Having become something of a music enthusiast in my later years, I have, beyond appreciating the component aspects which combine to form the conventions that ascribe to the formalities of melodic composition, also managed to harbour an interest in the multitude of geographical distinctions which have, over the course of time, served to demarcate the evolution of musical ideas across the surface of the earth.
In essence, music was, with regards to such an assertion, not necessarily an art form which people were innately inclined to like, it’s popularity depending very much upon the general term of acceptability that may be imagined to define the discriminations of it’s audience, an understanding beneath which, when taken out of context, the genre as a whole could, in fact, be perceived to be as much of an anthema as it may a boon, meritting criticism as readily as it did praise.
There were, in this instance, a number of principles to which musicians were perceived to ply to their craft in efforts to render their compositions appealing, a pretext beneath which, when carefully executed, a suitable arrangement could, in effect, be imagined to reflect the essence of it’s acoustic environment and express a given state of mind.
In terms of ‘European’ history, the ‘Austrian Enlightenment’ of the late eighteenth century was, in being observed to have paved the way for a highly disciplined approach to instrumental recital, witnessed to have won the argument in music’s favour, a pretext beneath which, upon rendering live performance culturally palatable, the classical compositions of prodigies such as ‘Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’ and ‘Joseph Hadyn’, managed to muster an amount of popular sentiment which had hitherto only been witnessed to prevail at the most well attended of religious festivals.
The gauntlet of artistic conventions to which ‘Austria’ had adhered was, in keeping with the mantle of acceptability that it had managed to foster about itelf, subsequently witnessed to have retained much of it’s appeal in ‘Prussia’ during the early nineteenth century, an instance in which the work of composers such as ‘Ludwig Beethoven’ was witnessed to have held the medium’s candle aloft through until the early twentieth century when the usage of incidental scores in films widened it’s scope by applying what may otherwise be considered flaws in it’s texture to high drama.
It was largely through association with such popularity and the quest to find new and otherwise unannounced expressions in the musical canon that ‘European’ audiences began to take an interest in the harmonic traditions of ‘Asia’, ‘Africa’ and the ‘New World’, a pretext beneath which, what had, by that time, long since been a markedly ‘Teutonic’ attitude towards tonal appreciation, was effectively granted an insight into a realm of permutation which had never hitherto been witnessed to occur to it.
Upon originating from rare climes that occasionally employed drugs such as ‘Opium’, ‘Cannabis’ and ‘Cocaine’ to sensitize an appreciation towards sound, world music was, with regards to such a matter, infrequently observed to be capable of changing the way in which people were customarily inclined to perceive reality, liberating thought to dwell upon matters that would ordinarily lie beyond it’s realm of concern.
Such an attribute was, with regards to such a matter, noted to have been relatively perilous, the usage of narcotics to expand sensory awareness running the risk of forsaking it’s convictions entirely, for what would amount to a catalogue of empty ideals. The mind thinks, whether or not it ever truly widens it’s parameter to productive effect being a matter of debate.
There had, in fact, been a long standing association between drugs and light media before the advent of the ‘Prussian’ formalism which served to define how such things should be viewed, much as there had been earlier work performed into the confinement of tonal resonance to a predictable model.
Music was an old standard that, upon having attended the interest of ‘Greek’ philosophers such as ‘Pythagoras’ and a number of ‘Roman’ emperors including ‘Octavius’ and ‘Nero’ during the pre ‘Christian’ era, had often found occasion to serve as an aid to both artistic creativity and spiritual enlightenment.
It appeared to stand at the doors of perception presenting the illusion to adherence that it could rationalise what it found. Perhaps it always would, it was just a question of how such a thing may ultimately be perceived.
In keeping with such a series of observations, I was pleased to learn whilst in conversation with a friend upon matters of an exhibition oriented persuasion, that the ‘Wigmore Hall’ in ‘Mayfair’ was, through association with the lengthening of Summer, due to stage a ‘Sarod’ recital performed by a family of five ‘Sarodiyas’ respectively named ‘Ustad Amjad Ali Khan’, ‘Amaan Ali Bangash’, ‘Ayaan Ali Bangash’, ‘Zohaan Ali Bangash’ and ‘Abeer Ali Bangash’ alongside a rhythm section provided by a ‘Tabla’ drummer named ‘Anubrata Chatterjee’.
