As pure happenstance would have it, I discovered a somewhat recognizable fact about our music listening habit while surfing through the suggested playlist on my choice of music streaming service. On the fated Friday evening while we entertained a few friends, the 90's Bollywood music playlist bubbled up to the top, and serendipity joined us for a drink while familiarity played the DJ. And oh what an evening it was! Our dance moves matured from the clumsy moves of the early decade to the end of the decade where the steps became more elaborate and sharp. Needless to say, some of us followed the more modern moves with embarrassingly poor dexterity. Among our friends we seem to unequivocally and almost unfairly favour the melodious, groovy and sometimes hauntingly romantic tunes of 90's Bollywood when it comes to gatherings which demands to drop the guard, kicking the shoes and letting yourself lose in the lyrics and tune -- words that we discover to be embedded deep into our souls. This whole episode made me ponder upon the intimate nature of music. In my specific case, in spite of growing up with a genre, as happenstance would have it, I found a genre with which solidarity seems to have come naturally.
I have this playlist which I absolutely cherish. I call it the Best of the Bests. It represents a fusion of genres covering the entire spectrum from Indian classical and Sufi inspired tragic numbers to the hard rock and metal songs. It starts with the exquisite vocal work of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, continues on to the pop-rock inspired more technical work by A.R. Rahman, pauses for a moment on the evergreen Beatle and then in an absurdly inconsistent manner takes a turn to the metal portion which consists of Iron Maiden, Metallica, Alice in Chains and some other lesser known metal band. In other words, that list has songs that suit every mood, and in many ways, it is the medicine that can heal any scar that the world can inflict on my soul. Naturally, I listen to this in solitude, in joy, sorrow or anger, at the end of a long day, and on a Sunday morning while still figuring out the day.
As I reach the section with the more hardcore numbers every time I play that playlist, I reach a realization that in some ways establishes the solidarity I speak of, and in some other ways upholds the intimate nature of our relationship with the art form. I realize that no matter my affiliation with a specific decade of Bollywood music, Rock as a genre dares to explore the intricacies and complexities of the entire swath of human emotions. Like any other genre of art, it is not without its flaws, and there indeed isn’t a shortage of objectively unpalatable material. However, it’s the inherently rebellious, explorative nature and the raw emotions that make me put on my headphones and push play.
I don’t recall the exact circumstance under which I was introduced to rock-n-roll, but it was well past my early formative years. As I got to exploring more not just the music but also the culture, I came across the stereotypes associated with a metal-head. Around the world they are known by many names: headbangers, punks, anti-cultural, the worshiper of Satan and on goes the list. As with victims of typecasting, the so-called metal-heads didn’t care about the rest of the world. With a little poking and prodding, I figured that the secret of the carefree attitude came from both the subject matter and the mannerism of expressions. Being deeply rooted in the free-spirited yet assertive Blues, the subject matter of study span beyond the love or related tragedy that Bollywood primarily offers. It explores happiness, sorrow, disgust, anger, depression, and love with a certain mannerism that is raw, honest, and real, all keeping the balance that is life. With that carefree attitude came immense freedom and along with it came the burden of reality.
From the early days of exploration to today when I am deep into this genre, one fact that I believe to be true is this: the harsh words, more honest and direct expressions, and the subtle sarcasm represent reality and life that we live in that reality. However, the apparent shabby, and the unwelcoming look have been a barrier in social settings, but not something that a bit of scotch can’t solve.
One’s taste in music is probably one of the most intimate things that one holds close to heart, and rightfully so. With so many genres and sub-genres, the choices are virtually infinite. That is precisely why even with a few million songs readily available at our fingertips, artists still write, sing, play and release new ones every day. I may have grown up with music that focused on some basic human connections, but the genre I can connect to and fallback to is rock-n-roll. Comparatively, what rock-n-roll lacks in melody, makes up with the subject matter and intensity of the expression and both are easy to relate to and align with. To someone else, the genre might be too boorish, uncouth, and unsophisticated, but then again, the fascinating thing about music is that loving music is like loving a person; the process and reasons are as cherishable as the company of the person.
Read the other part of this Duolog(ue).
The Literature of the Heart
“A key to a woman’s heart is hidden in her playlist” – Anonymous For the longest time, I have been surrounded by music lovers and the sorts who have an ear for all genres of music in multiple languages and can hold a conversation for hours together about rock and metal and Jazz and can tell the singer and the album by just listening to a microsecond of the tune.
