Music to Their Ears

How some traditional musicians, ignored by the mainstream, are learning the ropes of self-publishing and online distribution

Modern-day Pune, with its traffic-choked streets, infotech parks and the scars and stretch marks of a constantly expanding and under-construction skyline, sits cheek by jowl with the ancient town of Alandi on the banks of the river Indrayani. A major centre for pilgrimage and religious activity, Alandi is known for its association with the 13th century saint poet Dnyanadeva, also known as Dnyanesh. It continues to attract pious pilgrims, many from the Warkari sampradaya, a Vaishnavite sect with a tradition of ecstatic singing of devotional verses written by the great saint poets of the region.

I had visited Alandi only once before, several years ago, when I accompanied my husband, tabla player Aneesh Pradhan, to the home of master craftsman and tabla maker Vishnu Sutar, whose tablas have a cult following. We had reached his home on the banks of the Indrayani some time in the afternoon, and a few hours later, as the sun began to set, we heard the unmistakably regal sounds of the pakhawaj emerge from all directions. Drums playing together can be quite heady, but they can also cause an infernal din that can burst the eardrums of the more delicate listener. At Alandi, the pakhawajs did not play in unison, but in different tempi—played by different players, each possibly following a personal routine. And yet, they sounded uncannily grand, peaceful, and in prayer.

We returned to Alandi again on 25 September 2011, but this time our destination was the Shri Narsimha Saraswati Swami Mandir tucked away unobtrusively in a nondescript dusty little lane on Gopalpura Road. The temple is a modest structure that one enters through a small wooden door flanked on either side by alcoves that enshrine the temple guardians. Across the threshold lies a courtyard bathed in natural light that houses a small shrine at the far end of a raised platform, covered on top but open on its sides. Flanking the platform on all four sides are columned verandahs that look on to the shrine, and above these are the living quarters of the priests who serve the temple. Young Avadhoot Gandhi is the main pujari, who when not dressed for his priestly duties, could pass off as just about anyone anywhere in his jeans, shirt and backpack slung casually on his shoulders. In his own constituency, though, Gandhi has followers who fall at his feet to seek his blessings, all of whom he graciously greets and acknowledges. But the young priest also enjoys a following on account of being a powerful singer, specialising in the devotional music of the Warkari sampradaya, the singing of bharud and a variety of folk forms from Maharashtra. These are forms he grew up listening to, but it was his mother, who would seat him in her lap as she sang Dattatreya bhajans at the temple, who was the singer’s first guru. Others in the family, including his father’s brother, were also accomplished singers, and thus Avadhoot inherited a large part of his repertoire from the family. He would also listen to the music of artistes such as the legendary Bhimsen Joshi, whose Santvani programmes and recordings have influenced countless musicians. Gandhi also acknowledges the guidance he received from Dr Ramchandra Dekhne, an authority on bharud, and Guruprasad Nanivdekar, an expert in the shahiri tradition of song writing.

It is 32-year-old Avadhoot Gandhi, the singer- priest, who brings us to Alandi this time. Less than a year ago, we had featured him and his companions at Baajaa Gaajaa 2011, the three-day music festival that Aneesh and I curate annually. His performance had been greatly appreciated by many, including those who are known to be tightlipped and miserly when it comes to expressions of appreciation. In a three-day festival packed with over 50 performances of Indian music of all varieties and genres, you know you have picked a winner when audiences—critics, the cognoscenti and uninitiated listeners—unanimously respond favourably to a new artiste. Gandhi and his group gave us a definite reason to smile with the response their performance at Baajaa Gaajaa received.

After the Baajaa Gaajaa festival, we contacted Avadhoot Gandhi again to check if we could include any of his recorded tracks in the playlist for a weekly radio show that we curate on Radio One, Pune. Alas, there were no albums or even standalone tracks that were available, even as demos. This, unfortunately, is a predicament Gandhi shares with a lot of Indian musicians today—that of being almost totally ostracised or grossly neglected by a mainstream music industry that no longer caters to diverse tastes in music. With the mainstream music industry concentrating its attention only on a few genres like film music and a populist brand of devotional music, exponents of other, supposedly niche genres have had to fend for themselves. And this is where self-publishing and online distribution have played a major role in empowering artistes to be independent and not look towards established record labels as their mai-baap for recording solutions. A host of indie record labels and self-publishing artistes now constitute an alternative music industry in India, producing excellent examples of recorded music and distributing their catalo- gues on artiste-friendly terms. But there still exist many artistes and genres of Indian music that have been unable to recognise the strength of this movement, or are unfamiliar with the online medium itself. Avadhoot Gandhi and his talented group of musicians can be counted in this last category of online innocents.

Since 2003, when Aneesh and I set up UnderscoreRecords.com, an online distribution platform for Indian music, we have worked steadily towards creating awareness of the advantages of independent online distribution, specially for artistes and genres of music that remain marginalised. The Alandi project, therefore, fell headlong into our line of work, and, fortified by a grant from the Ford Foundation, we decided to make an offer to Gandhi: to record him with his musicians as a sort of workshop to explain the processes of self-publishing and online distribution.

Briefly, the proposal was to finance and support the recording of the group, hand over a professionally recorded, mixed and mastered album to the singer-pujari, familiarise him with issues related to intellectual property rights, contracts (for example, obtaining release letters and deeds of assignment from members of the group) and licensing, as well as introduce him to the many available channels for online distribution.

