Rahman's Fab Five: Redux

I've shamelessly decided to piggyback on Swaroop's post, Rahman's Fab Five, and compile my own list. I did plan on putting up a Rahman-centric post on more than one occasion, but was too lazy to get down to it. So it seems Swaroop's list has provided me with an excuse to finally indulge and get this out of the way.

While I often claim to be an albums-and-not-singles kind of listener, my approach to music records is rather basal, focusing more on nostalgic value and spur-of-the-moment-feeling. Since I won't be able to dissect Rahman's albums with the same artfulness as Swaroop, my choices are perhaps more a reflection of the raw emotion and memories they bring with them. I grew up on a steady diet of Rahman's music through the 90s, but after the turn of the decade I tended to miss out on some of his later masterpieces. This can be put down to the fact that, from the end of school up till around the third year of college, I went through a phase where I thought of myself as a proper metalhead and was surrounded by peers whose musical philosophy was of the "louder the better" variety. Rahman was never far away however, and my renewed interest over the years has been rewarding. The post-2000 stuff also offers plenty from his catalog waiting to be discovered by me, definitely something to look forward to.

Again, this is not an all-time top five list, which is why Roja and Thiruda Thiruda don't figure in it. Rather, it is a loosely-chosen list of albums which perhaps best represent the spark that Rahman's music has time and again provided to the otherwise mundane process of getting on with life.

1. Rang De Basanti: While it is by no means one of Rahman's stronger efforts, I associate RDB with some really good times. Like the first half of the movie, it has a freshness about it that refuses to go away, and every song is an earworm. There was a trip to Kochi with friends in early 2006, during which the title track was played relentlessly, and it has since been stuck in my head. It was quite a masterstroke to get Daler Mehndi to sing it, briefly putting everyone's favourite Punjab da Puttar back on the charts. There's the delightfully cheesy Lose Control/ Pathashala, filled with mindless lyrics. Lukka Chuppi was a song which grew on me thanks to my Austin roommate who listened to it on repeat; Lata and ARR's interlocking verses are a treat, as is the lilting melody of Tu Bin Bataye. Roobaroo, however, stood out for me because it somehow managed to legitimise the ridiculous climax of the movie when I saw it for the first time; the fact that a simple tune (with the acoustic guitar providing a nice touch) was able provide this kind of uplift to a movie was simply the work of a genius. Overall, this is the sort of effort which ARR could probably have come up with in his sleep, but what the hell, it's all good.

2. Kaadhalan: There are two abiding memories of my vacation in Madras during the winter of 1994 - watching Shane Warne spin his web of magic around the Englishmen (particularly this hat-trick at the MCG) on the telly, and listening to the neighbourhood boys discussing the vagaries of the lyrics from the Kaadhalan OST, especially the superhits Urvasi and Muqabala. Now, this album is possibly the best example of how dubbing Tamil music into Hindi loses much of the sting of the original. The Hindi equivalent has not aged well, and many 'Northie' friends have pointed out that the lyrics are nonsense. Indeed, my clueless 11-year old self could not figure out why an adolescent might get a kick out of irritating a girl with lines like "Oosi pola odambirunda thevayille pharmacy". The bottom line is that such music was not conceived with the intention of fitting into the Bollywood scheme of things, and as a result is much more enjoyable when taken in its original context. Anyhow, this soundtrack is really diverse and contains barely any filler; there's the beautiful, sensitively crafted Ennavale, the earthy Erani Kuradhani (Gopala), the eminently hummable Kadhalikum Pennin, and of course that hilarious ode to Madras Bashai, Pettai Rap. The album sure is one hell of a wicked ride.

3. Rangeela: Talk about a seamless transition. Rahman's first original score in Hindi is chock-full of dependable delights. I'll remember this one in particular because a relative handed me the tape long before the songs were ingrained in public consciousness, with the words "Listen to this. This is going to be the next big thing." In what must have seemed like an unlikely arrangement at the time, Asha Bhonsle does the playback for 21-year old Urmila Matdonkar in Tanha Tanha quite stunningly. Asha also features on the infectious Rangeela Re, while Udit Narayan shines on Yaaro Sun Lo Zara, and Kya Kare ya na Kare. My personal favourite, however, is Mangta Hai Kya, with its pulsating, tense buildup and agitated percussion before Shweta Shetty's seductive vocal takes over. Indeed, just as he resurrected Daler Mehndi with RDB, Rahman provides Ms.Shetty with probably the high point of her career. Who would have thought she was capable of hitting those high notes?

4. Bombay: So distressed were we when Kuchi Kuchi Rakamma displaced Didi Tera from its long-standing no.1 spot on the Satish Shah-hosted countdown show Philips Top Ten, we actually wanted to get everyone in the building to sign a petition asking Zee Telefilms for a reversal (In retrospect, WTF were we thinking?). Rahman won out, and the gain was mine as I slowly got exposed to some of the best music I had ever heard. Bombay is one of those albums from which it's just impossible to single out a favourite tune. Kannalane, brilliantly sung by KS Chithra, haunts me every time I listen to it. Humma sounds equally awesome in Hindi and Tamil, Uyire is the album's moment of tenderness, and the Bombay Theme is simply one of the best instrumentals ever. Of late, I've been hooked onto Poovukku Enna (the "Halla Gulla" song), which previously used to annoy the crap out of me. All of a sudden, amidst a bassline which lends a sense of irreverence to the song, the yelling of those kids seems to bring out the..er..kid in me.

