high, but I have so little context for it, and the proper way to read this book would have been to pause and listen, again and again. The book expanded my awe at the complexity and depth of this tradition, though it probably didn't set me straight as well as an "Idiot's Guide" treatment would have, not that I expected that.
Indian classical music, though, is almost impossible to get a handle on. My learning curve was especially steep because I know nothing about music theory, and it's a theory-heavy explanation here. It seems practically impossible to define a "raga" - it's a kind of improvisatory framework, a series of notes on a scale, but somehow a raga can last 15 seconds or 45 minutes, depending on the performance. There are lots of intriguing and unsettling details (you can see why the hippies dug it) - for example, that the droning tanpura is played without any reference to the pace or meter of the other instruments, or that there are no fixed notes at all, no ideal 'C', but instead a reference tone is chosen arbitrarily, or in response to ambient sound, such as the hum of an air conditioner in the room. Chaudhuri can get a little precious for my tastes when he begins to compare Indian music to Eliot, Mallarmé, or Flaubert, though there's no doubting his erudition.
I've listened to plenty of Indian music, both low and high, but I have so little context for it, and the proper way to read this book would have been to pause and listen, again and again. The book expanded my awe at the complexity and depth of this tradition, though it probably didn't set me straight as well as an "Idiot's Guide" treatment would have, not that I expected that.
July 16, 2021
A childhood (for some) in India in the 1960s afforded the opportunity to grow up with the Beatles and the Rolling Stones while also enjoying, to a similar degree, Indian classic music, both Hindustani (North Indian) and Carnatic (South Indian). All this while also singing along to the ubiquitous "film-songs." Amit Chaudhuri takes it a step further. Not for him the mere closed-eyes and bopping of the head to Neil Young and Bob Dylan. He writes songs and plays the guitar. And if that was not enough he begins learning classical "Ragas," an arduous vocal tradition, at the feet of a master. I used to envy my older cousins who could identify a "Malkauns" or a "Bhupali" at the first few strains of the Tampura let alone from the first few notes then sung by Bhimsen Joshi or Saigal. To me, these complex Indian classical "Ragas" remained mystical, haunting tunes sometimes evocative of mood (mainly melancholy). I daresay this book will be a challenge for most amateurs who have dabbled in that genre; but on one's shelf, it will be an easy reference source when a Raga calls.
May 10, 2022
I feel bad about giving a book 2 stars, knowing this is more of a passion project about the author’s experience with the music he loves. However, most of this was quite tedious reading. I’m not one to skim books (it almost feels like cheating), but I absolutely skimmed the last half of the book. It’s genuinely hard to tell who the target audience for this book is, but if you love in depth analyses on thaats and Indian text, I think this book’s for you.
I also felt like there were some HUGE missed opportunities here. The author talks of initially being in love with Western music from the 60s (bonus points that he brought up Joni Mitchell a couple times, who’s my favorite), and obviously the author loves Indian classical music. So... no thoughts on how Indian classical music became very popular with Western rock music in the 60’s (mainly with the Beatles and George Harrison), or even any thoughts about its association with psychedelia?? That would have been such interesting insight. What a disappointing missed opportunity!
I also felt like there were some HUGE missed opportunities here. The author talks of initially being in love with Western music from the 60s (bonus points that he brought up Joni Mitchell a couple times, who’s my favorite), and obviously the author loves Indian classical music. So... no thoughts on how Indian classical music became very popular with Western rock music in the 60’s (mainly with the Beatles and George Harrison), or even any thoughts about its association with psychedelia?? That would have been such interesting insight. What a disappointing missed opportunity!
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March 17, 2023This is one of two books at GRPL on Indian music, the other being on Carnatic music, which I'm not specifically interested in (yet). I did learn a bit about Hindustani classical music, but the book was a weird mix of autobiographical notes on the author's experience practicing the music, and technical explanations which were hard for a beginner to really grasp. The best parts of the book are the more philosophical musings on the differences between the Indian and Western musical traditions and the meaning and role of music more broadly.
"The relationship that the raga has to time or day or season—that is, to the world—is not narrative or representational, but linguistic; I mean the relationship between raga Kedar and evening is as arbitrary and ineluctable as the relationship between the word 'evening' itself and that time of day....Once we're aware of language—and who isn't?—it becomes, for us, the word it refers to."
"The relationship that the raga has to time or day or season—that is, to the world—is not narrative or representational, but linguistic; I mean the relationship between raga Kedar and evening is as arbitrary and ineluctable as the relationship between the word 'evening' itself and that time of day....Once we're aware of language—and who isn't?—it becomes, for us, the word it refers to."
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April 12, 2021I'm not sure this book gives a simple answer for what a raga is, largely because I don't think there is a simple answer; instead, the book expands on different aspects of the raga, giving a really holistic sense of it. I found the frame around the author's personal development as a musician to be interesting and helpful as well.