The ‘Sarod’ was, with regards to such a matter, noted to be a variety of ‘Lyre’ which, in traditionally being carved from teak, was noted to possess a fretless metal sound board, a resonance box sealed with tightened goat’s skin and between seventeen and twenty five metal strings divided respectively between ‘Chikari’ or drone strings and ‘Tarafdar’ or sympathetic strings, a pretext beneath which, from what I could deduce, it was designed to facilitate the recital of the ‘Meend Glissandi’, an acoustic effect which, in being a constituent element of both the ‘Dhrupad’ and ‘Ankyhal’ instrumental styles, dwelt upon the manner of langorous indecision for which ‘Indian’ music was, upon having been discovered in the nineteenth century by ‘European’ musicologists, observed to have achieved renown.
Owing to the need for tonal flexibility with respect to the performance of traditional ‘Indian’ motifs, many of the ‘Sarod’s strings were, in this instance, intentionally observed to have been left comparatively loose pending recital, a peculiarity which, in making the instrument difficult to play, was, to the credit of those gifted in it’s usage, noted to require a degree of skill to master.
Finding occasion to read up on the issue I learned that unlike the ‘Sitar’ the ‘Sarod’ was, although based upon the ‘Afghan Rabab’ of the ‘Mughal’ era, in fact, a relatively recent addition to the ‘Indian’ orchestra, having been invented during the late ‘Victorian’ era by the court musician of the ‘Maharajah Of Rewa’, ‘Ghullum Bandagi Khan’, a man from whom, if my understanding of the matter was correct, ‘Ustad Amjad Ali Khan’s’ family was noted to have been directly descended.
All five members of the Quintet were, with respect to such a matter, not only skilled ‘Sarodiya’, but, also actively engaged in the manufacture of the instrument in accordance with the blueprints which had been laid down by their forebears, an instance in which there would, if my understanding of the matter was correct, theoretically be no better intrepretation of it’s many attributes presently performing anywhere on earth.
Duly arranging to attend the venue with my friend, I incidentally found myself at something of a loss as to what to do pending the event of the performance and decided to perform a little extraperipheral investigation into the history of the ‘Wigmore’ hall, a building which, in being observed to have represented a hub of musical concerns during the late 1960’s when ‘Carnaby’ Street was a haven for ‘Mod’ fashion, effectively spanned the gap which served to divide the interests of the classical tradition from those of a contemporary persuasion.
Situated at ‘36 Wigmore Street’, a concourse which, in presumably once having owed it’s name to the the forerunner of the ‘Liberal Party’ and thus to what is now the ‘Liberal Democrat Party’, the building was, upon having originally been called ‘Bechstein Hall’, intially recorded to have been designed and constructed in 1899 by a collaboration between ‘Thomas Edward Collcott’ and ‘Frank Lynne Jenkins’ as an auditorium for the ‘C. Bechstein Pianofortefabrik’ piano making firm, an organisation which was, in it’s distinction, still noted to own a showroom neighbouring the venue’s premises to this day.
Requisitioned by the armed forces in 1916 through association with what was, owing to the outbreak of the ‘Great War’, perceived to have been a staunch sentiment of nationalist antipathy towards all matters of a ‘German’ persuasion upon the ‘British’ mainland, the ‘Wigmore Hall’ was sold in 1917 to the ‘Debenhams’ department store, a patronage beneath which it was noted to have received it’s present name.
Having hosted the musicianship of such notable figures as ‘Sergei Prokovief’, ‘Francis Poulenc’ and ‘Benjamin Britten’, a composer who, in having premiered many of his works upon it’s stage, has subsequently often been commemorated by the venue with seasons of recitals devoted to his work, the ‘Wigmore Hall’, rapidly earned the accolade of having some of the best acoustics for live performances in ‘Europe’, a pretext beneath which it was noted to have set the scene for a long running series of live transmissions broadcast by ‘B.B.C. Radio Three’ on Monday afternoons.
