In praise of Indian classical music

Firstly, I want to mention that people who are so inclined can leave comments on this blog, and that way it can be more of a dialogue.

Music has blissfully enveloped my life here. I am learning tabla slowly by my standards, but my Guruji doesn't seem worried. I've been getting a bit frustrated by it, but that's the wrong response.

Indian classical music is the ideal form of music--it is pure, ideal, precise, and purely improvizational. The best American jazz only begins to touch the communication of the spirit that happens in Indian music. It is the origin of all music, in its primordial form, passed down to us from the golden age of truth, the Tretayog.

(In contrast to our western sense of evolution, Indians beleive that the best time was the first age of humanity, when there was no sin and everyone was a sage. Things have been going downhill since. This is a major difference in the Indian and Western worldview, and it changes everything)

Here is the set up of Indian music. In the background is a constant drone which serves as a metronome, but sounds like OM chanting, but done by strings. Either they use an electronic box that produces the drone, or they have someone playing the Tambora. The tambora has four strings, and is usually played by a woman or a white guy sitting in back, dragging his or her fingers across the open strings, in order, to create the drone. They are not really creating the music, they are providing the structure for the music to take place. This allows all the other instruments to play lead--even the percussion instruments can play and improvise with the beat, they are not responsible for maintaining the rythem the way western drummers are.

The sitar is the star of the show. It is the most intricate and demanding stringed instrument available to humanity. I'm sure the readers of this blog know what is sounds like, even if you have not had the privilige of seeing it in concert. It has five main strings which are played, and underneath them are thirteen supporting strings, which are tuned to resonate when certain notes are played. This gives the sitar immense depth of sound.

The music is created by a dailogue with (usually) two musicians, the sitar and tabla players. They literally talk to each other with their instruments, and they feed off of each other's energy. They tell musical jokes, play with the rythem, push eachother to play at insane speeds, etc. This is a true dialogue of the spirit, communication unencumbered by language. You can hear the fingers driven by their own gods. It's really indescribable. Because there are so few musicians, they can really focus on the simple dialogue, rather than having to coordinate a whole band.

The tabla is it's own thing, which I posted about earlier. It is the most amazing percussion instrument, and I love it to death. To see a great tabla player in action is dazzling--they can create a mountain of sound with only their fingertips.

If there is a third instrument, it is usually the Serengay, which is a traditional string instrument that sounds sort of like the violin, and is played with a bow. My tabla teacher founded an institute to save the Serangay, because fewer and fewer people are playing it in Banaras. When played well, it sounds like the true OM, not just the human chant over and over again, but with variety and peace and the universe in it.

Music here is a form of worship, but it is almost never dedicated to an external god--to Ganesha or Siva or anything. It is worship of the god-within-man, the Atman of the musicians and the audience. I often close my eyes and meditate on the music when I am listening to an Indian concert, and it is during these times when I feel the most spiritually fufilled. Not to get too cheesy on you.

peace
jed