5. Indian/Hindustani: Indian occupies a strange, almost latent position in the Rahman catalog. I mean, ask a person to name as many Rahman albums as he can remember and the chances are Indian would figure very late in the list, if at all; but play him Akadanu Naanga and suddenly the memories start flooding back. I'll remember it for some of the most bouncy, energetic tunes ARR ever composed. Among them, Maya Machindram and Telephone Manipol, the latter featuring some memorable vocal work from the teenaged Harini. There's also the sedate and heartwarming Pachai Kiligal , sung by Yesudas.

Phew, that took some effort. Now if you'll excuse me, I have fifteen years' worth of music to catch up on.

Current Music: Thiruda Thiruda - Putham Pudu Boomi

Don't Give a Peep

This has been a particularly unproductive week, and for that I can blame Television all over again. I've stumbled upon this funny British sitcom and have been hooked for a while now. I've been mostly out of the TV game for the last few years, and generally watch only on recommendation. After watching the first few episodes, I found myself wondering how no one ever told me about Peep Show, given that it's five seasons old. Then again, accidental discoveries are the most memorable ones, so whenever I hear people talk about this show I can feel quietly smug about my nose for good TV programming.

Peep Show gets its name from the fact that the two main characters' lives are seen mostly from their own points of view, as though the camera were held in their hand all along. We get to hear their thoughts when the scene shifts to their individual POV. The premise is fairly simple; it follows the misadventures of two loser roommates, Mark and Jeremy (played by comedic duo David Mitchell and Robert Webb respectively), in their mostly futile attempts toward gaining social acceptance and wooing the women in their lives. They're essentially two ordinary blokes to whom weird things happen. Suitably, they are a study in contrast. Imagine George Constanza as a history nerd with even lower levels of self-esteem, and Joey Tribbiani as a desperate slacker with a nasty streak, and you'll get an idea...ah forget it. No point in trying to form analogies with other sitcoms, just watch and find out. They're well supported by a stellar set of characters. Among them, Sophie, co-worker and the object of Mark's confused affections; Super Hans, Jeremy's band-mate and fellow crack-addict; Johnson, Mark's smooth-talking boss; and Nancy, the American girl briefly married to Jeremy for visa purposes.

One thing I've always liked about British sitcoms - and Peep Show is no exception in this regard - is that even when they're flinging the most obvious jokes or predictable plot developments in your face, they manage to make you laugh out loud all the same. That comes with ace dialogue delivery and acting backed up by a razor-sharp script. Consider the scene in the office where Mark has managed to find the password to Sophie's email account. He's surfing through her inbox, and you know what's going to happen next; Sophie appears and catches him in the act. But it's all executed so brilliantly, you can't help but guffaw. And, rather than providing the characters with catchphrases, the creators seem to have hit upon an endless supply of memorable oneliners.

Where Peep Show really sets itself apart is the boldly obnoxious nature of its content - it relies on what many reviewers like to call the "cringe factor". It's all very bleak and cynical, and the fact that the main characters often come across as first-class jerks with little scope for self-betterment means it won't appeal to everybody. It still manages to be very realistic; I mean, you find yourself empathising with their problems but can't approve or sympathise with their actions. The situational humour revolves mostly around sex, drugs, liberal use of profanities, misanthropy, anger management and still more sex, pushing it firmly into 'adult' territory. That has probably denied it airtime on mainstream television, though I'm guessing it might have become a sensation in Britain by now (it is apparently selling very well on DVD). While it's true that shows like South Park and Family Guy are also characterised by offensive humour, they make full use of the cartoon medium to realise their ends. Peep Show, on the other hand, does not deal in escapism or shock value. It has a natural feel to it, switching scenes effortlessly back and forth, and ends up being (perversely) believable.

It's a pity each season is just six episodes long; every episode leaves me asking for more. Catch it online if you can, for it'll save you the trouble of having to look far and wide for the DVDs. I know I'll be buying them eventually.

Current Music: Alice Cooper - No More Mr.Nice Guy

The BIOTE Diaries: Down in a Dump

It's a really good thing this apartment complex has a 24-hour gym on the premises. It provides a reassuring and necessary constant to the daily grind, but being just about the only place for miles which stays open later then 10 P.M, there was never much of a choice when it came to looking for things to do here. The other night, after a long spell of steady rain, I was making my way to the gym as usual after work when I was greeted by a weird, almost surreal sight. I walked along the extremely narrow footpath, flanked by a garden on either side, and noticed that the thousands of resident snails had crawled out onto the path, leaving me precious little space to actually walk to the gym entrance. I had move forth on tiptoe to avoid stepping on them, and felt as if I was in Commander Keen, that old 2-D PC game in which the hero dodges poison slugs by jumping or using a pogo stick. It was a funny feeling, coming as it did in the middle of one of the more sordid concrete wastelands of suburban California.

Life indoors has been less memorable lately. It sucks having to remain in office till late, given that we've already missed a few of the pizza parties and bingo nights that keep happening in the building. While I've grown used to spending time by myself and even being cocooned if necessary, I'd at least like to be able to meet some people here. The University often kept me equally busy, but there were still places to go whenever you wanted to step out, back then. I'm getting a little fatigued with all this talk of H1-B visa processing, amazing job offers which some lucky souls have managed to snap up, requisite skill-sets on resumes, and engineers harbouring nothing but wet dreams of six-figure salaries in this country. Quite often, it's the little things that grate on your mind and it's all you can to do to laugh them off. The visa applications have been delegated to the India office, and the communication levels from their end have been insufficient (to put it mildly), resulting in a string of laughably pointless mails to and fro. Anyway, I'm trying to channel all this annoyance into planning my escape from this industry. Why is it that the monetary rewards of career paths seem to be in inverse proportion to how mentally stimulating they actually are?

Current Music: Avial - Nada Nada