I wouldn't say any musical knowledge is necessary to understand the book, but it would be good to go into the book having a rough sense of theory (what is a beat; what is a scale).
I wouldn't say any musical knowledge is necessary to understand the book, but it would be good to go into the book having a rough sense of theory (what is a beat; what is a scale).
October 24, 2022
When Chaudhuri actually discusses Indian classical music, this is an intriguing and educational book. But it's also a memoir from yet another middle class dude on the Boomer/Gen X divide, so all his references to Western rock are 50 years old. The structure of the chapters is designed to reflect the structure of a raga, but even by the end I'm not sure I have enough understanding of raga to tell whether he pulled that off or not. Probably better for fans of the author, but still some valuable insights into the raga to be found.
July 17, 2021
Too technical in spots, at least for someone like me, whose knowledge of music is somewhat, shall we say, rudimentary, and I'm not sure he fully won me over in his argument of the non-representational vs. representational in Indian vs. Western classical music, but there is a profound engagement with art in these pages that is worth grappling with, even if one comes out opposed to Chaughuri's view.
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September 13, 2021Chaudhuri breaking prose to space the cycle of a taal according to the breadth of a page made me GASP!!! This taught me a lot, but I wasn’t usually in a position to actually LISTEN to the songs and genres he discussed when reading it which was a shame — meaning that I’ll have to revisit this and pay much closer attention to the examples in the future. A tad indulgent at times but overall this was beautiful, especially the final chapter.
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June 1, 2023Exquisite and rapturous, singular and wide-ranging, this is a book as much about life as it is about music. In looking back--through his own experiences but also the histories that undergird such a rich and vast cultural tradition--Chaudhuri situates raga firmly in the present. "Despite the legend, I find the culture--musical, spiritual--is less interested in miracles than in life...an outburst of existence."
July 5, 2024
A random grab from the used bookstore, where I generally take interest in any NYRB title. It’s a winding musical memoir by a Hindustani vocalist and writer, with a folk singer/songwriter background. I would’ve benefited from more familiarity with the varieties of Indian classical music discussed. Some beautiful, provocative prose on competing orientations to music and song, especially singing. But ultimately a slow book for me.
October 20, 2022
I know little about music theory so my understanding of the more technical passages in the book was more conceptual rather than technical. Yet, I understood enough to understand the connections Chaudri makes between different cultural characteristics - preference for representation, teleological narratives, etc. Enjoyed Chaudri’s autobiographical reflections
March 15, 2022
The technical parts of this book would have been easier to follow and engage with if there was an accompanying playlist. This comprised of half the book. Otherwise, excellent text to reframe and contextualize Hindustani classical.
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January 26, 2024perspective of the grain of sand inching along the leaves of a magnificent sunflower
February 15, 2022
Każdy - mam nadzieję - ma w swoim życiu moment oświecenia. Dla Amita Chaudhuriego przyszedł on w Bombaju na dwudziestym piątym piętrze. Wtedy usłyszał Govinda Prasada Jaipurwale, nauczyciela śpiewu swojej matki i syna legendarnego Laxmana Japiurwalego. Chaudhuri miał szesnaście lat. Wcześniej chciał zostać indyjskim Neilem Youngiem, pisał własne piosenki w tym duchu. Jednak moment, gdy usłyszał głos Govindjiego (jak go nazywali bliscy) zaważył na jego dalszej ścieżce - postanowił zostać śpiewakiem wykonawcą khayali. I jest nim do dziś (choć nie tylko, to także uznany powieściopisarz, poeta, eseista i wykładowca).
Finding the Raga: An Improvisation on Indian Music to nie jest książka tylko o muzyce czy tylko o drodze autora. Zgodnie z podtytułem to improwizacja. I jak prawdziwa improwizacja meandrująca jak rzeka. Chaudhuri pisze o tym, czym dla niego jest muzyka, nie tylko indyjska. Wspomina swoje początki, wczesne, inspirowane Youngiem i Bitelsami piosenkami, Bombaj lat 70. i jego dźwięki. Opowiada o tym, jak nauczył się słuchać, tłumaczy czym są (i czym nie są) ragi, zgłębia historię klasycznej muzyki hindustańskiej, zderza ją z europejską klasyką, podkreśla podobieństwa i różnice. I przede wszystkim snuje historię swojego najdłuższego związku - z muzyką. Muzykę - za sprawą swoich nauczycieli - słyszy wszędzie, w dźwiękach dzwonów i nawoływaniach ulicznych sprzedawców rozpoznaje składowe rag.