Renowned for both running educational programs designed for families interested in teaching their children how to play music and assisting young artists wishing to forge international careers for themselves, the ‘Wigmore Hall’, had, in keeping with the climate of acceptability espoused by the ‘European’ conventions which had once served as it’s model, managed, as far as I could see, to preserve the curious combination of old world charm and optimistic prospect to which it’s heritage ascribed.
After having spent about a month dwelling upon matters of an abstract persuasion, the date for the concert approached and I duly made my way towards ‘Mayfair’ to attend it’s scheme of event, catching a ‘Network Southeast’ train from ‘Feltham’ towards ‘Waterloo’ to connect with a ‘Jubilee’ line train bound for ‘Bond Street’, a point of transition which, upon incidentally granting me an opportunity to explore the shopping plaza which has recently been entrenched beneath the ‘Waterloo’ rail terminal, briefly gave me cause to wonder exactly how many miles of subterranean passageway as yet lay unused within my vicinity.
Upon alighting at ‘Bond Street’, I was pleased to discover that the weather was particularly fine, there being a curious thrill in the air as I caught the first wave of early morning shoppers milling about the periphery of ‘Selfridge’s’ and the glint of ‘Lime’ bicyles skimming freely back an forth on route to some inner city destination.
Arriving at the entrance foyer of the ‘Wigmore Hall’ at approximately half past ten in the morning, I deftly acquired a program for the concert from an attendant and sat intently studying the preliminaries to which it appertained as I waited for my friend to accompany me.
After about three quarters of an hour my friend duly arrived and we promptly entered the premises to attend the show being courteously ushered into the auditorium at it’s rear by the person that had initially given me the program.
Upon taking my seat, the first thing that I noticed was that the hall’s stage was in fact relatively small, being situated within a curved recess which upon being surmounted by a cupola decorated with a mural depicting an angelic figure representing the physical embodiment of music’s soul, was pinioned on either side by two varnished Oak doors which allowed performers to neatly enter and leave the auditorium throughout the course of each performance, a novelty which I can only presume harked back to the building’s initial purpose as a showcase for ‘Bechstein’ pianos.
The alloy of initiatives which had been invested in the hall’s internal decor combinatively served, for a reason that then eluded my attention, to remind me of those which were perceived to distinguish ‘Shanklin Chine’ on the ‘Isle Of Wight’, being lavishly decorated in the classical manner with peach coloured marble ornamentation when, owing to it’s designation as a showcase for pianos, it’s proportions appeared oddly out of kilter with the architectural conventions which traditionally ascribed to concert performances.
The hall’s general apparel in fact reminded me in many ways of a curious cross between the humanist ethic which ‘William Blake’ sought to capture during the ‘Napoleonic’ period and early twentieth century ‘Art Deco’, it being difficult to deduce, in such an instance, whether it’s intentions as an artistic venue were earnest or simply prosaic, music was, after all, only an art form.
After some minutes of mute anticipation the concert began with a repeated motif generated by a ‘Shruti’ box, an instrument that, in frequently being used as the backdrop for ‘Indian’ classical recitals, was effectively observed to resemble a ‘Harmonium’, employing bellows to generate a constant drone in the true tonic of a given composition.
As the mesmeric incantation of the ‘Shruti’ box mounted momentum, the figure of ‘Ustad Amjad Ali Khan’ appeared on the stage dressed in a white ‘Kurta’ and brandishing a ‘Sarod’ in his hand, a pretence beneath which, after having provided a brief preliminary diagnostic of what lay in store, he sat down cross legged on the floor and began to play the first of the five compositions that were scheduled to be performed that morning.
Entitled ‘Overture to Peace: Raga Ahir Bhairav’, the concert’s opening piece was noted to be a ‘Raga’, a variety of composition which, in being witnessed to occur in both the ‘Hindustani’ and ‘Carnatic’ traditions of North and South ‘India’, alongside being present in ‘Shikh’ music, was interestingly thought to have been named after the practice of dying cloth, a pretence beneath which the creation of sound was, in effect, perceived to resemble the application of paint to an artist’s canvas, and it’s recipience to correspondingly colour the mood of those who heard it.