The offer, enthusiastically accepted by the artistes, set us thinking. Much thought was given to the option of recording the artistes in a formal studio space or in the more familiar surroundings of the temple. Finally, we decided on the latter, because experience has taught us that at times, some of the performance’s emotional charge is deadened in the sterile confines of a studio. And that is why we made our way to Alandi, with a small but committed team of audio-visual professionals to record Avadhoot Gandhi at the temple where he serves as the head pujari. Audio engineer Nitin Joshi, armed with microphones and laptops, spread a network of gears and wires in front of the shrine, while two video cameras were posted at vantage points to shoot the proceedings for possible promotional material. The musicians themselves helped the team gamely before donning dhotis, kurtas and caps in pristine white to seat themselves before the shrine and make an offering of music that would be captured on audio and video recorders. A few trial runs later, and after an exchange of instructions between the artistes and the audio-video team, the recording began.

Over the tanpura, Avadhoot’s voice, clear and sure, rang out in the courtyard, beginning with invocatory chants that melted into the traditional gajar, “Jai Jai Ram Krishna Hari…” He starts with a grand unhurried pace, to which the pakhawaj and cymbals add magnificence, but gradually accelerates to a point where everyone present is swept into the rhythm and music. Before we know it, the first of 12 tracks has been captured. Expectedly, the performance also attracted a floating audience. During the daylong recording session, no one was barred from the temple, although a team member was posted at the door on sentry duty to keep visitors from entering in between takes. A few devotees entered, looked mildly surprised at the goings on, but proceeded quietly to the shrine to make offerings and pray.  Some stayed on to listen for a while after their prayers, in obvious enjoyment of the music. All along, children tumbled out from the residential quarters, zipping around the courtyard noisily before being hushed up for the recording. Undeterred, little Vaishnavi flitted from one to the other corner, ensuring that the sound of her silver payals have become part of the recording, while Shravani curled up in one of the alcoves to pose for a photograph. From the adjoining Vedpaathshala, a group of novice pujaris arrived, huddling in small groups to watch the proceedings silently but curiously.

Intrigued and curious, they succumb to the temptation of donning headphones by turns to listen to snatches of the recording, their shaven heads and traditional attire making a delightful contrast with their headphones. 

Contrasts present themselves in merry abundance during the session. Avadhoot Gandhi’s repertoire presents a happy contrast in musical styles with some compositions showing the marked influence of classical music, and other tracks borrowing heavily from folk music. Haridas Shinde, a slightly built but energetic sambal player and singer, leads some pieces. In contrast to Gandhi’s clearly projected, open-throated voice, his voice is thinner and more tenor-like, but just as impactful. Each of the musicians is between the ages of 24 and 32, and the conviction and ease with which they sing conveys a passion that is unmistakable. It makes for a stark contrast with their lack of awareness of the music business as it operates today. These are a bunch of talented and enthusiastic young musicians driven by a commonly shared but nebulous mission of keeping alive disappearing traditions. Possibly, their plans for the future had included the launch of an album in the local music market that throbs with demand for shrine- and cult-specific music. The option of self-publishing and online distribution, though, passed them by simply for want of awareness.

As their album goes through the process of post production, including mixing and mastering, our ongoing task is to help Avadhoot Gandhi take independent control of the recorded album, and judiciously make it available to music lovers on the varied distribution platforms available today.

After dozens of phone calls, discussions and meetings, a fair bit has been accomplished, and Gandhi is set to don the mantle of a self-publishing musician. Although he can scarcely conceal his excitement when he speaks of the physical CD that he will soon launch, we are hoping that he will also show the same enthusiasm for online distribution.

In the midst of all this, he called urgently to ask if the album could be Volume 1 in a series of at least two albums, because he had forgotten to include a composition in Bhairavi. On second thoughts, I feel Volume 2 would definitely be a good idea if Avadhoot felt confident enough to handle the project independently, without any handholding from us. It would be an indication that he has enjoyed the process of recording and documenting his music, and found both pleasure and benefit in distributing it in CD and digital formats.

As we work toward the completion of the current project, Aneesh and I renew our plans to work on more such projects with diverse artistes, pausing now and then to listen to the mixed tracks of the Alandi project. Each of the tracks progresses on a galloping rhythm that could make headbangers at a rock concert go wild. This is music that is part of a continuing tradition—it is disciplined but charged, passionate, respectful and performed by young artistes who believe in both the spiritual and musical content. And that is why it speaks to its listeners. Soon, it will become available and accessible to music lovers across the world, on terms that Avadhoot Gandhi will decide. It will then be the turn of true music lovers and the cognoscenti to show that they care.

Jay Jay Ram Krishna Hari (Gajar) by Avadhoot Gandhi and group | Recorded at the the Shri Narsimha Saraswati Swami Mandir, Alandi, Pune | tabla: Pandurang Pawar; harmonium: Abhay Nalge; pakhawaj: Rajesh Baghe; sambal, dimdi and vocal support: Haridas Shinde; tala and vocal support: Bhavarth Dekhane, Vijay Sonavane, Avinash Dhanave, Vaibhav Jaybhay

About The Author

Shubha Mudgal