On what was my last Saturday night in Austin, Bulla and me roamed 6th as usual, looking for a place where we could sup our beers and enjoy some decent live music. We landed at a joint whose name I forget, but the look and clientele were distinctly extreme metal. We headed out to the backyard, where the 'funeral concert' for local alcoholic energy drink Sparks was taking place. With a crowd of around twenty, the next twenty-or-so minutes were taken up by some wasted idiots on the mike, mostly relating incredible tales of how "Sparks changed my life". Then the bands came on, and the whole place turned into a mosh pit.
Whilst the guys on stage were churning out loud jackhammer-like riffs, the lead vocalist/growler whipped off the cordless mike and pranced off the stage onto the floor as if to be one with the audience, seemingly in the act of inciting a riot. And it worked, for a joyous moshing session followed. It was like playing bumper cars minus the cars, or a form of dodgeball where each participant doubles up as a ball. Somewhere in the middle of this blokes-only barroom brawl, the odd girl would crash in for her piece of the action. "This must be a form of American Dappankuthu!" remarked Bulla.
I decided to test Bulla's observation. Is there a connection between Death Metal and Dappankuthu at a fundamental level? These were the points of comparison I was able to come up with:
1. The bretherhood factor: Really, if beer has helped ugly people have sex since 100 BC, then Dappankuthu/Death Metal has given them a reason to live. Consider your average Tam stud; having survived 12-odd gruelling years of the oppressive boys-only senior matriculation environment, his hopes of having a life are dashed when he makes it to engineering college, courtesy boy-girl interaction rules like these. Having fallen into that abyss called social ineptness, he is finally rescued by that great unifying asylum for the hormonally repressed, Dappankuthu. As for his American counterpart, I'm willing to bet my metal tape collection that if society hadn't given up on him he'd be spending rather more time in the club than on practicing his air guitar. You see, it all boils down to a sense of belonging. Of course, the token female may decide to gatecrash and occasionally steal the show (like the one in Naaka Mukka, or the girl in the pub whom I had a crush on for exactly thirty seconds), but this is all essentially Fight Club on earth, just like Palahniuk envisioned it.
2. The revenge of the drummers factor: Most musical genres are rather one-sided. In Carnatic classical for instance, the vocalist holds center-stage for most part, with the others having decidedly supporting actor roles. In arena-rock, the loud cheers are reserved for that pansy guitarist who uses his 'instrument' as an excuse for..well, you know. But finally, the much maligned, butt-of-all-jokes drummer gets his due. A metal band is almost overdependent on breakneck percussion. And a street-procession dance is nothing without the tighter-than-hell beats of little drummer boy.
3. The wedding factor: Having become the mainstay of the Kollywood music industry, kuthu songs are enjoying a renaissance of sorts at wedding halls. Step aside Kajra Re, gotta have some Appadi podu instead. And if Cock and Ball Torture is the last band you'd want playing at your wedding, maybe you should have a look at this before you plan the festivities.
4. The surprise factor: On the evolutionary scale, these two musical styles are mostly rated as figuring just above rock - the kind flung around by cavemen to create sounds, that is. Nothing could be further from the truth - if the experts are to be believed, they transcend the average idiot's capability of aural appreciation. But even a below-average idiot would find it hard to resist the leadoff guitar in this In Flames song, or indeed the opening riff of Chikubuku Raile. The latter has further asserted itself in MIDI format as one of the more common ringtones to annoy your co-workers with in office.
5. The convenience factor: The lure of Tamil gaana songs was aptly summed up by a kuthu-ophile on campus, "You can just do whatever you want without worrying what someone will think when they watch you 'dance'". When similarly asked for comment, the metalhead offered a more simplistic description: "Fuck You!". As opposed to a round of clubbing, for which preparation involves everything from selecting the right styling gel to painful self-assessment of dancing skills, a nightout with the mob is remarkably stress-free. And if you really want to dress the part, simply don that lungi or smelly black t-shirt and you're good to go. Tattoos and body-paint are welcome additions.
6. The questionable content factor: By design, the lyrics are supposed to ruffle a few feathers - the whole exercise would be pointless otherwise right? While the metal crowds fuel themselves by continually being at odds with everyone from God to the First Lady, their South Indian brethren revel in their own notoriety by disregarding prudishness completely. From an outsider's point of view, paying extra attention to the lyrics can be an immensely trippy and rewarding experience. Just don't expect any inputs from the insiders themselves - with a view to preserving their cult status, they've been ordered to give the impression that they take themselves as seriously as possible.
Besides reaffirming that I have too much time on my hands (and increasingly appalling taste in music), this whole exercise has given my future some shape. These days, I spend a lot of time wondering just what to do with my Acoustics Engineering degree. I have now resolved to get some experience mixing sound in a recording studio, and shall then promptly head off to Ulsoor Road where a latent appreciation for all things gaana and metal exists, if the growling and beating you hear during processions is any indication. With the right resources, we will produce a fusion album - and it will be called American Dappankuthu.