Jeśli klasyczna muzyka europejska jest mimetyczna - jak symfonie Beethovena - to khayale są niczym modernistyczna, niereprezentatywna sztuka, abstrakcyjna jak język, co więcej mająca wiele wspólnego z futuryzmem. Chaudhuri zręcznie przeprowadza przez zawiłości indyjskiej terminologii, przystępnie tłumaczy, dlaczego muzyka hindustańska brzmi tak, a nie inaczej, z czego to wynika, kto był motorem zmian. Ani na chwilę nie traci lekkości wywodu. Jego porównania, metafory i zabiegi są celne i zrozumiałe. Sam wiem, jak pisanie o muzyce potrafi być zwodnicze i jak wiele wysiłku wymaga. U Chaudhuriego nawet najtrudniejsze zagadnienia (na przykład stosunek alaap do innych części ragi) są zrozumiałe dla laika.
Finding the Raga to książka o sztuce, życiu, medytacja nad twórcza natura ludzkością, refleksja nad jej źródłem, opowieść o radykalnej modernizacji i westernizacji indyjskiej klasy średniej. Wreszcie, to opowieść o życiu. Tylko tyle i aż tyle.
Finding the Raga: An Improvisation on Indian Music to nie jest książka tylko o muzyce czy tylko o drodze autora. Zgodnie z podtytułem to improwizacja. I jak prawdziwa improwizacja meandrująca jak rzeka. Chaudhuri pisze o tym, czym dla niego jest muzyka, nie tylko indyjska. Wspomina swoje początki, wczesne, inspirowane Youngiem i Bitelsami piosenkami, Bombaj lat 70. i jego dźwięki. Opowiada o tym, jak nauczył się słuchać, tłumaczy czym są (i czym nie są) ragi, zgłębia historię klasycznej muzyki hindustańskiej, zderza ją z europejską klasyką, podkreśla podobieństwa i różnice. I przede wszystkim snuje historię swojego najdłuższego związku - z muzyką. Muzykę - za sprawą swoich nauczycieli - słyszy wszędzie, w dźwiękach dzwonów i nawoływaniach ulicznych sprzedawców rozpoznaje składowe rag.
Jeśli klasyczna muzyka europejska jest mimetyczna - jak symfonie Beethovena - to khayale są niczym modernistyczna, niereprezentatywna sztuka, abstrakcyjna jak język, co więcej mająca wiele wspólnego z futuryzmem. Chaudhuri zręcznie przeprowadza przez zawiłości indyjskiej terminologii, przystępnie tłumaczy, dlaczego muzyka hindustańska brzmi tak, a nie inaczej, z czego to wynika, kto był motorem zmian. Ani na chwilę nie traci lekkości wywodu. Jego porównania, metafory i zabiegi są celne i zrozumiałe. Sam wiem, jak pisanie o muzyce potrafi być zwodnicze i jak wiele wysiłku wymaga. U Chaudhuriego nawet najtrudniejsze zagadnienia (na przykład stosunek alaap do innych części ragi) są zrozumiałe dla laika.
Finding the Raga to książka o sztuce, życiu, medytacja nad twórcza natura ludzkością, refleksja nad jej źródłem, opowieść o radykalnej modernizacji i westernizacji indyjskiej klasy średniej. Wreszcie, to opowieść o życiu. Tylko tyle i aż tyle.
March 2, 2022
Not far into reading Finding the Raga I felt that I was experiencing a behind the scenes look at how Amit Chaudhuri’s novel The Immortals was born. I hadn’t realised at the time of reading it, but the latter turns out to have been to a large degree autobiographical (the author is also an accomplished musician, who confesses to singing a Todi raga every morning!). This all meant that I felt on familiar (and pleasurable) terrain reading the sections of the book where the author relates his personal introduction to, and experiences in, Indian classical music.
As the cover of the book advises us, this is an improvisation on Indian music. The book is in parts autobiographical, historical, technical and philosophical. Some parts will appeal more to different readers, and there are some technical sections that may prove trying for some. Taken as a whole, however, I found the book very rewarding.
Chaudhuri takes us back to his youth when he was an aspiring singer songwriter in the western style of the time. As he abandons this to immerse himself in Indian classical music, he makes us aware of the nature of the differences between western and Indian music.
For someone with a love of Indian music, but without a great depth of knowledge, I gained a lot of interesting and useful background. Simple insights such as “I began to become aware of the raga and its relationship to the present moment” may seem obvious to experienced listeners, but will lead aficionados like myself towards a greater understanding and appreciation of the music.
As the cover of the book advises us, this is an improvisation on Indian music. The book is in parts autobiographical, historical, technical and philosophical. Some parts will appeal more to different readers, and there are some technical sections that may prove trying for some. Taken as a whole, however, I found the book very rewarding.
Chaudhuri takes us back to his youth when he was an aspiring singer songwriter in the western style of the time. As he abandons this to immerse himself in Indian classical music, he makes us aware of the nature of the differences between western and Indian music.
For someone with a love of Indian music, but without a great depth of knowledge, I gained a lot of interesting and useful background. Simple insights such as “I began to become aware of the raga and its relationship to the present moment” may seem obvious to experienced listeners, but will lead aficionados like myself towards a greater understanding and appreciation of the music.
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