Observed to have been arranged in the ‘Mixolydian’ mode, a form of ascendant and descendant progression typical of the ‘Harikambhoji’ style of ‘Carnatic’ music, which was, in a contemporary sense at least, noted to have been favoured by the ‘Beatles’ in the popular 1960’s songs ‘Paperback Writer’ and ‘Norweigian Wood’, the ’Overture To Peace: Raga Ahir Bhairav’, was witnessed to provide a relatively good preliminary impression of the ‘Sarod’s’ flexibility as an instrument.
After having performed the piece ‘Ustad Amjad Ali Khan’ was accompanied by his son ‘Amaan Ali Bangash’ for a duet, a second ‘Raga’ which, in being entitled ‘Raga Anand Bhairav’ was effectively set at a faster pace than it’s precursor.
Both compositions were, in this instance, witnessed to play into the drone sound that was being generated by the ‘Shruti’ box that planed insistently through it’s cycle from some concealed eyrie located behind the audience, an arrangement which was, as far as I could see. ostensibly perceived to have remained static throughout the entirety of the performance.
After have played ‘Raga Anand Bhairav’, the two musicians were joined on stage by a ‘Tabla’ playing percussionist named ‘Anubrata Chatterjee’ and the remaining three members of ‘Ustad Amjad Ali Khan’s’ family who were due to appear that morning, ‘Ayaan Ali Bangash’ and his two eleven year old sons ‘Zohaan’ and ‘Abeer’ for a musical interpretation of ‘Vanda Mataram’ a nineteenth century poem celebrating the life of ‘Mahatma Ghandi’
This was effectively when things started to become more than a little complex, the improvisational meanderings of five ‘Sarodayas’ set against the bouyant pulse of two ‘Tablas’ as the subtle insistence of ‘Shruti’ drone shifted relentlessly through it’s cycle in the background, promised to fill the auditorium with enough sound to rattle it’s eves and, to all intents and purposes, this is exactly what it did. It was great, sheer mayhem.
When played quickly in unison with itself, the ‘Sarod’ managed to assume an entirely different character to that which may initially be supposed of it, capturing an orchestral quality that, upon neatly defusing most of the instrument’s innate subtlety, was inclined to change it’s key crisply in flat bars and power chords as though having been amplified by an electronic effect.
After having performed ‘Vanda Mataram’, the six musicians proceeded to play a short melody which, in being entitled ‘Our Love’ was, in it’s distinction, noted to have been composed by ‘Ustad Amjad Ali Khan’s’ twin grandsons in 2020 when they were no older than eight years of age.
Based upon the ‘Tilak Kamud’ a traditional ‘Raga’ melody, ‘Our Love’ was, with respect to such a matter, initially observed to have been recorded as a gift celebrating ‘Ustad Amjad Ali Khan’s’ seventy fifth birthday, a pretext beneath which it was effectively perceived to have been thematised by his grandchildren’s reflections upon their life with him, an instance in which they had, to all intents and purposes, been prodigies, capable of performing complex pieces of music long before most of their peers had entered secondary school.
The last of the morning’s performances was a piece called ‘Lydian Rivers’ which, as the title would suggest, was devoted to an exploration of the ‘Lydian’ mode, the original eight note chromatic octave which was noted to have been devised by the ancient ‘Greeks’ over two millennia ago.
In being relatively simple and musically pleasing this was effectively the scale that most musicians became most intimately acquainted with when learning to play an instrument, the ‘Lydian’ mode’s ability to satisfactorily combine the cumulative attributes of bass and treble instruments together with each other providing the basis for much ‘Polish’, ‘Prussian’ and ‘Austrian’ classical music.
When arranged as an ensemble ‘Lydian Rivers’ actually worked quite well capturing a manner of momentum which provided a suitable finale for the morning’s performance before ceding to the repeated refrain of the ‘Shruti’ box which laboriously continued to run through it’s meter in the background as the musician’s left the stage.
After having watched the show both I and my friend slowly turned to leave, the strains of ‘Sarod’ music ringing fresh in my mind as we exited the auditorium and made determinedly forth along ‘Wigmore’ street in pursuit of a beer at the ‘Cock And Lion’ public house which neighboured the premises.
It had been a good morning, and an excellent introduction to a relatively exotic instrument which, in standing apart from the conventional canon of the orchestra, nonetheless succeeded in exemplifying an attitude that was wholly unique to itself.
for more information please contact
wigmore-hall.org.uk
